Chapter 36 Of course I know you won't hurt Mo Mo.

Although it was his finger that was bitten, He Cong felt as if it was gently pricked by a feather. The slight tingling sensation made his originally cold face look a little dazed.

But before he could feel it carefully, Shang Youqing took his finger out from under her lips.

Shang Youqing pressed hard on the tip of his index finger that was bitten and bleeding. He Cong's knuckles accidentally touched and slipped on the back of Shang Youqing's cool hand. He just moved slightly, but Shang Youqing pressed harder and raised his eyes to warn him, "Don't move."

He Cong pursed his thin lips again, thinking that it was impossible to bite someone's finger until it bled without any explanation and then be so domineering and unreasonable to ask that person not even move. On the surface, he agreed calmly, "I know."

He really didn't move, and handed his hand to Shang Youqing for full control.

Shang Youqing coaxed He Zhimo, who was still sobbing and crying in pain at the crook of her neck, into her forearm. Then, she directly brought He Cong's finger, still covered in blood, to the cub's mouth.

"Little Master..." Shang Youqing's unconscious words paused for a second, then, remembering something, she somewhat awkwardly mimicked the way He Cong had called He Zhimo not long ago, whispering, "Mo Mo?"

He Zhimo's eyes, red and swollen from crying, opened in confusion. His mouth parted slightly, as if quickly sniffing something. His little hand instinctively grasped the food being offered to him, sucking away the blood.

Meanwhile, Shang Youqing gently wiped the tears from the cub's face. Once she was sure He Zhimo had swallowed the blood, she immediately pulled He Cong's hand away.

He Cong: "..."

Feeling a sense of being disposable, he was about to sneer at her, but after Shang Youqing had discarded his hand, he lowered his head and bit her own finger.

He Cong's brow furrowed, unconcerned with what Shang Youqing might say. He raised his hand and grasped her wrist, his metacarpal bone blocking her lips as she opened them to bite. Her soft lips and teeth pressed against the skin of his palm, and the lines of his slender wrist slowly tensed.

He Cong's expression hardened, and he asked her sternly, "Do you want to feed Momo blood? Just use my blood. Don't bite yourself."

Shang Youqing's teeth, about to bite him, glided briefly over the skin of his suddenly blocked palm. Her pale red lips, about to open, left a shallow tooth mark on the back of his hand, a hint of punishment. Her eyes quirked upwards, urging him.

"Let go. Don't mess around."

He Cong's face showed no emotion. His eyes stared at her lips sternly, and he insisted, "If your bite hurts, why not use my blood?"

The implication was that if her bite hurt so much, she could just bite him and not hurt herself.

Shang Youqing finally realized that she had hurt him by biting him, so she had to patiently explain to him, "Your blood can't be used alone, so let go first."

After a pause, He Cong let go of her hand without a word.

The veins on the back of her hand were faintly bulging, and it seemed that the tiger's mouth still retained the soft warmth of Shang Youqing's bite.

He restrained his eyes and moved away from her thin red lips, lowering them slightly, watching Shang Youqing bite her own finger and feed the bloody fingertip to the cub.

She had clearly let He Zhimo suck a mouthful or two of his blood before removing his hand, but now she indulged the cub by letting him hold her finger and suck it again and again. Looking down at the cub's face, her expression was also very gentle, and there was no intention of struggling at all.

Until He Zhimo grumbled a few times, as if he was finally fed, the crying gradually subsided, and he fell into Shang Youqing's arms again in a daze, his little hands tugging at Shang Youqing's collar, and his mouth slightly opened from time to time, as if he was still calling "Mom".

Shang Youqing touched the little cub's still hot forehead and saw that his mouth was dry and cracked. He looked up and ordered He Cong, "Go get me a glass of water."

He Cong said "Okay", took the cup and walked out of the room, just in time to run into Chen, the housekeeper, who was waiting in the corridor outside.

Housekeeper Chen noticed Mr. He holding an empty cup and considerately stepped forward to take it. "Sir, would you like some water? I'll be there—"

Before he could finish his words, He Cong's hand firmly grasped the empty cup, preventing Housekeeper Chen from taking it away. He interrupted him, saying, "Shang Youqing asked me to get some water."

Housekeeper Chen: "...?"

When He Cong brought the full cup back to his room, he saw Shang Youqing had just changed the comatose He Zhimo into a clean outfit, and a number of burnt feathers had fallen out beside him.

Shang Youqing's hand was free and she naturally reached out to him. He Cong's jaw tightened slightly as he handed the cup to her.

Then he saw that even after Shang Youqing took the cup, she still showed no sign of avoiding him. The faint luster gathered on her fingertips leaped into the cup like fine gilded gold.

Before picking up He Zhimo to feed him, Shang Youqing suddenly seemed to sense the gaze of He Cong standing nearby. She looked up and met his gaze. After a moment's thought, she finally told him, "It's nothing special. It's spiritual water that can help He Zhimo recover quickly."

The little cub had been crying and fussing all day with a high fever, and his energy was already exhausted. But he still had to work hard to complete his first tail molt, so she had to help him with the spiritual water to give him the strength to shed his tail.

She thought He Cong was worried about what she had fed him, so she explained it to him.

He Cong, however, became displeased and retorted in a deep voice, "Of course I know you wouldn't harm Momo."

Shang Youqing was baffled.

But she didn't have the energy to speculate on his thoughts. She lowered her head again and focused on feeding the cub in her arms, one sip at a time, the spiritual water.

Meanwhile, He Cong, with a sullen expression, silently tidied the feathers on her crib, picking up every tiny feather the cub had dropped and storing them neatly in a small box nearby.

The cub's throat was small and burning, and even water was swallowed slowly. Despite Shang Youqing's careful feeding, He Zhimo still choked a few times, coughing until his face flushed red and sobbing through his pout. "Mommy, don't drink..."

Shang Youqing took the handkerchief He Cong had just handed him and gently wiped the few drops of water from the cub's mouth. She coaxed him softly, "Just a couple more sips, okay?"

He Zhimo pouted in frustration, but still obediently opened his mouth, struggling to swallow two more sips despite the burning pain in his throat.

After drinking, his eyes watered again, and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his little hand, then buried his whole body into Shang Youqing's neck, mumbling miserably in a half-conscious state. Shang Youqing continued to inject

healing spiritual energy into the little guy. She couldn't relax completely until He Zhimo's body temperature dropped.