Chapter 143: That Captivating Touch of Crimson!

Qin Luo came from a family of traditional medical practitioners. Having experienced traditional Chinese family upbringing since childhood, he possessed sound ideological literacy and moral values.

He was a deeply reserved man. Otherwise, given his top-tier appearance comparable to an idol star and his wealthy background where he never lacked money, how could that shameful virgin line still remain on his arm?

Yes, just like a maiden's chastity mark, men had virgin lines too.

Medical books proved that on the inner side of a boy's arm joint, about an inch toward the palm, there was a line resembling a knife cut or a fingernail scratch, usually quite distinct. This was the so-called virgin line. If one had ever engaged in sexual activity, this line would disappear.

Of course, some people had dozens of such lines on their arms. Do not be overjoyed—those were not virgin lines; they simply meant you had gained a bit of weight recently.

Qin Luo was traditional. And he was still a virgin. However, this did not mean that when a girl took off her clothes in front of him, he had the right to slap her across the face and ask how she could behave so dissolutely.

Besides, Qin Luo couldn't bear to slap her anyway.

Men's psychology was strange. They all hoped their own wives would wear as many clothes as possible, while other people's women should wear as few as possible.

When another man's woman—or rather, a woman who had not yet settled down—generously undressed right in front of you, could you bring yourself to strike?

Li was a woman of strong character. When she was unwilling to let you see, kneeling and begging her would be useless.

However, when she decided to let you see, closing your eyes was useless too.

With a swift zip, she unzipped her leather jacket, pulled it off her shoulders, and tossed it onto the sofa.

Aside from a black bra strap embroidered with white silk skulls, her upper body was completely bare.

To be honest, Li's figure was somewhat slender, lacking the plump fullness of Lin Huanxi and the sexy, fiery allure of Li Qingcheng. Yet, she possessed a unique charm entirely her own.

She was thin, but every inch of her skin seemed waxed, radiating an enchanting malty hue.

Her bones were well-proportioned, her waist slender. Though her breasts, developed through rigorous exercise, were not very large, they were firm and upright, forming a sharp contrast with her otherwise lean physique.

Most captivating of all were her butterfly-like collarbones—

"Hey, where are you looking?" Li's knife magically appeared in her hand once more, gesturing as if to gouge out Qin Luo's eyes.

Reluctantly, Qin Luo shifted his gaze away from her chest and asked, "Which part do you want me to treat? Although meridian massage can enhance the bust, your breasts aren't exactly small. There's no need for that, is it?"

"Who asked you to give anyone a bust enhancement?" The moment Li grew angry, she wanted to fling her blades.

"Then which part are you asking me to treat?" Qin Luo asked with curiosity.

Li shot Qin Luo a fierce glare, then turned around, presenting her back to him.

The bright light poured in through the transparent glass window like a spotlight on a stage, casting a dazzling brilliance across Li's back.

The moment he saw Li's back, Qin Luo's gaze involuntarily tightened.

To be honest, when Qin Luo saw the front of Li's body, both his body and soul had been flooded with desire. That was a man's most natural reaction to a beautiful, sexy woman.

Especially since Qin Luo was still a virgin, he was entirely unprepared to withstand that level of temptation.

Yet, when he saw her back, this burning passion and surging emotion vanished instantly without a trace. His entire being felt as though it had stepped into a vacuum, experiencing a sensation of high-speed descent before plunging straight to the bottom of a valley.

The dark red old stitches of sutured wounds, the circular hollows left behind after bullets were extracted, and the delicate or deep scars—

Most terrifying of all was a wound slanting down from her shoulder blade. It was long and deep, reaching almost to her waistline. The scar tissue was still dark red, indicating she had been injured by someone within the past year.

Seeing this scar alone was enough for Qin Luo to sense how perilous and fierce that battle must have been. What kind of person could bear to inflict such ruthless violence upon a young and beautiful girl?

The wounds on Li's back were not as grotesque as those on the Dragon King's body, but seeing them on a youthful maiden in her early twenties made them all the more shocking to the soul.

"Can it be cured?" Li asked.

As a woman from the special forces, her concept of gender distinction was relatively indifferent. One could often see in movies and television dramas that in some American military units, male and female soldiers bathed together.

In the heat of life-and-death combat, your comrades were your most reliable partners. Back-to-back cover or using your body as a human shield required clinging closely to one another. And all of this had nothing to do with lust.

Even so, standing before Qin Luo like this, Li still felt a slight sense of unnaturalness.

Seeing that Qin Luo remained silent for a long time, she assumed he had been frightened by her wounds.

Without answering her question, Qin Luo instead reached out a finger to gently touch the scar on her back, asking with a face full of tender pity, "Does it hurt?"

"No," Li replied, her body trembling slightly.

Logically speaking, at this moment she should have sliced off his finger.

This bastard dared to take advantage of her at a time like this.

Yet, such a thought failed to cross her mind. Not even the slightest trace of it appeared.

After a moment of thought, Li lowered her gaze and answered with a darkened expression, "It hurts."

She was neither a corpse-man nor a genetically modified warrior; with blades cutting into flesh and bullets lodged between bone crevices, how could she not feel pain?

However, what did pain matter?

They traversed dense jungles clad in thick camouflage uniforms; they waded silently through foul-smelling drainage ditches where the water nearly reached their mouths; they chewed on hard-to-swallow biscuits and compressed beef as tough as stone—how could it not hurt?

They were soldiers. They fought to protect this land that nourished countless compatriots. Their superiors told them, "Soldiers shed blood but not tears." As long as they weren't dead, they had to pick themselves up and keep fighting.

What if it hurt?

She was an orphan. Raised by the Dragon King, she had no friends, only comrades.

She couldn't run to friends to complain when prickly heat broke out all over her body from wearing camouflage gear, whining that her skin was getting worse and asking what to do about tiny pimples on her face.

She couldn't run back after being shot or slashed, throw herself into her mother's arms, and cry that she never wanted to go back again. Never again.

She couldn't!!!

They were a pack of lone wolves, comforting and guarding one another when injured. Even when the pain made them want to cry, they had to grit their teeth and endure.

When everyone around you was exactly like you, you ceased to feel that the hardships you bore were anything special.

That was why Li first said it didn't hurt, and then corrected herself to say it did.

It hurt. But she had grown numb to it. Or rather, she was used to it.

Qin Luo's heart felt as though it were being crushed by something heavy, restricting his breathing. With tear ducts that were hardly active, he nonetheless felt his eye sockets moistening.

At a time when he was feeling self-satisfied and proud of being able to save traditional Chinese medicine, how had he failed to realize that there was such a person—that there was a whole group of people—spending their youth, their bodies, and their lives to save this country?

Compared to them, what did everything he had done amount to?

Taking a deep breath, he calmed the turbulent emotions within his heart. Qin Luo smiled and said, "It can be cured."

He casually pushed open a room, pulled a bedsheet over to spread across the sofa, and said to Li, "Lie down on it."

Li gave Qin Luo a skeptical look, then obediently lay face down on the sofa.

Qin Luo bent down and reached out to undo the clasp of Li's bra.

"Whoosh."

A dagger pressed against Qin Luo's throat as Li glared angrily, "What are you trying to do?"

"Treating your illness. Trust me, I will cure you," Qin Luo said with a smile, his eyes filled with absolute sincerity.

If Li had threatened him with a knife like this before, he would have been very angry. But right now, he felt not a shred of anger in his heart.

He treated her with the indulgent pampering one might show a younger sister, letting her throw her tantrums and act willfully.

Li stared intently into Qin Luo's eyes, and seeing no malicious intent there, she let out a cold snort and said, "As if you could do anything anyway."

That remark was somewhat hurtful. She meant that even if Qin Luo wanted to get fresh, he wouldn't succeed because he was no match for her.

"I never intended to do anything," Qin Luo said with a smile. He patted Li's shoulder and said, "Lie down. Let me treat you."

Only then did Li put away her dagger and lie back down on the sofa.

There were some things men seemed to grasp without needing to be taught.

Although this was the first time he had ever unclasped a woman's bra, Qin Luo managed it quickly.

With the strap released, the two mounds of flesh on Li's chest instantly sprang free. Fortunately, lying face down on the sofa concealed most of the enchanting view.

Even so, the soft flesh squeezed between her body and the sofa offered him a generous feast for the eyes.

Qin Luo wiped Li's body with alcohol-soaked cotton to disinfect her back, disinfected the blade he had just used as well, and then, piece by piece, carefully pried open Li's already scabbed-over scars—

"You can act tough in front of others. But in front of me—you can show weakness. If it hurts, you can cry out," Qin Luo gently reminded her. In fact, according to medical theory, forcibly suppressing pleasure and pain without releasing them was unhealthy behavior.

This was also why many people experienced a dramatic improvement in mood after a good cry when facing trials and tribulations.

There was no anesthesia, no hypnosis. This level of cutting was hardly less painful than Guan Yu scraping his bone to cure the poison.

"Why should I show weakness in front of you?" Li muttered, her voice muffled because she buried her face in the sofa, desperately gritting her teeth against the pain on her back.

"Because I am your older brother," Qin Luo said with a smile.

Li fell silent. She did not speak for a long time.

From beginning to end, she did not utter a single groan.

Yet, upon the white bedsheet right where she buried her face, damp patches appeared—whether from the sweat of pain or the tears of being moved, no one could tell.

Qin Luo glanced at the porcelain bottle of Golden Chrysalis Muscle-Nurturing Powder sitting on the coffee table, thinking to himself that it would probably be completely used up this time.

Yet, Qin Luo did not feel a twinge of regret.

Today, spending a fortune equivalent to ten thousand gold pieces just to win a beauty's smile—he too could finally experience the feeling of being a lavish, prodigal young master.