There had been no sensation when he wiped it himself, but the friction of her sleeve made it itch unbearably.
After Nan Zhi left, he curled back under the blanket alone for a while before getting up. He ate breakfast by himself, opened the computer by himself, and the space beside him remained empty.
It wasn’t until nighttime that things got lively again—he thought this wave was already over, but the next day, her parents called again, telling her to take Fang Guanqi to visit relatives.
Visiting relatives meant bringing gift boxes and wine. Adding Fang Guanqi too, the car would again be packed full—there was no room for him.
Before Song Qing could say anything, Nan Zhi herself was already somewhat on the verge of breaking down. She felt like Fang Guanqi really had too much going on, but because of the elders, she could only force herself to break her biological clock early in the morning and drive Fang Guanqi to visit relatives.
His family was large, and it was also possible they were deliberately dragging it out—one day wouldn’t be enough, and they’d have to go again the next day.
Nan Zhi was already out of patience, but there was no way around it. Her small car and a proper sedan were still somewhat different—Fang Guanqi didn’t know how to drive, so she could only drive him around everywhere.
For someone who’s a homebody, going out every day to meet strangers was pure torment. Song Qing listened to her complaints every day, and his mood finally improved a little.
On the third day, Fang Guanqi finally finished visiting all his relatives, but then the ancestor worship began. After the ceremony, her parents called again, asking her to go buy wine and gift boxes—since their side was going to visit relatives too. They didn’t even clearly say what brand to buy, just said Fang Guanqi knew, and told her to take him along.
Nan Zhi said she just wanted to die, what is this earthly suffering?
Song Qing instead started to feel sorry for her, and actually comforted her, saying: just endure it a little longer, the New Year is almost here.
Nan Zhi could only swallow the bitterness and keep going. Early in the morning, she crawled up to go to the morning market. Song Qing had encountered a bug in his work, couldn’t find any material to patch it, and wanted to go check out a physical bookstore. But Nan Zhi was busy all the time, and he didn’t want to bother her, so he simply went by himself.
There wasn’t a bookstore with what he needed in the nearby town, so he had to go try his luck at a big bookstore in the city.
Song Qing had only been here for less than half a month, hadn’t really entered the city before, didn’t know the roads well. After checking the navigation, it was at least ten kilometers.
He charged the wheelchair’s battery full, put on gloves and a scarf, then set out.
It was the coldest part of winter. On the way, he wasn’t lucky—snow started falling, as thick as goose feathers, blocking his vision. He was already moving slowly, and the cold made him go even slower. Heavy snow made it worse—walk a bit, stop a bit—it took nearly two hours to reach the city.
The dog navigation was so useless, leading him around and around the complicated roads, wasting a lot of time. When he finally reached the bustling city center, it showed the bookstore was nearby—less than a kilometer—but then it started leading him left, then right, then after a while said he’d gone the wrong way and told him to turn back.
In this freezing winter, he had to take off his gloves from time to time to pull out the phone from his pocket and check the route, afraid of being led astray again.
He had gone out after breakfast in the morning, and only by noon did he finally find the place.
Wandering around all morning had already burned through enough resentment to sustain a hundred Evil Sword Immortals. Song Qing maneuvered the wheelchair, rolled up the sloped path at the store’s entrance, and went inside to look for the books he needed.
If there were some he couldn’t reach, he’d call someone for help. Most people would help him grab one or two.
In the past, going to the city was easy—Nan Zhi would drive him, and it only took ten or twenty minutes. He could even nap a bit in the car to regain energy for browsing books.
He would read, and Nan Zhi would go get her nails and face done, or get a full-body massage. When she was done, she’d come pick him up.
All he had to do was read in peace. Even if Nan Zhi forgot about him, she’d still come back to pick him up.
Now, coming alone was really not easy. By noon, Song Qing had already decided not to go back yet. He had prepared early on—brought some small buns, and his thermos cup was filled with water.
At noon he ate a few small buns, drank some water—enough to get by—then lowered his head and continued reading.
The books here and the ones from back home were a bit different. Song Qing found a few he hadn’t read before and was totally absorbed. When he finally realized, the shop owner was telling him they were closing.
This store closed at 6 PM, he had been reading for nearly eight hours.
No wonder his neck was almost sore to death.
There was still part of the book he hadn’t finished. He was reluctant to leave, also reluctant to spend the money. In the past, it was always Nan Zhi who bought books.
Even though he knew it was technically his money, since he didn’t see the money himself, he didn’t feel the pain. Using his own money felt like cutting off his own flesh. But coming here was too troublesome, and Nan Zhi had no time for him lately, so he could only pay, heart aching, and bring the few unfinished books back with him.
He felt a bit hungry on the way back. When he checked the small buns, he didn’t know when he’d already finished them. The water was gone too.
He had passed by some food stalls earlier—a single flatbread cost seven or eight yuan, even five yuan for one without meat.
Five yuan back at home could get him enough dough to make ten flatbreads. Not worth it at all.
Song Qing didn’t buy it, nor did he buy water—he planned to wait until he got home to eat and drink.
He wasn’t familiar with the road, and just when he was planning to rely on the GPS, only then did he realize—after calculating a thousand times, ten thousand times—he forgot to calculate his phone battery. No battery. Powered off.
He had no choice but to ask people for directions. He knew the name of the village and roughly the direction, so he wouldn’t get lost. Even if he did get lost, his wheelchair still had enough battery—enough for him to afford trial and error N times.
His memory was pretty good to begin with. He asked as he went, fumbled along the way, and actually did manage to find the familiar shop sign.
After going in and asking again, he was told he wasn’t far—just one or two kilometers more and he’d be there.
When Song Qing was about to leave, the shop assistant asked him if he wanted to borrow a phone to contact his family.
He had originally wanted to say yes. But thinking about how Nan Zhi, lately, was constantly complaining about how annoying everything was, and yet still kept going back and forth picking up Fang Guanqi, staying with him every day—they should’ve already sparked something by now, right?
Actually, the two of them were the ones who matched—accepted and supported by her parents. Fang Guanqi wasn’t disabled, was tall, had long legs, could step right into a car with just one stride, and sit down.
Bringing him along didn’t require the same trouble as bringing himself—needing to be carried in and out, plus having to deal with the wheelchair.
Right now, the two of them were probably also eating in some restaurant—there was no way they’d be thinking of him.
Besides, one or two kilometers—it was really close. He could do it himself.
Song Qing’s fingers touched the phone, but then he pulled his hand back and shook his head, declining.
He operated the wheelchair by himself, plunging into the snowy day. On the sides of the wheelchair were several reflective strips, and it also had several lights installed—the colorful kind. At night, when the lights were on, he could be seen from far away, and there wouldn’t be any problems.
There were also lights on the front of the chair—two, even—the kind with high beams. Those were installed by Nan Zhi.
Nan Zhi was afraid he’d have an accident.
Song Qing’s wheelchair suddenly stopped. He had a moment of regret about not making that phone call to let her know he was safe. But then he thought again, it was only a bit more than one kilometer left. He could already see the village ahead. No need anymore.
Song Qing restarted the wheelchair. He didn’t know if it was because the snow had gotten thicker and the road harder to move on, or what the reason was exactly—but he could clearly feel the speed getting slower and slower. The battery level, like being sucked dry, suddenly dropped from four bars to zero bars. All the green lights turned red. Not even a yellow buffer light in between.
It broke?
He stopped and restarted. It showed full charge again, but after moving a little, it dropped to red again.
It really was broken.
Song Qing wanted to get his phone. Although he hadn’t charged it for two days, he hadn’t used it either. Before leaving, he remembered it had three bars of battery. It should’ve lasted until he got back.
This had happened before. He’d searched it online. It said winter weather was too cold, and the cold would “freeze” the phone battery out.
Just warm it up in a warmer place and it’d be fine.
He figured the wheelchair was probably the same. The weather was too cold, and after being outside too long, the battery had frozen too.
Song Qing removed the battery and tucked it into his chest to warm it up. He took out his phone from the chest pocket too and stuffed it into the inner pocket of his coat. Then he used both hands to manually push the wheelchair forward.
He hadn’t hand-pushed the wheelchair in a long time, and with the thick snow, every step was a struggle.
Thankfully, the lights were rechargeable and had independent power. The lights still worked, and he could see the road ahead. He wouldn’t fall into a ditch. It was a small bit of luck in this misfortune.
Song Qing pushed for a while, when suddenly a loud truck horn blasted near him—it startled him. He moved a bit to the side, but the horn didn’t stop, and even became more urgent—blaring continuously without letting up. He had no choice but to keep pushing the wheelchair further to the side.
The snow was just too heavy—it had buried the line separating the asphalt road and the edge dirt road. When he noticed that one side of his wheelchair was sinking, he already had a bad feeling. And sure enough, in the next moment, the wheelchair completely lost control and tilted to one side.
He ended up falling into a wheat field ditch on the side.