Chapter 1: Her Name Is Chi Mo, Guan Yizhou's Girlfriend
[I want you to like me, and then like me even more.] — Si Yimian.
“Don’t move. Spread your legs a little wider.”
He Sichen’s voice came from behind his mask—low, steady, stripped of emotion.
“Dr. He, can you hurry up?”
Si Yimian braced herself against the edge of the bed, carefully avoiding the wound on her leg as she slowly lay flat.
Her soaked white dress clung to her body, tracing a young, fragile silhouette.
The wound was from shattered glass, torn open in an ugly gash.
The placement was tricky—high on the inner thigh, close to the center.
Two inches higher, and it would cross a forbidden line.
“Can’t.”
He Sichen lifted his eyes, his gaze landing on her dripping wet face.
A mess, but so pretty it stung the eyes.
Doe eyes, petal lips. In that white dress, she looked like a little lamb who’d wandered into a wolf’s den.
And yet she dared to barge into his hospital in a rainstorm, covered in blood, demanding he be the one to treat her.
He should’ve just watched coldly.
But this was Si Yimian—the arranged fiancée of his half-brother, He Nanxian.
The first time he saw her, he wanted to pin her to a bed and bully her until she cried. The little thing.
“How did this happen?”
He Sichen lowered his eyes, focusing on treating her wound.
The mask covered most of his face, leaving only his brows and eyes exposed.
They were exceptionally well-shaped, his irises unusually light.
“My sister suddenly went into anaphylactic shock at the banquet. Everyone rushed to get her to the hospital.”
Si Yimian’s eyes reddened, her pupils like black glass soaked in water. Her fingers gripped the disposable sterile pad beneath her.
“Someone shoved me. I lost my footing and fell onto broken glass.”
She paused, looking up at him.
“They took my sister to the hospital. No one cared about me.”
“I took a cab here myself. The rain was too heavy, and the driver took a detour, so I got delayed.”
Her voice grew smaller and smaller, ending in a choked sob.
He Sichen listened quietly, his expression blank.
The Si family’s dirty laundry wasn’t exactly a secret in the capital’s upper circles.
Si Yimian had been lost and abducted at five. Her aunt and uncle died in an accident while searching for her.
Out of guilt, her parents adopted the aunt’s daughter, renamed her Si Ningyou, and spoiled her rotten to make up for it.
At fifteen, relying on scattered memories, she found her way back to the Si family gates—only to be overshadowed by the adopted daughter at every turn.
Parents playing favorites, sisters at each other’s throats. A shadow war lasting years.
The girl in front of him was clearly tonight’s loser.
“So you came to find me?”
“Brother Nanxian is busy taking Sister Ningyou to the hospital…”
Si Yimian’s voice dropped even lower.
“I could only come find Big Brother.”
That “Big Brother” was soft, and hearing it made his lower abdomen tighten.
But every time she called him that, it reminded him she was his brother’s fiancée.
“Brother Nanxian told me to look for Big Brother if anything happened. He said Big Brother is the most reliable.”
She brought up He Nanxian, her face perfectly innocent.
He Sichen couldn’t help a cold laugh inside.
Reliable?
He was so reliable he wanted to do every filthy, animal thing to her.
Thirty years of abstinence didn’t mean he was naturally cold.
His standards were just too high, his self-control too strict. Ordinary women couldn’t catch his eye or get near him.
He’d seen every kind of woman with every trick in the book.
But not a single one was like Si Yimian—every inch of her hit his exact aesthetic.
Soft where she should be soft, perky where she should be perky.
Skin so pale it was translucent, like top-grade mutton-fat jade. Pinch it, and it would leave a mark.
As long as she was in his line of sight, his refined-scumbag disguise was barely holding together.
Wanted to kiss her.
Wanted to bite her.
That feeling of losing control made him want to lock her up and fuck her until she couldn’t get out of bed.
Thankfully, her personality was dull, boring, cowardly.
Like a blank sheet of paper for the Si family to crumple however they pleased—pale and flavorless.
And thankfully, she wore the identity of his future sister-in-law, a warning line he had no plans to cross yet.
That was why he hadn’t crossed it so far.
Otherwise…
He Sichen lowered his eyes again, continuing to treat the wound.
“Too bad I’m not close with He Nanxian.”
“And I’m even less close with you.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the forceps in his hand pulled out a slightly larger shard of glass.
“It hurts…”
Si Yimian shuddered, instinctively squeezing her legs shut.
That squeeze clamped right down on the hand he had braced between her thighs.
Through the thin medical glove, the sensation was crystal clear.
He Sichen froze.
He looked up, his dark eyes sinking.
These legs of hers—slender bones, evenly proportioned, long.
The skin on the inside was warm and soft, wrapping around his wrist like fine silk.
As a practicing surgeon, he’d cut open countless corpses. He was used to anatomical structures. His heart should’ve been still water.
But right now, what flashed through his mind was how it would feel if these legs wrapped around his waist.
He Sichen closed his eyes for a second.
“Open your legs. You’re clamping my hand.”
Si Yimian seemed to just realize it. The tips of her ears burned red instantly, and she hurriedly released the pressure, her legs falling weakly back onto the pad.
“S-sorry…”
“It hurt too much, I couldn’t control it. Can you be gentler?”
A prompt apology. An obedient attitude.
He Sichen withdrew his hand and tossed the bloody shard into the curved basin.
“Medical procedures don’t have a ‘gentle’ option.”
He finished removing the last shard, picked up the needle holder, and began suturing.
For the rest of the process, neither of them spoke.
Stitching, applying medicine, bandaging.
“Done.”
He Sichen placed the used instruments onto the tray.
“Keep the wound dry. Change the dressing in three days, remove the stitches in a week.”
Si Yimian sat up, wet hair clinging to her cheeks, those doe eyes impossibly clear.
“Dr. He.”
“If it leaves a scar, will it look ugly?”
He looked up, her face reflected in his pale irises.
“The scar is in a hidden spot. It won’t affect your appearance.”
“That’s not necessarily true.”
Her voice drifted over, soft.
“What if someone wants to see it later?”
He Sichen’s hands paused mid-packing. He stared at her for a few seconds.
“Miss Si.”
“In the dead of night, soaking wet and injured, lying on a man’s treatment table, constantly asking irrelevant questions.”
He raised a hand, hooking the mask strap behind his ear.
Those distinct, jointed fingers unhurriedly removed the barrier, revealing a face of devastating, unrestrained beauty.
Thin lips, a pronounced cupid’s bow, a slightly reddish tint—an indescribable sensuality.
Gold-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, his gaze aloof when he looked at people.
The ultimate refined scumbag. The kind of handsome that made your legs go weak with one glance.
“Do you know what that implies?”
He peeled off the sterile gloves, his fingers long, faint blue veins visible.
Si Yimian tilted her head up, studying him.
Broad shoulders, a V-taper waist. Long legs under those slacks, a prominent Adam’s apple, a firm ass, big chest muscles.
Suited for kneeling at her feet, and suited for being pinned to a bed.
Something quietly shifted in those doe eyes of hers.
“I know.”
She held the two words on the tip of her tongue before letting them slip out softly.
He Sichen’s gaze darkened abruptly.
Just then, a knock came at the treatment room door.
“Brother? Are you in there?”
It was He Nanxian’s voice.
“Ningyou’s condition isn’t great. Dad called and wants you to come over…”
Before he could finish, the handle was pushed down.
The door cracked open, and Si Yimian suddenly reached out, hooked her arm around He Sichen’s neck, and yanked him down hard.
Lips met.
He Sichen’s eyes narrowed. His entire body went rigid, all the blood in him rushing straight to his lower abdomen.
Absolutely insane.