Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Through the glass window, the bright moonlight spilled onto the floor, cut into neat quadrilaterals by the window frame.

The door opened, and the wheels made a faint "rustling" sound against the ground. Then, a tall figure in a wheelchair stopped at the entrance of the storage room.

Pushing the door open, the cool moonlight flooded in, stretching his shadow diagonally.

He looked up and fixed his gaze on the corner of the room.

There, propped against the wall, was a huge life-sized doll. Its rough stitching, the surface tinged with an aged yellow patina. Its face was hardly cute—rather, it was vulgar and ugly.

In the arms of this giant doll knelt a slender, pale young man, his hands tied. He sat quietly, all his weight pressed onto the doll, like an angel praying under the moonlight in European mythology.

His lowered eyelashes cast shadows on his eyelids, each lash distinct. The soft, beautiful line of his lips was gently pressed, effortless. The moonlight diffused hazily, forming a tiny white spot on his pearl-like nose.

After a long while, Nan Liujing slowly came to his side.

His peaceful demeanor made him look like he was cuddled in his mother's arms. With his hands tied by a belt, sleeping so soundly made him a real piece of work.

Nan Liujing shifted his gaze away from his face and let out a chilling sneer.

Playing dumb has always been a time-tested strategy.

This man was probably still awake, quietly reading his mood.

That scandal of explicit photos turning into sausages could well be a self-directed stunt to rebrand his image.

Let's see how long he can keep it up.

*

The next day.

Shen Gali was woken up by the aching soreness in his upper thighs.

He had maintained that position of kneeling and bending forward all night, with his legs spread wide, and now they were both numb and aching.

He moved his legs to change positions and intended to continue sleeping.

Two knocks sounded on the door, followed by Uncle Li's annoying voice: "Mr. Shen, it's time to get up and have breakfast."

"I don't want to eat..." Shen Gali buried his face into the doll's neck, speaking in a muffled, lazy tone.

"No can do. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You need to eat enough and eat right. As the old saying goes, the morning hours are the best for planning your day..."

Shen Gali sighed in frustration: "I'm up."

After washing up and going downstairs, he happened to see Nan Liujing already dressed and ready to go, leaving only his back.

The driver who had come to get him was inspecting the wheelchair for any issues.

"Mr. Shen, greet the young master. You're his wife—you can't skip these etiquettes," Uncle Li said to Shen Gali.

Shen Gali's delicate brows gradually furrowed.

The term "wife" sounded very strange to him.

He stood there for a long time, feeling tired, then lowered himself to sit on the stairs, leaning weakly against the railing. The sleeves of his unbuttoned shirt hung loose, sliding down and bunching around his wrists.

What should he say? As expected, he hated all social interactions equally; thinking of words to use was also exhausting.

"Good morning, good night. Wishing you health and wealth," Shen Gali said in one breath.

There. He had said good night in advance too, along with wishes for health and career prosperity. Could they leave him alone now?

Uncle Li and the driver were speechless.

Nan Liujing, with his back to him, slightly tilted his head and glanced out of the corner of his eye.

Shen Gali, sitting on the stair steps, looked sickly and lethargic. His hands weakly held the stair railing. He was still wearing the same shirt as yesterday, with half of the hem sticking out from his waistband, loose and shapeless, draped over his thin frame without any definition.

He was a sickly pale, almost blending in with the white shirt.

He leaned sideways against the railing, revealing half of his snow-white neck. Perhaps bitten by a mosquito, it had a touch of vivid red.

"Shen Gali." Nan Liujing averted his gaze and spoke coldly.

Shen Gali had no strength to speak, so he responded telepathically: 'Mm, get on with your important remarks. When you're done, I need to go back and lie down for five minutes.'

"Two things." Nan Liujing's voice was always devoid of warmth, more like an order. "Wash the clothes. And a psychologist is coming today for a counseling session."

The psychologist was an old classmate of Nan Liujing from high school, and one of the few people Nan Liujing didn't feel entirely wary of. It wasn't to the point of trust, but he was a useful pawn.

The psychological counseling was just a facade. He wanted to learn from the doctor about Shen Gali's secret schemes, to fuel his plan to break off the engagement.

The room where the counseling would take place had already been fitted with a pinhole camera.

"I don't know how to do laundry," Shen Gali said. He barely managed four extra words, hoping to settle it once and for all.

"Uncle Li will teach you." With that, Nan Liujing left with the driver.

Shen Gali hugged the railing and let out a long sigh.

Was he a maid? He had to do everything. He prayed to heaven to let him get terminally ill soon. Now that he had stopped his medication and treatment, the good times were probably coming.

Urged on by Uncle Li, Shen Gali went to the dining table.

The enormous room felt empty and desolate with him alone. The house was so large that even the clinking of knives and forks against plates produced echoes.

The dishes on the table were exquisite: boiled shrimp, whole wheat bread, fried eggs, and sausages. The sausages had even been carefully carved into little octopus shapes by Uncle Li.

Shen Gali grabbed a boiled shrimp, tore off the head, and shoved it into his mouth without peeling the shell.

He leaned lazily against the table edge, slowly closing his eyes to drift off, chewing the shrimp in slow, leisurely motions.

But he was eating tiger shrimp, with a hard shell.

His tongue got pricked by the shrimp shell, he jolted alert, spat out the shell, and kept chewing with his eyes shut.

It took him ten minutes to eat one shrimp. Not in the mood to eat anything else, he planned to go back to his little dark room and crash.

But as he turned around, there stood Uncle Li behind him, carrying a pile of clothes and beaming from ear to ear.

...

"Mr. Shen, the young master's clothes are mostly custom-made. Some can only be dry-cleaned, not washed with water. Some can be hand-washed but not machine-washed, as they might lose their shape. I've classified them in detail for you, and I've also labeled the water temperature and the amount of laundry detergent needed for washing."

Shen Gali said nothing.

"Don't you think that's a hassle?" he asked, voicing the doubt that had long been buried in his heart.

Uncle Li gave a warm smile. "The young master has always been like this since he was a child—extremely cautious in everything he does."

Shen Gali grumbled to himself. So why would someone with this personality marry the cannon fodder from the original story? Author, how can you say your novel has no plot holes?

"Mr. Shen, I have important matters to attend to for the young master today. After you finish washing the clothes at home, please take care of lunch yourself. At one o'clock, a psychologist will come for a consultation." Uncle Li gave a slight bow. "Thanks for your trouble."

After Uncle Li left, Shen Gali stared at the pile of clothes in his hands, lost in thought.

What would happen if he didn't wash them?

Most likely, Uncle Li would make him wash them by hand under his supervision, and then he'd have to endure his endless nagging in his ear.

No way.

Carrying the clothes to the bathroom, the gloomy guy had no plans for life at all, and wouldn't bother to sort the clothes by different washing methods. With a mindset of grabbing whichever came first, he pulled out a shirt and looked at the tag Uncle Li had stuck on it.

Oh, it needs hand washing.

Shen Gali had never washed clothes in his life. Once when he was a child, he wanted to help his mother by washing clothes, but after squatting for a while, he stood up and fell straight forward, head first.

His heart's blood-making function was already poor, and squatting for so long impaired blood circulation. He was rushed to the hospital that day, and the doctors worked against the clock to save his life.

From then on, whenever he wanted to wash clothes, his mother would cry and beg him not to.

Shen Gali read the tag on the clothes: water temperature 10°C, laundry detergent 1.3 grams, no machine wash, no wringing (and many more precautions omitted).

Looking at the dense small print, he felt that this world was really dark...

Reluctantly, he turned on the water heater, and in the meantime, found a place to take a nap.

One hour later.

Well, he overslept.

He checked the water heater display: 80.

He needed to run water and let it cool.

He turned on the water.

He ran water into the basin. Scalding water steamed, filling the room with heat. The shirt in the basin visibly began to shrink.

Shen Gali looked at the basin and felt something was wrong.

He was overthinking it. Letting hot water cool before washing clothes—there was nothing wrong with that.

After messing around for a long time, the bathroom was flooded. Bubbles from the laundry detergent had somehow ended up on the ceiling, everywhere, making the bathroom look like it was plastered with foam patches.

The note said that washed clothes should not be wrung; after letting them drip briefly, they should be hung directly on the third-floor balcony, otherwise wrinkles would form.

Shen Gali pinched the hem of the shirt with his thumb and index finger in a delicate gesture, figuring that was enough to drain it. He carried the clothes, which were still soaking wet, upstairs, leaving a trail of glistening water marks wherever he went.

Done washing.

So tired, let me rest a bit.

Curled up on the sofa, Shen Gali quickly fell asleep.

Until the doorbell rang at one in the afternoon, waking him up again.

Sleepily, he went to open the door.

Standing at the door was a tall man in a suit and gold-rimmed glasses.

The man took a glance and immediately saw the appearance of the person inside.

His hair was slightly long, showing an unhealthy brown color, but it was soft and glossy.

It seemed that opening his eyes was a tiring task for him; his eyes were half-closed, distinct eyelashes casting shadows, with pale irises that matched his sickly pallor perfectly.

His thin body couldn't fill out the loose white shirt. A small crimson mole on his neck was like a drop of blood on a white jade plate. His dejected, disheveled look was nonetheless very beautiful, with a touch of heartbreaking vulnerability.

The man sighed inwardly: What a beauty. No wonder Nan Liujing was willing to marry such a notorious troublemaker; the other party must have a trump card that others could not match.

"Hello, Mr. Shen. I am the psychologist coming for the home consultation. My name is Song Lan." The doctor politely extended his hand.

Shen Gali reached out to shake his hand, then pulled it back after a moment.

Song Lan put his hands behind his back, rubbing his fingertips together.

Even though the handshake was brief, he could still feel the sensation of his slender, smooth-skinned fingers.

"President Nan said the consultation room is on the second floor. Shall we begin the consultation now?" Song Lan asked politely.

Shen Gali nodded and turned to go upstairs.

Song Lan followed upstairs, sizing up Shen Gali's back—so frail that a gust of wind might knock him over.

Song Lan had long heard about this person. When describing him, people would throw every vicious word at him: arrogant, perverse, and rude; it's no exaggeration to say he was a domineering bully.

But at first glance, the impression was unexpectedly good. Probably good looks were a major bonus.

However, his purpose here was to uncover Shen Gali's secret sinister plans, to protect Nan Liujing's safety.

Entering the room, Song Lan glanced at the wall, guessing that Nan Liujing must have already turned on the surveillance footage.

Meanwhile, at the headquarters of Huanhai Electronics Group—

"President Nan, here are the documents sent by Mitsuba Trading. Please take a look." The secretary respectfully placed a stack of documents on the desk, her slightly lowered eyes sizing him up discreetly.

With broad shoulders and a narrow waist, an air of nobility, phoenix eyes and a high nose, tightly pressed lips forming a sharp, beautiful line.

Oh my god, this man is damn good-looking. He could debut as a center of any idol group in any era. It's just that he's completely paralyzed below the waist, said to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

Not many people have seen him. She was honored to be one of them. Before applying for the job, she heard that he was old, ugly, and a psycho. She had gone back and forth between high salary and good looks for a long time, but God has been kind to me. Thank you!

"Secretary Yan, go handle your work. Oh, and close the door. I'm not seeing anyone." Nan Liujing held a pen in his fingers, lightly tapping the pen cap on the desk, his voice deep and cold.

The secretary bowed and exited the office, thoughtfully closing the door.

Nan Liujing opened his laptop, clicked on the surveillance app, and connected to the camera in the study at home.

In the frame appeared two men: one was Song Lan, and the other, sitting at the desk with his head drooping in a listless manner, was his 'nominal wife'.

Song Lan in the frame cleared his throat, opened his notebook, and lowered himself to try to maintain eye level with Shen Gali, in order to ease his tension.

"First, I'd like to understand how you've been feeling lately." Song Lan asked with a smile.

"Same as usual." Shen Gali just wanted to get it over with quickly; if he could say three words, he'd never say a word more than necessary. "What does 'same as usual' mean, exactly? Could you please elaborate?"

Shen Gali: ...

"Good morning, good afternoon, good night. Wishing you good health, wealth, and many kids and grandkids." Shen Gali leaned forward slightly, too lazy to come up with something to say, so he just said everything that could span the doctor's entire life, then turned to leave.

Song Lan was truly taken aback.

He let out a dry laugh: "So you're feeling conflicted, not very happy, right."

Shen Gali blinked once, using it as a substitute for a nod.

"What's the reason for being unhappy? When I came in, I saw a lot of water on the floor. Is it because you don't want to do housework or what?"

Shen Gali nodded.

It wasn't really related, but if he said no, the doctor would probably keep asking endless questions.

Nan Liujing, in front of the camera, let out a cold laugh, opened another computer, clicked on the "Engagement Cancellation Plan 5.0" file, and typed "lazy" in the "Shen Gali's Crimes" column.

"If you don't want to do housework, you can discuss it with President Nan. He is a very approachable person. If you talk it out properly, he will understand you. Have you ever tried to be honest about your feelings with him?" Song Lan asked.

Shen Gali made a questioning expression.

Approachable? Nan Liujing?

Indeed, socializing is exhausting. To make money, he doesn't hesitate to betray his conscience and say insincere words. This doctor must be very tired too.

"I don't want to discuss it." Shen Gali said.

"Why not? Is there any apprehension?"

Shen Gali slowly uttered one word: "Lazy."

Nan Liujing's fingers paused slightly, then he hit backspace to delete the word "lazy" and typed "infuriating" instead.

"Haha, I see." Song Lan wanted to cry. In all his years as a counselor, Shen Gali definitely earned this thumbs-up.

"Then let's talk about something interesting." Song Lan changed the subject, officially starting the real purpose of his visit.

Shen Gali remained expressionless, not even looking at him.

"If, let's say if, President Nan gives you 100,000 yuan every month, tells you not to meddle in his affairs, and he stays out every day without coming home and refuses to divorce, what would you do?" Song Lan carefully observed Shen Gali's expression changes, probing him.

If, as Nan Liujing said, Shen Gali harbored malicious intentions, then most of what he had been thinking about recently would be about this matter. His answer to this question might be subconsciously influenced to align with his scheme, thus allowing them to figure out what Shen Gali planned to do next.

Shen Gali's eyebrows gradually furrowed, his expression not very friendly.

Song Lan swallowed his saliva and stared at him intently, afraid of missing a single word.

"I would..." Shen Gali clenched his hands, "be the lookout."

"And besides, 100,000 yuan is too much, I'd be too embarrassed to take it. Fifty thousand is enough."

Song Lan: ...?

Nan Liujing: ?

Nan Liujing deleted the words "Shen Gali's Conspiracy" one by one.

Song Lan couldn't help but press on: "Although it's hypothetical, the hypothetical President Nan is having an affair and ignoring you."

Shen Gali: "Thank him for me. When's that happening? Is there a plan?"

Song Lan's mouth fell open. After a while, he let out an incredulous "Ha."

Shen Gali thought he was still worried about something, and for once took the initiative to speak: "I won't report him, rest assured."

Song Lan: ...

Nan Liujing snorted coldly, his eyes icy cold.

"Is this guy mentally okay?"

"Alright then, next question is a brain teaser to test your logic." Song Lan also felt that Shen Gali was a bit off.

Shen Gali closed his eyes. He had been sitting for a long time, his neck ached.

"So tired. How many more questions? Can't they be condensed into one?"

"If a guy says he's 1.8 meters tall with shoes on, what is his actual height?" Song Lan asked curiously.

Most people would probably answer "about 1.78 meters."

Shen Gali pondered for a moment: "Eighty centimeters."

Song Lan in front of him and Nan Liujing behind the screen both stared in shock.

How... did he come to that conclusion?

Indeed, he was not normal.

"Why is it eighty centimeters?" Song Lan suddenly became extremely curious about the answer.

Shen Gali didn't speak, slowly raised his hand, and pointed to a bookshelf to the side.

Song Lan immediately looked, and Nan Liujing also scrolled to zoom in on the screen.

After seeing what he was pointing at, both of them were dumbfounded.

On the bookshelf was a book, "History of Chinese Folklore," and on the cover was an old man performing in a village on stilts.

After removing the one-meter tall stilts, the remaining eighty centimeters... which is actually very reasonable.

Song Lan suddenly felt a deep confusion. The abnormal one seemed to be himself.

Half an hour later.

Song Lan carried his computer bag, hunched over, as if he had lost about eleven pounds, looking gaunt.

He forced a smile, bags under his eyes: "Well, Mr. Shen, that was a tough session. Usually you can go out more and get some sun to keep from getting moldy... I mean, calcium-deficient."

Shen Gali said "Go slowly, no need to see me out." As Song Lan watched him, he went upstairs, returned to his little dark room, and wearily collapsed onto the doll of the same model as Nan Liujing, peacefully closing his eyes.

In the office.

Song Lan's weak and feeble voice came through the phone: "President Nan, I did a psychological consultation for Mr. Shen. He's perfectly healthy, you can rest assured. If there's nothing else, I'm going to go find myself a therapist now."

After hanging up the phone, Nan Liujing closed his eyes and leaned his head back, tapping a pen aimlessly on the desk.

If Shen Gali hasn't been possessed, all this behavior shows that he is very calculating and is using this apathetic persona to throw Nan Liujing off the scent.

Impressive, Shen Gali, you're really impressive.

Since they're both playing mind games, he'd like to see who's better at this game.