Ch 4: My Disabled Virtual Lover’s Healing Diary

The in-game currency exchange rate was one-to-ten.

One game coin equaled ten RMB.

The little dumpling sat stiffly on the bed, her round, stubby fingers frozen midair, unable to react for a long time.

She wanted to quit the game right then and there, log into the forum, and sincerely submit her “valuable suggestions” to the developers.

Back on the menu screen, the daily sign-in icon flashed brightly.

Qian Yuan tapped it.

【Congratulations! You have successfully signed in and received: Gacha Coin ×1, Star Coin ×10!】

Her mood lightened a little.

She didn’t know what the Star Coins were for, but she had also received a gacha coin. The game had mentioned earlier that these could be used in the capsule machine lottery.

She tapped 【Capsule Machine】.

A translucent machine appeared in the room, plastered with cute, girly stickers. Inside, colorful glowing balls crowded together. Qian Yuan inserted the gacha coin into the slot and twisted the heart-shaped knob.

A ball rolled out of the chute.

【Congratulations! You obtained: Steamed Bun Lamp ×1!】

Qian Yuan: “…?”

After eating steamed buns for days on end, she was speechless.

The little lamp landed in her palm.

It was shaped like a steamed bun sitting on a double-tiered tray, soft and white, with a smiling face drawn on top. Qian Yuan stared at it and felt it looked suspiciously like her in-game avatar’s face.

On the first tray was a spoon-shaped lamp switch. Beside it, tiny letters showed the model of the built-in battery.

She placed the lamp on the desk.

【Ding~ Congratulations! You’ve found an effective way to increase Comfort! Buying more furniture for your child will greatly boost Comfort~】

A system message popped up. She checked the quest log and saw Comfort had indeed risen by 5%.

After diligently cleaning both the room and the bathroom, Comfort settled at 60%.

So simply tidying wasn’t enough—she needed more furniture.

Spending money was out of the question.

Qian Yuan sternly reminded herself, then suddenly remembered: following Cen Han to school required 20 stamina points. That meant she could use stamina to leave the room.

Since he wasn’t home, why not explore other game areas?

But how much stamina did she have?

She opened 【Profile】.

【—— Player Info ——
Nickname: Thousand-Paper-Crane
Birthday: January 15
Level: 1 (0/100)
Stamina: 10/10】

Ten points.

The little dumpling hopped off the bed, waddled to the iron door, and placed her hand on the handle.

【Please select your destination.】
【Junkyard (5 stamina total)】
【Street 19 Convenience Store (10 stamina total)】
【Newbie Tip: Unlock more storylines and gain EXP to level up, which will open more locations!】

The junkyard or the convenience store?

She had exactly 10 Star Coins, enough to visit the store and at least buy Cen Han some food.

The screen blurred. The ground beneath her shifted. Suddenly she was standing on a desolate planet.

Stars stretched endlessly above, dusty crates flashed past her vision—then her short legs touched solid ground again.

Qian Yuan blinked.

She was inside a small convenience store.

Shelves crowded the space so tightly there was barely room to walk. By the glass door sat a counter, behind which was a chubby-browed shopkeeper dumpling, reading news on his tablet with full concentration.

No other figures were inside. Qian Yuan curiously glanced at his screen, then wandered the aisles.

The setting was futuristic, but the shelves held a mix of strange, interstellar items alongside familiar modern objects. Yet she quickly noticed: the only food was nutrient fluid. No snacks, no drinks, nothing else.

The fluids came in three grades: low, medium, and high. With her meager funds, she could only afford low-grade—five RMB per bottle.

She bought two with her 10 Star Coins, reassuring herself that daily check-ins could at least guarantee Cen Han two meals a day. Maybe the developers weren’t that cruel.

【Dingdong~! Purchase successful: Low-Grade Nutrient Fluid ×2. Delivery robots will ensure safe arrival at the protagonist’s home!】

With her stamina spent and Cen Han not home, Qian Yuan logged off.

Meanwhile, the school bell rang. Break time was over.

The Imperial Modern History teacher entered the classroom, his gaze drifting idly, then fixing on the very last desk with pinpoint accuracy.

The desk was battered, covered in black graffiti, one leg crooked. Among the neat rows of new desks, it stood out like a sore thumb.

But the boy sitting behind it was even more conspicuous—not in a regular chair, but in a wheelchair.

The class buzzed with noise, but his head stayed bowed, as though none of it touched him.

The teacher, refined in demeanor, gave him a glance filled with disdain before quickly looking away, as though even one more look was unbearable.

“Cen Han, no homework. Get out.”

The room fell silent.

Cen Han’s fingers twitched.

Everyone knew the history teacher despised him, always inventing excuses to throw him out. Some had even seen the teacher toss his notebook into the recycling bot, then casually turn to chat with others.

But on this planet, no one would defend him.

Cen Han lifted his eyes briefly, offering no argument. His cold gaze swept over mocking faces, then he wheeled himself out.

It was winter now. His thin clothes couldn’t block the biting wind. His lips were blue. Still growing, his body demanded food, but he hadn’t eaten all day—his stomach burned with hunger.

He licked his cracked lips, pressing a hand to his stomach, knobby bones stark under dry skin. The pressure reopened a cut from that morning.

The dull ache became the best distraction from hunger.

People passing in the corridor threw him looks of scorn. He didn’t bother to look back.

Inside the classroom, Tang Zhenzhen, seated by the window, finally couldn’t resist glancing outside.

He sat there, profile exposed: sharp nose, defined jawline, lips perfectly shaped—the same dazzling features she remembered.

But the eyes hidden by his long bangs, the faded clothing, and the wheelchair all spoke of his downfall.

Tang Zhenzhen swallowed hard and jerked her gaze back to her screen.

Her desk mate whispered, “Zhenzhen, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “N-nothing.”

…

After the last class, Cen Han wheeled himself out of the academy.

“Look, that’s Cen Han.”
“Freshmen, you seen him yet? The traitor’s son.”
“Word is, his eyes and legs were ruined by radiation three years ago. Poetic justice, right?”
“Why’s he still coming here? If I were him, I’d just hang myself somewhere. Oh wait—that’s how his mom died, wasn’t it?”

From the crowd, a stone flew, striking his hand on the wheel. His motion faltered, veins bulging.

Tang Zhenzhen, not far away, clenched her teeth.

The impulse to act flared, but quickly snuffed itself out before she could move.

“Zhenzhen, why are you staring at that cripple?” her desk mate asked. “Didn’t you used to be classmates with him before he transferred here? Don’t tell me you…”

“Don’t—don’t say nonsense!”

She panicked, clapped a hand over her friend’s mouth, and darted glances around. Luckily the noisy school gate hid their words. “I don’t know him at all.”

Her friend grinned. “Relax, I’m kidding. I know you’d never pity someone like him.”

Tang Zhenzhen’s fingers curled as she nodded stiffly.

By the time they finished talking, Cen Han was gone. She parted ways with her friend, adjusted her scarf nervously, and slipped into a narrow alley leading to the slums.

Few at the academy knew he lived at the very end of the slums, but she did—her father had delivered things to him before.

The imperial capital had once been free of radiation, drawing people from across the galaxy. But with overcrowding came chaos, and the slums were born. After the radiation disaster three years ago, most residents fled, leaving it desolate.

That made it safer for her—no one would see her meeting him.

She jogged ahead, driven by guilt and impulse, heart hammering in her ears.

The wheelchair’s outline came into view. Cen Han leaned down, fishing keys from his side bag.

“Cen Han!”

Panting, she called his name. He turned slightly, messy bangs parting just enough to reveal dark eyes, slanted and sharp.

Her reflection shimmered in his pupils.

She had never dreamed of this moment. She looked at him with pity, pulling out her history notes.

“You missed class today,” she said softly. “I wrote down the key points, you…”

Her words froze.

The rust-stained iron door shut in her face.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐