Chapter 23

Chapter 23

In just a few hundred meters, Nan Liujing’s heavy disguise drew the attention of many students.

He arrived at the hospital, where the considerate wheelchair-accessible ramp allowed him to enter smoothly. Just then, he caught sight of a familiar figure hurrying out from inside. He leaned back, using a waist-high potted plant by the door to conceal himself.

After Uncle Li had left the hospital, Nan Liujing approached the front desk: “Which room is a student named Shen Gali who was just brought in?”

The front desk nurse asked routinely: “May I ask how you are related to him?”

Nan Liujing paused, lowering his voice to the barest whisper: “Husband.”

The nurse recalled the gossip she’d seen online about Shen Gali—rumored to have married the disabled eldest son of a wealthy conglomerate. So it was true.

She then looked at the man, thoroughly hidden behind sunglasses and a mask, and silently confirmed the rumors that he was old and ugly and never dared to show his real face.

But observing his aura—mature and outstanding, every subtle movement radiating an uncommon nobility and elegance.

With that much money, he could have gotten plastic surgery too. What a waste of such a good build and temperament.

“Room 103, first floor, at the end of the left-hand corridor.”

Nan Liujing thanked her in a low voice and found Shen Gali’s ward.

Through the small window on the door, he saw only a nurse attaching an IV drip.

He knocked and entered, his gaze shifting to Shen Gali lying on the bed.

The man was either asleep or still unconscious. His frail body barely made a lump under the blanket. His hair was slightly damp, and his closed eyes framed long lashes, a pale brown like withered autumn leaves.

Even lying down, his face didn’t appear flattened.

Nan Liujing watched silently, then involuntarily glanced at his own palm.

Was that person’s face even as big as a palm?

The nurse said: “The patient is not seriously ill—just fainted from malnutrition and overwork. After returning, supplement with protein and vitamins, get rest, and he’ll recover soon.”

Nan Liujing found this absurd. Twenty-four hours a day, Shen Gali spent twenty-five hours lying down. Overwork?

After giving a few more instructions, the nurse left, leaving the two alone.

Nan Liujing stared at the person on the bed. After a moment, he reached out and touched his cheek to see if he was faking sleep.

As it happened, Shen Gali slowly opened his eyes at that exact moment.

Gazing at the pure white ceiling and breathing in the familiar scent of disinfectant, he let out a long sigh.

He hadn’t died again. Which doctor had snatched him back from the cute Death during a race against death?

Doctors worked hard too. He didn’t want to cause the doctors any more unnecessary trouble.

He tried to move his fingers. His whole body ached with weakness, and his hands were numb.

Suddenly, Shen Gali caught a faint, unusual fragrance mingled with the disinfectant—cool and subtle, like a plant from a frigid zone.

And very familiar.

He looked weakly to the side and saw Nan Liujing sitting by the bed, face covered with a mask and sunglasses.

It was a bit surprising—Nan Liujing came to see him?

Oh, probably to check if he was dead or not, and when to roll him up in a straw mat and toss him into the hills.

Out of politeness, he should offer a greeting, but he barely had the strength to breathe. So he forced out a faint sound from his nose:

“Mm.”

Nan Liujing responded with a brief, indifferent grunt: “Hmph.”

How strange. Having spent so much time with Shen Gali, he could actually decipher that “mm” meant “You’re here.”

Shen Gali also understood that “hmph” meant “Yes, I’m here.”

Soon, fatigue engulfed him, making his body feel as if it were floating on soft clouds. He closed his eyes again.

The slow, rhythmic sound of breathing reached Nan Liujing’s ears. His gaze landed on Shen Gali’s sleeping face.

His peaceful, indifferent face was like a white magnolia fallen from its branch, spinning gently in the breeze, settling on a lake with soft ripples, infusing the water with a faint, refreshing scent.

A strand of brown hair lay across his brows and lashes, casting a shadow over his curved eyelids. His dark, glossy lashes were like a swallowtail butterfly resting on a flower, its wings quivering.

Nan Liujing couldn't understand this person's mind. The more they interacted, the more unfamiliar Shen Gali became, always straying from his plans. This feeling was extremely frustrating.

He averted his gaze.

Better to find his flaw and divorce him as soon as possible.

His glance fell on the cabinet, where fruit and flowers from students had been placed.

Just now, the nurse had said Shen Gali needed more vitamins and protein.

Nan Liujing’s fingertips twitched, then he curled them into his palm.

What did Shen Gali's life or death have to do with him?

No, he had to stay alive. Only then could Nan Liujing torment him thoroughly before the divorce.

Rolling his wheelchair over to the cabinet, he surveyed the items and picked an apple. He grabbed a fruit knife, but then his expression turned hesitant.

He had never peeled an apple before—since childhood, the household servants had always peeled and sliced fruit for him.

He hesitated for a long time, then pressed the blade against the apple.

…

When Shen Gali woke again, a quiet orange glow drifted in through the window, painting the hospital’s sterile white with vivid colors.

He lazily glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already six in the evening.

Had Nan Liujing left?

He cautiously looked toward the bed.

The tall silhouette was bathed in the brilliant sunset, forming a tiny orange highlight at the corner of an eyebrow.

Nan Liujing hadn’t left. He had been sitting by the bed for five or six hours, now resting his forehead on one hand, his eyes half-closed as if asleep.

Feeling about seventy or eighty percent rested, Shen G

He raised his hand and gently poked Nan Liujing's knee, suddenly realizing his legs seemed to have no sensation. Just as he was about to switch to poking somewhere else, Nan Liujing slowly opened his eyes.

Shen Gali: ?

Something feels off?

Whatever, can't figure it out.

"Let's go back." He sat up, preparing to get out of bed.

"Wait." Nan Liujing stopped him and picked up a white porcelain plate from the bedside table. "Eat this first."

Shen Gali leaned in and saw apple chunks of varying sizes and shapes scattered on the white plate.

Of the five fingers holding the plate, at least three bore faint bloody scratches.

Shen Gali blinked, as if in disbelief: "Did you—did you peel these for me?"

Nan Liujing set the plate on his lap, seemingly unwilling to waste words: "Eat up, then we'll head home."

Seeing his attitude, Shen Gali understood. How could Nan Liujing possibly care about him? It was just that now they were married—if he had an accident and his husband showed no concern, people would gossip.

Since he wanted to put on a show, he'd see it through.

Shen Gali lounged against the headboard: "Don't want to eat, unless you feed me."

"Don't push your luck." Nan Liujing stared at him coldly, though inwardly thinking this guy was about to show his true colors.

Shen Gali silently lay back down, pulling the covers over himself.

Guess he'd sleep a bit more—until he was fully rested.

The next second, a large hand yanked him up, and the scent of apple wafted under his nose.

Shen Gali looked up. Though Nan Liujing's face was hidden behind a mask, his fiercely furrowed brows signaled anger.

He held the fork and viciously brought it to Shen Gali's mouth. That furious but helpless look—how amusing.

Shen Gali decided not to torment him further. He bit the apple and looked out the window, chewing slowly.

From that angle, he could see a small bulge on his cheek moving slowly, producing a faint crunching sound.

Shen Gali let out a light sigh. Eating was so tiring. Why couldn't food just decompose in his mouth?

Nan Liujing forked another piece and held it out: "Eat more."

"Not eating. Too tired." Shen Gali slowly put on his shoes. "Let's go home."

Nan Liujing stared at him silently, finding it amusing.

He had once overheard a conversation between strangers:

A: "Ugh, I'm exhausted. Why is everything so troublesome?"

B: "Eating is even more troublesome—you have to chew and swallow each bite. I don't see you eating less."

But there really were people in this world who even found eating troublesome.

He let out an almost imperceptible laugh, melting into the blood-red sunset glow.

Given Shen Gali's pace—walking one step and gasping three times, resting after two steps—it was already eight o'clock at night by the time they got home.

Upon seeing them, Uncle Li was stunned, his mind instantly racing from the Big Bang on.

Why were they coming back together?

"Young Master, where did you go? I called but you didn't answer. I was almost about to call the police." Uncle Li's voice trembled, as if he hadn't recovered from the scare of Nan Liujing vanishing without a trace.

"I went to Jinhai University to meet the school leaders about the new college building project." Nan Liujing answered smoothly, without a hint of anything wrong.

Yes, that was right. His main purpose in going there was indeed about the college project. Visiting Shen Gali was just a side trip.

Uncle Li recalled his icy remark—"Does that have anything to do with me?"—but chose to let it slide. So be it.

Shen Gali greeted Uncle Li and went upstairs.

Just as he was about to lie down, the door clicked, and the next second, the man in the wheelchair descended like a god.

Shen Gali was speechless. Even if it was your house, you still had to knock.

"Get up." Nan Liujing's tone was commanding.

Shen Gali closed his eyes and murmured, "I can still hear you lying down."

Please, give him a break. Did all rich people have this obsession? Why did they keep tormenting a lazy bum like him?

Shen Gali refused to comply. Catching the telepathic signal, Uncle Li arrived on cue.

Shen Gali sat up.

Nan Liujing opened the computer in his room and ordered bossily: "I've recently taken an interest in a game, but I'm swamped with work. I need someone to level up my account and do daily tasks."

Shen Gali didn't understand: "Do I look like I have nothing better to do?"

Nan Liujing glanced at Uncle Li, ever ready, then at the lazy Shen Gali lounging on the bed. He raised an eyebrow—the answer was obvious.

"Well, the doctor said you're weak and should be hospitalized for observation."

At the word "hospital," Shen Gali's mind flashed to his memory from before he transmigrated of lying in a hospital bed, tubes all over his body.

Hospitals were his biggest obstacle to doing nothing.

Absolutely not going to the hospital.

Frowning, he sat down at the computer, radiating resistance and reluctance.

The game had already been downloaded by Uncle Li. It was a large-scale survival game set in a future where a virus had broken out and humans struggled to survive. You started with a dog and had to scavenge for all your equipment.

He'd heard the game was a grind and a money pit. The top players were rich and could grind like crazy.

Wait—microtransactions?

With Nan Liujing's wealth, a little cash like that would be nothing.

Nan Liujing casually tossed out: "In one week, I want to see my account at least level 60. Otherwise, Uncle Li will come personally to help you."

At the mention of Uncle Li, Shen Gali shivered.

Nan Liujing, you're so ruthless.

According to the game research Uncle Li gave him, Nan Liujing knew that leveling up in this game was slow; to reach level sixty in a week, one would have to join a guild and cling to a high-level player, otherwise it would be impossible.

Spending day and night together is a great way to cultivate feelings; it seems the plan to break off the engagement is also within reach.

Nan Liujing sneered, and motioned for Uncle Li to push him out.

Shen Gali sat in front of the computer for a long time, finally accepting his fate.

He clicked into the game, and a dialog box popped up on the new player's screen: "May I ask the warrior's name—"

Without thinking, Shen Gali typed in "Nan Liujing", but a prompt said that name was taken.

Tch.

He then entered "Shen Gali", but was told there were forbidden characters in the nickname.

Shen Gali got pissed. Was his name some kind of profanity? This game developer really liked overreacting; which character was offensive?

Couldn't be bothered to think.

Shen Gali smashed the keyboard with both hands, and without looking, casually clicked "Confirm".

A prompt panel popped up: [Player "Tieniu Ju", do you want to enter the newbie tutorial now?]

Shen Gali: ...

Can't blame me—Nan Liujing made me help him level up.

When picking a character model, Shen Gali was too lazy to pick carefully and clicked on the first character, a burly black man in a white vest, shorts, and flip-flops.

After breezing through the tutorial, he opened the map and went to the marketplace to get a dog.

The marketplace was filled with players; everywhere you could hear social butterflies using all-channel voice chat to hit on girls.

Shen Gali suddenly blanked on why he came to the marketplace...

Never mind, let Tieniu Ju sit here; I'll take a quick nap.

As soon as he sat down on a roadside bench, a dialog box suddenly popped up.

"SUN: Hello, are you a newbie?"

Shen Gali looked at the screen and saw a white female avatar standing next to the burly black Tieniu Ju.

The girl was tall and slender, wearing a dark blue top with light-colored jeans, and had a short bob, giving off a cool vibe.

"Tieniu Ju: ."

Too lazy to type; she should get what a period means, right?

"SUN: I'm a returning player. My old guild disbanded, and all my friends have quit too. If you don't mind, would you like to team up?"

"Tieniu Ju: ."

"SUN: Follow me. I'll teach you how to do quests. Then we can find a guild together; that way leveling up will be faster."

"Tieniu Ju: [OK]"

After they boarded the plane, Shen Gali started thinking.

Were newbies that popular in this game? A level-90 pink-named big shot was hitting on newbies instead of finding a guild.

Something felt off.

The name SUN also seemed familiar, like he'd seen it somewhere.

Forget it, I can't remember. No need to force it.