Mu Feichi stared at her, his dark, stormy gaze searching her face for any trace of deceit. Seeing only the cold, clinical focus in her eyes, he slowly retreated, sinking back onto the edge of the bed. The weight of his fatigue seemed to double the moment he let go of his hostility.
Shen Xi didn't waste a second. She unrolled the leather pouch, revealing rows of slender silver needles that caught the dim light. In her mind, the [Spectral Medical System] projected a high-definition anatomical overlay of Mu Feichi's nervous system. She could see the congestion in his cervical vertebrae and the inflamed nerve endings that kept his brain in a constant state of "fight or flight."
"The pain in your head is a result of the blockage in your seventh cervical vertebra," Shen Xi explained, her voice steady and rhythmic, designed to lower his heart rate. "I'm going to use the needles to bypass the inflammation and trigger a parasympathetic response. It will feel like an electric shock at first. Don't move."
She stepped behind him. Her fingers, small and nimble, trailed down the nape of his neck. Mu Feichi flinched, his muscles knotting instinctively at the touch.
"Relax," she whispered, leaning closer. The scent of rain and mountain herbs from her clothes drifted into his senses—a strange contrast to the cold, sterile environment of the villa.
Zip.
The first needle went in, followed by four more in a precise geometric pattern. Mu Feichi let out a sharp, hissed breath, his hands clutching the silk bedsheets until the fabric groaned. For a moment, the pain spiked, white-hot and blinding—and then, like a dam bursting, it dissolved.
A wave of coolness washed over his brain. For the first time in years, the "noise" in his head—the constant, high-pitched ringing of nerve pain—faded into a dull hum, then into absolute silence.
His broad shoulders slowly slumped. His breathing, which had been jagged and shallow, deepened into a steady, rhythmic cadence.
Shen Xi watched him closely, her fingers staying on his carotid pulse to monitor the transition. As his head began to loll forward, she moved to his side, catching him before he could fall. The "God of War," the man who held the power of life and death in the palm of his hand, was now completely defenseless, leaning his heavy head against her shoulder.
"You're actually sleeping," she murmured, a flicker of something human crossing her cold expression.
She carefully eased him back onto the pillows, removing the needles with practiced speed as his consciousness drifted into the abyss of a dreamless sleep. She pulled the heavy duvet over him, tucking it in with the same indifference she would show any patient, though her heart was thrumming slightly from the proximity.
When she walked out of the bedroom, she found Qi Yuan and Feng Rui standing guard like statues in the hallway. Both men turned to her, their faces etched with shock.
"He's asleep," Shen Xi said, wiping her needles clean with a sterile cloth she found in her pocket.
"He's... what?" Feng Rui blurted out, checking his watch. It had been less than fifteen minutes. "The Marshal hasn't slept through the night since the border incident. Are you sure he didn't just faint?"
"Go in and check if you want to wake him," Shen Xi replied, her eyes narrowing. "But if you disturb his REM cycle now, I won't be responsible for the 'volatile state' he wakes up in."
Qi Yuan stepped forward, silencing Feng Rui with a look. He bowed slightly toward Shen Xi. "The Marshal's life and rest are our top priorities. If he truly sleeps until morning, Miss Shen, you will find that the Young Marshal is the most generous man in the country."
"I don't need his generosity," Shen Xi said, her mind already turning toward the Shen villa. "I need his influence. Prepare a car for tomorrow morning. I'm going back to the Shen family to take back what belongs to me, and I want the military escort to stay at the gates. I want them to see exactly who is backing me."