Ch 21: My Disabled Virtual Lover’s Healing Diary

The wheelchair was kicked over hard, and the world spun.

Snow had only just melted, leaving slushy water and black mud at the roadside. Cen Han fell into the muck, his brand-new off-white winter coat streaked with grime.

“What did you say? Cripple, are you trying to defy us on purpose?”

“Look at you, clinging to life, disgusting. The son of a traitor, and you still have the face to meet Major General Lu Di?”

“Dressed like a person, huh. Strip his clothes off.”

—This was the coat it gave me.

Hands roughly searched over his body. The boy’s cold face finally twisted with shadowy rage: “Get lost!”

But half his body was pinned under the wheelchair. Any resistance was a joke. Surrounded by tall, burly students, his thrown punch was caught with ease. The boy who grabbed his arm smirked, tugged at it, and sneered: “He’s got no strength at all.”

“A cripple who sits in a wheelchair all day—what strength could he have? I’ve seen his legs, shriveled like sticks. Hideous.”

Cen Han’s eyes burned red, like a trapped wolf cub. He lunged and bit down on the hand tugging at his coat.

His sight should’ve been all black, but now it was filled with searing red. Pain wracked his body; the taste of rusted blood spread across his tongue.

The blond he bit wailed, tears streaming, stomping his chest. Heavy snow boots pounded him, each blow forcing muffled groans from his throat.

A thought struck him.

Like a mad dog—biting and refusing to let go.

Too pathetic, he thought.

The boy screamed endlessly. No one had expected the cripple to target just one person, clamping down like a lunatic no matter how others punched or kicked.

“Pull him off me! He’s tearing out my flesh!” Fear overwhelmed him. “Trash, all of you—what is he, a dog?!”

“All this just because he can’t go to the ceremony. He’s acting crazy. He didn’t even go in past years!”

Fists slammed his face, his scalp tore with pain, his throat filled with copper.

A sudden rush of wind came from behind. Cen Han instinctively jerked aside. A brick smashed into the ground, splitting in two. The blond scrambled up, kicking him several more times before staggering away. He wanted to stomp again but faltered at the sight before him.

Cen Han panted, hair in disarray, blood dripping from his lips, his eyes burning scarlet with naked hatred.

That look—chilling, crazed—like a demon ready to devour.

The next moment, the rest swarmed him.

One straddled him, another struck, another forced his face into the mud. He curled up, biting his lip until it bled.

“Push his wheelchair away! Let him crawl home!” someone shouted—then cried out in pain, “Who hit me?!”

“Damn it, that hurt! Who the hell threw that?!”

“Wait—look over there—”

The air fell silent.

Cen Han twisted his face up, gasping. His ears rang with waterlogged silence. He heard nothing, saw nothing.

He didn’t know that above him floated a slingshot, and the bullies stared in terror.

The streetlamp shattered, plunging the corner into darkness.

A steel ball rolled to Cen Han’s fingertips.

Curses and cries of pain filled the air. Footsteps scattered into the night.

Hatred erupted like a volcano, then cooled into dark, silent lava.

Propping himself up, he wiped blood from his mouth, lowered his head to hide his bruised face, and rasped:

“…Was that you?”

Blindness all around. Yet a force lifted him, set him back in his chair.

Cool fingertips touched his jaw, tilting his face up.

—So ugly and wretched, it saw me like this, Cen Han thought.

Bruised, swollen, muddy.

He turned away in shame.

Then—he heard a voice.

Clear, soft, tinged with pity.

“…Ah, Cub’s face is all messed up.”

Anger colored the tone. “Why are people like this everywhere… I should’ve shot a few more times, teach them a lesson.”

…?

His lashes trembled. He jerked his gaze toward the voice.

Darkness eternal—but faint light cracked through.

His split lip ached. He licked it, about to speak, when the voice came again.

The little figure’s pale face was covered in bruises like spilled paint. A gash on the temple, lips swollen, cheeks marked with fingerprints.

Yet his expression stayed cold, staring at her as though unaware of how battered he looked.

Qian Yuan’s heart broke. Sniffling, she searched his wounds, afraid to touch. She pulled up her interface.

“…Huh?” she muttered. “Why’s there no text box?”

【……】

She checked the task list—her last side quest was done. The communication function was unlocked.

A bug?

Anxious, she swiped around, desperate to talk. Suddenly a tiny text box popped up, with a notice:

【Ding! Text box unlocked.】

The message was flat, lifeless.

Qian Yuan ignored it.

Her first chat with Cub, and at such a moment. She had to take it seriously.

She typed carefully.

【I’m late.】
【Cub, be good, bear it a little. I’ll take you home and put medicine on you.】

She looked up. Cen Han had turned away, staring into emptiness, his expression complicated.

What kind of reaction was that?

Worried she’d triggered a bad ending, she peeked at his diary.

【Cen Han: …】
【Cen Han feels conflicted.】
【Cen Han is very puzzled.】

At least his mood was rising. Relieved, Qian Yuan slipped the slingshot back into his bag and obediently pushed him toward the school gate.

She couldn’t teleport him home, but she wouldn’t leave him like this.

Remembering the one-yuan paper note, she muttered:

“That travel-together pack really is tempting. But way too expensive.”

She sighed. “If only there was a cheaper consumable. Poor folk like me can’t even afford a hundred-yuan pack, let alone two thousand.”

On the wheelchair, he stirred, but she didn’t notice. Her eyes sparkled, waiting for the system.

【…………】
【Ding~! Short-term Companion Pack now in store! Lets you escort Cub to a destination (still costs stamina)! Only 50 yuan!】

Her spirits lifted.

—This game’s online support is easy to sway!

Her dad had just transferred her money. She bought it, then guided Cub out.

Glowing arrows marked the path. She followed, watching scenery shift from smooth roads to shabby houses, then a flickering lamp.

The eerie light crackled, unnerving. She typed, trying to coax him to talk.

But Cen Han was quiet.

Of course—after that bullying, anyone would be. She thought back to the beating, grinding her teeth.

Finally the arrows vanished. She raised her eyes and fell silent.

A low hut, walls peeling and stained with damp.

She’d known he was poor, but from the outside, it was worse. Grim.

Surely the game would let them move someday—though what would that cost?

At the door a wooden ramp led up. She pushed him inside and typed:

【Cub, we’re home! I’ll get the medicine.】

He stirred, pulled out a key, opened the iron door. She wheeled him in, just as he rasped:

“Clothes are dirty.”

A pause. “…Sorry.”

She turned.

He was wearing the coat she’d bought. Once pure white, now smeared with mud and boot prints.

He lowered his eyes, expression blank, but they were red. Had he cried?

Qian Yuan’s heart ached.

She fetched the medical spray, hurried back, and rubbed his hair.

【It’s okay, don’t be sad.】

She added:

【I’ll buy you more new clothes later!】

“…”

The mechanical voice laid out the promise in his ear.

Cen Han’s eyes rippled. His jaw tightened.

Her words were odd, but he caught a few key details.

She was poor. She wanted things she couldn’t afford.

Yet she still bought for him.

The cool mist soothed his wounds. He suddenly wanted to ask—

That girl’s voice before… was it yours?

Who were you talking to?

Why is it mechanical when you talk to me? Are you hiding your real self?

Who are you?

Confusion boiled like water, but he froze it over.

He breathed out, quietly said:

“No need.” A pause. “…As long as you—”

Too sentimental. He faltered, words stuck.

And then—fingers tugged his zipper down.

Unlike the earlier roughness, her touch was gentle, careful, as if afraid of hurting him.

He froze. Then felt his shirt button being undone.

“You—”

His mind roared. He instinctively reached to stop her, but caught only air. Panicked, he clutched his collar, his neck burning red.

“You—what are you doing?!”

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐