Clearly it was they who were wrong, clearly knowing she had a partner, yet still hid it from her and introduced someone to her.
That opening sentence of Fang Guanqi was spoken clearly, Mom and Dad knew the doctors at her hospital, had her condition completely in their grasp, knew she paid medical fees for Song Qing, and the matter of bringing him home.
Fang Guanqi also seemed to have long known about Song Qing’s existence. Missing her at the station wasn’t unintentional—it was deliberate, getting there one step earlier to pressure Song Qing.
In the past, her parents always raised her in a free-range style, neither caring nor managing.
This year, they suddenly, out of nowhere, wanted her to come home, didn’t even give her a day off, and had Fang Guanqi come from far away in advance to intervene. It was clearly because they were dissatisfied with the partner she chose and wanted to interfere, to break them apart.
The causes and consequences, the reasoning could all be understood, she also understood, but didn’t know why, after saying harsh words, she actually felt a bit guilty.
Felt that she might have gone too far—after all, on the other end of the call were still her parents.
But thinking of Fang Guanqi’s humiliation of Song Qing, and Song Qing’s grievances because of her parents, she instead felt what she did was justified.
Song Qing didn’t fight nor snatch, even when bullied he just silently endured. If not for today’s unexpected situation, she wouldn’t have watched the surveillance footage and found out that Fang Guanqi strutted around arrogantly, treating him like a housekeeper.
Even the room wasn’t one he chose, but one Fang Guanqi forcibly made him take.
That guy always took advantage of her not being around, ordering Song Qing to cook for him. If the dish wasn’t good, he’d make him redo it, asking for this and that, needing to use this, not that—so many bullshit demands. He definitely gave Song Qing a hard time.
Usually even made him wash underwear and overcoats, after washing still had to iron them—treated himself like some young master.
Song Qing was brought home by her from so far away to live a life together, not to serve some pretentious prick.
He came all this way to be with her, and if she couldn’t even protect him, then what was she?
What had she done in this relationship?
All she did was let the person she liked be wronged, she didn’t do well enough.
Say it more resolutely: from now on, there won’t be a second or third Fang Guanqi to bully Song Qing again.
Nan Zhi took a deep breath, pressed down the inner emotional turmoil, didn’t respond to the other side anymore, and decisively hung up the phone.
She calmed down for a while in the bathroom, then lifted her head to look at the big water heater tank—it showed the water temperature was ready.
Nan Zhi’s interest rekindled in her heart, rolled up her sleeves, and started filling the bathtub.
—
In the sunroom, Song Qing was at the computer desk, but his mind had already flown who knows where.
No matter what, he couldn’t escape one person.
—Nan Zhi.
He had always been paying attention to Nan Zhi’s condition.
Nan Zhi carried him to the computer desk, locked the doors to the sunroom and the kitchen, then left the room, and didn’t come out for a long time.
Song Qing wanted to go see what she was doing, but he was carried into the room by Nan Zhi, his wheelchair was still in the car, and very dirty, hadn’t been cleaned. Even if he was inside the house, he couldn’t sit in it—he’d dirty the carpet.
While Song Qing was wondering what exactly Nan Zhi was doing, Nan Zhi came out from inside. Her sleeves were rolled high, both arms were dripping with water—she must have touched water.
As for what exactly she did, he didn’t know, but could probably guess a bit—after all, in the past, whenever she closed all the doors and curtains leading here, she only did one thing.
Song Qing sat in place waiting, and sure enough, not long after, Nan Zhi came to carry him. But unlike what he expected, Nan Zhi didn’t carry him to the bed, but carried him into the bathroom.
The bathroom had three separate areas: the sink was in one place, the toilet was in another, and the bathtub and shower were in one area. The place Nan Zhi took him to was the bathroom.
He had used this room for quite a while, and traces could be seen everywhere inside—like the big chair in the shower area; only he needed that.
Nan Zhi placed him on the chair, while she went deeper inside, turned off the shower that was still running, and hung it back to its original position.
Song Qing looked through a layer of transparent glass and somewhat understood—this was putting water in to let him bathe.
His legs were inconvenient; the switch for the bathtub water was hanging high up on the wall. Inside the bathtub, he couldn’t reach it. Sometimes if he wanted to soak in the tub, he had to call Nan Zhi.
Nan Zhi never got annoyed with helping him put the water in. Though soaking wastes water, and no matter how he used it, it wasn’t often—just once in a while.
Probably because he fell outside and got too dirty, even Nan Zhi couldn’t bear to look. When bringing him back, she used up several wet wipes.
Song Qing happened to want a wash too, so he consciously took off his outerwear and placed it in the waterproof box at the side.
This waterproof box was also bought by Nan Zhi. Nan Zhi knew he wasn’t like others. When others finish bathing, they just go grab a towel to wipe down and throw on clothes and they’re good.
When he finishes, he needs to wipe off water from both his body and his seat, then transfer himself back to the wheelchair—otherwise, it’d get wet and only after that can he go put on clothes.
His movements were slower than others, and had more steps. If you waited for him to get everything done, even daylily flowers would have gone cold.
So this waterproof box was to prevent him from catching cold, used for holding towels and clean clothes.
Needed all year round. The box was big, could even fit a down jacket.
Song Qing only took off his outer clothes; underneath, there was nothing. He wanted to wait for Nan Zhi to go out before taking the rest off, but with Nan Zhi’s posture—it was obvious she didn’t plan on leaving. He had no choice but to continue.
Top, bottom, and finally the last piece—Nan Zhi still hadn’t left. Song Qing gritted his teeth and took that off too.
But his hands stubbornly covered his front. Nan Zhi laughed at him, saying, “We’re already like an old married couple—what haven’t I seen? And you’re still covering.”
Song Qing: “……”
…Seems like that’s true.
Even so, he still guarded himself. Only when Nan Zhi came over to carry him did he loosen his hands a bit, slightly raised them upward so Nan Zhi could hold him more smoothly.
Nan Zhi was wearing a set of fuzzy loungewear. His body, washed every day, was slightly dry. When the two touched, static electricity sparked. It was already cold, and that zap made him go soft and fall into Nan Zhi’s arms.
Nan Zhi also got zapped, but didn’t let go of him. She still safely carried him over to the bathtub. But after getting shocked, it was a bit hard for her to hold him properly, so her leg went between his legs as a support, and she had him sit on her thigh.
Song Qing: “……”
She rested for a bit before once again exerting strength, placing him into the bathtub.
The bathtub’s water temperature was just right—Nan Zhi had adjusted it. After he entered, the water level was also just right. He wasn’t really into soaking, but Nan Zhi liked it. She was experienced and did it just right.
The bathtub allowed lying down. Normal people would have their feet touch the edge, even Nan Zhi did when she bathed. Only he, as if having no point of leverage, floated upward.
Nan Zhi conveniently pressed him back down. She brought over a small stool, sat to the side, and started throwing in flower petals and bath bombs into the tub.
As soon as the bath bomb entered the water, it immediately started bubbling. The color turned orange, and the air was filled with a faint citrus scent.
Song Qing clung to the edge of the tub, watching the orange bubbles constantly rising in the water—it gave a feeling that Nan Zhi was brewing some kind of fruit tea.
Nan Zhi liked drinking fruit tea, but most of the time she was too lazy to make it. Usually, after she bought fruit, all the ingredients would be ready, but she wouldn’t cook it. Afraid the fruit would spoil, he’d go and make it himself.
After cooking it, he would call Nan Zhi over to drink.
Now he had a feeling like he himself was being brewed into fruit tea.
Nan Zhi was usually the type who, if she could lie down, wouldn’t sit—yet today she was being quite diligent…
Song Qing floated on the water’s surface and watched her put on exfoliating gloves, pressing down on his shoulders, wanting to scrub him.
He didn’t know what kind of medicine was being sold in the gourd this time. [idiom meaning “what’s the real intention behind this?”]
While thinking this, his body still followed her. If she told him to raise his neck, he’d raise it. If she told him to turn around, he’d turn. He let her scrub.
—
When Nan Zhi wiped his neck with a wet wipe in the car earlier, she found the wipe hadn’t changed color at all. She suddenly got curious, wanting to test if he really had scrubbed himself clean from head to toe, without a speck of dirt.
Usually, he washed on his own—there should’ve been something he missed, right?
Maybe it was because he’d always done things too thoroughly, so she wanted to pick out his mistakes.
Nan Zhi was in high spirits and started scrubbing from where she had wiped on his neck earlier in the evening.
Back then she thought the wet wipe didn’t work, and that using a scrubbing towel would do the job. But now she found even the scrubbing towel didn’t help—it was still clean.
She had no choice but to let Song Qing turn his back so she could scrub it. She used the strength of a baby trying to nurse, and though Song Qing’s back turned red, still—nothing came off.
Nan Zhi didn’t believe it. She felt maybe he hadn’t soaked long enough, so she took off the gloves and scooped water to wash his face and the exposed skin.
There were bath bombs in the water, along with flower petals. Now there was an extremely pleasant scent in the air. She almost couldn’t wait to soak his whole body in it—this way, when she hugged him at night, he’d smell fragrant, with a scent she liked.
Nan Zhi washed from the bottom up—starting with his jawline that was more clearly defined than her entire life plan, then the back of his neck, chin, front and back of the ears, and even cradled his face and gave it a good rub.
Both cheeks were like dough balls, and the person himself was like a soft bun, letting her knead round and rub flat, bully this way and that.
The spots she washed were all in front of him, where he could reach on his own. He wanted to do it himself, but Nan Zhi insisted, so he could only compromise. He tilted his head back like doing her a big favor, letting all the exposed skin soak in water and get a full rinse.
Nan Zhi brought over a bath sponge and didn’t even let his short hair off the hook. After soaking the sponge in water, she scrubbed his head from the back.
She was going to wash his hair while she was at it.
Even though she tried to control it, water, this thing—it still didn’t behave, and flowed from the bath sponge all over the place, even down onto his face.
He wiped it off with his hand, but unfortunately, his hand also had water, so it didn’t get clean. Instead, it made it worse—his eyes couldn’t open at all, and his long narrow eyelashes stuck to his face.
Nan Zhi brought over a towel, one hand holding his chin, the other holding the towel, wiping around his eyes.
This person, in her palm—after she finished wiping the left eye, he obediently waited for the right one to be wiped.
Nan Zhi suddenly thought of when she was watching the surveillance footage. One scene was accidentally skipped to—Fang Guanqi mocking him for being dull and lifeless, saying who would like someone this boring?
Who said he’s dull and lifeless and boring? He’s clearly super lovable, where are you going to find such a lovable and obedient boy?
Anyway, she absolutely couldn’t like someone who only had a pretty face, but was actually nitpicky, rude and arrogant, splurging the moment he had a little money, and liked to bully others.
Rather than that, she’d rather like someone who—even if he earned less than Fang Guanqi—but was consistent, never dodged housework, wasn’t prideful or irritable, turned over all his money, and always had the heart to contribute to society, to the country, and to suffering people.
Yes—she liked someone like Song Qing.
Compared to Song Qing, Fang Guanqi wasn’t even worth a fart.
Song Qing not only had the looks, but also the substance.
Fang Guanqi was the one who was truly lifeless and boring.
If Fang Guanqi dared to step on her Song Qing, then she would step Fang Guanqi to death.