This was the last time.
Nan Zhi told herself, after going back and forth several times and seeing that he was fine, and repeatedly emphasizing to him that if something happened, call her—after all, he was an adult, taking care of himself should still be something he could do.
Even if not, they lived just upstairs and downstairs, and the interior-facing windows weren’t closed either—if something really happened, even if it was urgent and he couldn’t call out in time, if there was any sound, she would be able to hear it.
Ever since grandma had the accident, she had never slept deeply again, slept very lightly, and could notice any sort of sound.
After pondering for a while, Nan Zhi went downstairs pretending to get a charger, passed by and saw he was fine, then went back upstairs. This time after lying down, perhaps because she had gone back and forth too many times and used up a lot of physical energy, or maybe because it was already late and around her usual sleep time, Nan Zhi fell asleep not long after.
This sleep wasn’t very restful—perhaps because she had been talking about it off and on for over ten days and had already firmly decided to bring the cat home, yet in the end didn’t buy it, so there was a bit of regret in her heart, or maybe the obsession was too deep—she dreamed that she brought the cat home.
Her luck was pretty good; the kitty was quite clingy, would lie down flat and let her rub and kiss it all over. She loved to snuggle up to its chest and press her cheek against the cat’s furry belly.
As she pressed closer, she realized the cat had turned into a boy. The boy was thin and tall, sunken into soft white bedsheets, wearing the same expression as the cat, posture exactly the same—being pressed down by her, both hands raised over his head, the shirt’s collar open, revealing pale, tight stomach and chest, letting her do whatever she wanted.
She really didn’t hold back much either, making moves on this cat—rubbing his still adolescent, still soft cheeks, nuzzling against his chest, kissing his flat belly, burying her face in his neck, taking deep breaths of his pleasant scent—it smelled like bamboo charcoal, very fragrant, like something tasty.
In Nan Zhi’s memory, back in the countryside, people used firewood to cook meals. When cooking rice, they would throw in cured meat, smoked fish, sweet potatoes, etc., and when taken out, the flavor was rich and fragrant, carrying the scent of firewood. When cut open, she could eat a big bowl by herself, and wouldn’t get tired of it at all.
Nan Zhi didn’t hold back, treating him as if he was something delicious, and chomped down on the side of his neck—he felt pain and couldn’t help but struggle out of her arms, crawling away, but because his legs were disabled, his movements weren’t fast. By the time he reached the edge of the bed, he had already been caught and pulled back by her, pinned down again, and she resumed kissing and touching, pressing tightly against his fair chest.
In the dream, she didn’t find it strange at all that the cat turned into a boy. Even though he became a boy, she still treated him like a cat and snuggled up intimately. It wasn’t until she woke up that she stared blankly at the ceiling and thought—
What a ridiculous dream.
Probably because she couldn’t buy the cat and brought home a person instead, her muddled brain mashed the two together and made such an unreasonable dream. (T/N: nah girl you’re just a pervert I guess LMAO)
Nan Zhi didn’t take it seriously. She yawned and stretched her hand out from the quilt, glanced at her phone—it was a little past 3 a.m., still early. She got up to use the bathroom, then came back and continued sleeping.
—
In the small living room on the west side downstairs.
Song Qing’s sleep quality tonight was very poor. He had just arrived, and was a bit unaccustomed. Add to that being someone who was rescued—if the other party got angry at any of his actions and stopped caring about him, it wasn’t impossible. So he inevitably felt a bit uneasy in his heart.
As for the female owner of this house, Song Qing didn’t know why, but she paid too much attention to him—came down four or five times throughout the night to check on him. As long as she saw he wasn’t asleep, she would ask all sorts of caring questions.
One moment asking if he was hungry or thirsty, another moment coming in to take his temperature, asking if he was feeling unwell anywhere.
He had never been so closely watched and cared about by anyone—it actually made him feel very uneasy.
He didn’t understand what about him was worth the other party doing this, and he was also afraid of bringing her trouble.
He fell asleep basically while being wrapped in these worries and concerns. At some point, he was woken up—Nan Zhi went to the bathroom upstairs. She was very light in her movements, deliberately barefoot, but since it was a wooden loft, there was still a bit of noise, and he woke up senselessly anyway.
Song Qing curled up on the sofa bed of just the right firmness, wrapped in a fluffy, soft blanket, and even he felt it was absurd.
When he used to stay at his uncle and aunt’s house, the toilet was out in the yard. Whenever he needed to use it, that family would practically want to wake him up on purpose.
The slapping sound of slippers, and when passing his room they’d throw in a few curses. If someone forgot to bring toilet paper and didn’t want to wake the others, they’d just yell at him instead.
In that kind of environment, he had never had insomnia before, and every night he slept quite well. Even if he was woken up, he’d fall asleep again quickly.
How could it be that, in such a good environment, with someone else taking care of him, he was the one having insomnia?
Song Qing stared at the ceiling. Though he didn’t want to face it, the reason—he actually knew it very clearly.
Back at his uncle and aunt’s place, even if that family was always cursing and yelling, they couldn’t do without him. If he wasn’t there, there was no one to take care of their kids. The homework assigned by the teacher couldn’t be understood by the parents, so they naturally couldn’t help tutor it either.
Their children also didn’t like the food they made—no variety, everything stewed in one pot, whatever was there, just throw it in.
Housework and the like were all problems too. Under normal circumstances, as long as he didn’t commit any major taboos, there was no need to worry about having no place to stay.
So aside from the physical exhaustion every day, he didn’t feel the slightest bit of psychological pressure.
The reason why he couldn’t sleep well now was because he couldn’t provide any value to the owner of this house.
He must quickly figure out what she liked and disliked, and take on some responsibilities.
If he was useful, then at the very least, when a conflict happened or when she thought he was just a burden, she might hesitate a little because of his usefulness, and not immediately kick him out.
As long as she didn’t kick him out, complaints and things like calling him useless—he could totally endure.
Song Qing took a deep breath, and in the end, fell asleep amidst heavy thoughts.
—
Early the next morning, around six o’clock, he was already awake. This time was usually when he made breakfast.
Back at his uncle and aunt’s house, in order to save money, no one ever bought breakfast. No matter how early, it was always him getting up, and all the hard work was his, so they insisted he cook.
Since his early teens up until now, it had always been this way. It already became his biological clock. His mind was incomparably clear at that moment, and his body even instinctively tried to get up. It was only when he saw the unfamiliar ceiling above him that he realized—his legs were crippled. He couldn’t ride the electric scooter to drop the kids off at school anymore, and couldn’t do things like working in the fields or earning money either. He had already been given up on by his uncle and aunt.
Right now, he was taken home by a kind-hearted person.
That kind-hearted person said, another kind-hearted person was in charge of him, and she was just helping a little by giving him a place to stay.
Song Qing’s gaze passed through the white gauze curtain and the clear glass, looking at the location of the kitchen across from him.
No matter what, this place he was staying in now belonged to that kind-hearted person—she probably also needed to cook.
Song Qing first checked his own body. After all, he was still young. The soreness, tugging, and some hidden injuries from yesterday had already mostly recovered after a night’s rest. He didn’t feel that much pain now, and his physical strength had come back a good amount.
But he hesitated for a moment and didn’t get up.
This two-story house was actually one complete unit. The soundproofing wasn’t very good. The attic window across from him wasn’t closed either. At night, when she got up to play on her phone, the light would leak through. When the phone was placed on the bedside table, even the sound it made could be heard—he could catch it.
Thinking about it, if he moved downstairs, the person upstairs would also be able to sense it.
Song Qing thought about the time when he was hospitalized. Usually, their shift change was at 8 a.m. If she was working the day shift today, then she should be getting up at 7 to wash up—there would still be more than enough time to make breakfast.
Song Qing waited quietly. When the phone displayed 7:00, he sat up, and changed clothes while hiding inside the blanket.
That cleanest set of clothes—he planned to keep it for when going to bed. The everyday set would be used now for cooking; otherwise, it’d smell like oil smoke—not good to wear to bed. It needed to be kept separate.
Song Qing finished changing. At 7:10, there was still no movement upstairs. He was worried it was getting too late, so he carefully moved, lightly and slowly, to sit in the wheelchair.
The first floor was tiled. The wheelchair’s wheels were smooth and light, and the sound rolling over the floor wasn’t loud. So he went to brush his teeth and wash his face. Because he was afraid of waking her up, he moved slowly and delayed a bit. 7:21.
Yesterday when they left, he had already calculated—it took around ten minutes or so from the hospital to here. Even if she got up at 7:30, it wouldn’t be considered late. But shouldn’t she get up a bit earlier to allow time for unexpected situations?
Back then, he was a day student, so he could arrive at school later than the boarders. After making breakfast and eating, one of the kids at his uncle and aunt’s house, the older one, would ride an electric scooter to school by himself. The younger one—he would drop off. Then he’d go to school himself. He usually left a ten-minute buffer to avoid being late.
Wouldn’t she get docked pay if she was late to work?
At 7:25, he finally couldn’t hold back anymore, and went to the kitchen first.
She had brought him into the kitchen last night. He roughly remembered where things were, which helped him avoid the risk of opening the wrong drawer and making noise several times, and also improved efficiency.
She also opened the fridge to show him what was inside yesterday—three trays of eggs, one opened bag of bread, plus lettuce and tomatoes, as well as ketchup and salad dressing, fatty beef rolls, etc. Aside from these, there was nothing else.
It was a newly delivered fridge; one of the compartments still had the instruction manual inside. The foam seal and tape were also still there. Nan Zhi said she had been in a hurry to store things and hadn’t really left it empty, so it still had that freshly unsealed smell.
She was planning to finish eating the things she bought on a whim first, then leave it empty for a while to air out the smell before buying other groceries to put in.
The ingredients she bought were for making sandwiches. According to her, a few days ago she saw the recipe online and thought it was convenient and quick, very suitable for breakfast. But when she used the oven to bake the bread, she didn’t control the heat well—just went to the bathroom for a moment and the bread got burnt black, even the oven got smoked black, so she gave up.
She bought a machine specifically for making sandwiches, but it would take a few more days to arrive. She wanted to wait for the machine before making breakfast again.
Actually, a frying pan could also be used to toast bread. Add some butter, and the milky fragrance would be even stronger.
Back at uncle and aunt’s place, after entering middle school, the aunt’s daughter’s allowance increased, and she often shopped online. Naturally, she also bought bread and butter, wanting him to make sandwiches, and repeatedly reminded him—not to mess it up.
Uncle and aunt were frugal, and their daughter didn’t get much allowance either, so that bread was one of the few—counted as snacks for her and her younger brother.
Song Qing of course had no right to eat it, but all the sandwiches were made by him. After eating, the two of them didn’t express anything, so it seemed they were satisfied, and the taste should’ve been okay.
He rolled up his sleeves, took out the bread and lettuce and other ingredients, first washed the vegetables and tomatoes, then set up the pan, getting ready to fry eggs and toast the bread.
He passed by the oven—sure enough, it was black, and even now hadn’t been wiped clean.
The oven was big, and time was tight. He didn’t have time to wipe it, thinking he’d deal with it after breakfast. For now, using a frying pan to toast the bread was fine. There wasn’t any butter, but the bread she bought was good. Once opened, it gave off a strong milky aroma. Toasted in a dry pan, it would smell great.
Song Qing busied himself back and forth in the kitchen.
The wheelchair was higher than a normal chair. Plus, before his injury he was over 1.8 meters tall, so even now, only able to sit, he could still operate everything smoothly.
—
Around 7:30, Nan Zhi was woken by the alarm. As soon as she opened her eyes, she realized she was about to be late. Her half-asleep state cleared instantly. She got up immediately, brushed her teeth, washed her face, changed clothes—only took a little over ten minutes—and planned to use the remaining time to buy breakfast and hurry to work.
Bag in hand, just as she came downstairs, she saw the sofa bed in the living room opened out, and someone faintly visible lying on it—only then did she remember she had brought someone home yesterday.
While changing shoes, Nan Zhi asked: “How was your sleep yesterday? Did I wake you?”
Song Qing paused.
She asked whether she woke him up—not whether he woke her.
“No,” Song Qing answered honestly.
He hadn’t slept well last night because of the uneasiness and apprehension in his heart—it didn’t have much to do with her.
“Good then,” Nan Zhi finished changing her shoes. Because she was in a rush for work, she grabbed her keys and headed out. Before going out, she didn’t forget to remind him:
“I ordered delivery. It’ll be placed at the door later. Take a moment to get it and make do with a little bit. Don’t be like me, skipping breakfast and ending up with stomach problems.”
So she really did have stomach problems.
Song Qing quietly made a note of it.
Maybe because she was too rushed for work, Nan Zhi didn’t wait for his response and left.
Song Qing sat back in the wheelchair and rolled back to the kitchen, continuing to study the kitchen appliances.
On the half-open kitchen counter, there were more items than before, but because she left in a hurry, she didn’t notice.
It was also good that she didn’t notice—because he hadn’t managed to cook anything yet, and he didn’t even know how to use her kitchen appliances.
He hadn’t even managed to light the stove.