Chapter 15

Chapter 15

——“I’m sorry, we did everything we could for your legs, but the chance of you standing again is really…”

——“Oh, how pitiful, crippled at such a young age, never able to stand again.”

——“Haha, who would’ve thought you’d end up like this? How does it feel to be a cripple?”

Countless whispers echoed in his ears, some laced with pity, others with mockery, but all of them reminding him that he was disabled.

Like a nightmare, relentless and inescapable.

Ever since the car accident, Li Yanchuan knew he had become even more sensitive and paranoid than before.

Not only was he overly sensitive to others’ gazes, but he was also acutely attuned to hostility—more so than ever.

As someone who had grown up surrounded by malice, Li Yanchuan knew exactly how to protect himself, never showing his vulnerabilities to the outside world.

He understood that once he exposed any vulnerability, wolves would catch the scent and strike hard, trying to finish him off in one blow.

But being disabled in both legs was undeniably a huge, inescapable weakness.

One glance was enough to see it.

And naturally, some would use it against him.

To counter this, Li Yanchuan had to grow even sharper thorns than before, fending off all potential hostility and protecting himself with a more aggressive attitude.

Because only this way could he survive in a world where the strong prey on the weak.

And today, Song Nian’s casual remark about not needing help had unconsciously flipped a switch, reminding Li Yanchuan that he was crippled.

Insecurity and paranoia festered. Adding the remark “eat what you’re lacking,” which sounded like a sarcastic insinuation, acted as a catalyst, igniting the bomb.

To Li Yanchuan, who always assumes the worst of everyone, this was an outright provocation.

“Huh? I… I didn’t…”

Hearing the oppressive tone from the other side, Song Nian instinctively hunched his shoulders and murmured in defense, not knowing what he had done wrong.

He had no ulterior motive for cooking pig trotters; he just wanted to nourish him a bit.

He knew that sick people were fragile and sensitive, and maybe he had unintentionally touched a sore spot, so he quickly explained:

“I just thought you’ve been a bit lacking in nutrition lately, so…”

But before he could finish, he was cut off.

“Seeing me like this, do you think it's funny? Or do you feel sorry for me?”

Li Yanchuan let out a cold laugh, his eyes sharp and his demeanor as cold as a winter's biting wind.

Yet there was no hint of amusement in that smile, and Song Nian vaguely glimpsed a hint of brokenness in that smile.

“Do you think I don’t know my own condition? Do I need you to remind me this way?!”

He shouted, almost hysterically.

“You must find it hilarious too, sitting in a wheelchair like a useless cripple, unable to do anything!”

“I absolutely never thought that!”

Hearing this, Song Nian retorted anxiously.

He could see that Li Yanchuan was not in a good state.

—Eyes bloodshot, gaze vacant, panting heavily, his fists clenched so tight the veins bulged—he was on the verge of losing control.

In fact, Li Yanchuan could also sense that something was wrong with him.

But he couldn't control himself. Venomous words poured out uncontrollably.

As if venting it all at once could release the dark feelings inside caused by his descent into disability, proving that his cynical worldview was right.

—No one would be kind to him for no reason. No one would approach him with goodwill. So Song Nian must have an ulterior motive, or ill intent.

“You’ve put on an act long enough, haven’t you? You went all out at first to earn my trust, but deep down, you must be laughing at me now.”

With that, Li Yanchuan let out a self-deprecating laugh.

“I didn’t.”

Song Nian pursed his lips. He knew confronting him head-on was useless now and decided to change the subject.

“Don’t say that. Let’s eat.”

He turned around, placed a bowl of rice in front of him, and gently patted his shoulder.

“Back off!”

As if triggered, the moment his shoulder was touched, Li Yanchuan violently slapped his hand away.

The motion was too forceful, knocking over the bowl on the table. It wobbled, rolled, and then crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

The rice inside scattered everywhere.

“What the hell are you doing!”

We can argue, but don't waste food! Song Nian, pained by the waste, couldn’t help stomping his foot and shouting.

Snapped back to reality by the sharp sound of the breaking bowl, Li Yanchuan was briefly stunned.

When out of the corner of his eye he caught Song Nian's flustered, angry face and the slightly reddened skin on the back of his hand, a flicker of confusion crossed his expression, fading away in an instant as he lowered his eyes.

His lips moved as if to speak.

But in the end, no syllable came out.

He only pressed his lips tighter, his clenched fists gripping the armrests, knuckles white.

“It's one thing to be upset, but why break a bowl?”

Song Nian demanded, his voice rising unconsciously.

How could he explain that he hadn’t meant to do it?

But thinking about it more carefully, there seemed to be no need for an explanation.

Li Yanchuan clenched his fists even tighter, his expression hard, and he turned and walked away in silence.

He only left behind a silhouette as the elevator doors closed, never looking back.

"Seriously."

Watching him walk away in silence, Song Nian muttered under his breath.

In truth, he wasn't upset by Li Yanchuan's harsh words; he was just annoyed at the wasted food.

He knew everything Li Yanchuan had been through—someone who had once held a high position, only to be confined to a wheelchair after a car accident.

Such a fall, no less than from heaven to hell, would be unbearable for anyone. Losing control of one's emotions was only human.

But still, wasting food is not okay!

Staring at the rice on the floor, even the usually easygoing Song Nian felt a hint of resentment. He crouched down reluctantly to clean up the mess.

"Jerk, jerk..."

While cleaning up, he muttered curses under his breath to let off steam.

The way he grumbled to himself, he looked like a giant mushroom radiating resentment in the corner.

If he didn't want to eat, fine—I'll enjoy this feast myself.

After cleaning up the mess, Song Nian gave a huff, sat down alone, and, channeling his sadness into strength, started wolfing down the food.

————

On the other side, Li Yanchuan returned to his room.

He sat alone by the window, head slightly bowed, not in the mood to enjoy the view outside.

After he calmed down, he realized how out of line he had been earlier.

The images of his argument with Song Nian and the hurt expression on the other's face kept flooding back, replaying in his mind on a loop.

Again and again, they reminded him of what he had said.

Suddenly, a strange emotion welled up in his heart.

Li Yanchuan took a deep breath, barely managing to suppress the turmoil inside.

Actually, he had never meant to hurt Song Nian. He regretted it as soon as he came to his senses, but didn't know what to say, so he left in silence.

He knew his heart was already dark and twisted, and after the accident, this unhealthy state of mind only got worse.

Maybe Song Nian really meant no harm, but at the time, he couldn't control himself and felt compelled to lash out at any sign of goodwill.

Now, this unfamiliar emotion stirring within him was probably guilt.

Every time he recalled Song Nian's being at a loss when being blamed, Li Yanchuan couldn't help but frown deeply, the veins on his forehead visibly throbbing.

He had to rub his temples, trying to calm down.

Wondering what Song Nian's reaction was after he went upstairs, Li Yanchuan turned on his computer and pulled up the security feed from the first floor.

—For safety, the villa had cameras installed throughout, except inside the bedrooms, though Song Nian's room had an extra camera added by his assistant after he moved in.

The footage from the dining room appeared on the screen, showing Song Nian.

He stood still for a moment, looking a bit lost, then silently crouched down to clean up the broken pieces.

Since his muttered curses were too quiet to be picked up by the microphone, from Li Yanchuan's perspective, Song Nian had cleaned up the mess without a word after being blamed for no reason.

Afterward, he sat alone at the table, burying his head in his food.

Such a lonely, frail silhouette, looking so helpless and pitiful.

In an instant, a stronger wave of guilt swept over him like a tidal wave, leaving Li Yanchuan—who rarely experienced such feelings—utterly at a loss.

Should he do something?

What if he hurt himself picking up the shards?

What would he think? Would he grow to hate him?

Meanwhile, the suppressed restlessness surged back, a raging fire burning in his heart, making him fidget uncomfortably.

He frowned, closed the surveillance feed, and leaned back weakly, rubbing his face in frustration.

Whether out of guilt or something else, despite the fierce midday quarrel, Li Yanchuan still showed up for dinner on time.

He didn't know why he came downstairs, nor what he would say when facing him.

Compared to Li Yanchuan's agitation, Song Nian seemed much calmer. When he saw him enter, he gave him a brief glance, then turned around, put on an apron, and headed into the kitchen.

Without a word, clearly still in a huff.

Li Yanchuan lowered his head in thought, his emotions hidden behind dark shadows on his face.

Soon, Song Nian came out carrying a bowl, and placed it expressionlessly in front of him.

The bottom of the bowl hit the marble tabletop with a crisp, not-too-loud sound.

"Song Nian."

Seeing this, Li Yanchuan lifted his head, his voice unreadable as he called his name.

For someone who couldn't apologize, this was already a form of capitulation.

But Song Nian wasn't having any of it. He boldly ignored him, turned around, and went back into the kitchen.

His anger was justified—after all, few people could stand his temper without being driven away.

Or perhaps no one.

Thinking this, Li Yanchuan curled his lips into a self-mocking smile and looked down at the bowl in front of him.

When he saw what was inside, he froze, his movements clearly pausing.

The complex emotions in his mind were suddenly replaced by a blank, and a brief daze flickered across his face, before quickly fading into a helpless laugh.

He remembered what Song Nian had said at noon—"Eat what you lack."

And in the bowl was a plate of pig brains.

Made extra spicy.

Such a roundabout way of insulting him—Song Nian, you've really outdone yourself.