The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 64

Consciousness felt like sinking into a warm, silent sea, entangled and wrapped by countless soft water plants, drifting aimlessly without direction.

When Ning Ning opened his eyes again, the first thing that hit him was a smell—overwhelming and suffocating.

Rich, domineering, as if carrying a tangible scent of cedarwood pheromones, it filled the entire space like a silent blizzard, occupying every gap in the air, even every breath he tried to take.

The scent instinctively made him feel trapped and suffocated, yet strangely it soothed the agitation and pain deep in his mind, bringing an extremely contradictory sense of comfort.

He moved his stiff body slightly, and his fingertips touched a smooth and soft fabric.

He realized he was lying on an absurdly large bed, the quilt light as a cloud—so soft that he could barely feel its weight when sinking into it.

Yet, looking around, the style of the room clashed with the bed’s comfort.

The décor was minimalist to the point of coldness: black, white, and gray tones dominated; the furniture was sharply metallic and linear, radiating an unapproachable military aura. The walls seemed to be made of special soundproofing material—he couldn’t hear even the slightest breeze. The windows were treated so that from inside, the outside world appeared as a blurred patch of light, entirely cut off.

This place was… the Marshal’s residence.

It was Xiao Lin’s bedroom.

This realization hit Ning Ning’s sluggish brain like an electric shock.

He abruptly sat up, completely forgetting how severely his mental energy was depleted.

Immediately, the room spun violently, countless black dots exploding across his vision, and his body swayed uncontrollably, about to fall backward.

“Don’t move.”

A scorching hot hand promptly supported his back, steady and unyielding.

A deep voice, slightly hoarse as if it hadn’t been used for a long time, sounded in the silent room.

Dazed, Ning Ning turned his head and saw Xiao Lin sitting on the single chair by the bed. He didn’t know how long he had been there.

Xiao Lin had changed out of his impeccably neat military uniform, wearing only a simple black shirt, sleeves casually rolled to his forearms, revealing muscles that were smooth yet powerful. He seemed to have not slept all night, faint dark circles under his eyes, yet his dark golden eyes were strikingly bright, fixed unblinkingly on Ning Ning.

That gaze was too complex: it carried the lingering fear of a close call, the joy of something regained, but most of all, an almost tangible, unhidden obsession.

Like a dragon guarding a priceless treasure, any creature approaching would be shredded instantly.

A chill ran down Ning Ning’s spine.

[System 89, softly beeping: Host, friendly reminder: The Marshal’s residence has activated the highest-level “Fortress Mode.” This place is now safer than the palace; not even a single mosquito can fly in or out!]

Ning Ning: “…”

Thanks, that makes me even more desperate.

This isn’t a fortress—it’s a custom-made, luxurious, ultra-secure personal cage for him.

While he was thinking this, Xiao Lin stood and picked up a small bowl from the table, his tall figure casting a shadow over him as he approached the bed.

He sat down beside the bed, and the mattress sank slightly.

He scooped a spoonful of warm porridge—cooked to a fine, soft consistency, emitting an enticing aroma—and silently offered it to Ning Ning.

“Eat something.”

The man’s tone was still commanding, devoid of emotion, yet the hand holding the spoon was tense, every movement betraying a subtle caution he might not even have been aware of.

Ning Ning instinctively wanted to turn his head away.

Come on, he wasn’t mentally prepared to be “fed in a dad-like manner”—this was too much!

But before he could make a complete evasive move, he felt the air pressure beside him drop suddenly.

Xiao Lin’s hand froze mid-air, the dark golden eyes dimming slightly, as if covered by a layer of dusted gold. Beneath that, an almost painfully restrained emotion surged, locking onto him.

“…”

Seeing him like this, all words of refusal stuck in Ning Ning’s throat; he couldn’t say a single one.

He sensed that if he dared move away, the man might do something even scarier next.

Sigh, better not.

Under the roof, one must bow.

Besides… he was truly famished, his stomach growling painfully, utterly weak.

Like a deflated balloon, he lowered his eyelids, resigned, and opened his mouth slightly.

The warm porridge was carefully fed into him.

It melted instantly in his mouth—soft, salty, and fragrant, the temperature perfect. A warmth spread through his stomach, immediately dissipating much of his weakness and chill.

Sensing his compliance, Xiao Lin’s tense aura softened slightly.

Even his rigid jawline relaxed a fraction of a millimeter.

He didn’t speak, simply feeding him spoonful by spoonful, silently and attentively, his gaze never leaving Ning Ning’s face, as if imprinting every subtle expression, every swallow, deep into his memory.

Ning Ning felt extremely uncomfortable under such scrutiny, as if needles were pressed against his back.

He felt like a little rabbit carried back into a wolf den, only able to curl up and pretend to be an emotionless mushroom.

But… truth be told, it didn’t feel entirely bad.

Wrapped completely in Xiao Lin’s powerful cedar pheromones, the mental chaos and stabbing pain caused by forcibly using his powers at the banquet were gradually soothed by a gentle hand.

The sharp pains vanished, leaving only a lazy, sigh-inducing comfort.

For the first time, he didn’t instinctively push away or reject Xiao Lin’s proximity.

The bowl of porridge was soon empty.

When Xiao Lin put down the bowl and lifted a hand to gently wipe a bit of porridge from Ning Ning’s mouth with his cool fingertip, Ning Ning even forgot to dodge.

The rough fingertips, with faint calluses, brushed against his warm lips, sending a subtle, shivering tingle through him.

His body unconsciously shivered slightly.

Such a subtle reaction caused Xiao Lin’s breath to hitch sharply.

His hand froze.

That fingertip lingered on his soft lips, as if carrying its own will.

He looked at the young man he had just fed, whose beautiful purple eyes still held the dreamy haze of just waking, cheeks flushed a healthy pink from the warm porridge, lips plump and moist.

Soft… and perfect to pinch.

An overwhelming surge of almost irrational satisfaction and possessiveness, like molten lava long suppressed, instantly boiled in Xiao Lin’s heart.

This was his person.

Now completely on his territory, lying on his bed, eating food he personally fed, breathing in pheromones that belonged solely to him.

Perfect.

Just as the atmosphere in the room turned subtly intimate, almost thick enough to touch—

“Beep—”

A calm electronic tone suddenly broke the silence.

It was the butler, through the room’s encrypted communication system.

“Marshal,”

Xiao Lin’s recently softened expression immediately vanished, replaced by his usual cold sharpness.

He retracted his hand, frowning with displeasure, his tone tinged with irritation: “Speak.”

The butler hesitated briefly, seeming to choose his words carefully, then reported in his usual loyal, steady tone:

“Prince Gu Qingfeng is waiting outside the residence.”

Xiao Lin’s frown deepened.

The butler slowed down, speaking each word with gravity:

“He… has brought the royal chief medical team and holds the Emperor’s personal decree…”

“By imperial order, to provide the ‘Moon God’ with comprehensive mental guidance and… treatment.”

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