Professor Xie, isn't this a case of forcing customers to buy products that don't match the

The buttons on his pajamas at the waist were undone, and Xie Jing lifted a corner of the fabric on the right side of the pajamas. "See?"

The dim reading lamp cast a slanted shadow, and in its halo, the firm, well-proportioned, and sculpted muscles looked as beautiful as warm jade.

Shang Song's gaze was fixed on that perfect skin, his mind went blank, and his nose felt warm.

Shang Song stared wide-eyed, and just as she was about to reach out and touch him, Xie Jing had already adjusted his posture, sat up, and the fabric of his pajamas slipped down, completely covering the expanse of spring scenery he had just seen.

He slowly and deliberately buttoned his shirt back up. "I'm done reading."

Shang Song: "???"

He blurted out instinctively, "That's it? You only let me see it from one side?"

Xie Jing nodded slightly: "The left side... it's not time yet."

"Xie Jing! Is it so funny to tease me?!" Shang Song completely lost her temper, reaching out to rip Xie Jing's pajamas off. "I'm going to tear this tattered pajama of yours right now!"

In Xie Jing's view, Shang Song's skills were full of flaws and posed no threat whatsoever.

However, Xie Jing's pajamas were made of silk.

When Shang Song lunged forward but lost her balance due to the force of the fall, she instinctively tugged, and with a "rip," the hem of her pajamas was torn apart.

Xie Jing subconsciously reached out to catch him, and when he pulled him back into his arms, Shang Song was clutching a torn piece of his pajamas.

Before Shang Song could even feel smug, his expression froze, as if it had been frozen in time.

He saw it.

On Xie Jing's left abdomen, on the same beautiful muscle as his right abdomen, crawled a hideous, narrow, yet discontinuous scar.

Starting from the intercostal muscles below the heart, the line runs diagonally downwards along the midline, tearing through the left rectus abdominis muscle intermittently, eventually disappearing into the shadow of the trouser hem.

Xie Jing didn't move, nor did he try to cover it up.

He simply lowered his eyes, looking at the exposed old scar, his gaze as still as a deep, ancient well.

Shang Song clutched the tattered piece of cloth, neither moving nor able to move.

That scar was so long, really...so long.

After a long while, he cautiously extended his finger, his fingertip lightly touching the scar. He turned to Xie Jing and asked, "...How...how did this happen? When did it happen?...Does it...does it hurt?"

Xie Jing's hand, which was resting on Shang Song's back, curled up unconsciously.

Originally, there would have been a very long explanation here.

But at that moment, he just smiled and shook his head, saying, "It's all ancient history, don't ask."

Shang Song looked at his indifferent expression, and the corners of her lips drooped.

The skin that was touching was warm, and the lurking scars were hideous and stiff.

Just like Xie Jing, who appears gentle and indifferent on the outside, but harbors a hole that has long since died inside.

Seeing Shang Song's tearful expression, Xie Jing pulled the blanket over to cover the scar on his left abdomen.

His tone was indifferent, as if he were commenting on something that had nothing to do with him:

"Don't look at it, it's ugly."

The tears that Shang Song had been holding back finally burst forth. He bit his lower lip tightly without making a sound, threw down the fabric of his pajamas, grabbed the blanket, and covered Xie Jing's left abdomen even more tightly. Then he pounced on Xie Jing, pressing himself firmly against the blanket and burying his face in the crook of Xie Jing's neck.

His voice came out muffled, tinged with a serious sob:

"Xie Jing! Why don't you move back to Xishan? It's safer there... I'll come see you every weekend from now on! Okay...?"

Xie Jing felt the dampness and burning heat coming from the crook of his neck. His hand, which had been tightly curled up, finally slowly opened and began to gently pat Shang Song's back.

"I'm safe in Genting Highlands, so I'm not afraid."

Shang Song shook her head forcefully in the crook of his neck, her sobs growing louder: "But... there are few people in Xishan... there are walls... and Lin Zhou and the others..."

Xie Jing chuckled softly, the sound reverberating in his chest and reaching Shang Song through the blanket. "Cloud Peak also has walls and security."

He paused, then gently pulled Shang Song out from under his neck. "Besides, this is the city center, so we can be together every day, not just on the weekend."

Xie Jing tilted his head slightly, leaning against Shang Song, his lips almost touching Shang Song's ear, his voice low, as if to soothe him, or perhaps to share a secret:

"Shang Song, don't be afraid."

"That was a long time ago."

"The current Xie Jing is not so easy to kill."

No, not that easy to kill?

Shang Song gasped, stepped out of Xie Jing's arms, and reached back to pull back the blanket. "Let me see again!"

His hand had just grasped the blanket when Xie Jing grabbed his wrist. He looked up blankly, only to see Xie Jing slowly shaking his head.

"Stop looking."

Shang Song: "Why?"

Xie Jing raised his hand and gently pulled Shang Song to his side, placing her on his pillow. Then he lay down on his own side, so that they faced each other, their breaths mingling and their body heat mingling. He said:

"Look at my face, it looks better."

He knew what Shang Song liked.

Young people like his decent-looking appearance.

Then take a few more glances.

As for those imperfections, then look at them less, or even ignore them.

With Xie Jing encircling him, Shang Song could only look at Xie Jing's face.

From those deep, dark eyes to that straight, delicate nose, and those pale yet beautifully shaped thin lips.

It is indeed beautiful; it's the kind of beauty that withstands close scrutiny and can withstand critical examination.

As Shang Song watched, his nose tingled, and tears almost welled up in his eyes again.

He suddenly reached out, not to touch Xie Jing's face, but to press the scar that snaked down from Xie Jing's heart.

"I insist on watching."

"Your left cheek is beautiful, your right cheek is beautiful, your right waist is beautiful..."

He sniffed, unable to continue, tears streaming down his face. He buried his face in Xie Jing's neck, choking out his last words:

"...The left side of my waist looks good too, even with the scar."

"They're all mine."

"I can see it if I want to. Nobody can stop me."

Xie Jing was stunned.

The person in my arms was crying and trembling.

Or perhaps, it wasn't the person in her arms who was crying and trembling.

It was his beloved, the apple of his eye, who was crying and trembling in his heart.

He slowly tightened his grip on Shang Song's hand, applying pressure.

He didn't speak.

The "Shuowen Jiezi" (Explaining Characters and Analyzing Words) contains 9353 characters in standard seal script and 1163 characters in variant script. He could recite them fluently, but at this moment, no words could express his feelings.

So he could only lower his head and, with his slightly cool lips, kiss the top of the head of the person in his arms again and again.

He kissed her again and again.

Shang Song shed tears one by one.

In Shang Song's imagination, Xie Jing was like snow on a high mountain, like jade in an abyss, seemingly an unattainable existence, even like a cold god, high above, looking down on the human world.

But now, the mountain has collapsed, and the snow is stained with blood; the water in the abyss has dried up, and the jade in the water is shattered.

The cold deity shattered, revealing the living flesh and blood beneath.

That is just a mortal body of flesh and blood.

There was such a long, very long scar.

How much pain must it have caused?

Shang Song couldn't think of anything.

In his 22 years of life so far, he has suffered very few injuries, at most minor cuts that he forgets about in a few days.

But Xie Jing is different.

Since he was born to have the whole world, why can't he be favored a little more?

Why is there such a long scar?

He is clearly the highest and most supreme deity, so why does he have such a physical body underneath?

Believers questioned the gods with tears in their eyes.

The gods remain silent.

A kiss is all that is given in agreement.

Allow him to touch the fragile mortal body beneath his layers of clay sculpture.