Novel Name : Quick Transmigration System: Male God, Come Here

Quick Transmigration System: Male God, Come Here Chapter 1107 - The Reborn Young Master’s Pampered Cousin (105)

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Chapter 1107 The Reborn Young Master’s Pampered Cousin (105)

Bai Weiwei hesitated for a moment before placing a hand on his back. Suddenly, she slowly leaned down and hugged him.

She seemed to want to give him warmth, to lessen the intensity of his trembling.

She comforted, restraining the emotions in her tone, “I’m fine, Qi Chimu. I’m not dead yet.”

Qi Chimu had experienced all sorts of desperate moments, and he could face them all indifferently. There weren’t many times when he was afraid.

More often, there was anger and hatred.

But tonight, when he saw her return, he was left with lingering fear, trembling with renewed life1.

When she had been kidnapped, he unexpectedly felt that everything he had done following his rebirth had no meaning.

This feeling of pain made him unsure of what to do.

Qi Chimu hugged her with even more force, experiencing the peace of mind brought by the warmth of her body.

Like a child, he could only slowly calm down the helplessness of losing her from within her arms.

Bai Weiwei didn’t disdain him for his tears on her clothes and only weakly lowered her head. Black hair cascaded down her chest somewhat messily, and her face was a pasty white.

Who knew what kind of poison the Five Step Powder was.

It still wasn’t dawn yet.

But she already started to feel sharp pains in her body.

Bai Weiwei silently endured, swallowing the blood in her throat.

Qi Chimu seemed to feel her unconscious trembling and suddenly lifted his head. With bloodshot eyes filled with tears, he coldly spoke.

“Did he act untoward with you?”

‘He’ was the fifth prince.

Bai Weiwei shook her head and answered softly, “No.”

Qi Chimu’s gaze regained its clear and sharp light. He seemed to be afraid the murderous intent in his eyes would frighten her and immediately lowered his eyes, but his tone was gentle. “If not then that’s good. Tomorrow, I will ask the doctor to come and examine you.”

He was uneasy. She’d been kidnapped and placed back.

He was afraid that the people on the fifth prince’s side had done something to her body.

But Bai Weiwei frowned and looked into the mirror. Her hair was messy, and her makeup was smudged. She didn’t look pretty at all.

“Qi Chimu, redo my makeup.”

Qi Chimu perceived that something was not right with Bai Weiwei’s condition.

Still thinking about makeup at this time.

But thinking that she had always had this childish temperament, he obeyed. He brought over the rouge powder box, filled a basin of water, and washed her face.

Then he repainted and powdered her fair and delicate face.

It was the gorgeous makeup she liked.

But he knew that under that gorgeous makeup, her bare face was even more alluring and lovable.

He was afraid she would go out and attract more peach blossoms2.

He had always gladly indulged her with thicker makeup.

But today, Bai Weiwei pressed down his hand. Her eyes were bright, and a slight smile appeared at the corner of her mouth.

“Make it a bit lighter ba.”

Qi Chimu paused, seeming somewhat puzzled.

But Bai Weiwei explained with some embarrassment, “I know you like my clean and elegant appearance.”

Qi Chimu’s face flushed. She actually knew he liked her simplistic appearance.

His heart feeling somewhat sweet, he used lighter techniques. He brushed on a light layer of powder and dabbed his fingertips with blush, gently touching her cheeks.

A faint touch of red made her bloodless face suddenly grow brighter.

Her complexion looked terrible. Qi Chimu silently thought, he should have the doctor come as soon as possible and look over her body.

He was afraid that other than being unable to give birth, she would also suffer from an old ailment.

Bai Weiwei smiled contentedly when she saw she had become neat and beautiful.

She got up and asked Qi Chimu, “Am I the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?”

1: 劫后余生: after the calamity, renewed life.↩

2: 烂桃花: (rotten) peach blossoms, a metaphor for suitors or admirers.↩

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