Yan Xiu's skin is a healthy wheat color, but his back is covered with many scars, some thick, some thin, some deep, some faint.
This isn't the first time Li Yuyu has seen them.
The last time, Li Yuyu caught a glimpse while at the Hot Spring Pavilion.
They're whip marks.
Just like last time, an image of an iron whip with barbs flashed in Li Yuyu's mind, blood droplets on the whip were slowly dripping down.
"Does it hurt?" Li Yuyu's fingers gently touched Yan Xiu's wounds on his back.
The woman's fingers were soft and cool, gliding over his skin slowly, feeling like a thin snake slithering on his skin, making his body stiffen slightly.
Yan Xiu rasped, "It doesn't hurt."
"It must hurt, hurt so much that..." Li Yuyu covered her heart.
Her heart ached sharply; she recalled what Yan Xiu said to her in the Imperial Study: "This way, I can feel the pain with you."
"Yu'er!"
