Chapter 39 I am the wife.

"According to the latest news from the Hamajima Early Warning Release Center, Typhoon "Uze" will officially land on the island around 19:35 tonight. When it lands, the maximum wind speed near the center will reach more than level 10. Citizens are requested not to go out at will and to prepare relevant defense guidelines..."

The radio broadcast in the car was interrupted, and the navigation popped up to remind that the destination [Pingzhuang Mental Hospital] had been reached.

The driver had just parked the car by the roadside and was about to remind the passengers in the back seat to get off, but when he turned around, he heard the sound of the car door being opened and closed, and a brand new cash was placed on the seat.

The driver took the cash and checked it, then looked out the window with some strangeness.

It was a cloudy day when the typhoon was approaching, and the area was surrounded by mountains. There was only this one mountain road in and out, and a mental hospital standing at the foot of the mountain.

The driver rubbed his eyes, confirming the masked girl was heading for the mental hospital. He couldn't help but mutter, "It's a typhoon, are you here to visit your family?"

Another gust of wind howled, making the driver even more frightened. He quickly started the car and drove away from the mountainous area.

Meanwhile, inside the mental hospital,

"Damn it! Is this idiot going to leave or not? The typhoon is about to hit. How long is he going to stay here carving that rubbish?"

A middle-aged man cursed, rolling up his sleeves and about to rush out into the lawn to beat someone up. Another nurse quickly stopped him, saying,

"Hey, Director, please leave him alone. Didn't Mr. He and his wife say they just give him a meal every day? Let this idiot fend for himself here! We've tried everything we can to persuade him, but he insisted on staying out. If he gets killed by a tree during the typhoon, it's his own fault, right?"

The man's expression finally softened slightly. He snorted angrily and allowed the nurse to pull him away.

Shang Youqing leaned against the guardrail with his hands folded, his chin carelessly supported by his fingertips, and looked in the direction where the man had just cursed.

At the foot of the vine trellis under the tree on the lawn, a tall and thin boy was curled up on an old chair, his head lowered, holding a rough stone and carving something.

The raindrops were swept by the wind and fluttered around, soaking the boy's slightly long hair on his forehead, but he didn't care, still keeping his eyes down and carving his stone carefully.

If it weren't for the fact that she could see through her spiritual sense that her spiritual roots were indeed in the thin body of the boy in the hospital gown, Shang Youqing would really doubt what the ancestor of the Heavenly Dao had said to her on Wutong Mountain.

Her spiritual roots were actually left in such a foolish boy.

Shang Youqing looked up at the cloudy sky again, thought for a moment, and finally put down her hands, turned into an ordinary little bird and flew away.

Thunder continued to rumble intermittently. Shang Youqing perched on the stone held by the young man, tilting her head slightly to see what he was carving.

The moment she descended, He Cong's pale fingers, gripping the carving knife, seemed to freeze, staring blankly at the small bird on the stone.

A few raindrops landed on the bird's long, slender, emerald tail feathers. The bird shook its soft wings, and the raindrops flowed down the smooth, beautiful feathers and into the young man's slender fingers.

Shang Youqing stood proudly on the stone, sniffing and exploring, when she suddenly felt the fur on her belly slightly indent. She was lifted up by the young man's cool fingers.

Shang Youqing immediately raised her phoenix eyes, a slightly sharp sound, and let out a cheeky "chirp."

The next second, the young man carefully placed her under his clothes. His dark, damp eyes shifted slowly before moving, raising his other hand and hovering over the hem, as if to shield her from the wind and rain.

"..."

Shang Youqing reluctantly stopped chirping him.

However, as the typhoon was getting closer to the island, the rain was getting heavier. The wooden climbing frame above his head was shaky and the branches were swinging violently.

Shang Youqing was held in the boy's arms and licked his slightly wet feathers leisurely. Before taking back the spiritual root, he wanted to see how this guy would die in the typhoon rainy night.

"Rain."

The boy looked at the raindrops that kept leaking from his fingers with stupid and cold eyes, and kept repeating the word "rain" in his mouth.

Shang Youqing shook his feathers impatiently again, a little impatient, thinking that he might as well take action now.

As soon as the thought came out, the boy suddenly stood up from under the creaking and shaking wooden climbing frame.

Before Shang Youqing could react, the whole little fur ball's eyes went black, and he was stuffed into his hospital gown by the boy's cold and thin hands, pressing against his slightly undulating thin waist and abdomen.

Shang Youqing felt like the whole world was shaking, and she belatedly realized it was the boy who was carrying her as she ran.

An unknown amount of time passed, and just as Shang Youqing was feeling dizzy and falling into the boy's hands, the world finally stopped shaking, and Shang Youqing was lifted out from under the hem of his hospital gown.

In the dim, damp, and cold ward, the boy squatted at the edge of the bed, holding Shang Youqing in his arms, and wiped her damp feathers bit by bit with a clean handkerchief.

Shang Youqing looked up at the boy's eyes, which were staring at her quietly and intently, and her wings, which were about to spread out, drooped again.

But just at that moment, thunder and lightning roared outside the window, followed by a loud boom, and the entire mental hospital was completely without power. As

the saying goes, it's a dark and windy night, so

if you don't act now, when will you? In the pitch-black darkness, Shang Youqing proudly spread her wings and prepared to transform -

and with a "bang", the ward was illuminated by a faint flame.

Shang Youqing raised her head warily and saw the young man had found a candle from nowhere, lit it at the head of the bed, and carried her to the place with the best light. Even though his fingers were so cold, he still covered her and said, "It's not dark anymore."

Shang Youqing's wings fluttered slightly again. She wanted to struggle out of the palm of his hand, but the young man thought she was frozen. He seemed to think for a while with his eyes downcast, then he made a small nest with his own bed quilt, picked her up and put her in it.

Shang Youqing: "..."

Forget it, let's wait until the fool falls asleep before doing anything.

On the stormy night of the typhoon, in the hospital ward with a faint firelight, Shang Youqing lazily leaned in the small nest built for her and dozed off.

Shang Youqing didn't transform back into human form until she heard the breath of the young man gradually falling asleep on the bed.

In order to facilitate movement, she sat with her legs crossed on both sides of the boy's body.

The veil obscured Shang Youqing's expression. She leaned over and, with her fingerless-gloved hands, she moved down from the boy's fair neck, slowly unbuttoning the buttons one by one.

Soon, the hems of his clothes were scattered to both sides.

The cold leather on the back of her fingertips caressed the boy's beautifully curved collarbone, the well-defined chest and abdomen, and finally, with a clear target, she came to the underside of his ribs, separated by a thin layer of tough skin...

The human boy's body was even more beautiful and clean than she had imagined.

Although there were obvious man-made scars on his body, both new and old, Shang Youqing only felt a little sorry, like seeing the marks of a broken piece of porcelain.

She gently stroked the thin, warm skin on the side of the boy's ribs, and a ray of light gradually gathered at her fingertips, and she touched the small curved bone where her spiritual root grew.

However, just as she was about to extract her spiritual root, Shang Youqing was caught off guard and her finger was repelled by the clear light she had just attempted to inject beneath the boy's skin.

"What's going on..."

Shang Youqing muttered, rubbing her burning fingertips. She touched the boy's ribs again, carefully studying them with her spiritual sense.

Soon, Shang Youqing finally discovered something amiss.

Perhaps due to the passage of time, her spiritual root had unknowingly become entwined and deeply rooted in the boy's bones and flesh. If forcibly removed, it would wither and decay instantly. Damage

would then go beyond a simple matter of the root itself.

She suddenly remembered the final words of advice from the old man Tiandao before she left the mountain...

The old man had said that if the spiritual root was difficult to extract, she should never force it. The best and most harmless method was to obtain the boy's unique love. The more the spiritual root absorbed from the boy's love, the easier it would be to extract it.

At the time, Shang Youqing had been scratching her ears, unconcerned. She lacked the patience for playing house with humans. She simply wanted to descend the mountain, find the boy, and simply and roughly retrieve his spiritual root before returning to Wutong Mountain to rest.

But now, the reality before her, like the torrential rain outside, awoke Shang Youqing with a start.

Frustrated, she ripped off her mask, pressed against the spot where her spiritual root lay, so clearly within reach, and took a deep breath.

She simply wanted to retrieve her spiritual root; was there any need for such complication?

As she pondered this vexed thought, Shang Youqing's fingers on the boy's skin moved. She slowly lowered her eyes, clearly seeing her waist and abdomen sag slightly from the heat through the fabric.

In the room, dimly lit by candlelight, the boy lay on the hospital bed. He had opened his eyes at some point, staring at her face unblinkingly. The more he stared, the redder the corners of his eyes grew, and his breathing became more irregular and heavier.

Shang Youqing looked at his reaction after getting up, then at his stunned expression, and suddenly couldn't help but smile. "Does it look good?"

The boy didn't move, seemingly forgetting to breathe, and simply replied blankly, "It looks good."

Shang Youqing bent her legs and gently pressed against his waist, deliberately teasing the fool. "Then how about being He Cong's wife?"

The boy continued to look at her, as if he didn't understand, yet trying hard to understand the word "wife.

" Shang Youqing wasn't in a hurry. She calmly helped him free, guiding him step by step.

All the while, she watched clearly as the boy's fair, cold face was stained with a faint, hot red, his chest pounding with the rhythm of his heartbeat, and his

Adam's apple clenched slightly. Suddenly, the boy opened his thin lips slightly and grasped Shang Youqing's hand.

As Shang Youqing released his hand, she was amused to see that the boy's eyelashes trembled. After a moment, a few wet tears fell from the corners of his red eyes, as if he had truly been bullied by her.

She smeared the contents of her palm onto his swollen, heaving waist, glanced lazily at it, and whispered, "Dirty dog."

Then, with her slender legs, she gently kicked him away and sat back on the edge of the bed.

Hearing the boy still trying to catch his breath, she couldn't help but laugh. "Did I really make you cry?"

The boy's face flushed. After a moment, he pursed his lips and sat up silently. In the dim candlelight, he opened his moist eyes and said, "It's not dirty."

Shang Youqing: "What?"

He Cong repeated: "It's not dirty."

Shang Youqing turned back and met the boy's moist eyes. She thought helplessly, okay, just consider it a way to spend some time playing with this human. Once he fell in love with her, she would retrieve the spiritual root and return to Wutong Mountain.

It would just take a little more effort.

Shang Youqing was still pondering how to coax this fool when he suddenly grabbed her fingers and examined them one by one. As he looked, as if remembering her hand that had just been holding his... his eyelashes trembled slightly again.

Shang Youqing took a look and raised his eyebrows slightly, "What are you reminiscing about, little dirty dog?"

The boy raised his head, the blush on his face had not completely faded, and his thin lips moved stiffly, "Just like in the dream, beautiful."

Shang Youqing was stunned for a moment, then reacted.

She said, why didn't this idiot get scared by her sudden appearance in the middle of the night, and he was still staring at her in a daze, it turned out that he had dreamed of her a long time ago.

Also, her spiritual roots had been left in him for who knows how long, it was normal for a idiot to dream of her appearance.

Thinking of this, Shang Youqing couldn't help but bend his clear eyes, "Then do you know who I am?"

The boy seemed to be trapped, his mouth moved, but he couldn't answer.

Shang Youqing reached out and touched his alopecia head, then began to brainwash him: "I'm your wife."

He Cong watched her lips move and studied the words: "Wife..."

Then he repeated them to himself, "Wife." He

then reinforced them with "Wife."

"What a clever little dog!" Shang Youqing's fingers, soft under her half-gloved gloves, pushed down his sleep-ruffled alopecia, and he began to praise him.

He Cong looked at her as if he were watching a dream, then belatedly tightened his grip around her fingers.

"What's wrong?"

He Cong complained like he did every time he woke up from a dream, "Every time the sun comes up, my wife disappears."

Shang Youqing reached out and turned the boy's face, looked at him carefully and asked, "Do you dream about me often?"

He Cong thought seriously for a long time, so long that Shang Youqing almost withdrew his hand. Then he lowered his chin, pressed his lips against Shang Youqing's leather gloves, and muttered in response, "Not often. It hurts a lot after taking the medicine, and I can't sleep. When it doesn't hurt, I dream about... my wife."

He Cong pronounced the last two words very standardly and smoothly.

Shang Youqing extracted the key information from his illogical answer, that is, the medicine He Cong took caused him a lot of pain, and he took the medicine so frequently that even a good night's sleep was a luxury.

This was obviously abnormal.

Shang Youqing narrowed his eyes, so was this the key reason why her spiritual roots were being damaged?