Chapter 62: Tender Care

Who is this colleague who thinks so of him?
Such absurd words left Yan Chuan unable to discern their truth. However, since his husband had mentioned it specifically, it must surely be related to the backdrop of the script from Apartment No. 13.
Had his previous assumptions been wrong? Was his husband’s “accident” not tied to his two lovers in Apartment No. 13, but rather involved someone else?
Yan Chuan hesitated.
But his immediate priority was to soothe his husband, whose mood had plummeted.
Yan Chuan blinked, biting his lip under his husband’s gaze.
“Did you get hurt anywhere else?” Yan Chuan tugged at the man’s sleeve and turned his wrist over to check. “I don’t know anyone else; I just want to care for you.”
He discovered a blood-red scratch on his husband’s arm.
Yan Chuan frowned, the corners of his eyes tinged with a delicate blush, creating a striking contrast against his pale cheeks. It looked alluring, like a little teasing hook directing attention.
His slender fingers gently brushed around the scratch, his voice soft and tinged with worry. “Seeing you hurt makes my heart ache.”
He tenderly rubbed his husband’s cheek, feeling a slight scrape on the bridge of his high nose.
In a position akin to kneeling, he straightened and leaned closer to the man’s handsome yet solemn face, cautiously brushing the tip of his nose. His tone was a mix of concern and reproach. “There’s a small mark here too.”
The reproach was not genuine but filled with deep concern, meticulously noticing even the most insignificant red mark.
“I’m hurt too; a kiss is necessary to get better!”
“Will that colleague appear again? The wife already has one, two, three, four, five fish in her pond.”
“In this pose, your wife seems so small and adorable.”
“Estimating, Yan Bao should be around 1.7 meters tall with a very enviable proportion. But you know, the bad guys in the escape variety show are all so tall and strong, each one could easily pick up Yan Bao.” (blushing)
“Does it hurt?” Yan Chuan asked carefully as he applied ointment to his husband’s wounds. “How about this?”
His husband shook his head.
Yan Chuan seriously took out the ointment and even unwrapped some bandages.
He was earnest, sitting on his husband’s lap to treat the wound.
…Actually, no ointment was necessary.
Not to mention that his “husband” was an NPC and also a suspected behind-the-scenes boss. The wound wasn’t that large and had already stopped bleeding. For a man as strong as him, there was no need for any ointment.
But Yan Chuan was committed to the act; he attempted to maintain the precarious persona of a “gentle wife.” Fearing that if he didn’t keep his husband occupied, he might do something else to emphasize their legal marriage relationship.
Although the latter was unlikely, he had to keep his guard up, right?
Yan Chuan lowered his lashes, and his thoughts crystallized into a single phrase: “Alright.”
Remembering the instructions the nurse had given him, he advised his husband, “Be careful not to get it wet.”
The husband, whose attitude was much calmer than when he first entered, nodded but suddenly asked, “What about showering?”
Yan Chuan stared at the bandage he had carefully wrapped and was momentarily taken aback. “Ah?”
Showering…? Can’t he just turn down the water flow?
But now he was the concerned spouse, how could he say such a thing? Yan Chuan pondered and hesitated, “Then just wipe down today?”
“No,” his husband, who had never denied his suggestions before, unusually refused. He crossed his injured arm over his chest, indicating Yan Chuan to look at him. “This hand has no strength; I can’t wash it myself.”
Yan Chuan: ?
He was almost speechless.
If he remembered correctly, that scratch wasn’t severe, was it?
How could such a big man have the nerve to say something like that?
Yet, as Yan Chuan looked into his husband’s deep, dark eyes and at the bandage intentionally tied into a bow, he fell silent for a moment.
Previously, he was concerned that his husband would do something else, deliberately exaggerating the injury for wrap-up. Now, being prompted by the man, it seemed he couldn’t retract his words.
He had been careless.
Moreover, it seemed his husband wanted him to help wash.
Yan Chuan pursed his lips.
Would a gentle and kind wife refuse a small request from her injured husband?
Of course not.
Yan Chuan glanced at his husband’s arm wrapped tightly in the bandage and finally nodded.
“Then I’ll wash you,” he hardly knew how he had said this, nearly biting his tongue. “But we need to be careful; I’ll wrap you in cling film first.”
His husband finally smiled, “Alright.”
Yan Chuan hesitated before entering the bathroom.
The sound of rushing water filled the small space, and the semi-transparent bathroom door was already misted up.
His husband had quickly stripped down, wearing only a bath towel.
The exposed shoulders and back were broad and robust, and the muscles on his arms became apparent with the slightest movement. Not to mention his waist and abdomen, even the area wrapped in the towel had visible veins that extended beneath it.
He showed no shyness about exposing his body; if it weren’t for Yan Chuan claiming to fear he might catch cold, he likely wouldn’t have even wrapped the towel.
The water was hot, filling the small bathroom with steam, making it hard for Yan Chuan to see his husband’s face clearly.
“Stretch out your hand,” he didn’t dare to look up, staring at the tiled floor with a faint blush on his cheeks. “Let me wipe it first.”
His husband seemed to say something, but Yan Chuan didn’t hear; he merely nodded absent-mindedly, “Mm-mm.”
He took a damp towel and gently wiped the man’s hand, carefully avoiding the area wrapped in cling film.
Yan Chuan felt a bit perfunctory, quickly wiping just a bit of the forearm and even a light brush on the shoulder, all without really soaking with water.
“The other one,” he hurriedly finished wiping one hand and said quietly, “Let’s do the other one too.”
However, his husband did not move.
Yan Chuan waited for a moment, needing to lift his head to urge him.