Sweet Wife in My Arms

Lu Yi raised an eyebrow.

"No, but are you sure you aren't trying to kill yourself?" he asked, looking askance at her while narrowing his eyes. Yan Huan froze. At that moment, Lu Yi's eyes were too piercing, as though he was trying to peel away her disguise and reveal everything about her in her two lives.

She hummed and kept quiet, occasionally kicking at Lu Yi's leg. She was trying to kill herself? Bullshit. She was saving others, and herself too.

Lu Yi pursed up his lips and said nothing as he gently applied the ointment onto her fingers before bandaging it up.

"Ow…" said Yan Huan as she kicked Lu Yi again. The pain stung sharply.

"Of course it's painful, but bear with it."

Lu Yi laid her hand down and propped her legs onto his own. Even though her feet weren't hurt as badly as Lu Jin, it wasn't a pretty sight either, covered in wounds of various depth.

It's rare to see an actress with so little regard for her own body.

Which actress doesn't fuss over face masks and facial cream and their diet, or worry over the scars left by beauty injections?

And her, on the other hand, rushed headlong to get herself black and bruised. Did that make her feel proud?

"Help me take a picture," said Yan Huan as she extended her foot. All those wounds were good PR material. It would be a waste not to use them.

"I didn't think you were going to use them," said Lu Yi sarcastically. He took the phone over and began doing as he was bid.

"Too bad. These are all quality PR materials. Nothing wrong with me boosting my popularity a little. Plus…" she pouted. "I don't want to hear Sister Luo's naggings."

"Oh, one more thing," she added, pointing to her cheeks. "I never said I wasn't unscrupulous."

Lu Yi snapped another picture of Yan Huan.

"Not the face," she protested, covering her face. "It's not pretty."

"To be fair, it isn't that bad. It's quite pretty," said Lu Yi, returning her phone and reaching for the cotton swabs. Now she had something to distract her while he applied the ointment.

Yan Huan hadn't been feeling ugly herself, but now that she saw the pictures taken by Lu Yi, she realized she wasn't exactly a pretty sight. The wounds on her hands weren't visible due to the bandages, but the thick layers of bandage spoke for itself. And the wounds, both old and new, crisscrossing across her legs and thighs were scary to look at. Plus, her skin was naturally white, which made the wounds look even scarier.

It must have been hard for Lu Yi to apply ointment for her with a calm face; anyone else would have been scared to death.

Yan Huan opened her Weibo, which had been buzzing with activity lately. There were many comments under her posts, and her fans had been skyrocketing lately. Everyone cared and worried about her.

She suddenly felt a burning sensation at her nose. She was touched.

She hesitated, but still posted a picture in the end.

A no-makeup picture of her, wounds all across.

"Thanks, everyone! I have returned safely."

She sent the other pictures to Luo Lin, hoping to seek her compassion and permission to go on leave. The more the days of her leave the merrier—look at how pitiful she was! She was a patient!

Yan Huan's pale, wounded face had no makeup on, dotted with wounds of various sizes. To an actress, appearance was everything. And there she was, disregarding it completely and posting an unglamorous picture spontaneously.

Yet the ordinary picture carried the weight of many lives. She was a hero, a feat that no other actors had accomplished. Yet she succeeded. Each of her wounds spoke of her kindness and compassion. She had used her wounds to prove what a woman can do during the time of crisis.

She could do it after all. She could, and she did.

72 hours in Serene City, 48 hours without rest, digging up a dozen people with her bare hands, and saving more than a hundred people with the other men.

How could fans not love an actress like this one?

If they didn't, just what kind of actress would they like?

It's worth mentioning that Yan Huan had good people skills. All the friends she knew, in and out of the acting industry, were all reposting her post.

At this point, she didn't know the extent of her rising fame and what impact it would bring.

Soon, Luo Lin updated her Weibo too. They were the pictures Yan Huan had sent to her, in which her wounds were staggeringly severe.

Luo Lin's whiny caption was brilliant.

"What can I do with an artiste like this? What can Prosecutor Lu do with a wife like this?"

This post was also reposted many times. Yan Huan wasn't trying to gain sympathy—her image as depicted in the news was pitiable enough.

"TwT… How can my goddess be hurt so badly? Her hands are looking like pig trotters."

"Yes, it's so pitiful… But my goddess is a true hero! I will support you for the rest of my life."

"This is the kind of actress we truly need. I love your positivity. Thank you for teaching us such a valuable lesson."

"Thank you, Yan Huan. Thank you for what you have done for my hometown. Thank you for your donations. And thank you for risking your own life to save the people of my hometown."

In a mere hour, tens of thousands of comments were posted. Yan Huan's name, like this post, was spreading like wildfire. She hadn't shot any dramas in a year's time, yet her fame and popularity had increased.

She was even named "Most Beautiful Actress of the Year."

The picture that made it was the one of her smiling brightly taken by Lu Yi. She was skinny and sorry-looking, but that moment of radiance was eternal. She might not be able to freeze time, but she managed to freeze her most beautiful moment into that frame.