Category: How To Use His Feathers (Page 7 of 7)

Jie Jie: 2/2

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When Zhu Ming returned home, it was already dark.

As he wheeled himself through the door, Zhu Yingying, who was watching TV on the sofa, instantly turned her head with a “swish”.

Her rabbit spirit manifestation, lying on top of the sofa, also turned its head in perfect sync. The pair, human and rabbit, stared intently at Zhu Ming’s face.

Zhu Ming: “…Did you not take a nap?”

“Not too sleepy. There’s a package for you at the door, don’t forget to take it.”

Zhu Yingying gave Zhu Ming a quick once-over, her gaze moving from him to his wheelchair, before returning to her TV show. She asked nonchalantly, “Not streaming today? It’s rare to see you out for so long during the day.”

“I’m on break for the next couple of days, not streaming. Went out with a few friends to unwind. Haven’t you been telling me to go out more?”

Zhu Yingying gave a “hmm”.

A few seconds later, she casually inquired, “By the way, which friends were those ah? Do I know them?”

The bait has been taken.

Zhu Ming put on a thoughtful expression. “Just Zhou Zhou and that friend who helped me out at the party.”

Zhu Yingying let out an “oh”, her eyes still glued to the TV. She asked offhandedly, “You mean the one who carried you to the lounge during my birthday party?”

“En, that’s him.” Zhu Ming maneuvered his wheelchair next to the sofa and began opening his package. “He’s quite nice.”

Zhu Yingying barely reacted, but out of the corner of Zhu Ming’s eye, he noticed her rabbit spirit manifestation’s ears suddenly perk up with a “whoosh”.

Yet, she maintained a calm, indifferent demeanor on her face. “Oh, if I recall correctly, he’s the grandson of the representative from District Six, right? But wait, wasn’t the blind date I arranged for you with someone from District Six…?”

“Yes, people from District Six are quite big on etiquette.”

Zhu Ming, unfazed, continued to craft his story with a straight face. “Actually, that day, his sister couldn’t make it because of some matter, so he came to cover for her. We chatted a bit and really hit it off.”

The flickering light from the TV cast shadows on Zhu Yingying’s profile. “From the sound of it, you two seem pretty close ah?”

Zhu Ming: “En, but today he… forget it, let’s not talk about it. It’s been a long day, I need to rest.”

Zhu Ming yawned, clutching his package, making it look like he was about to wheel himself back to his bedroom for a rest.

Just as he expected, the moment Zhu Ming said that, Zhu Yingying could no longer keep up her act. She sprang up from the sofa anxiously, taking her rabbit spirit manifestation with her. “No, you little brat, finish what you were saying. What happened between you two today?”

With his back turned, a faint smile curled on Zhu Ming’s lips.

Having been raised by Zhu Yingying, he knew all too well just how meticulous her mind was.

If he were to bluntly declare, “Xi Xianqing and I fell in love at first sight and decided to get married,” Zhu Yingying wasn’t a fool—she’d naturally suspect something was up.

But if he acted evasive right now, it would prompt her to speculate that there really might be something going on between them.

Once her curiosity was piqued, the rest of the play would be much easier to stage.

So, Zhu Ming continued to play dumb, “Ah, no, why ah? Didn’t I tell you? He’s just a friend I’m pretty close with ah.”

“You still think of hiding it from me?”

Zhu Yingying couldn’t pretend anymore, rushing to block Zhu Ming’s way. “On my birthday, he carried you bridal-style outside the banquet hall, and you were whispering in his ear. The two of you were that intimate… How could you possibly be just friends?”

Zhu Ming, right on cue, put on an expression of surprise, as if saying: “Ah, what? So many people noticed?”

Zhu Yingying was impatient. “How long have you been talking?”

Zhu Ming lowered his eyes shyly. “It’s been a while.”

Zhu Yingying was overjoyed. “Aiya, look at you. How could you hide it so well… That today was a date?”

Zhu Ming hesitated briefly, still looking somewhat reluctant. “En, we’ve been dating in private a few times, but today he suddenly did something that made me feel a bit…”

Zhu Yingying was both shocked and anxious. Her little rabbit spirit manifestation anxiously circled Zhu Ming’s wheelchair. “What is it ah? Sure, people from District Six have a different way of doing things than we do, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you—”

Her voice ended abruptly.

Because Zhu Ming pulled out a small box from his pocket.

A few hours ago, at the corner of the restaurant.

Xi Xianqing took out an exquisite, dark velvet box from his pocket and placed it in front of Zhu Ming.

Zhu Ming opened the box, his breath hitching as he stared at the object in the middle. “This… what is it?”

For a moment, he almost didn’t realize it was a ring—because the gemstone set in the center was so large and dazzling, it exaggeratedly concealed the thin platinum band behind it.

“Props,” Xi Xianqing said nonchalantly. “It’s a moonstone I acquired years ago, set with a simple prong setting. I could only roughly estimate your ring size, so if it doesn’t fit, we can have a craftsman adjust it.”

“Though this one is glassy in texture, moonstones themselves aren’t particularly rare, so you don’t need to feel too burdened.”

As if predicting what Zhu Ming was about to say, Xi Xianqing turned his face away. “If we’re planning a wedding soon, you can tell your aunt that we fell in love at first sight, and today I took the initiative to propose.”

Though Zhu Ming knew nothing about jewelry, his instincts told him that the gemstone before him, with its uniquely cold and radiant glow, was far from something that could be considered “not rare.”

Zhu Ming sucked in a breath of cold air.

He closed the box and tried to push it back into Xi Xianqing’s hand. “I can’t accept this. No—more accurately, I don’t dare to accept it. We do need to prepare wedding rings, but we can go for something cheaper. I remember there are silver bands—”

Xi Xianqing calmly said, “Only by presenting an engagement token of sufficient value to your aunt will she believe that we’re entering this marriage for true love, not for other reasons, right?”

“…”

“Besides, I never wear cheap silver.”

“But—”

“I have no shortage of loose stones of this caliber, and I’m simply offering you a strategy.”

Probably not anticipating his work being outright rejected, Xi Xianqing coldly shoved the box back into Zhu Ming’s hand. “It’s yours now. Do whatever you want with it. You don’t need to inform me.”

Thus, in a muddled state, Zhu Ming ended up taking this huge ring—more serene and delicate than moonlight itself—back home.

But just as Xi Xianqing had predicted, only an “engagement token” of this value could make Zhu Yingying take it seriously.

Zhu Ming, going with the flow, spun the story he had prepared: a chance encounter during a blind date, a romantic rescue at the banquet, culminating in today’s sudden proposal with a luxurious ring. The plot was complete and rich with details.

Zhu Yingying rested her chin on both hands and listened with rapt attention.

However, the two had only known each other for less than two months, and suddenly jumping to the point of marriage made Zhu Yingying somewhat skeptical: “But you’ve only been acquainted for such a short time. You haven’t really gotten to know each other deeply. For him to propose so quickly…”

Her thoughts remained meticulous: “And given your current situation… can someone of his status truly take good care of you in the future? What if this is just a spur-of-the-moment infatuation from the heat of youth? I still can’t feel at ease about it ah.”

Zhu Ming had anticipated this reaction from Zhu Yingying and stayed perfectly composed.

He went along with Zhu Yingying, “Yes, I also think his proposal today was way too impulsive.”

Zhu Yingying was taken aback. “Uh—”

​​But Zhu Ming quickly cut in, “But don’t worry. I don’t plan to marry him either. I’m going to return the ring.”

Zhu Yingying: “Ah?”

Over the next few days, Zhu Ming casually left the ring on the living room coffee table, going about his usual routine—eating, drinking, and conducting his livestream consultations.

Zhu Yingying wanted to say something.

As someone with ample wealth, she was not short on jewelry. Yet every so often, she found herself examining the ring under various lights, realizing that the smooth, large moonstone, with its exceptional clarity and value, was indeed a rare gem.

An online search of Xi Xianqing’s background revealed that he was young, accomplished, and free of any bad habits. The more she learned, the more she thought they were a good match.

But when she turned around to see Zhu Ming casually eating takeout as if nothing was out of the ordinary, her mind grew even more tangled. Anxious, she paced back and forth in the living room with her rabbit spirit manifestation.

Then, one late afternoon, as Zhu Ming was in the living room reviewing case studies on “abnormalities in bipedal mental manifestation,” and Zhu Yingying was arranging flowers with a servant, the doorbell rang.

“The latest fully functional portable biological lab pod from District Seven. It’s quite large, so I had it delivered directly to the back garden.”

The delivery guy said, sweating profusely as he checked the information on his screen. “It’s… a gift from Mr. Xi from District Six. Please sign for it.”

Zhu Ming and Zhu Yingying went to the back garden, staring in silence at the top-tier biological lab pod towering even taller than the fountain.

In reality, this lab pod was something Zhu Ming and Xi Xianqing had previously agreed upon as part of their arrangement. However, Zhu Yingying was unaware of the inside story.

Staring wide-eyed at the expensive, colossal piece of equipment, she could only assume that Xi Xianqing was sparing no expense in pursuing Zhu Ming. Trembling, she pointed at Zhu Ming, struggling to form a coherent sentence. “You, you two—”

Zhu Ming was innocent. “I can’t stop him ah.”

The price of a biological lab pod wasn’t exactly astronomical for Zhu Ming.

However, the real issue lay in how complicated it was to acquire such a top-tier model. Usually, only the labs of prestigious universities had access to it; for an ordinary individual, the threshold to obtaining one was incredibly high.

​​Of course, if Zhu Ming were to ask, given Zhu Yingying’s connections, she could probably secure one.

But Zhu Ming had deliberately kept the true reason for leaving the District Seven Research Institute a secret from his aunt. He knew that if Zhu Yingying ever discovered the real story, she would definitely confront those old men at the institute to demand an explanation.

So, back then, he had told her: “I’m just a bit weary of experiments and the research environment and want to take a break.”

If he were to turn around now and request a lab pod from her, it would inevitably contradict that narrative.

This was precisely why Zhu Ming had made this request to Xi Xianqing instead—firstly, he was confident that as the future representative of District Six, Xi Xianqing would have no trouble obtaining it. Secondly, if it were a gift from Xi Xianqing, it would be perfectly justifiable for Zhu Ming to accept and use it.

To Zhu Yingying, however, this appeared to be an exceptionally heartfelt courtship gift.

“You can’t keep accepting people’s favors without giving him any sort of response.”

Zhu Yingying sighed deeply, tapping her finger on Zhu Ming’s forehead. “You little rascal, either send it back or quickly give him an answer. Is this how I taught you to treat people?”

Zhu Ming covered his forehead, trying not to laugh. “You’re right. Fine, I’ll call the delivery guy now and have him send it back.”

Zhu Yingying’s eyes went wide. “You, you’re serious—”

Zhu Ming, playing his part convincingly, immediately pretended to reach for his phone to make a call.

That was the last straw for Zhu Yingying. In a swift move, she snatched the phone from his hand. “Yes, perhaps their family’s Xiao Xi was a bit reckless in his actions, and sure, his proposal was impulsive, but that just shows how much he cares about you. Can’t you at least consider the effort he’s put in?”

Wait, what? How did it escalate to her calling him “Their Family’s Xiao Xi”?

Zhu Ming almost couldn’t hold back his joy.

“Yi? But didn’t you just say that his proposal was too hasty and that he was a bit unreliable?”

He put on a perplexed look. “I thought you made some pretty good points ah.”

Zhu Yingying said anxiously, “Yes ah, but on second thought, who can truly hide their feelings when they’re young? This child still has his redeeming qualities ah.”

The white fox spirit lounging on Zhu Ming’s lap lazily flicked its tail and shifted to a more comfortable position, while Zhu Ming himself yawned, responding nonchalantly, “En. Then, I’ll think about it a bit more.”

​​Zhu Yingying paced back and forth in the garden, pressing her lips together as if deliberating something. Then, she suddenly said, “I want to meet him.”

The white fox’s tail trembled violently. After a pause, Zhu Ming tried to stay composed. “…That’s really not necessary.”

“This is absolutely necessary. If you’re going to get married, it’s inevitable that we’ll have to meet at some point.”

Zhu Yingying felt that her idea was very good. The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. She clapped her hands. “Let’s set it for this weekend, just the three of us. We can chat about your relationship and your plans for the future!”

The white fox’s ears stood up slightly, reflecting Zhu Ming’s alertness and his guilty conscience.

The consequences of acting too well had come much faster than expected–he and Xi Xianqing had only met a total of three times. How were they supposed to convincingly act like a couple madly in love?

Afraid of being seen, Zhu Ming maintained his calm demeanor, dismissing his spiritual manifestation back into his consciousness. He turned a page in the academic paper he was holding, keeping his voice steady. “Alright, let me finish reviewing these documents first, and I’ll message him about it later.”

When the time comes, just say that Xi Xianqing was too busy to come and just muddle through.

However, Zhu Yingying said, “You should give him a call directly.”

“What?”

Zhu Ming looked up, only to find Zhu Yingying staring intently at his face.

“You’ve been secretly dating for so long, and now you’re at the point where you’re considering marriage. You’ll be living together eventually—what’s there to be embarrassed about?”

Zhu Yingying became more and more excited the more she pondered. She clapped her hands and urged, “Just call him directly and ask if he can come over for dinner this weekend. Right here, right now!”

“Oh, by the way,” she added with a bright smile, as if suddenly remembering something, “put it on speaker—I want to eavesdrop!”

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Author’s Notes:

Little Aunt: Hooked to the extreme.

Xiao Zhu: Sweating buckets.

Meanwhile, the grand peac0ck far away in District Six frowned as he sneezed.

Jie Jie: Thank you so much VitaB for the ko-fi! :blobaww: (1/2)

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The conversation came to an abrupt halt. In the next moment, there was a knock at the door of the private room; it was the server asking if they could start serving the food.

Zhu Ming saw Xi Xianqing tilt his head slightly. In the following second, the grand peac0ck standing before them trembled gently, and its tail blurred at the edges, fading into nonexistence as it dissolved into neural particles.

—Xi Xianqing took the initiative to put away his spiritual manifestation.

He said in a deep voice to the outside, “Come in.”

The door opened, and the servers entered, carrying steaming hot dishes. They carefully introduced each dish and explained how to use the sauces.

The warmth of the food filled the air, and Zhu Ming kept his eyes fixed on Xi Xianqing’s face.

Xi Xianqing didn’t say anything.

“I think by now, Xiao Zhu, you have a general understanding of our situation here,” Ye Lu sighed with a faint smile. “For the moment, though, let’s focus on enjoying the food.”

After the dishes were served, servers came and went frequently, so they tactfully avoided continuing the topic of spiritual manifestation.

Ye Lu, being socially adept and experienced, occasionally chatted with Zhou Zhou and Zhu Ming about the cultural differences between District Seven and District Six, keeping the atmosphere warm and preventing any awkwardness.

Still, the meal felt somewhat tasteless. Zhou Zhou couldn’t help but glance at Xi Xianqing, sitting across from him, after every couple of bites.

Zhu Ming also occasionally turned his head slightly to look at the person beside him.

Unlike their first meeting, where he was detached from the mundane world, Xi Xianqing now seemed either genuinely hungry or willing to let down his guard and his reserve; he finally picked up his chopsticks.

Compared to Zhou Zhou and Zhu Ming’s straightforward approach of grabbing a drumstick and digging in, Xi Xianqing’s table manners were on an entirely different level. He folded his napkin neatly on his lap, deboned the chicken, cut it into bite-sized strips with chopsticks, and ate quietly and elegantly.

After the meal, Zhu Ming carefully put away the agreement, stating that he would send it back to Ye Lu once it was signed.

Ye Lu said, “Xiao Zhu, I know you’re busy with your streaming work, so please leave the wedding arrangements to us. District Six has plenty of professional planners and designers, and they’ll keep you updated as needed.”

Zhu Ming shook his head. “There’s no need to go to so much trouble. Just registering is enough; we’ll keep it simple. But I do have one request.”

“Xi Xianqing.” He looked at Xi Xianqing. “Would it be possible for us to talk alone?”

Since he’d first met Xi Xianqing, Zhu Ming had addressed him in only two ways: the polite and formal “Mr. Xi” or the slightly teasing “Mr. Xiao Xi.”

This was the first time he called Xi Xianqing by his full name, those three crisp syllables spoken directly. Ye Lu was taken aback, and Xi Xianqing, who had been standing silently by the door, turned at the sound.

Zhu Ming didn’t say more. He just moved his wheelchair, heading first toward a quiet corner of the restaurant.

Xi Xianqing followed him for a couple of steps and then spoke, “If you have other terms you want to add, you can communicate them directly with Aunt Ye.”

“Aunt Ye’s intelligence and handling of things are certainly comforting,” Zhu Ming said. “If she had been present when we first met for that blind date, maybe I would’ve agreed to the arrangement you proposed back then.”

“But,” he looked up, his gaze meeting Xi Xianqing’s, and smiled lightly, “it’s you I’m about to marry, and it’s you I’m going to cure, isn’t it?”

Xi Xianqing’s body froze subtly.

“Even if it’s just a superficial, fake marriage, we’re still going to live together in the future, and there are times when no one else can step into our lives.”

Zhu Ming steered his wheelchair to a stop by the window. “So now, I’d like to hear your honest thoughts, without anyone there to polish them up for you.”

“Do you have any questions you want to ask me?” He smiled, his eyes curving slightly.

Xi Xianqing’s Adam’s apple moved.

“Three questions.” After a long time, he spoke.

“Go ahead.”

“First, how long does this marriage need to last?”

It was an expected question; after all, theirs was a contractual marriage and naturally couldn’t last a lifetime.

Zhu Ming replied, “One year. I just need to give my aunt some reassurance right now.”

He simply wanted to be “married” so that Zhu Yingying could set her worries aside and live her life freely, without feeling responsible for him.

By the time the contract expires, Zhu Ming would only need to say they couldn’t get along due to differences between their districts, and Zhu Yingying wouldn’t actually force him to stay with someone he couldn’t get along with.

One year wasn’t too long or too short, and from any perspective, this answer made sense. Xi Xianqing nodded.

“Second, although experts in District Seven have said that you’re currently the best at treating difficult spiritual manifestations, and Aunt Ye has investigated your background and called it outstanding,” Xi Xianqing lifted his chin slightly, “I want to know, can you actually cure me or not?”

Zhu Ming answered straightforwardly, “It can be cured. But curing it in a month is still a cure, and curing it within a year is also a cure. I can give you an outcome but can’t promise an exact timeline.”

Xi Xianqing immediately felt as if he had boarded a pirate’s ship. “I don’t have the time to spend too long with you… what’s the earliest you can cure me?”

Zhu Ming was frank. “I don’t know ah.”

Xi Xianqing looked at him in disbelief. “But haven’t I just… shown it all to you?”

Zhu Ming: “Seeing is seeing. But I’ve never encountered symptoms like yours before. Generally, with bird-type spiritual manifestations, their owners can control their feathers autonomously. In your case, it’s as if a connection between your brain and your spirit entity has been severed—it’s a bit tricky.”

“…Then how do you plan to cure it?”

“Well, I’ll develop some medicine and test them on you. If they work, we’ll use them for your treatment; if not, I’ll keep researching.”

His careless tone was simply adding fuel to the fire, Xi Xianqing’s tone was mixed with hidden anger, “It’s that simple?”

Zhu Ming sighed, “This is the simplified version, so you can understand.”

“What’s the complicated version?”

“Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“I’m sure.”

Zhu Ming let out a very soft sigh, then began.

“First of all, peac0ck spirit entities are very rare, and a congenital inability to spread its tail is an unprecedented symptom in clinical cases. So, I’ll start by eliminating the most basic factors.”

He explained methodically, “First, we’ll do a brain CT scan to rule out the possibility of tumors that might be affecting the spirit entity’s development. Then, we’ll conduct biopsies of certain tissues and culture neural cells, screening them sequentially at the DNA, mRNA, and protein levels. I’ll develop and test suitable drugs for different targets, conducting experiments one step at a time.”

Xi Xianqing: “…”

“But given my understanding of those old men in District Seven, they’ve likely already done tumor screenings on you.”

Seeing that Xi Xianqing was silent, Zhu Ming knew he’d guessed correctly. “So, we can skip straight to testing a few suspicious targets, creating some neural pathway activators and inhibitors to test them one by one.”

“Of course, this is only the pathological side of the research.” He added precisely, “We also need to rule out the possibility that your psychological state is affecting your spirit entity’s form, so I’ll run some tests on you and observe you long-term. There’s quite a bit to do—in fact, to be precise, I’m the one with most of the work here—”

Xi Xianqing: “…Enough. I understand.”

Zhu Ming gazed at him with a gentle smile, choosing not to expose him. “It’s normal for patients to sometimes question their doctor’s decisions. I’m glad you could ask today.”

“So, what’s your final question ya?” He placed his hands on his lap, speaking warmly.

The first two questions had been sharp enough, yet he didn’t expect to hold this last question for even longer than the previous ones.

Zhu Ming waited until his eyes felt a bit strained before he finally heard Xi Xianqing murmur, “What kind of… partner do you want?”

His voice was so low that Zhu Ming wondered if he had misheard, leaning in a little. “What?”

Xi Xianqing’s chest rose and fell as he looked away, staring out the window. “Didn’t you say this marriage is to fool your aunt? So, how exactly do you want me to play the part? And what should I… specifically do?”

“Good question.” Zhu Ming thought for a moment. “To be honest, I haven’t fully decided yet.”

Xi Xianqing was silent.

“I plan to say that we fell in love at first sight during our first blind date,” Zhu Ming proposed. “After that, we kept in touch and had a few dates in private… We’ll talk through the specifics closer to the time. I’ll communicate with you again.”

Whether it was because the scenery outside was so captivating or for some other reason, Xi Xianqing kept his gaze fixed on the window, he responded in a very curt tone, “…Fine.”

“I also have a small question.” Zhu Ming asked softly, “Why do you want to marry me?”

“What?”

“To be honest, I found it odd from the start. The first time we met, you immediately proposed this transaction—marriage in exchange for treatment.”

Zhu Ming’s tone softened, almost tender and ambiguous. “From my perspective, it felt like a timely downpour, arriving both perfectly and conveniently. It was hard to say no.”

“But why marriage, specifically?”

Zhu Ming looked at Xi Xianqing’s face. “I know that I never hid the fact that I was on a blind date during the live broadcast. So maybe, when you investigated me, you thought that was the perfect bait to get me to agree to treat you.”

“But from your perspective, it still doesn’t logically make sense.”

Zhu Ming seemed thoughtful. “If I were just seeking a doctor’s help, I would first offer various material rewards. Why would I add a marriage that ties my life to someone else?”

District Seven people were known for their intelligence, but even Xi Xianqing hadn’t expected Zhu Ming would be perceptive to such an extent.

After a moment, he looked back at Zhu Ming and asked, “What do you think the reason is?”

Zhu Ming: “You’ve had a secret crush on me for a long time?”

Xi Xianqing: “…?”

“Just kidding.” Zhu Ming waved a hand. “The answer I came up with is that once treatment begins, I’ll need to work closely with you, which will naturally increase the amount of time we spend together and the events we attend jointly. If a person from District Seven suddenly starts appearing frequently by your side, people will naturally start talking.”

“I suspect that more than a partner, you don’t want others to know I’m your doctor. Or rather, you don’t want others to know your mental manifestation has a problem.”

“That is to say, you need to keep your condition a secret—not only from outsiders but to the point of hiding it from even those closest to you.”

Zhu Ming looked at Xi Xianqing with some surprise. “Even your family members don’t know about your condition, right?”

Xi Xianqing didn’t speak.

Zhu Ming looked at the young man before him—posture was always arrogant, always impeccably dressed, much like his beautiful and elegant spiritual manifestation, seemingly flawless to the naked eye.

But then, as if to keep people from seeing through him, he seemed to have chosen to cloak himself in a kind of armor, as if his arrogance could shield his deepest secrets from view.

“What is your family like?” After a long pause, Zhu Ming heard Xi Xianqing ask.

“My mom passed away and I don’t have a dad.”

Zhu Ming replied frankly, “So it’s just me and my aunt.”

Xi Xianqing nodded. “Currently, there are 21 people with inheritance rights in the Xi family.”

Zhu Ming: “…How many?”

Xi Xianqing’s expression remained calm. “It’s impossible for them to truly support or understand one another like regular family members. Just preventing them from turning against each other is already an unattainable task.”

“After all, everyone with the surname Xi has only one common goal from the day they’re born.”

He said, “And that is to wait for my grandfather, Xi Jianfeng, to die—so they can take his place as the representative of District Six.”

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Author’s Note:

A flock of birds fighting in Xiao Xi’s family!

On Wednesday morning, Xi Xianqing was drawing up designs.

Although the efficiency of drafting on a light screen was significantly higher than traditional hand-drawn jewelry design, Xi Xianqing had retained the habit of manual drawing over the years.

Using gray card paper and a fine-liner, he meticulously combined technique and craftsmanship in each stroke—from faceted detailing to metal texture. This was not only a mark of respect for his clients but also a reminder to himself to stay true to his roots.

Ye Lu knocked on the door and entered the room. “Xianqing, about the banquet necklace Mrs. Xu commissioned, Old Li’s side provided some gemstones for the main piece.”

Xi Xianqing looked up at Ye Lu and glanced at the tray of colorful gems she held, then silently turned back to his drawing.

Understanding his temperament, Ye Lu explained, “They say the southern mines haven’t been yielding well lately. This is the best batch they’ve managed to pick out. If you decline again, they’ll need a reason.”

Xi Xianqing also quickly gave a reason: “Ugly.”

“…” Ye Lu wanted to say but hesitated, “If you actually look closely, the color of this pigeon’s blood ruby is quite bright, with minimal cracks. Do you want to leave it first, as a spare?”

Xi Xianqing: “Small.”

Ye Lu: “…”

Xi Xianqing said, “The hue is mediocre, the clarity is poor, and, most importantly, Mrs. Xu typically prefers gowns with voluminous, dramatic skirts. The main stone for the necklace isn’t substantial enough to match her dress’s grandeur.”

Ye Lu lamented, “For Mrs. Xu, indeed, these stones are quite underwhelming… It was me who didn’t consider that. I’ll inform them.”

Xi Xianqing’s hand remained steady as he held the pen. “Uncle Li has plenty of stock he’s just unwilling to part with. Tell him, if this is the extent of his sincerity, I’ll consider working with different raw stone suppliers next year.”

Ye Lu replied softly, “Understood. The car has been prepared, and I’ve picked out some outfits for you. Today’s event is more important; please select one.”

Xi Xianqing lifted his wrist slightly, sketching the final facet line of the gemstone with a fine-tipped pen.

He looked up at the clothes Ye Lu had selected on the rack, frowning. “Why are they all light-colored?”

“Forgive my presumption, but lighter colors convey warmth, which might increase the chances of a successful negotiation,” Ye Lu said courteously. “And I’d also like to ask for permission to accompany you to this meeting with Mr. Zhu.”

Xi Xianqing: “…”

Ye Lu continued, “Xianqing, we really can’t afford to mess this up again.”

“I didn’t mess it up.” Xi Xianqing’s expression was impassive. “At our first meeting, I clearly stated my requirements and the compensation I could offer. He simply felt the terms weren’t agreeable and turned me down.”

Ye Lu knew his temperament too well. “His refusal might not have been just about the terms not being agreeable. Let me ask you, did you bring bodyguards with you when you went on that blind date that day?”

Xi Xianqing: “I just attended an auction, so naturally, I had bodyguards with me.”

Ye Lu sighed, “And was it true that you also directly declined the person’s invitation for a meal?”

Xi Xianqing remained calm. “Aunt Ye, you know I don’t like eating out.”

Ye Lu exhaled softly. “If it wasn’t for Mr. Zhu taking the initiative to change his mind that day, we’d likely still be desperately searching for a 15th District Seven doctor, pleading for someone to treat your condition.”

Xi Xianqing’s hand, dipping into the paint, paused slightly.

“First, people from District Seven have grown up in a different environment from ours, so a process of mutual understanding and compromise is inevitable.”

Ye Lu said, “So we need to approach this with sincerity—”

“He calls gemstones ‘silicon dioxide,’” Xi Xianqing stared into Ye Lu’s eyes.

Ye Lu: “Well, that….”

Xi Xianqing: “He can’t distinguish between a brooch and a lapel chain, and thinks lapis lazuli and sapphire are the same.”

“When we went to the District Seven hospital for a consultation, didn’t we also struggle to understand the medical terminology at first?” Ye Lu replied helplessly. “Besides, isn’t our sole goal right now to cure your illness?”

Xi Xianqing didn’t say anything.

Ye Lu took the freshly ironed suit jacket from the rack, softening her tone. “What is our ultimate goal? What have you worked so hard for all these years?”

“Think about our future,” she said to Xi Xianqing. “Think about the young lady.”

Xi Xianqing’s gaze lingered on the suit in Ye Lu’s hands.

“If we want to make the negotiation more approachable, something more casual would be better,” he replied, putting down his pen and averting his gaze.

Ye Lu’s pursed, understanding that he had compromised. “Alright, I’ll prepare accordingly.”

To facilitate inter-district exchanges, District Six and District Seven had constructed a cross-district highway several decades ago, greatly reducing travel time between the areas.

When Xi Xianqing and Ye Lu arrived at the restaurant, Zhu Ming and Zhou Zhou had already been there for a while, sitting with their backs to them, whispering over the menu.

Zhou Zhou pointed to an item on the light screen menu, “Wow, since when did they add roast duck? And it’s an exclusive recipe from a District Two Michelin chef. This must be delicious ah, Zhu-ge!”

Zhu Ming nodded, “En, but the salt-crusted chicken I got last time was great, too, and that was takeout. Imagine how much better it’ll be fresh.”

Zhou Zhou hesitated, “Good point. So, which one should we get today?”

Zhu Ming, unfazed, said, “Order them all. We’re not the ones paying anyway.”

Xi Xianqing and Ye Lu, who heard clearly from the back: “…”

Ye Lu cleared her throat and softly interrupted, “Mr. Zhu.”

Seeing the person in the wheelchair turn his head, Xi Xianqing slightly raised his eyes and looked over.

Born into an artistic family, Xi Xianqing had a habit of subconsciously observing the color scheme on people he met.

This was because a person’s preference for a specific color scheme often mirrored aspects of their personality.

However, the colors on Zhu Ming were always monotonous—extremely pure black and white.

His hair was soft and shiny black, as were his eyes and lashes, yet he consistently chose clothes in simple, pure tones of white or beige, which made his complexion appear an unhealthy pallor.

Such stark contrast typically wasn’t aesthetically pleasing. But Zhu Ming happened to have a delicate, almost refined face that could be considered exquisite from an artistic perspective.

He always smiled—gently, affectionately, or even teasingly.

Yet, the smile never quite reached his eyes, as if veiled in a faint mist, like a cunning mask.

A curled-up white fox spirit had been lying on Zhu Ming’s lap, but when someone entered, he straightened up. “Forgive me for not being able to get up. And who is this lady?”

Ye Lu said, “You’re too polite. I’m Ye Lu, Mr. Xi’s assistant.”

Zhu Ming smiled warmly, “Nice to meet you. Just call me Xiao Zhu. This is my assistant, Zhou Zhou.”

Ye Lu released her own spiritual manifestation—a gray heron, which gently tapped the fox’s fluffy tail with its beak as a gesture of greeting.

Zhu Ming withdrew his spiritual manifestation and turned his gaze to Xi Xianqing’s face, his smile turning slightly playful. “We were just looking at the menu. What would Mr. Xi like to eat? Or are you going to be satisfied just watching, like last time?”

Xi Xianqing: “…”

Ye Lu quickly cleared her throat, “No, no. We just came over from District Six, and we’ve been eager to try this chef’s creations. How about this—I’ll go with Xiao Zhou to order outside, and you two can chat here for a bit.”

Zhou Zhou scratched his head and stood up. Ye Lu thoughtfully closed the private room door behind them, leaving only Xi Xianqing and Zhu Ming inside.

Zhu Ming propped his chin on his hand, smiling as his gaze swept over Xi Xianqing. He broke the silence. “You’re not wearing anything today.”

“What?”

“You’re always wearing something shiny. The first time, it was cufflinks; the second time, it was a necklace made of blue stone… lapis lazuli.” Zhu Ming asked briskly, “Nothing today?”

The mother-of-pearl carved cufflinks and lapis lazuli lapel chain were actually gifts from Xi Xianqing’s close friends.

One friend was the heir to a century-old suit fabric family in District Six, and the other was a fellow classmate from his time at a top jewelry academy. Both considered themselves noble artists, likely never imagining their meticulously crafted pieces would someday be simply labeled as “shiny things.”

Still, Zhu Ming’s choice of topic was skillfully selected–Their prior conversations had all been rather unpleasant; if forced into polite small talk, it would only feel awkward and stiff.

But since Zhu Ming asked about aesthetics and style, Xi Xianqing couldn’t entirely ignore him.

After a brief silence, Xi Xianqing rolled up the sleeve of his left arm.

Zhu Ming leaned in to look. “Huh? Why is the watch face… so shiny ah?”

“This is a mother-of-pearl watch face with a blue lacquer finish.”

“En, I’ve never seen watch needles shaped like this—it looks like a fork.”

“…It’s an iris needle, generally slender and elongated.”

“I don’t quite get it,” Zhu Ming admitted sincerely, “but it looks very nice.”

Xi Xianqing seemed to pause, glancing at him. After a moment, he responded with a stiff “en.”

Zhu Ming continued to stare at his face, a slight smile on his own, saying nothing further.

When Ye Lu opened the door, she saw Zhu Ming and Xi Xianqing sitting across from each other, sipping tea. The atmosphere was quiet, their expressions calm and unreadable.

Yet somehow, she sensed that the tension between them had eased significantly… compared to when they first met.

Ye Lu took a prepared agreement from her bag. “Xiao Zhu, this is a draft based on the requirements you mentioned verbally before. We’ve consolidated everything into the proposed terms.”

Zhu Ming replied, “Thank you for the trouble. Zhou Zhou, take a look first.”

Zhou Zhou nodded, took the agreement, and began reviewing it carefully.

Xi Xianqing faintly said, “My request is simple, cure my illness and keep it confidential.”

The atmosphere had just eased a bit, and he started to make the same old mistakes again.

Ye Lu hurriedly rephrased his words with a softer tone. “Of course, Xiao Zhu, we’ll also do our best to meet your requests. We can adjust the terms at any time before the agreement is signed.”

“It’s a mutual benefit. My requirements are also straightforward: a marriage, and a lab pod.”

Zhu Ming’s gaze shifted slightly. “However, before signing this agreement, I have a small request. Mr. Xi, may I see your spiritual manifestation?”

As if anticipating Xi Xianqing’s reaction, he said, “I assure you, confidentiality is my oath as a healer to a patient. Everything that happens today remains between the four of us.”

Ye Lu didn’t answer for Xi Xianqing, she just turned her head to look at him.

Xi Xianqing was silent for a long time and finally nodded.

Zhu Ming spoke softly, “Zhou Zhou.”

Zhou Zhou answered, pulling out a notebook and pen, then sat beside Zhu Ming across from Xi Xianqing, shifting into the familiar consultation mode they often used in their live sessions.

Somehow, with just a change in posture, both Xi Xianqing and Ye Lu could clearly feel a subtle shift in the atmosphere between them and the two seated across.

–Especially Zhu Ming, his eyes seemed focused and intense—gone was his usual casual, mischievous look, the same expression he wore while joking about snagging some free chicken.

Xi Xianqing stood in silence, and after a moment, a small glow began to form at his feet, gathering into a visible shape and gradually coalescing into a discernible outline.

Zhu Ming didn’t take his eyes off it, his voice low. “Manifestation speed is normal, cohesion of mental energy looks solid, and concentration of neuro-proton particles seems stable so far.”

Zhou Zhou nodded, quickly jotting down notes.

“Bipedal, pointed beak… It’s from Galliformes,” Zhu Ming continued intently. “Likely Phasianidae, if there are no surprises.”

Xi Xianqing remained silent, and the outline of his spirit form beside him grew even clearer.

Having graduated from District Seven’s medical school and having been engaged in live broadcast consultation for more than a year, Zhu Ming and Zhou Zhou were considered to have seen a lot. But as Xi Xianqing’s spirit fully materialized before them, they were simultaneously silent for a second by tacit agreement.

Zhu Ming: “What is that? Some kind of mutated giant green bird?”

Zhou Zhou: “Uh… a massive blue pigeon?”

Xi Xianqing’s face was as black as charcoal. Ye Lu cleared her throat. “Maybe you two could change your angle a bit and take another look?”

Zhu Ming thought for a moment and seemed to realize something. “Zhou Zhou, push me around a bit.”

A slightly dazed Zhou Zhou responded with an “Oh,” then stood up to maneuver Zhu Ming’s wheelchair to view the spiritual manifestation from the side.

The moment they shifted their perspective, both of them simultaneously let out a dazed “Ah~”.

“It’s a peac0ck,” Zhu Ming murmured. “That… really is rare.”

A change in perspective could dramatically alter perception, much like how a star fruit seen head-on looked like a yellow star but revealed its full, three-dimensional form when viewed from the side.

Just now, when they were facing Xi Xianqing’s spirit form directly, they only saw a proud, somewhat temperamental large green-blue bird.

But when they shifted to view its tail, Zhu Ming witnessed the most beautiful spiritual manifestation he had ever seen in his medical career.

–It was a cascade of turquoise feathers, a waterfall of vivid emerald and sapphire hues layered in intricate patterns, looking almost unreal in its breathtaking beauty.

An extremely rare, elegant male peac0ck spiritual manifestation.

In that instant, Zhu Ming’s heart raced.

For a patient, having an unusual spirit form often indicated some anomaly, not exactly a favorable sign.

But for a researcher, a peac0ck—compared to the common feline, canine, rodent, or rabbit spirit forms—was exceptionally rare and of immense research value.

If it was coupled with a rare disease…

He felt uncontrollably excited.

“Visually, it appears quite healthy, with no visible abnormalities,” Zhu Ming observed. “If possible, could you control it to spread its feathers? We’d like to assess their condition.”

Zhou Zhou, unable to contain his eagerness, held his notebook tightly and asked, “Mr. Xi?”

The air grew slightly tense. The large peac0ck held its neck high, standing in a dignified pose.

Meanwhile, the peac0ck’s owner mirrored its proud stance, standing tall with his jaw clenched, remaining silent.

Ye Lu, standing behind him, hesitated. “Xianqing, should I explain?”

After a long time, Xi Xianqing spoke, “No need.”

Zhu Ming watched as the proud, striking young master turned around, and with difficulty, uttered three words: “It can’t open.”

Zhou Zhou didn’t quite catch on, assuming that this was just another one of those noble airs, prioritizing privacy and decorum. “Hmm? But if you don’t cooperate, we won’t be able to conduct a thorough examination ah.”

Xi Xianqing was silent again.

But Zhu Ming seemed to catch onto something. He stared intently at Xi Xianqing’s face and asked softly, “Are you unable to open the feathers voluntarily?”

Xi Xianqing still didn’t respond, but his expression visibly darkened.

This meant that Zhu Ming had hit the nail on the head.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to open it, but that he couldn’t.

Zhou Zhou’s eyes widened as he looked at Zhu Ming, but Zhu Ming’s heart was slightly moved.

A spiritual manifestation was a projection of a person’s psyche and spiritual world, yet it also adhered to certain natural laws.

Plant-based spiritual manifestation could bloom and bear fruit, while animal-based ones retained behaviors tied to their natural instincts. Anomalies in these behaviors were closely connected to the owner’s gene expression, spiritual pathways, and psychological fluctuations.

Given that the subject of study wasn’t a physical entity, this was a complex and challenging field to start with—yet that was precisely why Zhu Ming found it so captivating.

A striking young heir from District Six, with such a beautiful green peac0ck spirit form… unable to display its feathers. And in District Six, where beauty and aesthetics defined one’s success.

Suppressing the surge of excitement within, Zhu Ming softened his tone, trying to guide him. “Can you recall when was the last time you were able to open your feathers? Were there any unusual occurrences then?”

Xi Xianqing squeezed out three words after a long time, “I don’t know.”

In all Zhu Ming’s years as an online doctor, even seven-year-old patients could usually describe issues with their spirit forms. Yet he had never encountered an adult patient who was so uncooperative.

“Mr. Xiao Xi ya,” Zhu Ming said in a serious tone, “if you can’t cooperate with us properly, then we won’t be able to build trust from the foundation. Future treatment won’t be pleasant…”

“I don’t know,” Xi Xianqing interrupted him in a hoarse voice. “I really don’t know.”

Zhu Ming was stunned.

Xi Xianqing’s Adam’s apple moved, “Because I’ve never opened my feathers.”

Zhou Zhou’s eyes went wide, and Ye Lu behind him rubbed his temples, as an unspeakable silence filled the air.

“There was no ‘last time’ I opened them.”

Xi Xianqing turned his face away and said coldly, “Because from birth until now, I’ve never once succeeded in opening my feathers.”

 

“In exchange, I can help treat your mental manifestation and am willing to sign the confidentiality agreement you previously proposed,” Zhu Ming said. “But I have three conditions.”

Xi Xianqing looked at him indifferently, saying nothing.

They stood in the most conspicuous spot in the banquet hall, attracting surprised glances from others around them.

Secretly, or openly, they speculated about their relationship.

“First, before we marry, you need to help me deceive my aunt into believing that we fell in love at first sight and are genuinely in love and that you’re someone I can trust with my life.”

Zhu Ming spoke clearly and methodically, “Second, I need the latest model of a biological lab pod on the market.” The smile on his face was amiable, as if chatting with an old friend.

Xi Xianqing never had any expression on his face.

Unable to read his thoughts, Zhu Ming paused for a moment before speaking again. “Third—”

“I could find plenty of professional doctors who wouldn’t make so many conditions with me.” Xi Xianqing mercilessly interrupted him, “And they certainly wouldn’t start by asking me to buy them a lab pod worth a million Xi Coins.”

“To be precise, the one I want costs one and a half million. I want the latest model released in District Seven this year.” Zhu Ming corrected cautiously, “As for doctors, if I remember correctly, you mentioned last time that even the best doctors in District Seven’s top clinic couldn’t do anything for you, isn’t that right?”

Xi Xianqing fell silent.

Zhu Ming smiled. “As for me, although I’m only a half-baked anchor without as much clinical experience, I still have a solid foundation in theoretical knowledge.”

His fingertips lightly brushed Xi Xianqing’s sleeve. “At the same time, I have plenty of time, which means I can wholeheartedly and exclusively focus on treating you alone.”

“Although I don’t know exactly what your symptoms are, I promise to use all my knowledge to cure you,” he said.

No doctor would make such a promise to a patient with unknown symptoms, yet Zhu Ming chose to say it anyway.

More and more people were looking their way. Xi Xianqing still remained silent, and though Zhu Ming’s smile didn’t waver, he felt a bit unsure inside.

Fortunately, after a few seconds, he saw Xi Xianqing turn his head. “Third?”

Zhu Ming let out a breath.

“The third, and final request.” Zhu Ming looked down at his own legs, sighing. “My wheelchair is stuck in the carpet, so I need a little help.”

It was clearly the simplest of his three requests, yet Xi Xianqing instantly frowned, turning to look at Zhu Ming. “Now?”

“Yes ah.”

“Are you sure?”

Why would that need confirmation? Zhu Ming was a bit caught off guard. “I’m sure ah…”

It was obviously a simple favor, but Xi Xianqing’s frown deepened as if this request was harder to accept than the one and a half million just now.

After a long moment, he finally, albeit reluctantly, uttered two words: “I can.”

Two light words, though only Zhu Ming understood their weight in his heart.

Because Xi Xianqing wasn’t just agreeing to help him out of his current predicament; it also meant the start of the two people’s future arrangement.

Was this decision… too hasty?

With his heart in a mess, Zhu Ming’s hand loosened from Xi Xianqing’s cuffs in silence. “Alright, listen to me. I want to go downstairs, but my assistant isn’t here. He’ll be back shortly—”

What he’d intended to say was, ‘My assistant will be back soon. You just need to bend down a bit and adjust the spot where my wheelchair is stuck.’

But Zhu Ming didn’t have the chance to carry out this plan.

His unfinished words shattered abruptly in his throat as he felt a shadow cast over him from above. The next second, his body was lifted into the air—

The sound of wind brushed past his ears. Zhu Ming’s pupils contracted as he turned his head in bewildered panic, only to meet the sight of Xi Xianqing’s sharp, refined profile.

In full view of everyone, Xi Xianqing bent down and easily lifted Zhu Ming from his wheelchair!

He heard Xi Xianqing say, “Don’t move.”

The tone was commanding, though on closer inspection… there was a hint of awkwardness.

Too bad Zhu Ming was too startled to notice—even the slightest feeling of weightlessness was terrifying for someone who couldn’t walk.

Like a person who fell into the water, grasping for driftwood, Zhu Ming’s legs couldn’t make any force. He could only use his arms to subconsciously cling to Xi Xiangqing’s neck, his pupils contracting again. “What are you doing? Put me down? You—”

The frightened fox no longer had a calm face, he now bared his claws defensively, trying to protect himself.

Yet he was just a fox with injured legs, and his frantic scratching didn’t hurt.

The person in his arms was fidgeting too much, and Xi Xianqing looked down, a trace of displeasure in his gaze. “You asked me to help you downstairs.”

Zhu Ming had never seen someone with such a strange brain circuit in his life.

As it happened, countless onlookers were watching their every move, and Zhu Ming had no choice but to hold on tighter. Leaning close to Xi Xianqing’s ear, he gritted his teeth and whispered, “No, did I ask you to help me like this?”

Xi Xianqing glanced at him. “You didn’t specify how I should help. Do you think I want to carry you?”

Zhu Ming: “…I was only halfway through explaining when you picked me up. Did you even give me a chance to clarify?”

Xi Xianqing probably hadn’t expected Zhu Ming to react so strongly.

Realizing he’d misunderstood this person’s intention and was now seemingly being rejected, Xi Xianqing’s face suddenly darkened. Almost in a fit of embarrassed anger, he started to release his hold. “Then get down.”

Zhu Ming: “Don’t, don’t don’t, you hold on—”

It was impossible to come down.

After making such a big scene, he knew all too well that countless eyes were now watching their every word and action. If Xi Xianqing put him back in the wheelchair now, it would look even stranger.

Exhaling, he kept his eyes away from the ground, tightened his hold, and spoke quietly, “Exit the banquet hall, turn left, and go to my aunt’s lounge.”

Though Xi Xianqing’s expression was far from pleased, he still complied.

Carrying Zhu Ming, he turned his head slightly, signaling his female assistant behind him to take care of the wheelchair stuck on the carpet. Then, he walked towards the lounge with large strides.

In the distance from the banquet hall to the lounge, Zhu Ming endured some of the most awkward ten seconds of his life.

One was the future representative of District Six, the other a former genius of District Seven, with practically no connection between them. Yet here they were, one carrying the other in an almost romantic bridal carry. The guests likely never imagined such an unexpected pairing.

Many people were watching them.

By the dessert table, Zhou Zhou stared at the two of them, holding two plates piled with food, his mouth slowly dropping open.

Zhu Yingying was even more stunned. Her gaze fell on Xi Xianqing’s hand at Zhu Ming’s waist and the way their bodies were pressed close together, her eyes suddenly bright and fervent.

Zhu Ming’s heart suddenly fluttered.

“Mr. Xi,” Zhu Ming steadied his nerves and leaned closer to Xi Xianqing’s ear. “Since we’ve decided to work together, why not rehearse a bit for future situations? Let’s see some of your sincerity, shall we?”

The frightened fox, having somewhat adapted to his surroundings, was already cooking up new, mischievous ideas.

“…“ Xi Xianqing exhaled as if he was holding back, ”Don’t go too far.”

Zhu Ming smiled. “I know my limits.”

Xi Xianqing didn’t respond further, so Zhu Ming took that as silent agreement.

He lifted his hand, gently hooking a stray strand of hair above Xi Xianqing’s left ear with his index finger, tucking it behind his ear.

Xi Xianqing’s body stiffened.

“Just keep walking and chat with me casually.”

The next moment, Zhu Ming leaned closer with a smile, his warm breath brushing Xi Xianqing’s ear. “Hmm, let’s talk about your brooch… or rather, your boutonnière chain.”

Their topic was completely unromantic, yet to an outside observer, this kind of ear-to-ear is a close interaction that looked just like the intimate gestures of lovers in the throes of romance.

This was Zhu Ming’s purpose.

Since they’d decided to put on an act, he wanted everyone to see it clearly, ensuring the story could progress smoothly from here.

A faint gasp rippled through the surrounding guests, while Xi Xianqing’s jaw subtly tightened.

Receiving no response for a while, Zhu Ming poke a finger at the gemstone above Xi Xianqing’s metal chain. “Where’s this blue stone from? It looks like sapphire, but why isn’t it transparent?”

Xi Xianqing clearly didn’t want to pay attention to him, but his professional pride couldn’t ignore the phrase “blue stone.” With an icy tone, he finally corrected, “…It’s not ‘blue stone.’”

“Hm? Then what is it?”

Xi Xianqing took a deep breath. “Lapis lazuli. Not as rare as sapphire. The transparency and refractive index of the two are vastly different, as is their value.”

Zhu Ming: “Hmm? Isn’t that just the difference between silicon dioxide and aluminosilicate?”

Xi Xianqing: “…”

Zhu Ming looked at him with growing curiosity. “So, based on what you’re saying, sapphire is superior to lapis lazuli. Then why would you use the cheaper lapis lazuli? Is it because you don’t have any sapphire?”

Perhaps the question was too trivial, as Xi Xianqing chose not to respond.

Just as Zhu Ming was about to say more, he suddenly felt the hand at his waist tighten ah, startling him. He immediately clutched Xi Xianqing’s neck even closer—only to realize that Xi Xianqing had abruptly quickened his pace and taken a sharp turn.

Zhu Ming’s lips twitched, deciding not to tease this person further. He’d already achieved the effect he wanted.

The guests present had seen it, and more importantly, so had Zhu Yingying. Zhu Ming knew his aunt too well—her mind was likely already racing, analyzing their relationship, how they’d met, and why they seemed so close.

With this beginning, everything else would fall into place.

There’s one thing to say, Xi Xianqing’s build looked strong, but Zhu Ming realized firsthand that this person was even more robust than he appeared.

—Sleek, firm muscles, radiating warmth even through his suit fabric. He’d been carrying Zhu Ming, a big living person, for quite a while now, yet showed no sign of tiring.

En, young people like him are certainly more reliable than a wheelchair. Zhu Ming thought.

Once they entered the lounge, Zhu Ming relaxed and sank into the soft sofa.

Just as he looked up, he heard Xi Xianqing’s cold voice say, “Sapphire is rare and usually needs to be preserved when cut. Lapel chains typically require smaller stones as the main feature, so using sapphire would be overly extravagant. Lapis lazuli is more suitable.”

Zhu Ming was momentarily stunned before realizing Xi Xianqing was finally responding to his earlier question.

“Most importantly, today is your aunt’s birthday party. Not overshadowing the host of the event is basic etiquette in District Six,” Xi Xianqing said, his gaze dropping to Zhu Ming’s collar, his brows knitting together again.

Zhu Ming’s attire was characteristically casual. Feeling stuffy in the banquet hall, he’d left a few top buttons undone, revealing his slender, graceful collarbones.

As though he’d seen something unpleasant, Xi Xianqing averted his gaze and straightened up. “And another thing—at a formal event like this, leaving more than two shirt buttons undone is excessive. I hope that after we’re married, you’ll manage your appearance and follow proper etiquette.”

Zhu Ming raised a hand to touch his collar, feeling slightly baffled.

He didn’t mind much, though, and simply reminded, “That’s fine, but likewise, if we’re getting married, you’ll need to get used to that level of close interaction just now and be able to respond properly.”

“The slightest touch and you freeze up like that. No one observing would believe we’re a real couple.” Zhu Ming countered with a mischievous smile. “Much less fool my sharp-eyed aunt.”

Xi Xianqing’s expression shifted. “Not everyone is as lacking in boundaries or sense of propriety as you are.”

Zhu Ming remained unfazed. “Thin skin isn’t a bad thing. The day is long, we have plenty of time to work on it.”

The tension between them hung in the air until the door suddenly swung open, breaking the silence.

–It was Zhou Zhou, standing behind the door as he breathlessly held a plate stacked with food.

“Zhu-ge!” The foolish roe deer was terrified. “I saw you being whisked away and even your wheelchair, being double kidnapped. Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m fine.”

Zhu Ming tilted his chin toward the person beside him and said, “This is Xi Xianqing. You can get acquainted; you’ll be seeing each other often from now on.”

Zhou Zhou froze in place: “…”

Xi Xianqing’s gaze turned cold as he looked at Zhu Ming. “I thought I made it very clear that confidentiality is our primary condition for cooperation. Why is there a third person here?”

Zhu Ming didn’t back down. “My physical condition has its limits. Zhou Zhou is my life and research assistant. If you want me to treat your illness efficiently, he needs to be present.”

For some reason, every time their conversation reached this point, the atmosphere would become tense.

Zhou Zhou sensed that the awkward atmosphere might be related to him. He didn’t dare make a sound, his eyes darting nervously between the two.

In the end, it was Xi Xianqing who took a step back, saying coolly, “Next Wednesday, the same restaurant as last time. I’ll bring a contract drafted by the legal team.”

The previous bodyguard, the assistant just now, and soon even the legal team—he was indeed quite the noble young master.

Zhu Ming mused inwardly about the differences in life. “Alright.”

Xi Xianqing straightened up, gave Zhou Zhou a distant nod, and then strode out the door.

Zhou Zhou watched him leave in a daze, then suddenly turned to Zhu Ming.

Zhu Ming: “What’s wrong?”

Zhou Zhou’s eyes widened as he pointed toward the door, his mouth opening and closing without managing to say a word.

Zhu Ming: “…?”

Zhou Zhou continued to gesture, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

Zhu Ming: “Speak human.”

The sheer amount of information was overwhelming, and it took Zhou Zhou half a day to regain his ability to speak. “F*ck, Zhu-ge, you have no idea how crazy you two were just now! Xi Xianqing literally scooped you up in front of everyone and took off! A whole crowd was watching and whispering about you two. Some were even taking pictures… Wait?”

He looked at Zhu Ming with lingering fear. “What did Xi Xianqing just say you two were doing next Wednesday? What agreement, what legal team? Are you… signing some kind of contract?”

Zhu Ming took the plate from his hands, his expression calm as he picked through the snacks on it. “We’ve decided to help each other out with a small favor.”

“What favor?”

“I’ll treat a minor illness for him, and he’ll enter a minor marriage with me.”

Zhou Zhou was stricken. “Zhu-ge, I know Aunt Zhu has been pushing you to get married, but is it really necessary to go this far? It’s not like we’re lacking that little bit of consultation fee ah…”

Zhu Ming bit into a piece of cake and mumbled, “Hmm, but he’s offering more than just a bit. He promised to give me a biological lab pod.”

Zhou Zhou’s expression changed drastically.

After a long pause, he swallowed. “E-Even so we still can’t just…”

“It’s the latest model that was just released two months ago.”

“…”

“It even comes with a miniature mass spectrometer recently developed by our District’s Academy of Engineering.”

“… Well, then again, their family might actually have some difficulties. Ahem… Let’s just wait until next Wednesday and see for ourselves. We can make a decision then.”

---

Author’s Note:

“But he’s offering way too much.”

During his time at the District Seven Research Institute, Zhu Ming became, in a way, the center of attention.

Talent was the least valued thing in District Seven. Research in life sciences had long cycles, offered low returns, and required intense mental effort and energy. Those who made it to the top were basically middle-aged with graying hair.

But Zhu Ming was much too young.

Beautiful, fearless, and carefree—traits that hardly suited a scholar—he nevertheless reached heights others took half their lives to achieve with effortless ease.

Countless colleges and universities threw olive branches to him and he became the hottest, youngest candidate for the position of District Seven’s Chief.

–Naturally, he lived up to their expectations by becoming a thorn in his colleagues’ sides.

The one who disliked him most was his neighbor in the same lab group, Xu Dazhe, who also studied rare mental diseases.

It wasn’t really surprising that this little bald man was so harsh toward him. Xu Dazhe was over 50 and nearing retirement, having spent most of his career on theories that Zhu Ming, at just 20, had completely overturned upon joining the institute.

Whenever Zhu Ming passed through the corridors, he could hear Xu Dazhe’s vulture spirit manifestation crying out in frustration.

Zhu Ming had offended many people without even realizing it, maintaining a unique bluntness and relaxed attitude.

Even when the accident later left him unable to walk, his thoughts were simply: if he couldn’t walk, then he couldn’t walk—his mind was still fine, and it would only mean he’d need a bit more time getting upstairs than others in the future.

However, when he wheeled himself back to the institute, he found his access card had lost all authority, no longer able to unlock the lab doors.

Turning his wheelchair around, he looked up and saw Xu Dazhe standing at the other end of the corridor, along with two senior leaders from the institute.

The first leader began with, “Xiao Zhu, you should rest for a while.”

At that time, Zhu Ming had been lying in a hospital bed for nearly six months, so he didn’t fully grasp the meaning behind their words.

Xu Dazhe stood before Zhu Ming with an uncharacteristically friendly expression.

“Little Professor Zhu ya,” Xu Dazhe said slowly, “I’ll take care of your project for you, and I’ll handle your students too. Just focus on getting better, give yourself a break, and don’t make things difficult for us ha.”

This left Zhu Ming even more puzzled; from start to end, he hadn’t even opened his mouth—where was the difficulty in that?

The second leader, who had a decent relationship with Zhu Ming, spoke honestly. “Xiao Zhu ah, the department put a lot of effort into trying to secure the chief position for you this year. Now, not only did you miss the election, but our rival over at K University took the spot. The upper management here isn’t very happy about it.”

Zhu Ming stared at him, holding onto the last bit of calmness. “Do you think this accident was something I wanted to happen?”

The second leader looked at him with a hint of pity and hesitated. “We’re all heartbroken too, but while you were in a coma… we also received some reports about your usual conduct.”

Human relationships can be like a boomerang.

Before the chief election, everyone was eager to get close to him, sending students his way in hopes that once he became District Seven’s chief, he’d elevate the institute and the team alongside him.

But the moment he fell into a coma and missed the election, those who had tried to curry favor with him scattered quickly. Those who resented his talent and disliked his attitude no longer hid their disdain. Old grudges and new ones were brought up all at once.

The range of accusations in the email report surprised him: His “long-term arrogant, unruly behavior, monopolizing large funds and disrupting fair competition among universities, thus harming the normal academic atmosphere.” And “physical fitness is a concern which delayed students’ research progress and made him unfit to continue as a professor.”

The funding had come from his achievements, the students had insisted on joining him, and besides, it was only his legs that were affected—not his brain.

In the end, Zhu Ming felt not anger but astonishment.

It was as if Zhu Ming was seeing the world anew. He had thought he’d mastered so many things—the most cutting-edge theories, the most challenging cases.

But there was one crucial thing he’d never truly understood: the human heart.

Even in the rigorously logical District, the way the world works could be brutally unkind.

Returning to the moment, Zhu Ming looked at Xu Dazhe before him and smiled softly, “Long time no see, Professor Xu.”

Xu Dazhe gave a mocking laugh without responding, merely looking Zhu Ming up and down with open derision.

Next to him was a female associate professor from the institute, who seemed uncomfortable with Xu Dazhe’s attitude and spoke up to ease the tension. “Professor Xiao Zhu, long time no see. How is… your health?”

Zhu Ming thought for a moment and began to understand how this group had shown up here.

He’d persuaded Zhu Yingying to throw a birthday party, using “socializing” as an excuse. He had already made it clear that he wasn’t interested in blind dates, so Zhu Yingying had taken the liberty of inviting some familiar faces from the institute.

However, Zhu Yingying didn’t know the circumstances of Zhu Ming’s departure from the institute or the real reason behind it. And in a way, he had “worked” with these people before.

The tension grew, awkwardly filling the air.

Zhu Ming gave a faint smile. “I’m fine, thanks for your concern.”

The female professor opened her mouth, about to say something, but Xu Dazhe let out a long sigh. “Aiya, Xiao Zhu ah, I really envy you now.”

He condescendingly walked to Zhu Ming’s front, sizing up his legs. “Now you’re a live streaming big star, sitting there and making money with just a few words. Aiyaya, truly young and capable—you’ve got us all green with envy ah.”

Zhu Ming wasn’t particularly surprised by his sarcastic tone.

“I’m definitely not as busy as you, Old Xu,” He replied amiably. “How’s the project progressing? It’s been about half a year now, right? Has it been published?”

Handing his project over to Xu Dazhe had, in theory, been a humiliating history for Zhu Ming. Xu Dazhe hadn’t expected him to bring it up voluntarily, and his expression shifted slightly. “…Almost.”

Zhu Ming made an “ah” as if genuinely curious. “Almost? So it hasn’t been submitted for publication yet?

Xu Dazhe: “…”

Zhu Ming: “Why has it been delayed for so long? Is it that you don’t want to publish it?”

The female professor beside them couldn’t hold back, hiding her smile behind her wine glass with a light cough.

In a place like District Seven’s research institute, where geniuses pile up and roll up in life and death, the most feared thing about a paper is that it will be published in advance by another research group.

Don’t want to publish? That was impossible. There was only one simple and painful reason–they hadn’t made any breakthroughs, and there was nothing substantial to publish.

Xu Dazhe’s face went through a series of colors in an instant. “What are you implying? I’m not delaying; I just—”

Zhu Ming looked at him blankly.

“Ah, I get it now.” Zhu Ming feigned sudden realization. “Old Xu, your old habits must have kicked in again. Are you just being too much of a perfectionist?”

“You really are something. It’s been over a year since the case has been taken over from me, and the groundwork was all set up—it shouldn’t be hard to finish ya.”

Zhu Ming’s tone was sincere, a tone of ‘I’m doing this for your own good’. “We ah, really shouldn’t be too selfish. Let’s not drag this out any longer.”

“After all, you’re not as free as I am now ah, and you’ve got many responsibilities.”

He gently echoed Xu Dazhe’s own words, then softly added, “We wouldn’t want to delay the students’ papers and graduation progress, right?”

Xu Dazhe was so choked up by him that he couldn’t utter a complete sentence. “You—”

Zhu Ming, this person, was always able to smile gently and beautifully, delivering the most piercing words with a soft demeanor.

Obviously, his face was sickly pale, unable to stand, seemingly the weaker party, but he would subtly take control of a conversation with ease.

Xu Dazhe seethed with resentment, but he couldn’t refute him—he couldn’t admit that the paper’s delayed in publication was because, upon taking over Zhu Ming’s data, he found that the threshold for reproducing the experiments he had designed was extremely high, using methods that were clever but exceedingly complex. He had spent several months poring over research just to barely grasp the necessary skills and knowledge.

Simply put, his ability was inferior to this little brat.

All he could do was swallow his anger, his face ashen. “…That’s the reason.”

Zhu Ming’s smiling eyes curved: “That’s right.”

With a tense expression, Xu Dazhe couldn’t respond, and the female professor quickly coughed to ease the tension. “Old Xu, since it’s Director Zhu’s birthday today, why don’t we say a few celebratory words? Xiao Zhu, we’ll take our leave ha.”

Xu Dazhe snorted coldly and turned his head away with a stern face.

Zhu Ming nodded at the female professor, watching them depart.

Amid the noisy crowd, Zhu Ming wheeled himself forward, first moving calmly and steadily for a few paces before he closed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh.

It was kind of a satisfying counterattack.

He maintained a composed exterior, but there was still a pang in his heart.

Not because of anything else—but for the sake of his medical cases.

Those were cases of rare mental abnormalities in patients he had painstakingly collected and screened from hospitals across various districts, now it was spoiled in the hands of this kind of old man who’d made no meaningful progress.

It would be a lie to say that he didn’t feel a twinge of regret.

Cases of shared spiritual entities in District Three twins, rare cases of spiritual entity splitting in District Five, congenital spiritual deficiencies in District Six… He had already outlined potential experiments and possible future treatment plans in his mind back then.

Unfortunately, he would never have the chance to carry them out himself—not just because he lacked the experimental resources, but because he no longer had the same drive he once did before the accident.

As he wheeled himself along, Zhu Ming stared absentmindedly at the intricate patterns winding across the carpet, moving aimlessly through the banquet hall.

Then he suddenly came to a halt—

He lurched forward slightly from the momentum and looked up. “…?”

He tried moving the wheels again, but they wouldn’t budge.

No way, ba?

He glanced down, only to find that the mechanism on the side of his wheel had caught on the fringe of the carpet, tangling with it as though they were inseparable.

In short, he was stuck.

Zhu Ming: “…”

Can a person really be so unlucky?

Zhu Ming usually wasn’t one with a negative mindset, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but laugh at himself and reflect that no matter how many verbal small victories he gained, he was still ultimately a man with limited mobility.

He and his wheelchair were stopped dead in the middle of the banquet hall, fully visible and completely immobile. Some people were beginning to glance his way, curiosity piqued.

When a person is in moments of peak embarrassment, their brain tends to go blank, only to be flooded with a series of random thoughts.

Time seemed to stand still, dust motes dancing lazily in the air. In that instant, Zhu Ming’s mind felt strangely clear.

He saw many things.

First, he saw Zhu Yingying standing beside a District One officer. She wore a shy smile, and her rabbit spirit manifestation had emerged, its ears bashfully covering her face.

Yet, despite her interest, she maintained a respectful distance from the officer.

It had been a long time since Zhu Ming had seen her interact so comfortably with someone else. Ever since he had lost the ability to walk, Zhu Yingying had either been crying in secret or watching his mood carefully.

Shifting his gaze slightly, Zhu Ming spotted Zhou Zhou at the dessert table, stacking his plate high with food.

The naive boy had been loyally acting as his little assistant, diligently managing Zhu Ming’s account. Whenever he saw malicious comments, he swiftly blocked or reported them while turning his phone screen away to keep Zhu Ming from the negativity.

Zhu Ming could compromise, shrug things off, and say “forget it” when it came to his own life.

But he couldn’t bear to see his struggles become burdens on the lives of others.

Finally, Zhu Ming’s gaze drifted to the base of the staircase directly ahead.

He saw Xi Xianqing in the crowd.

Zhu Ming wasn’t surprised by Xi Xianqing’s appearance. This birthday gathering had attracted prominent figures from all districts, and he must’ve come at Zhu Yingying’s invitation as well.

He observed Xi Xianqing for a moment, suddenly understanding what people meant when they said, “District Six residents have an innate sense of style.”

Today, Xi Xianqing wore a gray flannel double-breasted suit with a loose cut, which perfectly suited his physique. He struck a balance between the formal decorum expected at a banquet and the relaxed elegance of his personal style.

A small, round deep-blue gemstone adorned the buttonhole on his left lapel, with a fine silver chain trailing from it into his chest pocket. Combined with his sharp, striking features, the ensemble exuded an air of refined beauty unique to him.

Though Xi Xianqing hadn’t arrived with his usual entourage of bodyguards, he was still accompanied by a female assistant.

The female assistant was equally poised and stylish, with a gray-black heron spiritual manifestation perched on her shoulder.

Beside Xi Xianqing stood a popular male singer from District Six, attempting to strike up a conversation.

The singer’s spiritual manifestation was a beautiful Ragdoll cat, gazing up at Xi Xianqing affectionately from his feet, making its fondness quite apparent.

However, Xi Xianqing took a step back to maintain his distance, replying curtly and distantly, never once releasing his own spiritual manifestation.

To outsiders, it appeared to be the classic reserved approach of a gentleman, tactful yet unassuming.

Only Zhu Ming knew the real reason behind this.

Disappointment flickered across the singer’s face as he left, while Xi Xianqing fixed his gaze briefly on the intricate carving of the staircase handrail. Then he looked up and met Zhu Ming’s eyes, trapped at the other end of the staircase.

After a few brief seconds, Xi Xianqing averted his gaze and began ascending the stairs, drawing closer to where Zhu Ming was.

The distance between them grew closer and closer.

As they were about to pass each other, Zhu Ming lifted his hand.

He felt a slight resistance at his cuff, and Xi Xianqing looked down, meeting a pair of bright, glistening eyes.

“Long time no see, Mr. Xi,” Zhu Ming said lightly from his wheelchair. “Your brooch is quite unique.”

Xi Xianqing stared at him silently for a long moment before responding, “It’s a boutonnière chain.”

Zhu Ming: “Hm?”

“This is a boutonnière chain,” Xi Xianqing corrected without much warmth, “not a brooch.”

Zhu Ming nodded agreeably, following his lead with a smile. “Wow, that’s quite a precise term. Thanks for the enlightenment.”

Xi Xianqing’s gaze dropped to the hand Zhu Ming had on his cuff.

“Mr. Zhu.”

After a pause, Xi Xianqing continued, “I believe our last meeting should have made it clear that our approaches to things don’t align.”

Recalling their lengthy debate over “signing an agreement before seeing the spiritual manifestation” and “seeing the spiritual manifestation before signing the agreement,” Zhu Ming nodded in agreement. “True.”

Xi Xianqing’s expression remained cold as he looked ahead. “So, is there something you need now?”

Seems he holds a grudge ah. Zhu Ming thought.

Their last encounter in the restaurant hadn’t ended smoothly, and Xi Xianqing’s words were equally blunt now—You were resolute in rejecting my offer then, so this exchange between us now serves no purpose.

But Zhu Ming’s face didn’t change much.

“Just because we have different views doesn’t mean one side can’t change.” His voice was soft. “I’ve reconsidered.”

Xi Xianqing wordlessly halted, looking at him directly.

Zhu Ming smiled slightly, meeting Xi Xianqing’s eyes calmly. “So, I wonder, sometime this month—whenever you’re free—would you be up for getting married to me?”

Though the exchange between the two had lasted less than half an hour, from Xi Xianqing’s eloquence, attire, and aloof yet imposing demeanor during negotiations, Zhu Ming quickly realized that this man came from a remarkably prestigious background.

However, he truly hadn’t expected the man’s identity to be this distinguished and unique.

Xi Star had been practicing regional autonomy for years, with each District’s government operating behind the scenes, lacking any formal, singular leader in the public eye.

Each district would elect a so-called “Regional Representative” to foster communal progress among residents and for motivational purposes.

This role doesn’t involve political power but rather someone chosen from each District to embody its culture to the fullest.

Simply put, it was the soul leader of each region.

For instance, in District One, known as the Military District, the representative would be the most accomplished and contributive soldier, with an election held every five years.

In District Two, where cuisine was central, the public voted annually for the chef of the restaurant they deemed most delicious and promising that year.

Following this pattern… to District Seven, where Zhu Ming resided, a rigorous selection process was conducted, evaluating and testing to choose the most promising emerging scholar every three years, making them the District’s Chief.

In summary, being a representative signified that one was the very best within a District—a rare honor that could not be bought with money. It reflected unparalleled skills and marked a dual recognition of one’s career and personal accomplishments.

In fact, Zhu Ming had once been a top candidate for Chief of District Seven.

So, while Zhou Zhou was visibly agitated, Zhu Ming merely said pensively, “It’s like that ah.”

The election systems for representatives varied across Districts. District Six, known for its focus on aesthetics, was one Zhu Ming knew the least about; its representative role was hereditary, and he had little interest in the gossip of a large family.

Zhou Zhou, however, was clearly far more flustered.

The roe deer behind him spun around manically, nearly hitting a nearby tree. “F*ck, f*ck, f*ck, Zhu-ge, you turned down seeing Xi Xianqing for medical treatment—no, not just a treatment, but a marriage proposal too? F*ck, f*ck, f*ck, wait, he really wants to marry you?”

Zhu Ming: “Please mind your language. But…is he very famous?”

“More than famous ah. Their family’s melon¹Gossip is super delicious. So many people are just eyeing that representative position. I heard someone even wants to film a documentary about their family.”

Zhou Zhou sighed with emotion, “Xi Xianqing, and another, Xi Sen—these two are currently the most famous designers in the Xi Family. Countless big-shot celebrities are practically throwing themselves at their work just to wear their designs. Even if you don’t surf the internet, you must’ve at least heard their names, right?”

Zhu Ming: “You know, I rarely brush those things.”

Zhu Ming was uninterested in gossip, and after the incident back then, the media loved using phrases like “fallen genius” and “total ruin” as clickbait. So even though he now made a living online, he hardly surfed the web.

After each broadcast, he ate, slept, ate, read documents, organized medical records, and lived a leisurely life.

“But if he’s so famous,” Zhu Ming mused, “hasn’t his mental manifestation ever leaked out?”

Zhou Zhou thought for a moment. “Although reporters have worked hard to dig up all the internal gossip on the Xi Family, Xi Xianqing himself is really low-key. He keeps his mental manifestation, along with other private information, well hidden and rarely shows it in public.”

“However, there are rumors that Master Xi Jianfeng’s mental manifestation is a crane—graceful and ethereal, that type. Based on that, some speculate that Xi Xianqing’s might be something like a swan…”

Zhou Zhou was getting deeply into the gossip, and Zhu Ming listened absentmindedly, finishing off the rest of his salt-crusted chicken.

Although he hadn’t expected Zhu Yingying’s network to be so extensive, all in all, the blind date attempt had failed. The chicken was deliciously fragrant and crisp, and Zhu Ming was thoroughly satisfied.

When reporting the blind date outcome to Zhu Yingying, he didn’t tell the full story, nor did he mention Xi Xianqing. Instead, he simply summarized, “Miss Xi wasn’t satisfied with me.”

Zhu Yingying was about to say something but stopped, unable to help scolding him: “This is the last District already. You stinky boy, you never let me rest easy…”

Zhu Ming pretended not to hear, maneuvering his wheelchair toward his bedroom.

Zhu Yingying’s sadness was undisguised.

She anxiously watered her little potted orange tree, fed hay to the rabbit in its cage, picked up her phone to search for another blind date candidate for Zhu Ming, and her spirit manifestation²I will be interchanging the usage for mental/spirit manifestation.—a small rabbit—paced anxiously behind her.

“You think Xi Xianqing’s mental manifestation could be a rooster that crows incessantly? Or a crow that caws non-stop?”

One day, while organizing fan case files, Zhou Zhou couldn’t resist bringing it up again. “Just what kind of illness can’t those stinky old men at Mingyi Clinic figure out ah? It’s really killing me.”

The allure of an unknown mystery was irresistible. It wasn’t just Zhou Zhou’s curiosity; Zhu Ming himself found it hard to let go.

The white mother-of-pearl cufflink on Xi Xianqing’s suit had clung to his memory like a grain of rice stuck to his heart, occasionally stirring up an itch.

What kind of mental manifestation was it, and what unique symptoms came with it…

Zhu Ming took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Focus on what’s at hand. Let’s go over the case for tomorrow’s broadcast.”

Choosing to livestream consultations wasn’t a whim for Zhu Ming; long before joining District Seven’s Academy of Sciences, he had been deeply interested in clinical research on mental manifestation abnormalities.

It’s just that back then, Zhu Ming had borne too many expectations and could only dedicate himself to cutting-edge foundational research, never having the time to contemplate what he truly wanted. Now, with a more leisurely life, time had become his most abundant asset.

At the lab in the past, he had dealt only with expensive instruments, neural cells, and medications, but now he faced real patients.

People can be so much harder to understand than these things.

Unfortunately, livestream consultations were inherently informal, and most of the patients seeking help were ordinary individuals with limited medical knowledge. Rarely did he encounter cases that were novel or challenging.

Nonetheless, Zhu Ming still treated every patient seriously.

Zhou Zhou: “Here’s a male patient from District Four with a raccoon as his mental manifestation. He says that ever since he moved, his spirit manifestation has become extremely lethargic.”

Zhu Ming pondered this briefly. “It sounds like he may just be adjusting poorly to the new environment. Have him check his blood pressure and observe the situation for a bit. Let’s schedule him for the day after tomorrow.”

Zhou Zhou responded, “There’s also a patient from District Two with a sheep mental manifestation. For the past two months, it’s been shedding hair—lots and lots of it.”

Zhu Ming raised an eyebrow and leaned in for a closer look. “Now that’s unusual. Ask about the temperature and humidity at home, as well as any recent medication changes. Let’s schedule them for tonight to take a look.”

“Alright.” Zhou Zhou, noting it down, couldn’t help but marvel, “Ai, shedding cases are rare. If only we could see it firsthand instead of just over the broadcast, it would be good…”

Realizing what he’d said, he raised a hand, awkwardly covering his mouth, and looked apologetically at Zhu Ming. “Zhu-ge, I didn’t mean anything by it, this mouth of mine, I just—”

They had both come from top medical schools and now diagnosing over screens and calls was like quenching one’s thirst by thinking of plums³Consoling oneself with illusions. but never enough to quench the craving.

However, given Zhu Ming’s physical limitations, “seeing it firsthand” was no longer realistic.

Knowing Zhou Zhou’s remark was unintentional, Zhu Ming merely smiled faintly. “I’ll go get a glass of water.”

Wheeling himself out of the study, Zhu Ming saw Zhu Yingying crouched by the living room cage, feeding hay to the rabbit inside strand by strand. “Man-jie ah, the flowers in the yard have withered again. I feel like my life is wilting along with them…”

Zhu Ming: “…”

Zhu Manman—Zhu Ming’s biological mother.

The two sisters shared spirit manifestation: lop-eared rabbits that looked nearly identical, but their life paths couldn’t have been more different.

Zhu Yingying, the younger sister, was sharp-minded and independent. In her youth, she had started a pharmaceutical company, traveled freely across Districts, and dated many boyfriends yet had never married.

Her older sister, Zhu Manman, had a delicate and sensitive disposition. She chose to pursue a niche field of botany and later had Zhu Ming with a man of unknown origins. After giving birth, her health deteriorated, and when Zhu Ming was just two, she passed away.

At that time, when Zhu Yingying looked at the young Zhu Ming, she wasn’t exactly pleased.

But over time, her heart softened.

When Zhu Ming placed first in District Seven’s medical exams, Zhu Yingying became the proudest person in the world, though she still casually remarked, “Just a little freeloader. The kid is still far away from me back then.”

Then came the accident. When Zhu Ming awoke from his coma, he stared at his legs, which felt nothing, then stared at Zhu Yingying in front of the hospital bed, her eyes rimmed with red.

“Now I’m a pretty big freeloader.” He pretended to smile lightly at Zhu Yingying.

Though she was also a person from District Seven, a place where science was held in the highest regard, Zhu Yingying wasn’t superstitious.

Yet, with her sister gone so young and her only nephew suffering such a fate, she occasionally began to believe in karma.

She stopped traveling, stopped having a boyfriend, and simply stayed close to Zhu Ming, watching over him with an anxious and cautious heart.

Zhu Ming often urged her to let go, to live a little more for herself, but Zhu Yingying wouldn’t listen as if fearing that Zhu Ming would slip away the moment she looked elsewhere.

“Ms. Zhu Yingying?”

Zhu Ming called to her as he watched her back. “Isn’t your birthday at the end of the month? Should we throw a nice celebration?”

Zhu Yingying looked back at him in surprise, clutching a handful of hay. After a long moment, she hesitated. “No need. I don’t really care about these kinds of days. It’s fine to just simply spend it together.”

Of course, Zhu Ming didn’t believe her.

When she was younger, Zhu Yingying traveled across Districts, made many friends, and loved lively gatherings. But after Zhu Ming’s accident, she’d rarely hosted any elaborate gatherings or banquets.

“Oh, I see ah,” Zhu Ming said, sounding a bit disappointed. “I’m cooped up at home every day, so I thought maybe I could take advantage of this time to get to chat with people and soak up some lively energy.”

A spark lit up in Zhu Yingying’s eyes. “We-well maybe a small gathering wouldn’t be so bad… I could invite some friends, and we could have a good, lively get-together.”

Zhu Ming smiled. “And I’d love to have some of those dim sum from the T Hotel.”

Zhu Yingying quickly replied, “Good, good, I’ll call their manager right away.”

Zhu Ming: “No blind dates ha—don’t think about inviting messy people.”

Zhu Yingying pretended not to hear, turned her back to him, happily feeding the rabbit and murmuring, “Jie, let me tell you, even though the flowers have withered, I bought new rose seeds. This time, I swear they’ll bloom beautifully…”

Zhu Ming smiled and shook his head.

Although all six blind dates arranged for Zhu Ming had fallen through, preparing for the birthday party still managed to lift Zhu Yingying’s spirits a bit.

On the morning of her birthday, she dragged Zhu Ming along as she tried on dresses for the event. “Is pink too flashy? I’m really past the age for this color.”

She complained, but the little rabbit hopping happily behind her betrayed her true feelings—she couldn’t be more fond of pink.

Zhu Ming didn’t expose her. “But it seems like the flower chosen for today’s venue is the peonies, and they’re all in soft pink. It’ll match nicely.”

Zhu Yingying pretended to nod her head. “That makes sense. I’ll think about it a bit more.”

The party was held at a luxurious hotel in District Seven, filled with elegant guests, lively chatter, and raised glasses. The hostess, Zhu Yingying, wore a pink gown, radiating grace as she mingled with the guests.

Zhu Ming was also forced to dress up a little

He tried to keep a low profile, opting for a smooth, white silk shirt that highlighted his soft dark hair and delicate jawline. His face still showed traces of his health struggles.

Despite this, his finely crafted features, his eyes that always contained a warm smile, and his dignified posture in the wheelchair gave him the air of a resilient yet beautiful porcelain figure, with only the faintest of cracks on the edges.

As the hostess’s relative, Zhu Ming was obliged to chat with her friends.

It came as no surprise that he received all manner of glances, varied and complex enough to be studied in a psychology journal.

Some of these glances drifted leisurely, almost aimlessly, from Zhu Ming’s face down to his legs; others were unnervingly direct, avoiding his legs altogether as if they feared to linger there.

In fact, none of it sat well with Zhu Ming, but fortunately, he had chatterbox Zhou Zhou by his side, keeping him distracted.

Zhou Zhou: “Wow! Isn’t that Xu Ke’er from District Six? I heard her new drama’s coming out soon—Aunt Zhu’s connections are really wide oh!”

Zhou Zhou again: “OMG, isn’t that guy from District Two? I think he was a former representative from a few years ago. I heard that his hot pot restaurant is supposed to be opening here soon! I can already imagine the crazy line when the time comes.”

And again, Zhou Zhou: “Yi, isn’t that soldier from District One? Hasn’t he been chasing Aunt Zhu for ages? I feel that Aunt Zhu might actually like him too… It’s strange though. With so many suitors over the years, how come Aunt Zhu hasn’t gotten together with any of them?”

As soon as the words fell, they were both silent for a moment.

So many suitors, yet why had Zhu Yingying never truly been with anyone?

—The reason being that he was currently sitting in a wheelchair.

Zhou Zhou trembled slightly, not daring to speak further, his gaze evasive, as though he wished to slap himself.

Zhu Ming sighed lightly. “Zhou Zhou ya, there’s something very important I need you to handle.”

Zhou Zhou became serious. “Tell me, Zhu-ge, it’s my duty to do so!”

“Twelve o’clock from where we are now. See it?”

“Yeah, why? Is it one from Aunt Zhu’s company, or the engineer?”

Zhu Ming: “It’s that dessert table between them.”

Zhou Zhou: “…”

“Take as much as you can,” Zhu Ming patted his shoulder, “and grab a glass of sparkling water. It’s all on you; go quickly and come back soon.”

While waiting for the desserts to arrive, Zhu Ming quietly observed Zhu Yingying chatting with an officer from District One in the corner.

Zhu Yingying’s smile was sweet and shy, and the peony flowers on the dining table weren’t even as sweet as the pink on her cheeks.

Standing beside her was a tall, elegant military officer whose mental manifestation was an Arctic wolf. The wolf, like its master, looked at Zhu Yingying with loyalty and tenderness.

Displaying a spirit manifestation openly in a public setting, especially at a banquet, symbolized an open heart, an absolute gesture of goodwill and trust.

Zhu Ming hoped that Zhu Yingying could have her own life.

But he also understood clearly that in his current condition, where he needed assistance even to manage the simplest step, how could he reassure Zhu Yingying, let alone avoid being a burden in her life?

If there was a marriage agreement…

The thought barely crossed his mind before Zhu Ming shook his head. He wasn’t one to regret his decisions.

Looking away, he felt a slight dizziness and paleness come over him, leaving him amused and helpless.

He was acutely aware that his physical condition wasn’t as good as it used to be but he hadn’t anticipated that such brief socializing would leave him so drained.

Zhu Ming decided to wait for Zhou Zhou to return with food, then quietly slipped away after eating.

En, as long as nothing happens and survive this short period of time—

“Zhu Ming?”

The voice was somewhat familiar.

Zhu Ming’s eyelids flickered slightly, and before he could raise his eyes, a shadow fell over him.

“Aiya,” a sharp, mocking voice sounded in his ear, “it really is our little Professor Zhu ya.”

That title… Zhu Ming sighed inwardly.

Putting on a smile, he looked up. “Professor Xu, it’s been a while.”

---

Author’s Note:

The big peac0ck is urgently getting groomed and dressed up!

---

Jie Jie: Me being generous today, 2 chapters updated!^^

“First, you’ll need to serve as my personal doctor for the next year and treat my illness.”

Xi Xianqing looked directly into Zhu Ming’s eyes, his voice clear and composed. “Of course, in addition, I’ll also provide you with a reasonable salary that meets the highest standards for a doctor in District Seven.”

Zhu Ming’s injury was to his spinal cord, causing both motor and sensory impairments; medically speaking, his lower body shouldn’t have much sensation.

But Xi Xianqing’s words were so astonishing that Zhu Ming felt an unexpected warmth in his legs–as if a medical miracle was on the verge of happening.

“That, Mr. Xi,” Zhu Ming paused, reassessing the person in front of him before cautiously asking, “Do all people from District Six… joke around like this?”

Xi Xianqing: “I’m not joking.”

This time Zhu Ming couldn’t smile.

The man in front of him remained calm and composed, his chin slightly raised in a way that confirmed he wasn’t kidding.

This meant that both his request for a “personal doctor” and his casual mention of “I can marry you” were entirely serious, genuine statements.

Zhu Ming fell into silence, but Xi Xianqing didn’t give him much time to think.

“I genuinely want to make this deal with you.” He looked straight at Zhu Ming. “I’ve heard you’re skilled in researching ailments related to mental manifestations.”

“I have some problems… with my mental body.”

Xi Xianqing’s jaw tightened slightly, and he averted his gaze after a brief pause. “I once sought help from the Mingyi Clinic in District Seven, but they couldn’t treat it. Before I left, their director mentioned your name to me.”

The Mingyi Clinic was one of the top private hospitals in District Seven, with neuroscience as its flagship specialty.

So, it wasn’t for his sister’s sake after all; he had a personal agenda. Zhu Ming mused over this realization.

“What kind of illness?” He couldn’t help but ask curiously. “Actually, you could just message me privately to book an appointment in my livestream queue—you don’t need to go so far as to offer yourself.”

Xi Xianqing: “For personal reasons, I need to keep my condition confidential, so I can’t disclose it to others in a livestream setting.”

Zhu Ming had dealt with plenty of thin-skinned patients and nodded knowingly. “No problem. If you’re embarrassed, you can show me now, privately.”

He thought he was generously offering a back door—after all, he did free consultations during his limited livestream time, which made his sessions extremely popular, often requiring fans to submit requests a week in advance just to get a chance.

But Xi Xianqing didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture.

The air abruptly quieted down, and he still stood straight.

“I’m sorry because we’re meeting for the first time.”

After a long time, Xi Xianqing eventually said, his gaze settling on Zhu Ming, “I can’t choose to trust you without signing a legally binding confidentiality agreement.”

Zhu Ming suspected he was hallucinating: “…?”

From the “dietary safety” comments when he first arrived to now mentioning a “confidentiality agreement,” Zhu Ming finally began to realize that this man was truly sick.

His initial diagnosis was paranoia—severe, even.

“Let me make sure I understand this correctly.”

After pondering for a little while, Zhu Ming asked slowly, “You’ve come to see me for treatment, but you can’t tell me what’s wrong. And I have to sign a confidentiality agreement before you’ll reveal the symptoms?”

Xi Xianqing: “Yes.”

“… May I ask what your profession is? A supermodel or an actor?”

“Jewelry designer.”

It was certainly an elegant and meticulous profession, full of aesthetic appeal.

But still, it wasn’t exactly a high-profile job. What was there to keep secret ah?

For a moment, Zhu Ming was both speechless and curious. Even the most popular actresses in District Six wouldn’t be this strict about privacy, right?

Yet Xi Xianqing seemed oblivious to Zhu Ming’s silence. “My assistant is waiting outside, and I’ve already prepared a draft of the contract. The salary and specific terms can be adjusted based on your requirements.”

Zhu Ming shook his head at him. “My livestream consultations are purely a personal hobby. Money, to me, is merely an external possession.”

Xi Xianqing didn’t seem to be surprised by Zhu Ming’s answer.

He frowned slightly. “That’s why I offered earlier—aside from a consulting fee, I can also provide you with a contract marriage if needed.”

Zhu Ming: “…”

“I’m a person who doesn’t need marriage.”

Xi Xianqing said, gazing down at Zhu Ming. “As you described, I could help you deal with your family and provide companionship and support in the form of a partner.”

“But in exchange, you’ll need to sign the confidentiality agreement and treat my condition,” he added.

Before walking into this… ah, no, rolling in his wheelchair into this restaurant, Zhu Ming hadn’t anticipated that the night would become this absurd.

Inexplicable person.

Unbelievable deal.

But to say he wasn’t tempted would be a lie.

Zhu Ming didn’t desire marriage, but he did need to appear “married” at the moment. Whether to ease Zhu Yingying’s concerns or to avoid other troubles, a nominal marriage seemed like the best solution for his situation.

What truly made his heart itch was a case challenging even District Seven’s top doctors—certainly far more unique than the ordinary mental manifestations he usually encountered. The research potential alone is certainly…

After a few internal struggles, reason finally suppressed his impulse.

Zhu Ming steadied himself. “I can’t agree.”

He noticed Xi Xianqing’s brow furrowing again.

“First, my physical condition is limited, so freely livestreaming is more suitable for me.”

“A personal, live-in doctor…” Zhu Ming savored the phrase. “Sounds a bit like an on-call nanny.”

The air crashed into a near-frozen silence.

“I didn’t mean it like that. “Xi Xianqing said.

Zhu Ming remained unconvinced. “Secondly, I’m not even a licensed doctor. I don’t have professional credentials; I only have some knowledge of mental ailments, which I use to offer basic advice to patients in my livestream.”

“So without actually seeing your mental manifestation, I can’t guarantee I can cure you.”

He continued, “I understand your caution, but a doctor and patient should be honest with each other. If we can’t establish even the most basic trust, any future cooperation would be unpleasant.”

As he spoke, Zhu Ming released his own mental manifestation.

According to Xi Star’s social etiquette, when two strangers first negotiate, one party releasing their mental manifestation is a clear gesture of goodwill.

Out of courtesy, the other party would typically release their own mental manifestation as well, allowing them to connect briefly as a sign of respect.

Zhu Ming’s spiritual body was a white fox with fluffy fur.

It appeared gentle and innocent, with soft, pointed ears and round, jet-black eyes that took on a warm brown hue under the light—much like its owner, projecting a soft, friendly image devoid of any aggression.

Only the fox’s bushy tail, flicking lazily, hinted at a trace of mischief.

Zhu Ming tilted his face up, his voice light and coaxing. “Mr. Xi, you don’t really need to reveal your mental manifestation. Even if… you could just describe the symptoms to me?”

Zhu Ming admitted to himself that he was, at heart, a gossiping sort of person.

Maybe it was an innate human curiosity, or perhaps a medical professional’s intrigue toward complex cases, but he was curious—no, he was dying to know what was wrong with this man’s mental manifestation.

Data suggested that furry mental manifestations held a certain advantage in social interactions. In short, when a kind and soft gesture like this was placed in front of them, it was hard for a normal person to remain indifferent.

But Xi Xianqing seemed to be no ordinary person.

“My assistant is waiting outside,” he repeated, gazing steadily at Zhu Ming, “Sign the contract first, and I’ll show you.”

Zhu Ming smiled. “Show me first, and then we’ll discuss the contract.”

One seated, the other standing, their gazes clashed mid-air, both silently gauging who would be the first to back down.

Since entering the private room, they hadn’t ordered anything. The electronic menu screen remained lit, displaying a holographic salt-crusted roast chicken slowly rotating in silence.

The screen’s power could keep it on indefinitely, but Zhu Ming’s patience had its limits.

He’d waited long enough and wasn’t inclined to drag it out any further.

Zhu Ming’s eyes curved slightly. “I think I understand your point.”

“Send my regards to Miss Xi,” he said politely, bringing their meeting to a close. “It was a pleasure meeting you, but it’s late, and getting around is always a bit more troublesome for me, so I won’t stay any longer.”

The white fox moved lazily from Xi Xianqing’s feet, its tail swaying as it jumped onto Zhu Ming’s lap.

Zhu Ming wheeled himself out of the private room.

He intentionally slowed his pace, allowing Xi Xianqing a few seconds to change his mind and call him back, but Xi Xianqing remained silent, standing still.

The tall, handsome man held his posture with impeccable grace, his poise revealing his good upbringing.

Zhu Ming withdrew his gaze, exited the room, and turned to the waiter with a smile.

“Could you pack up an order of salt-crusted chicken, thanks,” he said.

Carrying the takeout box, he stepped out of the restaurant, pausing to enjoy the evening breeze. When he looked up again, he saw Zhou Zhou running toward him in a fluster.

Zhou Zhou was a warm-hearted and straightforward young man, currently Zhu Ming’s live-in assistant for both his daily life and livestreams.

In the past, when he was at the District Seven Research Institute, Zhu Ming had lived carefreely and nonchalantly.

When the institute awarded him, he didn’t bother to accept the honor; when they transferred money into his account, he didn’t want it, so he casually sponsored a few underprivileged students.

Among them was Zhou Zhou.

Later, when Zhu Ming left the institute, the students who had once flocked around him all avoided him, except for Zhou Zhou, who mumbled in his thick voice, “Zhu-ge, I’m going with you.”

At the time, Zhu Ming was still new to using a wheelchair and unfamiliar with advanced skills like turning or maneuvering.

He tried to wheel past Zhou Zhou’s tall and solid frame for a long time but couldn’t, puzzled, he said, “I’m going home to lay around and be an unemployed hobo, not to enjoy myself somewhere else. What are you coming along for?”

Zhou Zhou stiffened his neck. “I’m going with you.”

Zhu Ming: “…?”

Indeed a righteous child, though a bit shocking.

His mental manifestation was a perpetually nervous-looking roe deer—just watching this pair anxiously cross the street left Zhu Ming feeling on edge himself.

“Zhu-ge!” Zhou Zhou called out breathlessly, waving at him. “I-I’m late!”

Zhu Ming replied, “It’s fine. Push me along, and I’ll eat some chicken.”

“Which district was today’s date from?” Zhou Zhou asked as he took over the wheelchair with practiced ease, pushing Zhu Ming along for a walk. “How’d it end so quickly? Didn’t you even have a bite to eat?”

Zhu Ming pulled a chicken drumstick from the takeout box and handed it to him. “From District Six. Long story.”

They each held a drumstick as Zhu Ming shared the evening’s bizarre encounter in a few short sentences.

Zhou Zhou was dumbfounded. “So he suggested a contract marriage to have you personally treat his mental manifestation? That logic’s both strange and somehow makes sense. But it’s not like we can’t just offer him free treatment ah?”

Zhu Ming shrugged. “I said the same, but the other party is very cautious—he wants a confidentiality contract in place before he’ll show us what’s wrong.”

“Good grief, what job or status does he have to be this careful ah? He really thinks he’s something special.”

Zhou Zhou’s reaction mirrored Zhu Ming’s from half an hour earlier. “Zhu-ge, you did the right thing by refusing. We’re not accustomed to this kind of strange person. You’d think he was a mega-celebrity… Well, I guess it’s typical. District Six, after all.”

The comment did carry a hint of regional bias, though it wasn’t surprising.

District Six and District Seven had the starkest cultural differences, and debates between residents of the two districts were constant online.

For instance, District Six netizens often mocked District Seven users as “bookworms with no sense of romance,” while District Seven was quick to critique District Six for being “flashy but hollow.”

Zhu Ming: “Yeah, he mentioned he’s a jewelry designer.”

As soon as he finished, Zhu Ming lurched forward, almost dropping his drumstick—it was Zhou Zhou who had abruptly stopped pushing his wheelchair.

When he turned back, he saw Zhou Zhou’s eyes darting around in shock as if piecing together some revelation; even the anxious roe deer at his side was wide-eyed, its mouth slightly open.

Zhou Zhou gulped. “J-Jewelry designer? And he wanted you to sign a confidentiality agreement?”

Zhu Ming: “Yes ah.”

Zhou Zhou stammered, “I-is the other party a handsome man?”

Zhu Ming: “En, quite handsome.”

Zhou Zhou: “Does he have the surname Xi? With eyes that look kind of dark green?”

Zhu Ming: “Huh? You-”

Zhou Zhou interrupted in dismay, “Is his name Xi Xianqing?”

Zhu Ming was amazed. “Impressive, kid. Got a lot of connections in District Six ah?”

Zhou Zhou’s chest rose and fell violently, and the nervous roe deer behind him paced restlessly, mirroring his inner turmoil. “Zhu-ge, let me ask you this: who’s the current representative of District Six?”

Now, Zhu Ming was the sort of person: If you asked him about the main pathological changes in Alzheimer’s disease, he would immediately answer with a smile: beta-amyloid plaques and neurofibrillary tangles.

But if you asked him something as basic as this, which even a three-year-old might know, he’d pause for a moment of genuine thought, then openly admit his ignorance. “Can’t remember the name, but wasn’t it some white-bearded grandpa? An architect, right?”

“That famous architect, yeah. Pretty much every building you’d recognize in our district’s downtown was designed by him.”

Zhou Zhou sighed in exasperation. “His name is Xi Jianfeng.”

Zhu Ming suddenly fell silent.

“As a matter of fact, the representative of District Six is always someone with the surname Xi,” Zhou Zhou explained. “Unlike our selection system, they operate on a family inheritance system.”

“Xi Xianqing is… Xi Jianfeng’s grandson.”

Zhou Zhou swallowed. “Which means, the person you just went on a blind date with—and turned down for treatment—was most likely…”

“The next representative of District Six,” Zhu Ming finished thoughtfully.

“How long has it been wilting? What’s the firmness level? At most, how long can it hold up?”

It was six o’clock in the evening, the prime time for live streaming platforms.

Numerous live-streamers covering products, gaming, and food anchors pulled out all the stops, flaunting their unique talents and gimmicks, each one doing their utmost to grab a slice of the massive audience.

Yet, this channel called “Not Famous,” with a plain white avatar, held a steady spot in the top three trending streams every night.

“Don’t act like a stranger; make yourself at home.”

The owner of the live broadcast room’s voice was warm and lazy, his face refined and calm, unaware of how astonishing his words sounded: “Only with enough honesty can I prescribe the right medicine.”

The young man he was speaking to on the other end of the call was already blushing deeply. “I-it’s been wilting for a month, Dr. Zhu… and it barely holds up for very long…”

Zhu Ming: “Show me.”

The young man, barely audible, responded, “Okay… okay.”

Meanwhile, the live chat was brushed with more fervent reactions, stirred by this sensational patient exchange.

“Such daring words—is this something we can watch for free?”

“The Internet is not a place outside the law. Is there no one to control this?”

“Let me see, let me see. What’s going on?”

Just as the content seemed to be heading in an indescribable direction, the young man’s face turned crimson, and behind him, a cluster of trembling green leaves began to appear.

The hazy glow along the edges of the leaves indicated it wasn’t physical but was instead a mental manifestation composed of neuroprotons. The leaves stretched and grew, forming budding flowers, and a hint of bright yellow could be seen at the center.

—A rare sunflower mental body.

Zhu Ming’s eyes lit up slightly.

The young man’s face turned increasingly red, his breathing quickened, and the budding flower quivered as if about to bloom. However, after just a few seconds, the entire sunflower drooped its head, unable to hide its wilted state.

“It can bud but can’t bloom properly. From the time it rises to when it wilts again takes less than ten seconds. The symptoms are quite severe.” Zhu Ming concluded. “Have you had any extreme emotional fluctuations recently? Like a breakup? Family issues?”

The young man was shocked, “How do you know?”

Zhu Ming nodded, “Burst out crying or hunger strike?”

The young man suddenly choked up. “Yes… but I didn’t go on a hunger strike; I just can’t swallow anything… That woman was so heartless, but I still love her so much ah—”

“Wilting leaves in plant-type mental manifestations are usually related to low mood and dehydration.” Zhu Ming steered the conversation back on track, speaking softly. “Resident of District Three?”

The young man dumbly nodded.

Zhu Ming continued, “Cry less, drink more water. District Three has less sunlight in winter, so you should also supplement it with some vitamins. You could travel to District Six or District Four for a few days to get some sun.”

The young man looked as if he had found hope. “Then, do I need medication? Should I go to District Seven to see a doctor? Will I be able to, you know, get it back up again?”

Zhu Ming: “No need for medication. Recuperating for two weeks should help you recover, but if you still can’t after half a month, it’s best to make an appointment in District Seven.”

The young man’s eyes sparkled, and he thanked Zhu Ming repeatedly. Even the drooping sunflower spirit behind him swayed slightly in response.

Zhu Ming’s mouth twitched slightly and hung up the call.

“That’s all for today’s broadcast.” He glanced at the screen’s time. “The day after tomorrow will be a session on marine-type mental manifestations. Anyone interested, remember to submit requests in advance.”

In the chat, one of the longtime followers who knew his personal life asked, “Going on another blind date today?”

“En, blind date,” Zhu Ming replied calmly. “It’s the last one.”

Fans continued to tease him: “After so many dates, Dr. Zhu, aren’t you tired ah? It’s been half a year, right?”

Zhu Ming didn’t mind and replied calmly, “I’m tired, which is why if I meet a good match today, I’m planning to just settle down.”

He turned off the live broadcast.

Checking the time, he saw it was only 6:15. He still had time; the arranged blind date was at 7:30 p.m. However, unlike others, Zhu Ming had to allow himself at least an hour to get ready and leave.

Because he couldn’t walk now.

From childhood to adulthood, Zhu Ming had appeared in the headlines in District Seven twice in his life.

The first was, “District Seven’s first-ever medical exam genius with a perfect score begins mental manifestation medicine research at the Academy of Sciences at only 17.” The second was, “Former perfect-score genius falls into a coma after a car accident, missing this year’s District Seven chief competition.”

Yes, Zhu Ming had been in an accident two years ago, resulting in a spinal cord injury that left him wheelchair-bound.

He took it rather well; after all, once a person is at rock bottom, every step forward is progress.

He hadn’t lost his life or become completely paralyzed, and the injury wasn’t irreversible. His bodily functions were mostly intact, and with slow rehabilitation, he was among the wheelchair users with the highest quality of life. Someday, he might even stand again.

Though he had missed that year’s chief competition in District Seven, and for various reasons had to pause his research, he was blessed with a handsome face. Now, he was treating mental manifestation illnesses online. In short, he drew substantial traffic, and every session was packed.

Some tuned in for the novelty of watching the “former District Seven genius now reduced to treating people in a live broadcast,” while others genuinely sought his help. Either way, what started unintentionally had flourished into a successful streaming career.

Cyber-medical practice was still a small branch of scientific research, and Zhu Ming was quite content with it.

The one person who truly couldn’t accept that Zhu Ming was unable to walk was his aunt, Zhu Yingying.

When he first had the accident, she cried every day. Later, when her tears ran dry, her focus shifted to something else—she began using her connections to find Zhu Ming a partner.

Zhu Ming: “I’m only 27, not about to be buried. Don’t you think this is a bit early?”

Zhu Yingying: “Aiyaya, not too early. You’re home alone every day; I’m afraid you’ll get lonely ah. Having someone to keep you company would be a good thing ya.”

Zhu Ming: “You don’t count as a person?”

Zhu Yingying looked at him pitifully. “Aiyaya, but what if someday I’m not around anymore? Who’ll take care of you then? You—”

She didn’t dare finish, as Zhu Ming had laughed in frustration. When he got agitated, the old wound on his waist flared up, bringing him cold sweats and draining all color from his face.

Zhu Yingying didn’t dare to push any further and held her tongue.

But she started watering the small orange potted plant in the living room more frequently and added hay to the pet rabbit in the cage. It was all quite symbolic—the rabbit represented his mother’s mental manifestation, and the orange tree was her favorite plant when she was alive.

Zhu Ming knew what Zhu Yingying was hinting at: “Your mother is watching over you from above.”

So, six months ago, Zhu Ming had begun going on a series of blind dates.

On the small planet of Xi Star, there were only seven autonomous regions. Zhu Ming’s sole condition was “not to talk about the people of this district.”

One district per month, both men and women, at a rate more frequent than his rehabilitation sessions. Of course, none of them had succeeded; he had covertly sabotaged each one, whether directly or indirectly.

It wasn’t that he didn’t yearn for love, but he couldn’t walk and didn’t want to tie anyone down for life.

He had gone through five blind dates, covering all districts except his own, District Seven, leaving only today’s with someone from District Six.

The blind date was set at a restaurant in District Seven. Zhu Ming left home early and even arrived 15 minutes ahead of time.

Seeing Zhu Ming in a wheelchair, the waitress felt a surge of sympathy and offered to push him.

Zhu Ming politely declined, wheeling himself into the private room and asking for the menu.

The holographic menu screen was clean and convenient, but the images of the dishes looked a bit distorted. Zhu Ming actually wanted a paper menu but held back, afraid that he’d look like a disabled person who specialized in hijacking morals, so he said nothing.

He was lazily rotating the salt-crusted chicken on the screen, studying how many pieces were in the dish, when a shadow fell over him, interrupting his count.

Zhu Ming raised his head.

—At first, he saw people. Lots and lots of people, specifically men in black suits, the kind of bodyguard team one would only expect to see in a TV Drama.

Then his gaze settled on the person in the center, surrounded by the bodyguards.

Zhu Ming pondered for a moment, recalling the sparse information his aunt Zhu Yingying had given him. “Ms…. Xi?”

Since he had started using a wheelchair, Zhu Ming’s line of sight was fixed at a lower angle.

This had shifted his perspective of the world; for instance, his first focus was no longer someone’s face but their chin.

This person had a sharp and prominent jawline with a striking bone structure.

As the person approached, Zhu Ming could see his face more clearly—deep, bold brows and eyes, a straight nose, but a cold light in his gaze, looking in Zhu Ming’s direction with an expression devoid of warmth.

A proud and exceptionally handsome young man.

En, a man, so not Ms. Xi.

“Xi Xianqing,” the man introduced himself indifferently. “Xi Mufei is my sister.”

So that was it.

Zhu Ming’s eyes curved as he extended his hand. “Zhu Ming.”

Xi Xianqing stared at him for a moment before finally taking Zhu Ming’s hand in a brief, light handshake.

Their hands barely touched with empty grips before parting.

The overhead light shifted with their movements, and something glinted from the cuff of Xi Xianqing’s suit sleeve. Focusing his gaze, Zhu Ming saw it was a lustrous white mother-of-pearl cufflink, framed with rose gold.

Attention to detail often reveals one’s innate taste. No wonder he was from District Six—elegant in both name and appearance to the finest degree.

Zhu Ming, dressed in a loose cotton sweatshirt, found the contrast rather amusing.

There was an old saying on Xi Star that summed up each district: “One Military, Two Food, Three Body, Four Recreation, Five Education, Six Aesthetics, Seven Research,” referring to the cultural focus of each of the planet’s seven districts, each practicing autonomous governance.

The “Six Aesthetics” represented District Six, renowned for its connection to aesthetics and design, while “Seven Research” referred to District Seven, home to cutting-edge technology and scientific inquiry.

Zhu Ming was born in the snowy District Seven.

—Scientists and engineers were the pride of his district; the pursuit of ultimate intelligence was most people’s lifelong goal. In District Seven, anyone you ran into had a 50% chance of being a researcher at a university.

In contrast, District Six was located in the rainy, humid western region.

Beautiful surroundings nurtured people who love beauty; District Six prioritized aesthetics and creativity, producing top artists and designers without exception.

Scientists and artists occupied entirely different worlds, and with such vast geographical and cultural differences, the residents of District Six and District Seven were practically from two different realms.

Aside from live streaming, this was also Zhu Ming’s first time interacting with someone from District Six in real life.

Zhu Ming glanced at the door. Apart from the wall of bodyguards, there was only one person outside who looked like a driver or assistant. “So, Ms. Xi herself is…?”

Xi Xianqing: “She’s temporarily unwell and couldn’t make it to today’s meeting.”

Zhu Ming maintained a smile, though he found it odd. If the sister couldn’t make it, why would the younger brother come in her place for the blind date? Was he here to check things out on her behalf?

“I see. No problem, health is always the priority.”

He was still smiling, “By the way, would you like to order something? I noticed their signature dish is salt-crusted chicken. How about we start with that—”

Zhu Ming saw Xi Xianqing’s gaze drift lightly over the menu.

“That won’t be necessary,” Xi Xianqing replied, moving his gaze away the next moment. “Due to dietary safety concerns, I generally avoid eating out.”

Zhu Ming: “?”

Xi Xianqing didn’t give him a moment to react. “Mr. Zhu, are you in a hurry to get married?”

It took Zhu Ming a moment to recover from the shock of the ‘dietary safety concerns.’ “…Yes ah, very much.”

Xi Xianqing frowned. “Even if the other party is someone you’ve never met?”

“I’m not picky. After all, in my situation, I’m hardly expecting the luxury of true love.”

Zhu Ming lowered his gaze, adopting a look of sorrow and regret. “As you can see, I have mobility issues, and my job isn’t stable. So, my aunt’s biggest hope right now is for someone to be there to support and care for me. And my family’s wish is my biggest wish now, so…”

He didn’t say everything outright, but he knew he’d conveyed his point. Any further and it would be overdone.

The previous people he’d met for blind dates had all been scared off like this, and he was confident today’s would be the same. No reasonable younger brother would want his sister to marry a disabled, jobless man who was essentially looking for a caretaker.

Sure enough, Xi Xianqing’s brow remained tightly furrowed, his expression growing colder.

When his patience seemed to finally wear out, he stood up, appearing unwilling to stay a moment longer.

Zhu Ming put on an innocent, bewildered expression, planning to watch Xi Xianqing leave and silently celebrate the failure of his last arranged meeting.

Unexpectedly, Xi Xianqing didn’t head straight for the exit but instead took a few steps closer, stopping right in front of Zhu Ming.

“With my understanding of my sister’s character,” Xi Xianqing said with a slight lift of his chin, “your three views differ vastly from hers. She would never marry someone like you.”

Though unpleasant to hear, he was undoubtedly a qualified younger brother.

Zhu Ming silently praised him in his heart.

“I understand your concerns as her younger brother, Mr. Xiao Xi.”

Zhu Ming feigned regret and spoke gently. “Different values—this was just a blind date, and fate hasn’t arrived yet. I won’t pursue Ms. Xi further.”

Xi Xianqing stopped right before Zhu Ming, they were extremely close at the moment.

Zhu Ming didn’t enjoy communicating with others from this position; after all, he couldn’t stand, he was always forced to look up.

Out of courtesy, though, he still met Xi Xianqing’s gaze—and under the light’s reflection, he noticed the striking green of the young man’s eyes, a deep, gem-like shade exuding a chill, elegant glint.

—But for a fleeting moment, Zhu Ming caught a barely noticeable hint in those eyes—something mixed with a trace of hesitation and… embarrassment.

“But if you want a marriage so desperately.”

He saw Xi Xianqing turn his face slightly away, speaking with calm arrogance, “I can marry you.”

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Author’s Notes:

Hello, everyone! Here are some things to keep in mind while reading:

1. Gong Xi Xianqing X Shou Zhu Ming. The shou’s leg will recover in the later stages, and the gong is a proud, sharp-tongued tsundere with a peac0ck-like attitude—his ego is sky-high, but his words may still be stubborn. Readers who aren’t fond of this bite of treasure, please read with caution.

2. All scientific principles related to mental manifestation in this story are fabricated by the author. I’ll try to make them seem reasonable, but they won’t be entirely realistic.

3. This story [is not suitable for readers with any specific preferences]. If you have a one-sided preference, there’s a [high probability] that you’ll be disappointed, so proceed accordingly. Any conflicts or provocations in the comments will lead to blocking and reporting.

4. The author’s writing skills are quite limited. This story is an attempt to venture beyond my comfort zone in terms of character and plot themes, so please keep your expectations reasonable. Orz

Overall, I wish you all a happy reading ^_^!

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Jie Jie: New project! Similar to the author, this would also be my first time translating a different genre from my usual ones I picked so far. I also haven’t finished reading this, lol. Update: I have already finished reading this. When I first posted this way back, I already read half of the novel’s chapters. So, I can say now that this is just a quick read with enough drama and sweetness! Anyway, hope you like it~

Next chapter will be posted next week! Thanks! :blobsnuggle: