Chapter 63: Offering Herself in Devotion

Lin City Private Hospital – VIP Private Room

Compared to He Lingji, who entered later, Qin Mang, the most dangerous person in the fire, actually had the lightest injuries.

Her most severe issue was inhaling a bit too much smoke. As for major burns, there were none. Only before she hid in the refuge room, a few sparks from the burning roses had landed on her delicate arm, causing small blisters.

After that, He Lingji shielded her tightly.

He Lingji’s condition, however, was more serious. Fortunately, due to his passion for extreme sports like diving, he had trained in breath-holding. So even after giving all the protective gear to Qin Mang, the smoke didn’t affect him much. The real issue was the burn on his ankle that extended up his leg.

The first thing Qin Mang did when she woke up was squat next to his bed and cry. Her big teardrops kept falling silently.

She didn’t sob loudly or act hysterical. She just quietly stared at his bandaged leg, letting her tears drop one by one. And like a well-behaved child, she used tissues to wipe her tears, making sure they didn’t fall on his wounds and cause an infection.

It made people’s hearts ache.

He Lingji had been awake the whole time. Before she came, he was still stubbornly handling work on his tablet despite his injuries. But once she arrived, he couldn’t concentrate.

He glanced at her tear-soaked face, her eyes red from crying.

Just then, the doctor came in to check on him.

In the end, the doctor sighed, “Fortunately, Mr. He wasn’t wearing flammable material and had protective combat boots. Though there might be some scarring, he’s really lucky.”

Though the doctor hadn’t witnessed the fire, the description alone was terrifying.

He Lingji glanced at the little crybaby who started crying harder when she heard he might have scars. He faintly curved his lips and said slowly, “We should thank Mrs. He. Her tears put out the flames that were burning me.”

Qin Mang’s tears halted for a moment— Then she burst into a loud sob, feeling completely bullied.

The doctor awkwardly finished his checkup and left quickly, afraid of hearing anything inappropriate.

He Lingji leaned against the headboard, rubbing his brow. After a while, he cupped her face, gently wiped her tears, and looked into her misty eyes, speaking slowly:

“Stop crying.”

“Even if you keep crying, you won’t inherit my fortune.”

Who the hell wants to inherit his fortune?!

This time, Qin Mang was truly unable to cry anymore. Her tear-soaked lashes fluttered, and she stared at him in disbelief with her grey-blue eyes.

If it weren’t for the fact that he had heroically appeared like a god in a sea of flaming roses to save her, she really would’ve wanted to sew that mouth of his shut.

On the side, Secretary Cong and Qin Mang’s two managers sat on the couch, pretending to mind their own business but hearing everything clearly.

Especially Cong Zhen, whose emotions were complicated. He really wanted to remind his boss of what General Rong had said two days ago— “A mouth isn’t for saying toxic things. It’s for saying sweet words!”

Thankfully, Mr. He still had a bit of survival instinct left.

Facing Mrs. He’s resentful and complex gaze, he showed no regard for the people around. Instead of letting go, he held her chin firmly and leaned down to kiss her swollen eyelids.

“Your eyes are puffy from crying.”

Qin Mang grabbed his slender wrist, still tearful, and said, “One more kiss.”

“No—two more.”

Thinking of the cool, familiar sensation of his kiss, she wanted to feel his presence more clearly—to be sure they were still alive.

He Lingji looked at her for a few seconds. This time, Qin Mang didn’t shy away from his gaze. Her clear eyes looked like they’d been washed by a rainstorm—pure and sincere.

The hope in her eyes was completely genuine.

He didn’t say anything sarcastic this time. Following her request, he kissed her eyelids again.

Qin Mang tilted her head, “Now this side.”

He kissed her other eye, and then, on impulse, added a kiss to the small red mole on her nose tip— That part was just for him.

Qin Mang finally smiled. She was comforted.

Cong Zhen let out a long breath: See? As long as Mr. He talks less and cares more, his wife is easy to coax.

Meanwhile, the group quietly discussed things.

Even the usually composed Fu Yuan couldn’t help but feel lingering fear. The top concern was Qin Mang’s safety. In such a big fire, even a small scar could be devastating.

A large burn scar on a female actress could ruin her career.

Meng Ting, who witnessed the scene, still had trembling hands and feet. He and A-Tong collapsed on the couch, not caring about their image.

He muttered, “Why did the fire start so suddenly?”

“Could someone be trying to sabotage our superstar?”

Secretary Cong, who had investigated immediately, quietly explained, “It was an electrical overload. Combined with hot weather and a large amount of dry, flammable roses—it wasn’t intentional.”

It really was just an accident.

Meng Ting heard it in one ear and out the other, acting like he had developed a persecution complex, still mumbling about sabotage.

Fu Yuan finally had enough. She smacked him on the head, “Snap out of it. Stop playing dead. Go coordinate with PR and keep an eye on the internet.”

To avoid any leaked photos.

Speaking of which, Fu Yuan added, “Thankfully, Mr. He’s bodyguards arrived in time and controlled the scene.”

“Also, all the cast signed NDAs, so no high-res photos have been leaked online.”

“Only one photo was taken from afar by the official media—it shows Mr. He carrying Qin Mang out of the scene. It’s low quality and filled with smoke, so his face isn’t clear.”

The news agencies used this destined-looking photo as a banner headline and splash screen image for their apps.

Due to He Lingji’s camouflage pants and black combat boots, many people assumed he was a rescue worker.

> “I knew something was off about this filming site! And now this happened!” “Wahhh, I hope our little lion is okay!”

“Her studio just released a statement—our goddess just inhaled some smoke. She’ll recover after some rest.”

“Thank goodness! I was so scared her beautiful face would be harmed. She's the queen of strong-featured beauties!”

“Blessed by the heavens—surviving such a disaster means fortune is on its way!”

“As long as she’s safe, we’re okay! @QinMang take your time recovering—we’ll wait!”

Fans comforted her lovingly.

Of course, there were also curious netizens—

> “Am I the only one who noticed how long the rescuer’s legs are? Long legs, slim waist… too bad the face is blurry, but that fateful atmosphere!” “OMG, same! But everyone’s focused on comforting Qin Mang, so I didn’t want to say anything…”

“Haha, Qin Mang has chemistry with everyone—except her boyfriend.”

“Correction: There's one person with even less chemistry—Top of the No-CP List.”

“Hehehe, those who know, know.”

“Offering a reward for the rescuer’s identity!”

“Maybe he’s a firefighter?”

“His gear doesn’t really look like it, though?”

After confirming Qin Mang was safe, Wu Yuxi got first-hand photos from A-Tong and was moved to tears.

As expected of the couple she shipped— There was no such thing as “every man for himself” in a crisis.

This was love that faced life and death together!

Thinking of the danger, Wu Yuxi, far away overseas, still couldn’t feel at ease until she saw Qin Mang with her own eyes.

So she took the first flight back home.

In first class, the flight attendant saw a stunning beauty crying while drawing on her iPad. He assumed she was a designer driven mad by clients. He offered her a cup of hot tea.

“Thank you,” Wu Yuxi said politely.

But when he accidentally glimpsed her sketch, the well-trained attendant almost spilled the tea from shock.

“N-No need to thank me…”

He left with a smile, but his mind was a total blur.

After flying for ten hours on the plane, Wu Yuxi spent the entire ten hours drawing.

As soon as the plane landed, she immediately posted her work.

The “Aurora” fan forum was abuzz with discussions about Qin Mang being caught in a fire. Everyone had originally been praying for her safety.

Until the big-name fan artist, Little Watermelon, suddenly dropped in.

She posted a single image and then vanished.

The forum exploded.

With just over a hundred members, the forum suddenly felt like thousands were online all at once.

All because of this new image.

It wasn’t some suggestive fanart, but a legitimate, powerful drawing.

Almost everyone had seen a similar scene trending on Weibo: amid a sea of blazing roses, a tall, striking man carried a girl in a burning red dress, walking step by step out of a blazing inferno.

Flames, as ornate and fierce as a phoenix’s tail, wrapped around the man’s ankles and climbed upward.

The key part?

The face that had been obscured by smoke in the original photo—Little Watermelon had drawn it out.

And it turned out to be He Lingji!

“Holy crap, only our Little Watermelon knows how to ship characters like this!”

“What do we do? I couldn’t picture that guy’s face in the original photos, but now that the artist’s drawn it, it just feels… right!”

“This is the power of art?”

“She’s too good! @LittleWatermelon, I hereby crown you the No.1 fan of the ‘Aurora CP’!”

“Ahhh! Why are they such a perfect pair? Why are there only a hundred of us who get it?!”

“I feel kinda bad for the guy who saved the goddess from the fire, but… if he really looks like this ice-cold beauty, my heart can’t take it!”

“This is what the original photo should’ve looked like!”

A lurking gossip reporter who knew part of the truth: “…”

Holy crap.

This Little Watermelon—is she a prophet?

Or is she an insider?

Meanwhile…

The pampered Miss Qin, eager to prove herself a “good wife,” had been personally taking care of He Lingji during his hospital stay. She didn’t let anyone else help.

Even when he needed to use the restroom, she almost offered to assist.

President He, dignified and pure, firmly refused.

That evening, Qin Mang brought over dinner.

At that moment, a WeChat message popped up.

It was from Wu Yuxi.

The more Wu Yuxi looked at her drawing, the more she felt they were a perfect match!

She couldn’t resist texting the person involved, even during a red-eye flight:

The Universe’s No.1 Internet Celebrity:

[Little Lion, across all time and space, the only way to repay this is to marry him.]

Qin Mang glanced at the man on the hospital bed, who was looking at his tablet, and casually replied:

Little Lion Roar Meow:

[Marry what? President He guards against me like I’m a flower thief!]

Then she walked over and looked down at He Lingji:

“The doctor said you need rest. Why are you still looking at documents?”

“I’m not looking at documents,” He Lingji said.

He was in hospital clothes, casually draped with a frost-white silk robe that revealed large swaths of cool-toned skin. He looked languid and sexy—not like someone injured.

He looked up at her, expression calm and unbothered.

“Then what are you doing?”

“The doctor said I should stay in a good mood.”

“So?”

“I’m entertaining myself.”

Entertaining?

Qin Mang leaned in, curious, to look at the tablet on his knees.

What she saw was—

A video of her trying to win a claw machine prize for an hour straight, without getting a single toy.

Her smile froze instantly.

“…?”

What the—?!

He was watching her embarrassing claw machine video to entertain himself?

Seriously, He Lingji?!

“Stop watching! Don’t I have any dignity?”

She lunged to grab the tablet, trying to turn it off.

It was one thing for strangers online to see it—but for He Lingji to be watching it so seriously?

Qin Mang’s ears turned red.

But his silk robe was slippery.

She failed to grab the tablet—and ended up falling into his arms.

She tried to get up.

Unexpectedly, He Lingji didn’t play by the rules. Relying on his strong arms, he pulled her directly onto the hospital bed.

Her slipper wobbled and—

Thud.

Fell to the floor.

Worried she’d hit his injured leg, Qin Mang gasped, “No, no! Be careful!”

The next moment—

Her long legs ended up straddling either side of He Lingji’s waist.

She relaxed for a few seconds.

Then frowned: “What are you doing? What if you touch your injury?”

“Didn’t Mrs. He say she likes my waist?”

“How do you know that?”

Qin Mang’s dark eyes widened. When had she let that slip?

He Lingji slowly untied the loose robe belt.

“Mrs. He, your preferences are written all over your face.”

The hospital room lighting was bright.

Though half-reclining against the pillows, He Lingji’s abs were tight and defined. His V-line led into his clothes. His tone was calm, yet his entire presence radiated natural dominance and danger.

Caught in the act, Qin Mang stopped pretending and propped her chin on her hand, admiring him for a full minute.

Noticing something was off, she looked up stiffly—

Only to meet his grey-blue eyes.

They were like calm seas beginning to ripple, eyes full of unspoken intent.

Honestly, after not seeing each other for months, Qin Mang had missed him.

But her mind was full of concern over his injured leg. She said seriously, “No. You’re hurt.”

And she wasn’t wrong.

That was what He Lingji had in mind.

He replied, “That part’s not injured.”

Qin Mang: “Still no. What if you pull your wound?”

He Lingji’s patience ran out. He played with her slender fingers—his joints rough and defined, so different from her soft warmth—and said, his voice husky and smoky:

“I won’t pull anything.”

He moved the tablet aside with one hand.

It bumped a cup and made a clink.

The sound startled Qin Mang. On instinct, she buried her face in his chest.

Amused, He Lingji cupped her delicate chin.

“Mrs. He, are we sneaking around?”

Just then, someone almost entered.

Qin Mang let out a breath.

Her image as a celebrity nearly collapsed.

She said seriously, “This is worse than sneaking around.”

“So let’s not do it. What if the doctor does rounds?”

“What if we’re seen?”

The next second—

The lights went off.

The big, cold hospital room plunged into darkness.

He Lingji said softly, “Now no one can see.”

Qin Mang: “…”

What kind of universe-level self-deception is this?!

Maybe because she didn’t want to be overheard, Qin Mang whispered, her voice tinged with intimacy and teasing:

“Who’s the flower thief now?”

He Lingji’s voice was low and hazy: “Mm—I'm picking flowers.”

She had flirted, but he turned the tables.

His lips brushed her ear. His voice was gravelly, restrained, magnetic:

“Be good.”

“I’ll take you to that empty claw machine next time, okay?”

Qin Mang hadn’t expected him to remember.

Her eyes softened, and she whispered, “Okay.”

She’d never go claw-machine hunting alone again.

She couldn’t win anything anyway.

The hospital hallway lights stayed on.

Quiet and still.

Inside the room…

No one knew how much time had passed.

Suddenly, Qin Mang said, “The little white lion is really cute.”

A long silence.

Then, a very soft reply from the man:

“You like it?”

“I do.”