The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 167

Half a year without meeting. Even their phone calls could be counted on one hand.

Jiang Fei had a thousand things he wanted to say to Bai Ruoxi. And Bai Ruoxi? She had ten thousand things to say to him.

But according to their longstanding rule, the first words had to come from Jiang Fei.

His brows furrowed deeply, his face flushed red. His heavy gaze carried a hint of urgency. He opened his mouth—

Under Bai Ruoxi’s expectant stare, all those pent-up words condensed into one desperate plea:

“I can’t hold it anymore—help me up! I need to piss!”

“……”

Bai Ruoxi nearly choked on her own rage.

With that solemn expression, she’d thought he was wrestling with guilt, struggling to apologize. Instead, he delivered this absurd line!

Torn between fury and laughter, she glared at him but still bent down to help the invalid.

Jiang Fei’s left shoulder was bandaged, immobilized. His right arm bore an IV drip—fluids to replenish the blood he’d lost after being shot. Moving was a chore; even bathroom trips required assistance.

“You deserve to burst,” Bai Ruoxi grumbled, carefully supporting him off the bed.

Jiang Fei studied her flawless face up close, emotions surging—tenderness, gratitude, guilt.

Her claim about a “work transfer” didn’t fool him. After years together, he knew: she’d flown back for him.

“Easy—ah! Lying down was fine, but standing pulls the wound,” he hissed.

“Now it hurts? Should’ve thought of that before chasing celebrities!” Her tone was ice, but her hands gentled further. For all her brilliance, caregiving wasn’t her forte—nothing like nurse-trained Lin Moli.

Inching toward the bathroom, Jiang Fei—despite his urgency—couldn’t resist needling her. He kissed her cheek. “Jealous?”

“Of what? The trio of beauties in your room? I’d die from vinegar poisoning!” She glared, then muttered, “You’ve outdone yourself. Disappear for months, only to resurface on tabloid covers. Half the nation knows you now. And what’s this? Women are getting you shot? Planning to martyr yourself for romance?”

She’d exchanged zero words with Lin Moli earlier. Both women knew the score.

All Bai Ruoxi understood was: Jiang Fei got shot leaving Qiao Yiyi’s concert. Ergo, some deranged fan had pulled the trigger.

“You saw the papers?” Jiang Fei winced. “But it’s not what you think—Qiao Yiyi and I are just friends.”

“‘Just friends’ trend nationwide? You escort her to events and take bullets for her?” Bai Ruoxi’s grip tightened. If he weren’t injured, she’d have walked out already.

“I swear, the shooting’s unrelated to her—ugh, explain later!”

Bathroom reached. New problem arose.

One hand had the IV. The other was strapped to his shoulder. Neither could undo his pants.

Face burning, Jiang Fei mumbled: “Sweetheart… need a hand.”

They’d crossed every intimacy line years ago. But this? A grown man needing help to pee? Humiliating.

Bai Ruoxi’s cheeks pinked. She glared but complied, crouching to unbutton his pants. Seeing his dormant equipment, she flushed deeper and looked away.

She’d fallen for his “just cuddling” lie on Valentine’s Day sophomore year—and been thoroughly claimed ever since. Years of “practice” left no mysteries between them. Yet months apart had rebuilt shyness. Facing Little Jiang Fei now? Impossible.

“Splish-splash-sploosh—”

The torrential downpour into the toilet, paired with Jiang Fei’s obscenely satisfied “Aaah…”, made Bai Ruoxi’s ears burn.

“Must you sound like that?!” she snapped.

Jiang Fei grinned. “You’ve no idea how bad I needed this!”

She rolled her eyes, focusing on the ceiling like it held life’s secrets.

Thirty seconds later, the stream tapered to drips.

“Done?” she asked stiffly.

“Mostly.”

She reached to pull up his pants—

“Wait!”

“What now?!”

Jiang Fei squirmed. “Ahem… could you, uh… shake it? Otherwise I’ll feel… unfinished.”

Only with Bai Ruoxi would he dare this request. Even with Lin Moli, he’d rather wet himself than ask.

“You’re mocking me!” Bai Ruoxi’s voice hit a pitch only bats could hear. “Jiang Fei! My silence isn’t forgiveness! Once you’re healed, you’ll explain everything—or else!”

Grumbling, she pinched him between two slender fingers… and shook.

Then froze.

Because something was… awakening.

Her glare could’ve vaporized steel. “Jiang. Fei.”

“Natural reaction! Purely biological!” he yelped, cringing.

Her grip tightened.

“HOLY SHIT—MURDER!!”

“Darling, I surrender! It’s just—you’re too damn beautiful—”

“LET GO BEFORE YOU BREAK IT—”

Tears streamed down Jiang Fei’s face.

…

Back in bed,

Bai Ruoxi fed him congee from the thermos—though her “care” involved repeatedly choking him.

“So Qiao Yiyi’s really just a friend?” she pressed.

After his (surprisingly plausible) explanation, her skepticism had waned.

“Swear on my life! I treated her vocal cords—that’s it. Nothing shady,” Jiang Fei vowed.

“Then who did try to kill you? Guns aren’t common here. What enemies have you made?”

Jiang Fei’s expression darkened. “No clue yet. But with police and Ye Yuanyuan involved, answers will come.”

A shooting with fatalities couldn’t be buried. Not with Ye Yuanyuan’s influence.

Bai Ruoxi sighed. “What happened these months? You quit the hospital to open a clinic, then co-founded a private hospital with Miss Lin? And now this…”

Jiang Fei sighed. Condensing months of chaos into words? Impossible. That she hadn’t eviscerated him over Lin Moli was mercy enough.

“How long are you staying?” he asked softly.

“Originally one week…” She hesitated. “But I’ll call my editor. I’m staying in China.”

Jiang Fei’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“No.” She shoved a spoonful at him. “Eat.”

He obeyed, warmth flooding his chest.