My Stepbrother Is a Little Pitiful (ChatGPT Translated)

☆ Chapter 46. Selling misery, selling misery.

Chapter 45: Selling Misery

"Artemisia's juice can neutralize the toxicity of the Small Snake Weed. Do you feel much better now?" She approached closer, her fingers lightly lifting his chin, gently smearing the soft flesh of his chin in circles.

". . . Hmm." His breathing became rapid.

The sharp, needle-like pain seemed to dissipate slowly under her soothing touch, like the effect of an antidote spreading. The intense heat of the pain began to ease.

"That's good." Cheng Songer released her hand, and her warm fingertips started to move away from him.

His forcibly lifted chin tilted slightly upwards, as the early spring sunlight pierced through the obstructing branches and leaves, scorching his eyes. They were filled with visible desolation.

During this period, he could clearly feel Cheng Songer's intentional distance from him.

Although she still behaved as usual, she always resisted any intimate boundary between them. Even when he approached her, she would subtly move away.

Just like when he voluntarily massaged her shoulders earlier.

If he hadn't deliberately slipped next to the Small Snake Weed and intentionally let himself be stung by the poisonous plant, she might not even want to get close to him.

Cheng Qingzhi's heart felt sour, unable to understand how Cheng Songer's attitude towards him had changed so drastically in an instant.

Even more puzzling was why her eyes still held the same gentle spring water as always.

He was tormented by this distant relationship, neither close nor distant. He would rather be beaten by Cheng Songer with thorny branches, his body covered in blood and flesh, enduring the ultimate torture, than feel her indifference.

"I'll gather more Artemisia. If you apply it regularly for the next few days, it should heal quickly." She finished speaking and was about to go pick more Artemisia.

But suddenly, a force gently pulled her waist from behind. She turned around, and her waist belt was caught by Cheng Qingzhi.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Cheng Qingzhi lowered his head, his eye sockets uncontrollably turning red.

He extended his hand that had been stung, and his thin lips trembled. "And this hand too."

"What?" She didn't understand.

Cheng Qingzhi bit his lip, his slightly reddened phoenix eyes looked as if they had been bullied, and there was a hint of inexplicable grievance in his tone: "And this hand hasn't been medicated yet."

Cheng Songer suddenly realized, and poured some juice on his hand again, carefully applying it.

"I'm a careless person, please don't mind." She lowered her head, holding his hand in her palm, treating it as precious as a pearl.

Cheng Qingzhi's eyes sank, realizing how it felt to have Cheng Songer's hand in his palm. Songer's hand. . . so soft, warm and tender, infinitely gentle, like a pile of sun-drenched cotton, emitting an infinite warmth, silently conquering him. . .

He just wanted to sink into this moment, wishing he could kneel in front of her, bury his face in her palm, and absorb the occasional love she bestowed.

"It's done, is there anywhere else that feels uncomfortable?" She looked up at him, blushing and her heart pounding.

At this moment, Cheng Qingzhi was looking at himself, even with medicine juice smeared on his face, his beauty was hard to conceal, especially those slightly reddened eyes, full of tenderness.