Ch 19: My Disabled Virtual Lover’s Healing Diary

Buy engine oil… and, and offerings—

Qian Yuan froze, feeling her image in her little cub’s heart had turned rather strange, though she had no proof.

When she glanced over, the cub blinked at her innocently, confused. She rubbed her own head and decided not to press it.

After wiping down the wheelchair, the cub rolled into the bathroom. Qian Yuan watched him go, then opened the diary.

—Mood values steady. Just past midnight, the communication system would unlock, and she could finally talk to him!

Other popular VR raising or romance games all had amazing dialogue systems. Even if this one had no trace of beta testers, its production quality wasn’t beneath them. Maybe the communication feature would surprise her.

She was excited, even tempted to stay up all night in-game.

The water ran steadily in the bathroom—the cub must be showering. Qian Yuan leaned back against the bed and scrolled the player forum using the headset’s built-in browser.

Until suddenly her virtual wristwatch trembled and a prompt popped up.

【Your WeChat contact [Through Wind and Rain] requests video】

Qian Yuan blinked.

…Dad.

The water in the bathroom grew quieter. Qian Yuan stared at the prompt. After a moment’s hesitation, she opened the menu and logged out.

She’d have to wait until tomorrow to talk with the cub, she thought regretfully.

…

Cen Han tugged a towel over his head, rubbing his wet hair carelessly, then reached for the door.

He’d been out too long today and felt filthy, unbearable, so he’d rushed to bathe right away. Because the little ghost was in the room, his movements were too hasty—slipping when shifting back into the chair, he crashed hard onto the floor.

At least no one saw his clumsiness.

He hadn’t removed the external lens membrane all day; his eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Rubbing his sockets, he fitted the lenses back on.

The room was empty.

He froze. The tiny flame of joy was doused.

A bottle tied with a ribbon sat on the table. Cen Han picked it up, thoughtful.

He knew it. Specialty fruit wine from Bill Star, beloved by women across the system, expensive.

His mother had loved it too.

The ghost had chosen this… even tied a bow.

His rough fingertips traced the glass. His eyes softened despite himself.

After a long while, he set the wine aside, removed the lens membrane, let the world fall back to black, and slowly pulled himself onto the bed.

Today replayed in his mind.

Mercenary Jian had been satisfied with his skill, giving him several orders. Cen Han had paid Zhang San a fee to buy the needed materials. If things went well, he might leave behind the scavenger work, step into true mechanics.

…It had once been a schoolboy hobby, but now, steady income was enough.

He turned over.

Exhausted, he soon fell asleep. By morning, pain lanced his eyes when he woke.

He couldn’t wear the lenses today.

Frowning, uneasy, he pressed his sockets.

He wasn’t afraid of darkness—he’d grown used to avoiding the lenses at home. But he hated helplessness. Especially at school.

Yet after being transferred down from the prestigious military academy’s high school affiliate, his truancy had drawn warnings. The teachers despised him. One more absence and he might not graduate.

He pressed his lips, wheeled out, hesitated at the door, then grudgingly put the lenses on.

The road was rough. He needed sight.

His eyes watered, bloodshot, but he kept them lowered, as though pain meant nothing.

…

In December, the capital’s schools entered winter break. Beforehand, they always held a closing ceremony.

“Did you hear?”

Tang Zhenzhen’s friend whispered as she loaded the next textbook: “This year, they invited Major General Lu Di.”

Tang Zhenzhen froze. “Lu Di? The young commander with an entire fleet?”

“That’s him! Our principal knew him in the army. He’s only coming as a favor. We might even get to test mechs.” Then, lowering her voice: “You know, he was Cen Xiaoyuan’s mortal enemy.”

Tang Zhenzhen’s mother had once served under Cen Xiaoyuan. She forced a laugh. “Oh… really?”

“Yeah. They clashed constantly. Wonder if Cen Han will show. In a wheelchair, he’ll be in the front row. First thing Lu Di sees will be the traitor’s son. How annoying for him.”

A boy ahead turned, grinning. “Don’t worry. Brother Shan already said he’ll make sure Cen Han ‘knows his place.’”

“What? But Brother Shan was recommended to the Third Military Academy. He barely comes now.”

“Would I lie? He’s aiming for Lu Di’s fleet. This ceremony is his chance.”

Tang Zhenzhen tapped notes absentmindedly. She knew Shan—they all did. Top student, good-looking, rumored ties to mercenaries.

If he intervened… could Cen Han cope?

She shook her head quickly.

Her father had warned her: no ties with Cen Han. And anyway, he was nothing like the boy she’d once admired.

She glanced toward him.

In shadow, hair veiling his face, head lowered in his chair. He seemed smaller, more broken than ever.

Completely different.

…

Qian Yuan yawned, groggily opening her closet.

Her dad had suddenly called her last night—today’s “meal” was no simple lunch. She’d heard the subtext.

A “friend” to introduce likely meant a new stepmom.

Qian Yicheng, wildlife photographer, obsessed with his career, had already lost one marriage to it.

She wasn’t against him remarrying. She lived alone anyway.

But she’d tossed sleeplessly all night, thoughts churning.

She’d meant to chat with her cub in the morning—but overslept till noon. Now it was already time to go.

She changed half-heartedly, peeked through the curtains. Neighbors bustled. Old men played chess at stone tables.

She breathed deep, then out.

Her phone buzzed violently. She jumped, nearly dropping it. Heart pounding, she checked the screen.

【Dad】

She pressed accept. His voice came cheerfully: “Xiaoyuan, I’m outside. Come down.”

“…Okay, Dad.”

She hung up, slapped her cheeks in the mirror.

Be on your best behavior, she told herself.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐