Quick Transmigration: Only You Are the Desire of My Heart

A deathly silence returned to the living room.

Song Qingyin remained slumped in the sofa, motionless for a long time. Her hand, which was covering her eyes, did not move, but a faint crimson light shone through her fingers—the lingering ferocity in her eyes and a hint of panic that she herself was unaware of.

The bitter medicinal scent and the cool, crisp aroma of cedar mingled in the air, refusing to dissipate. Instead, it seemed to permeate every corner of the villa, stubbornly reminding her of everything that had just happened.

She applied the medicine to him.

She also said that incredibly stupid thing, "Take good care of your injury."

"Host, don't be angry. Look, isn't this exactly what you wanted? You've got him completely under your control." Qingyu's voice rang out at the right moment, tinged with a hint of cautious flattery. "He's probably thinking about you the whole time right now, and he's incredibly touched."

"Shut up." Song Qingyin's voice leaked from between her fingers, cold and hard. "I'm just making sure my things are still usable before I get tired of them."

"Yes, yes, anything usable, anything usable." Qingyu replied perfunctorily. "But speaking of which, host, when you peeled off that layer of bio-gel on his back just now, I detected your heart rate increase by twenty percent instantly. Also, when you touched his butterfly scar at the end, your pheromone concentration also fluctuated slightly."

Song Qingyin abruptly lowered her hand, sat up straight, and her beautiful peach blossom eyes were filled with frost.

"Qingyu, would you like to go to the small dark room to calm down?"

[...] Qingyu fell silent instantly.

We can't afford to offend them. The host is clearly enraged.

Song Qingyin irritably ran her fingers through her long, fiery red hair and stood up from the sofa. Her bare feet touched the soft carpet, but the sensation couldn't soothe the restlessness in her heart.

She needed something else to distract herself.

Meanwhile, Xi Hanzhou walked up the stairs to the second floor.

His steps were steady, his back straight, but only he knew that every step felt like walking on clouds.

The phrase "Take good care of yourself" echoed repeatedly in his mind like a spell.

Awkward, stiff, and full of reluctance, yet revealing a clumsy concern that she herself was unaware of.

He pushed open the door to his bedroom.

In the very center of the room stood a silver-white, streamlined hull.

It's a medical bay.

The pod bore the Song family's logo, and its model was the "Cradle" series, a type he had only seen in top-secret military files. This level of medical pod not only repaired physical wounds, but more importantly, it could deeply soothe and repair the spirit damaged in battle.

For any warrior with strong mental fortitude, this is a coveted treasure.

She just casually placed it in his bedroom.

Just like her words, she spoke casually, as if she were simply saying, "I threw some trash in your room."

Xi Hanzhou walked to the medical pod, reached out his hand, and his icy fingertips touched the equally icy metal shell. He could feel steady and subtle energy fluctuations emanating from inside the pod.

She prepared the best medicine for him.

She prepared the best medical equipment for him.

She gave him the harshest words, but also the most substantial protection.

Song Qingyin...

Xi Hanzhou lowered his eyes, concealing the complex emotions surging within those dark green pupils, emotions that threatened to engulf him. He slowly clenched his fist, his nails digging deep into his palm, the pain clearing some of his muddled thoughts.

This cannot go on.

He could no longer passively accept her charity and try to guess her intentions.

These were never what he wanted.

Just then, a soft sound of a door lock turning came from downstairs, followed by a gentle and clear voice.

"Qingyin, I'm back."

It's Su Che.

Xi Hanzhou's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. He stood on the second-floor corridor, looking down, and could see the scene in the entryway.

Su Che was dressed in a well-fitting white casual outfit, as clean as spotless snow. He carried several exquisite food boxes in his hand, a gentle smile on his face, and his light brown eyes were filled with undisguised admiration for Song Qingyin.

"On my way back today, I saw that 'Xingyuelou' had some new dishes, so I brought some for you." Su Che placed the food box on the cabinet in the entryway and said softly while changing his shoes, "I noticed you didn't eat much earlier."

Song Qingyin had somehow walked to the center of the living room. She leaned lazily against the bar, watching Su Che's busy figure without saying a word, but the irritation in her eyes seemed to have dissipated a little.

Su Che walked over to her naturally, looked at her bare feet, and said with a hint of reproach, "Why are you walking barefoot again?"

As he spoke, he bent down, took out a pair of soft, fluffy slippers from the shoe cabinet, squatted down, and personally put them on for her.

The whole process was natural and practiced, as if I had done it a thousand times before.

Song Qingyin did not refuse, but looked down at his fluffy head, her eyes somewhat vacant.

In the shadows on the second floor, Xi Hanzhou watched this scene quietly, his dark green eyes gradually darkening.

Those slippers, that position, that familiar posture... all felt like sharp thorns piercing his eyes.

Su Che, the Omega who follows Song Qingyin like a shadow, is slowly taking over the position that should belong to him, like a frog being boiled in lukewarm water.

He is her possession.

Whether in the past or present.

It was at this moment that Su Che seemed to sense his gaze, and he raised his head slightly. Their eyes met silently in the air.

The undercurrent is surging.

Xi Hanzhou looked at Su Che's somewhat wary gaze, said nothing, and turned back to her room.

The door was gently closed, shutting out everything downstairs.

He walked to the silver-white medical pod and, following the instructions on the pod, took off his shirt.

The wound on my back, where ointment had just been applied, stung slightly in the cool air. The bright green ointment was half-dry, clinging firmly to my skin, and emitting a bitter smell.

That's her scent.

Xi Hanzhou lay down in the medical pod, the door slowly closed, and a faint blue restorative light illuminated, enveloping his entire body. Warm restorative fluid surged in from all directions, immersing him in it.

Unlike the harsh, barely-living restorative fluids in the prison, the liquid here carried a calming energy, slowly seeping into his limbs and bones. The hidden wounds left by long-term battles and mental exhaustion seemed to be soothed by a pair of gentle hands.

His mental landscape, a desolate wasteland ravaged by storms and blizzards year-round, gradually returned to calm under the soothing influence of this energy.

so comfy.

It was so comfortable that he almost became addicted to it.

But the more comfortable he felt, the clearer the sharp pain in his heart became.

But at the same time, he was also incredibly clear-headed.

Xi Hanzhou closed his eyes, letting the repair fluid envelop him. Regardless, he was back by her side.

He was possession to her, and she was possession to him. What Su Che could do, he could do too; what Su Che could not do, he could do.

What he wanted was for her to belong entirely to him, both physically and in her heart, which he still couldn't understand.

He had gained very little in his life, so whatever he desired, he held onto tightly, and she was no exception. Therefore, what did it matter what means he used to get her?