Song Qing was also looking at her. Unlike her, his gaze fell on her feet.
The shoes she had changed out of were new, the ones she had just put on were new too, and naturally, the socks were as well—still with lace edges, brightly colored and pretty.
Maybe it was because he had hardly ever worn new, properly belonging-to-him, intact socks and shoes, that he always couldn’t help paying attention to other people’s.
Say it’s envy, or whatever, he just couldn’t help looking, couldn’t help thinking—when would he also be able to have complete, socks and shoes that suited him?
Song Qing unconsciously lowered his head, glanced at his own legs. For the first time, he felt—having no legs was actually a good thing. He didn’t have to pick up other people’s shoes anymore, didn’t have to wear socks that didn’t fit.
All of his shoes and socks were basically given or donated by others. Some were new, it’s just that others couldn’t wear them, so they gave them to him. For example, frugal as his uncle and aunt were, they’d buy cheap socks online—turned out the color bled when worn—or they’d buy ones with bad texture for the child. The child didn’t want to wear them, the adults couldn’t wear them, so they threw them to him.
He had picked up socks belonging to his uncle and aunt’s twelve-year-old son. Actually, they were quite comfortable to wear, but too small. They could only be pulled to just below the ankle bone, stretched very tightly. But compared to not wearing any, they were already quite good. And they were new, so he still properly kept them, and wore them when it was time to.
He had also picked up stockings that his uncle and aunt bought for his cousin. The cousin disliked them because they were heavily snagged, felt embarrassed if seen by others, so she didn’t wear more than half a stack. There were seven or eight pairs. The uncle and aunt thought it wasteful, so gave them to him.
They were new too. And the socks were inside the shoes, basically wouldn’t be seen, so he didn’t mind.
If he still had legs, then now that she was changing shoes, he would be changing too. Once changed, it would be obvious that his socks didn’t fit—or even that he was wearing stockings with rose patterns.
He still remembered that one time when he twisted his ankle during running drills, his shoe flew off. The foot wearing rose-patterned stockings was exposed, and people mocked him, saying he was effeminate, wearing girls’ stockings. Some even cursed him as a damn pervert.
He didn’t pay them any attention. Back then, he naturally felt that those people were nothing more than insignificant passersby in his life. Why should he feel heartbroken over a few casually spoken words?
He still kept wearing the stockings as usual. Of course, they’d still be brought up by people. Some would take photos. Some would demand he take them off. Some would say he was disgracing men. He remained unmoved.
Because those people wouldn’t understand—if he lost them, then he’d have no socks to wear. Without socks, shoes would wear out faster. His shoes weren’t like other people’s; they needed to last him a long time.
Back then, he really was like a newborn calf unafraid of tigers, not even a bit embarrassed. He probably would be now.
Losing his legs saved him one more round of shame.
In front of the entryway cabinet, Nan Zhi had already finished changing. She stood up and pushed Song Qing’s wheelchair, taking him toward the living room. Passing under the crystal chandelier, she specially told him, “Don’t park right underneath this. It’s very heavy, there’s a risk it could fall.”
This was a major safety hazard, but for some reason, even though she had been living here for a while and had considered changing all sorts of things, this was the only one she never thought to take down.
But now that she wasn’t living alone anymore, maybe it was time to take it down.
Nan Zhi quietly made a note of it, and at the same time, pushed Song Qing further inside.
The apartment wasn’t small—it had two floors. But the original owner seemed to have only planned to live here alone, so there was only one bedroom in total, located upstairs. Downstairs was used as a living room, kitchen, and office.
The general structure had already been set. Plus, since she was interning nearby and in a rush to move in, her mom didn’t continue adding bricks and tiles or increasing the formaldehyde], just found someone to clean it up, added some soft furnishings and big items like the sink, bed, etc., and that was it. All the windows were opened, and after being left vacant for half a month, she moved in.
The previous owner had stopped renovating halfway due to running out of money. The place had already been empty for almost a year. It was tested and deemed qualified, so it was okay to live in.
Nan Zhi didn’t intend to hide anything from him about this situation, and said honestly: “There’s only one room on the second floor, so for now you’ll have to temporarily put up with staying in the first-floor living room.”
As she spoke, she went to pull the sofa. “This is a sofa bed—can be a sofa and also a bed.”
When her mom came to help renovate, she had already thought this through. Since there were no extra rooms, what if friends came, or they wanted their daughter to stay? So a little extra thought was put into the living room, and they custom-made this sofa bed.
It was very large—2.4 meters wide, 2 meters long when unfolded. More than enough for one Song Qing to sleep on.
After she unfolded the sofa bed, it even seemed a bit too spacious. It looked like a CEO’s five-hundred-meter giant bed.
She looked around left and right, then took her life-sized bear out of the cupboard and threw it on the sofa. The bed already had many large cushions on it too, which took up part of the space—looked much better now.
Nan Zhi again pulled the glass door to show him: “This one can be locked. The one leading to the balcony too. If you lock it from the inside, even I can’t open it.”
This kind of glass door was latch-style, without a key, could only be opened and closed from the inside. So what Nan Zhi said wasn’t false—if it was locked, she really wouldn’t be able to open it from outside.
She also tugged the curtains and told him that at night, pulling them shut could block the light while also preventing yinsi [隐私 — privacy, especially private or intimate matters] from being seen.
Although she wouldn’t peek, she worried about accidentally catching a glimpse.
The glass partition was a top-push sliding type, with no wheels underneath, so his wheelchair could go in and out without obstacles.
The kitchen and laundry room also had glass partitions, the bathroom naturally did too. So actually, the living room could be considered a space that belonged solely to him.
While Nan Zhi arranged things for him, she also enthusiastically brought over bed sheets and blankets and quilts. She had a lot of these, they were dowry items prepared for her earlier by Grandma. She felt that by the time she really needed them, they’d become antiques, so if she could use them now, she would. They were all new, still unopened—Nan Zhi tore open the packaging right in front of him.
Song Qing looked at the pile of thin plastic film on the floor, and the cut-off tags, and only felt—it was a waste to use them on him.
Actually, it would be enough to give him something that had been used before, slept in before, something unwanted.
He wanted to tell her, but she was quick with her hands and had already spread and set everything up. And since she’d been talking the whole time, he didn’t want to interrupt. By the time she finished speaking, everything that needed doing was already pretty much done.
Bringing it up now to change the set would mean starting over. She’d probably just think he was being picky.
Being in a new environment, he couldn’t yet figure out her temperament, didn’t know if being talkative would be annoying. He thought and thought, but in the end, didn’t say anything.
After Nan Zhi finished introducing the surrounding environment and the living room setup, she then took him to the kitchen—where the cooking pots, bowls and pans were, what was in the fridge, where to hang clothes after washing them.
She even gave him a full circle tour of the bathroom. The bathroom had a threshold, which made it hard for him to enter, but the toilet was close to the door. Nan Zhi pulled a dining chair over and placed it at the entrance. He could sit on the chair first, then get to the toilet.
On the way to the shower area, she also placed two chairs. The sink, though, didn’t need that—it was outside, and the wheelchair could reach it.
Nan Zhi originally wanted him to try it out, but he was certain he could manage, so she didn’t insist. She closed the bathroom door and pulled out a delivery package from the small storage room under the stairs.
When Song Qing saw that small storage room, his eyes lit up a little. He thought—he could just sleep here. But the storage room was full of miscellaneous items, and there were a lot of shelves built in, packed to the brim—no way to live in it. So he could only follow Nan Zhi back to the living room.
Nan Zhi was assembling a clothes rack—a simple one. She originally planned to put it in the laundry room for drying clothes.
She still felt clothes needed to be dried in the sun to be good. So even though she had a dryer, she could count on one hand the number of times she used it.
She had been meaning to tidy up the house, but because every time she got off work she felt like she had died once, though she had bought it over a week ago, she’d just been too lazy to deal with it.
So she took advantage of today to get it all done in one go.
The rack was very simple—just had to spread the legs open. Song Qing was beside her, reached out his hand, clearly wanted to help her—but before he could do anything, she had already set it up.
Nan Zhi then went to the little storage room and brought out some hangers, followed by his luggage, planning to hang up his towels and wet clothes.
She discovered it while unpacking his things—there were two wet shirts hanging by the bedside. They were the inner T-shirts he wore, looked freshly washed. Because there was nowhere to put them, they were stuffed into a plastic bag and squeezed into a small bundle.
Nan Zhi took them out. Song Qing, standing by, took them and wanted to hang them himself. Nan Zhi didn’t refuse—she gave them to him.
Since she had nothing to do, and also worried he might feel awkward, she took the initiative to place his toothpaste, toothbrush, and other things on the bathroom counter. She also noticed the soap box and placed it properly too.
Nan Zhi had lived in someone else’s home before—she understood the feeling of living under someone else’s roof.
Strictly speaking, it was her parents’ house. When she first went, her parents and she were still unfamiliar with each other, didn’t know what to say, and didn’t arrange much for her. They just ate dinner and dispersed.
Because she came later, the room she stayed in was very small—it was the study that had just been cleared out. It had no bathroom, no wardrobe, no standing clothes rack. The clothes had no place to go, and neither did her other belongings. The study was filled with books. Her two big bags of stuff could only be crammed into the corner.
Going to the toilet was also a problem. The bathroom outside belonged to everyone—a shared one. Because every person’s room had its own, it was like “three monks have no water to drink” [三个和尚没水喝 — idiom meaning when too many people share responsibility, nothing gets done]. The shared bathroom outside was very dirty. There were urine stains on the toilet, and no one cleaned it.
From the first day she stepped in the door, her parents had been “shake-hands managers” [甩手掌柜 — slang for people who leave everything to others and don’t manage affairs themselves]. They didn’t make any arrangements for her. And she was the shy type. After living like that for a few days, she finally went and bought a floor-standing clothes rack herself, went to clean up the public bathroom in the living room by herself—do-it-yourself for food and clothing.
That was her parents’ house. Although most of the time she felt a bit at a loss, doing things still counted as having moral confidence. Song Qing would only feel even more embarrassed, right?
She had been angered, gone through awkward phases, accumulated enough experience—so she couldn’t let Song Qing go through the same.
She had to arrange things properly for Song Qing, so he wouldn’t end up like her—having to stay in a hotel on the first day, only for her parents to clean up the study on the second. For three or five days, no one thought about whether she needed to hang clothes or put things. She also wouldn’t let Song Qing get scolded for placing his makeup, toothpaste, toothbrush, and face towel in the public bathroom and occupying space.
The small living room on his side didn’t have a bathroom—just like how her study room was back then—so things could only be placed outside.
He didn’t need to pack everything up in big and small bags every time, then take the bag into the bathroom every morning when he needed to use it, and then pack it back again afterward.
He could do as he pleased.
Nan Zhi returned to Song Qing’s side, squatted down. Her original intention was to see if there was anything else she could help with. But she accidentally caught sight of a few photos.
The bag had been packed by her, but there were already some things inside from the start. Before, she wasn’t familiar with Song Qing and felt it was somewhat awkward to tidy up a man’s things, so she just stuffed things in without looking carefully. Only now did she notice.
Her curiosity was piqued. She looked a few more times at the half-exposed figure on the photo and a faintly visible pair of long legs. Song Qing probably noticed and took the initiative to say, “It was accidentally captured in a classmate’s shot. The classmate took it and gave me a copy after it was developed.”
He spoke openly and straightforwardly. Judging by his attitude, it didn’t seem to be anything secret. Nan Zhi pointed at the photo and asked, “Can I take a look?”
She was actually quite interested in what Song Qing used to look like.
Song Qing nodded. Nan Zhi decisively picked up the photos and flipped through them. There were quite a few. They documented a girl going from covering her face and giggling to eventually falling over.
Not far behind her was Song Qing.
Wearing a school uniform, with a slim build and long legs—Song Qing.