WMSR — QT Chapter 72

Chapter 72

For the convenience of caregiving—coupled with the fact that he spent the vast majority of his time confined to the bed—Bai Yichen habitually wore a robe. As his legs were lifted upward, the whisper-thin silk nightrobe slid all the way up to his upper thighs, exposing a vast expanse of breathtaking scenery.

Wang Dazhi, who had been keeping his head lowered, seemed to freeze at the sight. Hesitating for a fraction of a second, he gently pulled the ride-up robe downward. Though his movements appeared entirely composed, the tips of Wang Dazhi's ears hidden beneath his shaggy hair had turned beet red.

Reclining flat on his back and staring blankly up at the ceiling, Bai Yichen remained completely oblivious to this brief interlude.

Wang Dazhi then proceeded into the standard massage routine. Although Bai Yichen's legs were paralyzed, administering a prescribed duration of massage daily to prevent muscular atrophy constituted an essential nursing protocol.

Yet, despite the clinical normality of the procedure, Wang Dazhi experienced an entirely different current of emotions deep within his heart. It wasn't as though he had never performed massage therapy on others; his caregiving techniques were built upon rigorous professional training. Prior to this, to secure Xu Jiangzhe's trust, he had spent several grueling months working as a hospital orderly, personally tending to both his nominal elderly father and various patients whose care he undertook to earn medical funds. Across that span, he had administered massages to anywhere from dozens to over a hundred individuals, yet never once had caring for anyone else elicited the sensation he felt tending to the person before him.

Undeniably, these were legs that had been meticulously pampered day in and day out across a decade. When his palms pressed against those slender, velvety calves, he found it impossible to articulate the overwhelming sensation of that exact moment—an impossibly smooth, delicate, soft, supple, and tender texture that felt as though it could magnetically anchor a person's hands to its surface forever.

Heaven only knows how agonizingly hard it had been for him to restrain himself from sliding his hands further up when he first rested them against that skin.

Even after administering the massage so many times, Fang Ruoming still found it impossible to remain indifferent to the tactile sensation resting beneath his palms. Every single time he massaged those legs, as that exquisite texture pressed against his palms, he felt less like he was massaging someone else and more like he was the one being massaged, sending a tingling numbness coursing from his physical body straight down to his soul.

Forcibly pulling himself back to reality and registering the inappropriate direction of his thoughts, Fang Ruoming inwardly spat at himself in self-disgust. What on earth am I thinking? This is my benefactor! This is the big brother who rescued me when I was a child and funded my education! I came here solely to lead him out of this hell.

Amidst a churning storm of racing thoughts, Fang Ruoming finished the calf section of the massage, sliding his palms lightly upward until they reached the thighs. Compared to the lower legs, this presented an entirely distinct tactile dimension—unquestionably softer, suppler, silkier, and offering a significantly broader expanse of skin for his palms to traverse... Moreover, for reasons unknown, every single time his movements edged toward the upper thighs concealed beneath the hem of the nightrobe, his heart rate would inexplicably spike.

Exercising monumental self-restraint, Fang Ruoming wrapped up the massage precisely within the stipulated time window, forcibly stopping himself from lingering. He knew that if he overstayed his allotted duration, Xu Jiangzhe—who had finally begun to extend a fragile thread of trust toward him—would inevitably grow suspicious.

Once the massage concluded, Fang Ruoming followed protocol, picking up a towel to perform the post-massage cleanup. The treated legs radiated a much deeper warmth than when they started, diffusing the faint, intoxicating fragrance of essential oil, carrying an almost bewitching power.

Yet, having completed all subsequent cleanup routines, Fang Ruoming departed from his usual habit today by pulling out an extra pristine white towel and laying it across the edge of the mattress. Noticing his unusual action, Bai Yichen turned his head, casting a look of quiet curiosity in his direction.

Although Fang Ruoming had rarely been granted an opportunity to converse directly with Bai Yichen since arriving at the safehouse, meeting Bai Yichen's gaze now, a wave of nervous tension involuntarily seized him, yet he kept his voice steady as he articulated his intent: "Let me give you a hand massage as well."

Although Bai Yichen found it slightly peculiar that this historically low-profile caregiver was suddenly proposing an unprompted hand massage, he held no aversion toward Wang Dazhi. After all, whether a caregiver executed their duties with genuine care was something only the recipient could perceive with absolute clarity. Though this caregiver had arrived only recently, his meticulous dedication surpassed that of any previous nurse assigned to him. Consequently, after pondering the proposal for a mere two seconds, Bai Yichen nodded in agreement.

Seeing Bai Yichen grant approval, Fang Ruoming suppressed the tumultuous surge of excitement thrashing inside his chest, gently lifting Bai Yichen's extended hand, applying massage oil, and commencing the session.

Throughout the massage, Fang Ruoming deliberately positioned his entire body within the clear field of view of the room's surveillance camera, ensuring every single professional movement was impeccably recorded. Once the first hand was completed, he switched to the other. However, while working on this second hand, whether due to a blind spot in the lens angle, the camera captured only the hand massaging along the forearm, while his other hand—functioning as a stabilizing anchor gripping the center of Bai Yichen's palm—remained entirely shielded from the lens's view.

Bai Yichen had initially been lying back with his eyes half-closed, enjoying the soothing friction across his hand, when a sudden, sharp twitch rippled across his brow. A split second later, however, his expression smoothed back into nonchalant calm, though a long stretch passed before he casually turned his head to cast an unreadable, lingering glance toward the caregiver beside the bed.

Author's Note: I didn't send you gifts yesterday for Qixi, so let's make up for it today. Tell me, do you want a Xu Jiangzhe, or a Wang Dazhi?

Chapter 36: The Caged White Moonlight (13)

From start to finish, Bai Yichen and Fang Ruoming never exchanged a single verbal word. They were well aware that the high-definition camera in the room possessed both infrared night-vision capabilities and audio recording functionality, meaning even the faintest whisper could be picked up. Thus, the two of them simply maintained absolute silence—one administering the massage, the other receiving it. Once the session concluded, Fang Ruoming gathered his tools and departed.

After Fang Ruoming left, Bai Yichen lay back on the mattress, closing his eyes to simulate his usual deep sleep. The sole exception was that his hand hidden beneath the heavy quilts curled tightly against his chest, while his heart—which had stagnated like stagnant pool water across years of imprisonment—exhibited a rare, fluttering acceleration: Is he here to rescue me?

When Xu Jiangzhe returned that evening, he unsurprisingly interrogated Wang Dazhi regarding the unprompted hand massage administered to Bai Yichen earlier that day.