The young wife dashed out of the room, her escape followed by Shujun’s deep, suppressed roar of frustration, "Dong—Xiao—Hui—!!!" Ah, was he blowing his top? She flashed a sly smile, then turned around and said, "Liang Xiaojun, honey, take care of your kidneys!" As she turned, she saw the neighbor’s window open, and a pale, sickly man who stood tall like Cui Zhu, gazing indifferently at her. She grinned, then wandered around the courtyard. Not seeing Lao Si anywhere, she headed straight to his room. Inside the room, where the fire basin was lit, Lao Si was initially facing away from the door. His upper body was bare, his bronze skin strong and beautiful, adorned with well-defined muscles, complete with abdominal and Adonis lines, though his large frame made him appear somewhat imposing. But his appearance was indeed captivating. That night, the room had been dark, everything done by feel, so she hadn’t seen clearly. But now, in broad daylight, her heart skipped a beat. Although a different kind of beauty, she had to admit that such a man, though reserved and quiet, was like walking pheromones, extremly seductive. Liang Haoming was momentarily stunned, then turned to see his wife and his face flushed instantly. "I came to see how you are," she said, clutching a flat little iron box in her hand, which contained the white ointment she had previously applied to Shujun, used mainly for reducing swelling and bruises. He seemed very flustered, at a loss with what to do with his hands and feet, standing there as if more wooden than usual. She walked directly toward him, taking the initiative as if to ease his embarrassment. She touched his arm, then gave it a tug, seeing his face bruised and swollen worse than Shujun’s, with large patches of dark bruises indicating the brothers had truly fought with real punches, not holding back at all. "Sit down first, and I’ll apply the medicine." Pushing him to the edge of the bed, she made him sit down. She opened the little iron box, scooped out the soft cream, and gently applied it to his face, then shoulders, chest, and sides. Having finished the front, she was about to ask him to turn around when suddenly, a "drip-drop" sound was heard, and a drop of nosebleed fell on the back of her hand. She paused for a moment, then saw the man cover his nose clumsily, his gaze still wooden, but with both ears turning almost crimson with embarrassment. Unable to contain her laughter, she recalled that night, the drips and drops of blood that had stained the entire blanket and much of her body. "Why do you bleed so easily?" "I...I don’t know," he blinked softly. She moved his hand away, took out a small handkerchief, and began wiping the blood under his nose, but the more she wiped, the more it seemed to bleed. He gazed intently at her, she...felt warmth, similar to that night when he had stood outside for too long, nearly frozen, yet she was warm. When their skin touched, she was like a fire, melting his ice. Somewhere, he felt an expansion...unseen. Dong Huiying paused slightly, then "coughed" and said, "Turn around, I just saw that you have some injuries on your back too, let me apply the ointment." "Oh..." Was there a hint of disappointment? With his head drooping, he dejectedly turned around, his back now facing his wife. After finishing with his back, she still felt a bit worried, so she admonished, "In the future... try not to fight with Shujun so much."