My Xianxia Harem Life

Only Sacred Lustful Restoration worked on Fay’s condition. Of all the techniques in his vast arsenal, it had to be that one.

Riley let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t some clueless virgin, nor was he against intimacy, but this situation felt forced in the most ridiculous way possible.

And the worst part? He couldn’t afford to hesitate much longer. Fay’s condition was worsening with every passing second.

He turned around, his gaze falling on Fay. She was already lying on the bed, her frail body trembling slightly from the cold affliction consuming her.

Despite her discomfort, her eyes remained locked onto him, filled with desperate hope.

She trusted him.

That realization made something tighten in Riley’s chest. This wasn’t just some scripted event designed to throw him into a compromising position—Fay genuinely believed he could save her.

And in truth, he could. He just wished it didn’t have to be this way.

He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he prepared himself mentally.

"Well, let’s get this over with fast," he muttered under his breath.

Yet, even as he took a step forward, a lingering thought gnawed at the back of his mind.

"How am I going to sell this to Fay?" Riley gulped, his throat dry with anxiety. He didn’t want to come across as a creep, but what choice did he have? Explore more at NovelBin.Côm

He had exhausted every other possibility, and this was the only option left. Still, he hesitated. Would she believe him? Would she trust him enough to go through with it?

Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. There was no turning back.

"Fay," Riley called, his voice quieter than he intended.

The young woman turned toward him, her delicate features unreadable.

"Yes, young master Riley?" she responded politely, her tone unwavering despite the weakness in her body.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"I can heal you," he said, carefully choosing his words, "but I need you to trust me. Okay?"

Fay blinked at him, her gaze searching his face for any trace of deception. Then, without a shred of doubt, she nodded.

"I trust you, young master Riley."

Her unwavering faith in him made his stomach twist with guilt. If only she knew how much he was second-guessing himself. But there was no time for hesitation now.

"Good," he said, nodding to himself more than to her. He stepped forward and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, his hands hovering slightly before he finally spoke.

"Give me your hands again."

Fay complied without question, extending her left hand—the one closest to him.

The moment his fingers wrapped around hers, she let out a soft gasp.

"Ahhh…" A breathy exhale of relief left her lips as a strange warmth flowed from his hands into her skin. Her once-frigid fingers soaked up the heat like dry earth after a drought.

Encouraged, Riley began to massage her hand gently, tracing over the delicate contours of her fingers, her palm, her wrist. Bit by bit, the icy numbness faded.

But as soon as he released her, the cold crept back in like an unwelcome specter, reclaiming its territory.

He frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Determined, he reached for her other hand and repeated the process. Once again, her skin grew warm under his touch, and once again, the moment he let go, the unnatural chill returned.

His chest tightened with frustration. It wasn’t working.

Taking a deep breath, Riley swallowed his unease and shifted his focus.

"Excuse me," he muttered before kneeling at the foot of the bed. Carefully, he slipped off Fay’s sandals, revealing her bare feet, pale and cold like marble.

Without waiting for permission—though he doubted she would refuse—he pressed his palms against them, rubbing slow circles over the tops and then the soles.

At first, there was nothing. Then, gradually, warmth spread from his hands to her skin, just like before. Fay let out a small, involuntary sigh, as if the sensation was a balm to her exhausted body.

But the second he stopped, the same relentless cold took hold again.

Riley clenched his jaw.

It was useless.

He sat back, his mind racing, staring at Fay’s slender form. She was watching him, waiting, trusting him to figure this out. But there was no miracle cure. No shortcut.

He had been hoping, foolishly, that this method would work. That he wouldn’t have to say the words he had been dreading.

But now, there was no escaping it.

He exhaled slowly, looking up at her.

There was only one way forward.

"I need you to undress completely, Fay," Riley said, his voice even, though his heart pounded in his chest.

Fay stiffened. The words rang in her ears, each syllable sinking in slowly. Surely, she had misheard.

"Undress?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Riley gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.

Fay’s fingers curled into the sheets. She searched his face, hoping for some kind of explanation. But there was no hesitation in his eyes—only quiet determination.

Doubt crept into her mind. Was this truly necessary? Was this still about healing?

But then she thought of the rumors.

The countless stories of young master Riley’s generosity, how he healed the sick without ever demanding payment, how he helped those in need without asking for anything in return.

He was known for his selflessness, his kindness. Could she really question him now?

Her doubts wavered, then crumbled. She even felt ashamed that she doubted such a good man like young master Riley.

She swallowed hard and lowered her gaze.

"Please close your eyes first, young master Riley," she murmured, her voice softer than before.

Riley gave her a reassuring nod before stepping off the bed. He moved to the farthest corner of the room, his back to her.

The wooden floor creaked beneath his feet as he came to a stop, hands at his sides. He even turned his head slightly downward, as if to prove he wouldn’t peek.