Ch 15: My Disabled Virtual Lover’s Healing Diary

After Cen Han left for afternoon classes, Qian Yuan sat on his bed and thought carefully.

—She now had 133 Star Coins (credits), and when she last checked the convenience store, a winter coat cost 120.

But yesterday, when she looked at the door, she noticed two new destinations had appeared: the black market for 10 stamina, and the shopping mall for 15.

Clothes from the convenience store couldn’t compare to the mall. Since she had already leveled up to level 2 and now had 15 stamina, she decided to visit the mall.

Before leaving, Qian Yuan claimed her daily login rewards—10 Star Coins and a gacha coin—and eagerly summoned the gacha machine.

【Congratulations! You have obtained: Slingshot Set ×1!】

Qian Yuan: “…Huh?”

A slingshot dropped into her palm: a wooden Y-shaped handle, an elastic band, and a small pouch of steel pellets.

It looked exactly like the kind kids would play with.

Qian Yuan fell into thought.

Everyone knew gacha prizes were deliberately set by the developers.

So the fact that this slingshot was included must mean something.

Maybe Cen Han liked slingshots?

The little ghost scratched her head, glanced at the desk cluttered with mechanical scraps, and tucked the slingshot into the bag by Cen Han’s wheelchair—planning to surprise him later.

After a night’s rest, her stamina (XP) had fully recovered. From the four options, she clicked on Imperial Capital Mall.

The scene shifted. Dazzling light flashed into her eyes, making her instinctively raise her hand to shield them.

Noises crowded in from every direction: casual conversations, shy small talk, curious questions, bursts of laughter… She froze, goosebumps rising, her mind blank, feet rooted like lead.

Then a dumpling-faced NPC passed right in front of her.

Her pounding heart slowed. She swallowed, lowered her hand.

Coming suddenly from the silence of a tiny room to the chaos of a mall had startled her, but she quickly reminded herself—this was just a game. These crowds weren’t real people.

That thought eased her nerves. She opened her eyes wide, curiously taking in the new scene.

Cen Han’s house and the convenience store were plain. The junkyard had robots and tech, but it was still just a scrapyard, not much to look at.

The mall, however, was different.

A galaxy shimmered across the domed ceiling—an unusual one, without a clear core or spiral arms, no whirlpool shape, not even an elliptical structure. Instead, the stars traced a thin crescent, like a new moon.

It was as if someone had poured a glowing galaxy into this building to light the way for its people.

Her dumpling avatar craned her head back in awe. Meanwhile, NPCs around her were unfazed: some hurried past holding glowing tablets, some walked out of shops trailed by robotic butlers carrying bags…

Futuristic atmosphere radiated everywhere.

“Sir!”

A soft mechanical female voice called from behind her. Qian Yuan turned to see a uniformed robot waving at a skateboarding NPC in midair. “Commander Lu Di will arrive in ten minutes! All hover devices are temporarily prohibited in the mall—please come down at once!”

Three exclamation marks popped above the skater’s head, and he nearly fell. The crowd buzzed.

“Commander Lu Di? Didn’t expect to run into Major General Lu today!”
“He’ll be here in ten minutes? Let’s wait. Last time I saw him was at the Imperial Capital Oath Ceremony.”
“Ever since his promotion three years ago, he’s rarely appeared in public.”

Lu Di, a high-ranking figure?

Story-related characters often tied back to the protagonist. Qian Yuan made a mental note of the name.

The mall was the largest in the capital, eight stories tall, filled with throngs of customers. Qian Yuan wandered freely through the crowd, browsing store after store.

In reality, she hadn’t been to a mall in ages. It felt refreshing. She lingered longer than expected.

Clothes came in all styles: sharp suits, cute pajamas, casual sportswear. She stopped before an extravagant evening gown, glanced at the endless string of zeros on the price tag, and sighed.

“These outfits are so expensive…” Dazzled, she muttered, “If I had more money, I’d fill Cen Han’s closet and dress him differently every day…”

Suddenly, a glowing pop-up appeared: 【LIMITED-TIME SPECIAL OFFER!】

Qian Yuan: “…”

A game with a 10-to-1 currency ratio still trying to tempt her into spending? She scoffed inwardly, poor enough to shut the window without hesitation.

Finally, she found a men’s shop with discounts. Spending 100 Star Coins, she bought an off-white long winter coat and had a delivery robot send it to Cen Han’s home.

Compared to the convenience store, she saved 20 coins—and the style was nicer. The extra 5 stamina was worth it.

Her brows arched happily as she logged off, eager to see Cen Han’s face when he opened the gift.

…

The Imperial Capital was the main planet of the Crescent Galaxy, home of the Imperial family. Its residents were watched more closely than any others. Being born there was both an honor and a burden.

It wasn’t a time of complete peace. With population growth stalled, every academy on the capital planet was required to run physical and psychological evaluations each semester, ensuring the young could grow into useful citizens or soldiers.

That afternoon was psychological testing day. The classroom was nearly empty. Cen Han sat in the corner, staring at a desk stained red with some unknown liquid, before turning his gaze away indifferently.

He sat quietly, dazed.

Ever since the incident, he avoided these evaluations. The outside doctors didn’t know who he was, so they didn’t sneer the way his classmates did. Still, he refused to go.

The thought of stripping for them to press on his limp, atrophied legs—or baring his darkest emotions, his weakness—was unbearable.

Tested students trickled back, working practice sheets on their tablets. Cen Han sat stiffly until dismissal.

Winter days darkened quickly. Few lingered at school. In the quiet hall, he turned his wheelchair.

The infirmary door glowed faintly from within. Someone was still inside.

After the first confusion and fear, Cen Han rarely wondered what that glowing ghost really was. Illusion or reality, it didn’t matter.

But…

He looked at the door.

After his father’s disgrace, it was as if the sky had collapsed. His grandfather, a lifelong soldier, should have enjoyed peace in retirement—but collapsed in anger, never waking again. Friends drifted away, admirers turned cold.

His mother had been pregnant, emotions unstable. Overnight she withered. Soon after, she moved them out of the capital, changed his school, and tried to help her son recover.

But she too couldn’t hold on.

He had seen her breakdowns: muttering to empty air, clawing her own throat in madness, sobbing uncontrollably when lucid—until she took her own life.

When the door was pushed open, he saw her last: stiff legs dangling lifelessly.

A tragedy.

He exhaled softly, recalling his noon confusion.

If it was all illusion, then why couldn’t he hear its voice?

His mother had… auditory hallucinations.

But the nutrient fluid, the hot noodles—those spoke of a ghost that truly existed.

If he opened this door, he could know for sure.

But would people believe him? Or would they look at him the way he had once looked at his mother?

Voices drifted from the not-fully-shut door. Across the courtyard, classroom lights winked out one by one. Cen Han suddenly shut his eyes, breath stifled, tugging at his collar.

Go back, he told himself.

Believers know their god is real. No one else can understand.

He chose to be a believer.

The post-snow streets of the slum were muddy, a torment for his chair. But he hurried anyway.

He unlocked the door and opened it.

Inside, there was no faint glow.

“…”

The light in his eyes dimmed.

He wheeled to the desk, planning to prepare as many parts as possible to sell at tomorrow’s black market. He’d known these machines since childhood; simple ones he could fix blindfolded.

He was about to remove his optic membrane when he noticed something.

A box sat on the bed. Its logo was familiar—an Imperial men’s brand.

A guess flickered through him. His lashes trembled, and he reached to turn on the lamp.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐

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