After cleaning off the bloodstains, Yelu Yan helped Li Xianyun into the bed he had warmed and wrapped her tightly, letting her lie on her stomach.
Once everything was in order, Yelu Yan sat by the bed and used a dry, soft towel to wipe Li Xianyun's hair.
At first, Yelu Yan was quite clumsy at drying her hair.
Having grown up in a military camp, he was a coarse and unrefined man, unaccustomed to such delicate tasks.
Fortunately, practice makes perfect, and after many times, Yelu Yan became quite adept at drying her hair, making rapid progress.
His touch was gentle as he dried her hair, not hurting at all; his rough fingers would tenderly sift through her locks, touching her scalp, soothing Li Xianyun almost to sleep.
In her dazed state, Li Xianyun felt someone press up against her from behind, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her neck, ears, and cheeks fervently.
As if lighting a fire.
The familiar scent and sensation.
