After scolding Fang Guanqi thoroughly in her heart, Nan Zhi’s mood got even better by a few degrees.
She washed his head and face, and also gave his body a scrub—not even wearing gloves. The skin of the person in the water was even better, all slippery smooth.
She kept track of the time—after soaking for nearly half an hour, she scooped him up a little and continued scrubbing his back.
She really didn’t believe that even if other places were fine, could he really manage to reach his whole back completely?
The truth proved: nope. Not a single thing was scrubbed off.
Nan Zhi didn’t give up and asked him, “How do you usually scrub your back?”
Song Qing wasn’t vague about it either, he demonstrated it once for her. His arms were long, and with a bend backward, he could indeed reach.
Nan Zhi: “…Alright then.”
This guy, really—so long as he could touch it himself, he’d do things seriously and carefully. Not a bit of sloppiness in his nature.
She thought maybe he’d be tired or weak and want to slack off sometimes. But it seemed like—nope.
Nan Zhi turned off the bathtub’s constant-temperature mode. After messing with him for over an hour, she finally carried him out.
For now, she placed him on the chair in the shower area. There were still some bubbles on his body that needed to be rinsed off.
She herself closed the glass door and stayed behind to drain the water.
By the time the water was halfway drained, Song Qing had already cleaned himself up and dried off, waiting for her to carry him again.
Nan Zhi grabbed a large bath towel, wrapped him up, and scooped him straight out.
Before placing him on the bed, she leaned in to sniff—sure enough, so fragrant, so fragrant.
Nan Zhi was very satisfied and stuffed the person into the covers.
She herself went back to fill the tub again and clean the bathtub.
While washing Song Qing earlier, her body had already gotten a bit wet, so she figured she might as well finish all the steps that’d get her wet in one go.
By the time she came back after finishing up, Song Qing was still in bed.
Without a wheelchair, he couldn’t go anywhere. He was curled up on the edge of the bed, typing code on his phone.
His memory was really good, he could pick up even something from the day before and keep writing. Let alone this time, it had only been nearly an hour.
Nan Zhi didn’t disturb him. She first went next door and changed into another outfit. Only after dressing did she return, lifting a corner of the blanket and reaching in to feel—smooth, slippery.
The blanket was just slightly lifted, and a fragrant scent drifted out.
She didn’t know if it was that one spot where her arm lifted the edge and let in some air, or if it was something else. Whether it was that she was getting taken advantage of, or not, Song Qing shifted further inside, and Nan Zhi followed him in, touching him.
He kept moving; she kept following—like competing in stubbornness.
The bed was a little bigger than usual. Song Qing moved again, shifting away from where she touched him. Nan Zhi wasn’t in a hurry either—she took off her coral fleece socks, lifted the blanket, and burrowed in completely.
Because of the large movements, Song Qing, frozen from it, turned his back to her. And all the spring scenery on his back naturally landed entirely in her line of sight.
But Nan Zhi was too tired. In the morning she bought wine and gift boxes, in the afternoon she searched for Song Qing for a long time, and in the evening she bathed him—busy all day. For someone who usually can only handle doing one thing a day, now she only wanted to sleep.
She’d found the person, and the nap she should’ve made up for at noon—she could finally sleep in peace.
Nan Zhi moved closer to his side, hugged his fragrant and smooth body, closed her eyes and fell asleep.
—
The breathing behind him became steady in almost a second. Song Qing was the first to notice and wanted to turn around and look at her. He thought about it—but didn’t.
Nan Zhi usually had a hard time falling asleep. Today, to fall asleep this quickly—it was obvious just how exhausted she was.
He didn’t disturb her, turned off his phone, and followed her into sleep.
He was also a bit tired.
Originally thought the “gourd medicine” of today was already over, and there wouldn’t be any more strange antics. But in the middle of deep sleep, he kept feeling like he was being gnawed on—bit by bit, light and tingly. At first, he thought he was dreaming. But when he opened his eyes, he realized no—it was real. That movement didn’t lessen after he woke up, instead, it intensified.
As expected—he should’ve known. She hardly ever got so proactive with scrubbing him clean—there’s no way she would just let him go so easily.
So it turned out she was just too tired and took a nap first. After waking up, she had the energy to mess with him again.
Once rested and full of energy, starting from past 2 a.m., all the way until after 8 a.m. the next day—only then did he finally get to sleep.
Song Qing, for once, didn’t wake until 2 in the afternoon. Ever since returning to the village, by around 8 or 9 p.m., it would already be pitch black all around, with no one else around, so the two of them had started to follow a more regular schedule. This was the first time since coming back that he’d woken up this late.
Unexpectedly, no one came to call him to cook.
Usually, Fang Guanqi would wake up early and either call him or knock on his window, urging him to come out and cook.
Song Qing normally woke at 8 a.m., and Nan Zhi a bit later—around 9 a.m. She liked waking up naturally. This bit of difference was often caught by Fang Guanqi, who would frequently make him cook early and prepare a separate portion for him.
Today was so quiet, it made him a little unaccustomed.
Song Qing glanced to his left. Nan Zhi was still sleeping, but probably expected he would get up a bit earlier. On the bedside cabinet, she had placed clean clothes for him. His wheelchair was also there.
It had already been cleaned and placed close to him.
No need to ask, obviously it was Nan Zhi who did it.
When did she do it?
Last night had disrupted his usual routine. Toward the end, he just couldn’t hold on. Anyway, whether he was awake or asleep didn’t make much difference—he was just lying there like a corpse. At most, the difference was whether she helped him turn over, or he turned himself over. If he didn’t turn, she could also flip him. So he simply decided to sleep.
Having stayed up all night, his sleep was quite deep—he didn’t notice what Nan Zhi did afterward.
Song Qing sat up. His body was still bare and covered in red marks. The usual spots she liked were in especially bad shape—so swollen they couldn’t be looked at directly.
He knew the reason. Probably because in the morning, he was asleep and didn’t react at all—Nan Zhi got annoyed and bit him in revenge.
He used to do the same. Every time, Nan Zhi would puff up in anger, tossing and turning, trying to wake him.
As long as he wanted, when he slept, and was relaxed enough—even if the sky fell, he wouldn’t wake.
Judging by the marks on his body, Nan Zhi must’ve been pretty pissed this morning.
Maybe it was because of what they talked about last night—or maybe she got irritated again. But Song Qing’s mood wasn’t bad. He picked up the clothes and started putting them on.
It was loungewear—soft, fuzzy fabric—but when it touched the marks on his body, it still hurt a little.
Song Qing held his chest and paused for a moment before noticing the box of band-aids on the table nearby.
It had already been taken out of the packaging, it was clearly for him.
Song Qing: “……”
At first, he didn’t care at all. After putting on all his clothes, he planned to bring the band-aid along on his way out, lifted his clothes, and stuck it on his chest.
After he was done, he took his phone and left the room. He didn’t know what time Nan Zhi would wake up, and he didn’t feel like cooking either. He just unwrapped a few small bread rolls, ate as he opened the computer.
After working for about half an hour, the glass window still hadn’t been knocked on by anyone. Song Qing felt something was off. He went out and moved toward the living room on Fang Guanqi’s side. When he passed by, he pretended to be going to the laundry room, and peeked through the window—Fang Guanqi wasn’t there.
The glass wasn’t transparent—it was the kind that blocks sunlight. If you didn’t want to be seen, you could just draw the curtains. Today the curtains weren’t drawn, and the sunlight was just right. Song Qing saw at a glance that the room inside was clean and tidy. Fang Guanqi’s suitcase was also gone.
Left?
Speaking of which, there really hadn’t been a call from Fang Guanqi on his phone today.
He looked around again, still didn’t see a trace of the man or any signs Fang Guanqi had been there. The room had even been unusually cleaned up a bit. When he went in, it was completely empty—just a bed and a wardrobe.
When he opened the wardrobe, all the underwear and coats were gone.
Looks like he really did leave.
He left—for Song Qing, that was a good thing. Life could finally return to peace.
Compared to ups and downs, he preferred the kind of everyday life where you grow vegetables and flowers.
Song Qing cleaned up the room a bit more to make it even more empty and tidy. The clothes Nan Zhi had washed yesterday, he also took them out to dry.
By the time he finished, it was already after 3 p.m. He had a feeling Nan Zhi would wake up soon, so he changed course and went to the kitchen to cook.
He tried to walk under the sunroom; otherwise, if he went to the courtyard, the wheelchair would get dirty, and cleaning it would be troublesome. Even though nowadays, as long as it didn’t snow, Nan Zhi would wash the courtyard to keep it clean with no dirt, there was still dust. Better not to go out.
After arriving at the kitchen, Song Qing opened the fridge and habitually took the ingredients Nan Zhi liked. There was still the steak Fang Guanqi wanted. He hugged it to his chest and then realized—Fang Guanqi was gone. From now on, the steak would be Nan Zhi’s—no need to cook for him anymore.
Song Qing still didn’t put the steak back. He would pan-fry it for Nan Zhi. She also liked it, though not as picky as Fang Guanqi.
Around 4 p.m., Song Qing finished cooking. When he came out, he happened to see Nan Zhi squatting by the sink in the courtyard, brushing her teeth and washing her face. When she saw him, she didn’t forget to glare at him with resentment.
Song Qing kept his eyes on his nose, nose on his heart, acting like he didn’t see anything, as usual placing the dishes on the dining table.
He used a tray and could only carry one or two plates at a time. When he went back for the second trip, he saw Nan Zhi holding one dish in each hand, already bringing them to the table.
Knowing he couldn’t beat her in speed—having both her legs—he simply waited where he was. Not long after, Nan Zhi also came over, holding bowls and chopsticks.
Only one steak was pan-fried, but after cutting it up, Nan Zhi gave him half.
Song Qing was used to it. Unlike before, he didn’t reject it and accepted it as is.
This meal wasn’t really breakfast, nor was it lunch. But breakfast and lunch were both wrapped up just like that in this harmonious atmosphere—if you ignored the occasional dagger-eyed glances Nan Zhi shot his way.
Around five or six in the evening, Nan Zhi finally calmed down and figured it out.
This guy whether asleep or awake wasn’t much different. Basically a dead body. As long as he didn’t get in the way of her doing anything, then whatever.
Past 8 p.m., instead of getting a response from her parents first, Nan Zhi got news about Song Qing’s prosthetic.
The prosthetic they had previously scheduled was finally finished, they could go for adjustments.
Some time ago, when they were renovating, the two of them took advantage of a free slot in that master’s schedule to get the socket mold done. But prosthetics—well, this was just the first step. Next, they had to wait for the ordered prosthetic materials to arrive. This process had taken over a month. Now, they had reached step three.
Once the master installed it, they would still need to spend about one to two months adjusting it before it could be truly used normally.
No matter what, this already counted as an enormous piece of good news. Nan Zhi jolted up like a carp flip and almost immediately decided to set off—packed up some luggage, and in the middle of the night, drove her little car, carrying Song Qing and the two cats, and made the long journey over.
They arrived there around one or two in the deep night. After staying one night at their previous residence, early the next morning—without anyone needing to urge them—she went with Song Qing to the rehabilitation hospital together to find the master and install the prosthetic.
The whole process—she couldn’t hide her excitement.
Song Qing was finally going to have legs.