Ch 24: My Disabled Virtual Lover’s Healing Diary

Qian Yuan hadn’t stepped onto a campus in a long time.

By age, she should have been one of those bright-eyed students looking forward to their four years at university. But now, she could only accompany Cub to school inside the game, curiously observing this interstellar-era academy.

Cub’s school wasn’t much different from the modern day—no floating classrooms, no mecha playing basketball on the field, not even high-tech robot teachers. Students sat at plain old desks and chairs. The anticlimax made Qian Yuan feel oddly disillusioned.

Once Cub entered the classroom, she immediately sensed hostile stares cast his way. Turning back, she realized they weren’t the same boys from last night’s bullying—but new faces.

“Look at that cut on his forehead.”
“He even changed back to his old clothes. Hah, guess Brother Shan didn’t go easy on him.”

Among them, a red-haired boy stayed especially quiet, but his eyes were dark and brooding.

A fiery-red anger symbol puffed above Qian Yuan’s head. She mentally jotted down the names of those loose-tongued classmates, then anxiously checked Cub’s expression.

His bruises had faded since yesterday, though still stark in places. His face was as calm as ever, showing nothing.

When she leaned closer, Cub instinctively shifted back, wordless as he pushed his wheels forward.

The wheelchair drew nearer to a gloomy corner. His motions stiffened—like he’d only now realized where he was headed. The relaxed posture snapped taut, frustration flashing in his eyes.

That desk was the same as before: uneven legs, surface splashed with malicious red paint, etched with crude insults and vulgar doodles. Compared to the spotless desks around it, the difference was humiliating.

Cen Han had always ignored the abuse his desk suffered. Bound by circumstance, forced to keep attending, he had little interest in truly studying amid constant bullying. But now the desk was like a merciless mirror, reflecting his weakness in sharp detail, leaving no room to hide.

…Not long ago he’d promised her he would buy her oil, buy her offerings, let her spend his money freely.

And now—such a disgrace laid bare.

He froze, lips pressed tight, before turning the wheelchair and silently moving to his seat.

The moment he rolled behind the desk, the classroom noise ebbed away, tide pulling back. His focus tunneled to that small glowing presence beside him. He heard nothing else.

But the ghostly light stayed still. She didn’t move, didn’t speak.

A jolt of panic seized his chest. He remembered—she still didn’t know his identity. She’d heard only fragments when Zhang San had burst into his home. But here, in crowded school halls… if she learned the truth—

His heart seemed to stop. He couldn’t lift his head. Breath stifled like he was drowning beneath ice water.

His jaw clenched tight, lips pale, fingers locked on his wheel rims, eyes boring into empty space, unblinking.

The boy in front pulled his desk far away—yet still felt the chill behind him, like two ice picks driving holes into his back.

Unable to bear it, he turned, ready to curse. But Cen Han’s eyes didn’t even flicker. His stare was nailed to nothing, sharp as a blade in the void.

“…,” the boy faltered, a twinge of fear rising. Something about him seemed different today.

Not strong himself, the boy muttered inwardly and turned back around.

And in that instant, Cen Han’s black eyes trembled, disbelief flickering as he glanced down.

The ghost crouched by his knees, palms on his wheelchair, gazing up at him.

Her eyes carried a faint, unreadable weight. For a heartbeat he felt pressed down by it—but it vanished like a dream.

Then she clenched her fists, bounced up, brimming with energy, stabbing angrily at the air with two fingers.

【Cub, how can they treat you like this!】

His sluggish heartbeat steadied. Relief leaked through his veins, muscles loosening, frozen blood flowing again. He sucked in air, barely surfacing.

“…Don’t be mad. I don’t care.”

His voice was hoarse. She didn’t notice.

—Of course he cared!

Her adorable Cub, bullied like this in school—if she could stomach that, she wasn’t playing a raising sim, she was cosplaying a Ninja Turtle.

And she hadn’t spent a hundred yuan or so to accompany him to class just to watch him suffer.

The teacher entered, and the classroom fell silent. Cub’s desk chair lay abandoned against the wall. Qian Yuan quietly dragged it over, tucking it beside his desk.

While Cub tinkered with machinery under the desk’s cover, she plotted revenge. Two distracted figures, side by side in-game.

Class ended quickly. During the break, students bustled, and those sharp-tongued kids stretched lazily, swaggering over.

Qian Yuan slipped to her feet.

A red-haired boy led the group, hair styled garishly. He strolled up to Cub, crumpled his trash, and tossed it into the recycler right beside his seat.

“Hey, kid.” He clapped his hands, dusting nothing, looming. “Still got a backbone, huh? Turn this way—let’s have a chat.”

The boy in the wheelchair lifted his face, gave him one indifferent glance, then turned away. As if they didn’t exist.

The redhead faltered.

This cripple usually sat silent, head down, hair covering his eyes, draped in faded clothes, reeking of gloom.

But now… something was different. A faint spark of life.

Annoyed, the redhead flicked his brow and signaled his friends. One moved to yank the wheelchair around—

—and the recycling bot toppled forward.

Heavy though small, it crashed with a thud, slamming into the boy’s knees. He buckled, forehead smacking the iron wheel, howling.

“You—damn—!”

But the bot shrieked and spat out a half-finished nutrient drink, then diligently tried to scrub the spilled liquid… and the boy’s pants.

“…”

The whole class stared, dumbstruck into silence.

The gang scrambled to switch it off, dragging their injured mate away. The redhead’s vein throbbed, but he forced a smile when he realized the ball tossed in from the hall had nailed his back—courtesy of the vice principal’s son.

He swallowed curses, plastered apologies, and followed out.

Their swaggering pack left in confusion.

The bell rang.

Peace restored. Qian Yuan clasped her hands, beaming as if she’d cleared a mini-boss, then skipped back toward Cub—

And froze.

His back, always ramrod-straight, now sagged. His palm covered his face, shoulders trembling.

Qian Yuan’s heart lurched. All her little plots vanished. She sprinted.

【Cub, don’t cry!!】

He buried his face deeper into his hand.

…

The diary quietly flipped.

【Cen Han looked at the player.】
【Cen Han was happy.】
【Cen Han lowered his head and smiled.】

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦋་༘࿐