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!^^