Ch 11: My Disabled Virtual Lover’s Healing Diary

The sudden hush rang loud in her ears, as though the other party no longer knew what to say.

Qian Yuan glanced quickly around.

The convenience store was empty, its iron shutter already pulled down. Outside, nothing could be seen. She recalled there had been a back door when she last came here. Creeping over, she found it slightly ajar.

She eased it open. A short hallway stretched ahead, another door at its end. From beyond came voices—this time lower, muffled through the wall, but she recognized it instantly.

Cen Han.

“…This time… was an accident.”

He sounded uneasy, the usually calm tone wavering as if defending himself. “The nutrient solution I bought here recently disappeared. That’s why I came back.”

“…How could it suddenly disappear? What happened?”

Qian Yuan poked her head through the gap.

The store was indeed connected to a residence. Cen Han stood in a small living room, his back to her, shaking his head silently.

Across from him was the bushy-browed shopkeeper. His brows were knit tight, his face weary.

“…Alright,” the man sighed at last. He neither believed nor denied the vague explanation. After a pause, he patted Cen Han’s shoulder. “Xiao Han, you’re a sensible child. Uncle Tang knows you’ll be careful.”

Qian Yuan saw Cen Han’s drooping hand curl abruptly into a fist.

She blinked, puzzled, not sure what they really meant.

Soon Cen Han left through another door, hugging a bottle of low-grade nutrient solution. When Qian Yuan checked her game screen, her credits hadn’t dropped.

So—her little ward actually had his own stash of private money and bought food himself. Amazing. But her attention was already elsewhere.

The shopkeeper sighed in the living room. Just as she prepared to teleport home, footsteps sounded.

A ponytailed girl emerged. “Dad, why did you really say that to Cen Han?”

Eh? Hidden storyline?

Qian Yuan snapped her menu shut and slipped fully into the room, plopping openly onto the sofa to eavesdrop.

The bushy-browed man said, “Zhenzhen, weren’t you the one who said you were afraid classmates would find out our family’s connection with him?”

The girl fell silent. Another sigh.

“His father helped us a lot in the past. Even if everyone curses him now, I can’t ignore the boy’s plight. Helping when I can—that’s the least we can do.”

Rubbing his brow, he muttered, “But no one else can know. Even if you hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t want others to see him coming here. Taking some supplies to him monthly is the most we can manage.”

Then, more sternly, “Zhenzhen, it’s one thing if I help him. But at school, you must keep your distance. I fear… he might get ideas. After all, we’re the only ones still in contact with him.”

The girl flushed scarlet, stammering in protest.

But her father seemed convinced, face creased with worry. “Didn’t you sneak to the slums the other day? Don’t lie. I saw the mud on your shoes. Now he suddenly turns up, saying his nutrient crates are missing… I’m worried.”

Listening, Qian Yuan: “…”

As the talk shifted dangerously toward romance, she hastily clicked to go home. Just before the scene faded, she heard the man’s heavy admonition.

“Do you understand, Zhenzhen? This isn’t small. Cen Han has no future. Blind, crippled—he’ll spend his life in the slums. I can’t forget old debts, but you need better friends. Like that Shan boy who gave the speech at the opening ceremony—that’s the kind you should know…”

The voices dwindled.

Back in the empty room, Qian Yuan’s mood was tangled.

A harsh truth had been laid bare.

Her little cub was shunned.

Uncle Tang, the shopkeeper, was the only one willing to help him. Yet even he spoke of Cen Han with condescension, warning his daughter away lest others see.

And all of it… traced back to Cen Han’s father.

What had his father done, to leave the boy in such a state?

She couldn’t guess. Sulking, she waited.

When the snow-dusted youth finally came home, his eyes lit briefly at the sight of his small room. Qian Yuan’s heart clenched harder.

Her poor little one!

VR games really did pull you in. Stung by what she’d overheard, she threw herself into grinding—no cash, but endless farming.

The cotton coat cost more than a quilt: 120 credits. So she worked like clockwork, hitting the dump every two hours. By eleven that night, she had scraped together 112.

Her little cub went to bed happy, mood back to 80. She logged off only to grab a midnight snack, then pushed herself until 1 AM, desperate to log in again.

One last dump run would do it. In the morning, she could give him a warm coat.

…If only the backpack didn’t max out at ten items, she could have farmed even faster.

The familiar robots and glowing containers appeared. It was another blizzard night, the dump a white wasteland.

She trudged deeper.

[Ding~! Congratulations, player, you’ve unlocked a side quest! Check your task list!]

Another one?

Her eyes lit up—she needed XP badly. She opened her list.

[Side Quest: Zhang San was ambushed by his own lackeys, beaten and left half-dead in the snow. Rumor has it this dump boss has black market connections. Earning his favor may help the protagonist…

Goal: Save the dying Zhang San.
Reward: 50 XP, 10 credits.
Note: Buy a one-time pass to hire robots and complete instantly!]

Zhang San? Who? Just some random extra?

Bewildered, she jogged around. At last, by a dumpster, she found a massive figure sprawled in the snow.

A burlap sack covered his head. He was far bulkier than other game sprites, like he’d been juiced up.

The shape gave her a bad feeling. Slowly, she pulled the sack away.

A familiar battered face appeared, hair like a bird’s nest now frosted white, cheeks bruised, dried blood crusted.

Qian Yuan: “…”

She considered. In the storm, she carefully pulled the sack back over, stood up, and walked away as if nothing had happened.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐