“Is that so ah.”

Dr. Wu didn’t seem too puzzled by the answer. She simply nodded before her tone suddenly shifted. “Then I have to say something to you. During the previous rehab sessions, why didn’t you accompany him? As a family member, don’t you think that’s a bit irresponsible?”

Xi Xianqing, who was suddenly scolded out of nowhere: “…”

Zhu Ming almost laughed out loud.

This pot really shouldn’t be carried by Xi Xianqing. Zhu Ming raised a hand, lightly tugging at Xi Xianqing’s sleeve as if to soothe him. “He was busy with work before. Alright, Dr. Wu, since someone has already made the decision for me, I’ll listen to you and give it one last try.”

Dr. Wu, familiar with Zhu Ming’s personality, was surprised by his trust in Xi Xianqing. “Alright, then I’ll have someone prepare the medication for you.”

“One infusion session will take quite some time. You really don’t need to stay here with me.”

After Dr. Wu left, Zhu Ming was still trying to persuade Xi Xianqing to leave, attempting to coax him. “I’ve promised you, so I’ll obediently finish the infusion. I won’t run off.”

Xi Xianqing didn’t believe a single word. “It won’t take long.”

“Adverse reactions can’t be that simple.”

Zhu Ming continued to scare him. “For all you know, I might break out in a full-body rash or vomit all over your expensive coat. You still have time to leave now.”

Xi Xianqing stared at him expressionlessly.

Zhu Ming thought about his own words for a moment and realized how gross it sounded. Feeling bored, he lay back down on the hospital bed.

A while later, a little nurse came in with a cart and an IV drip. She helped with the infusion.

For someone who had just been loudly complaining about walking a few steps, Zhu Ming was surprisingly calm and silent when the sharp needle pierced his skin. It wasn’t because of anything else; it was just that, after essentially living in the hospital for the past year, he had grown entirely used to it.

The cold medicine slowly flowed through his veins, making Zhu Ming feel a bit chilly. As he huddled up, staring absentmindedly at the IV bottle, he suddenly felt a warmth envelop him–

He looked down, “This is…?”

Xi Xianqing had his back to him and was closing the window, so he couldn’t see the expression on his face.

“An expensive coat,” he said in an indifferent tone. “Be careful when you throw up later.”

Zhu Ming’s lips twitched. He was indeed cold, so he didn’t refuse. Instead, he shamelessly buried his face into the coat’s collar.

There was no dramatic vomiting as he’d joked about earlier—adverse reactions to most medications didn’t show up that quickly. However, the medication’s effects, combined with the exhaustion from his earlier rehabilitation session, left Zhu Ming feeling drowsy. His eyelids grew heavier despite his efforts to stay awake.

Though instinctively, he didn’t want Xi Xianqing to see him looking too frail. Forcing himself to stay alert, he said, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Dish Soap.”

Xi Xianqing heard the hint in his words and raised his eyes, “This is a public place.”

Zhu Ming said with a straight face, “But the door to the ward is closed. Besides, as a responsible doctor, I need to conduct regular, thorough check-ups.”

“…I just took pictures last night to show you.”

“Seeing it with my own eyes is entirely different from seeing it in a picture, don’t you think?”

Xi Xianqing, sitting at the bedside, remained silent for a long time, clearly unwilling to entertain him.

But in the next moment, the familiar, glowing green neurotic proton particle disease slowly coalesced beside the bed, a sign that Xi Xianqing had ultimately given in.

Supporting his head with his non-IV hand, Zhu Ming leaned lazily against the headboard, smiling as he greeted the large peac0ck. “Long time no see ya, Dish Soap.”

The green peac0ck stared at him with its beady eyes, maintaining its usual proud, elegant posture.

Zhu Ming extended a hand, attempting to poke the feathers on his neck from afar. However, his fingers merely passed through the intangible neurotic proton particles, leaving him grasping at empty air.

Zhu Ming sighed regretfully. “If I’d known we’d meet today, I would’ve brought my sensory gloves. It’s just not the same unless I can touch it myself.”

Xi Xianqing glanced at Zhu Ming’s restless hand before averting his gaze. “You’re hooked up to an IV. Stop fidgeting so much.”

Zhu Ming stopped moving his hand, but he remained sprawled on the bed, whispering softly to the peac0ck. “Hmm, your feathers look great. In a couple of days, once my medicine is ready, you’d better perform well for me…”

While Zhu Ming’s interaction with the peac0ck was in full swing, Xi Xianqing remained silent, watching the steady drip of the medication in the IV tube.

After a while, he couldn’t help but ask, “Your leg, how did the accident happen?”

The person who had been chattering non-stop just moments ago fell silent.

When Xi Xianqing turned his head, he saw Zhu Ming curled up at the bed, his eyes closed, eyelashes resting peacefully against his cheeks, fluttering gently with the rhythm of his breathing.

He had fallen asleep—one hand still clutching the collar of Xi Xianqing’s coat, while the other hung off the side of the bed in the same position it had been in when interacting with the peac0ck. The tip of his index finger hovered just above the edge of the peac0ck’s tail feathers, mere millimeters away from touching it.

Xi Xianqing rarely revealed his spiritual manifestation in public. Even in the privacy of his home in District Six, he only allowed it out sparingly.

Although the peac0ck’s inability to spread its tail wasn’t an issue visible at first glance, there were servants and bodyguards at home, and the more people there were, the more likely rumors could spread. He wouldn’t risk even the slightest chance of exposure.

At that moment, the hospital room door was only ajar. Someone could walk in at any second.

Xi Xianqing’s eyes moved away from the sleeping person on the bed.

In the end, he didn’t retract the large peac0ck standing at his feet.

Zhu Ming had rarely slept so peacefully.

There were no fragmented nightmares of the accident, no nerve pain in his limbs, and no cold sweats to jolt him awake. When he opened his eyes, he felt completely refreshed, as if his body had never been lighter.

However, the moment he woke, Zhu Ming turned his head, saw the bright sky outside, and fell into deep thought.

Zhu Ming: “…Ah?”

His first reaction was to wonder if the sedative component of the medication was unusually potent. How else could he have slept straight through to the next day? How did this even pass clinical testing? He should probably report this to Dr. Wu immediately.

But a chill ran down his spine as he took a closer look at his surroundings.

First of all, this wasn’t his house.

Because his place could never look so… opulent. The bedside table held an expensive porcelain vase filled with fresh flowers, an oil painting framed in intricately carved classic wood hung on the wall, and the floor was covered with a large wool rug adorned with tasseled edges—edges that would almost certainly snag on his wheelchair.

These were all impossible to appear in his daily living environment.

Zhu Ming pondered for a moment and once again turned his head to look out the window.

Outside, the leaves of the trees were round and flat, adorned with pale yellow, plump flowers in full bloom. Zhu Ming recognized the plant—it was called Qingyue Flower, a member of the oleander family.

He had only ever seen Qingyue Flowers in the greenhouse of the District Seven Ecological Museum. Not only were they exorbitantly expensive, but these delicate tropical plants also required a humid and rainy climate to survive, making it impossible for them to grow in the snow-covered landscape of District Seven.

Based on this, Zhu Ming deduced that he was likely in a rainy western region.

For instance… District Six.

The only connection he had to District Six was one person. Zhu Ming took a deep breath and tentatively called out toward the door, “Xi Xianqing?”

There was no response.

Fortunately, his wheelchair was right beside the bed. With some effort, Zhu Ming got up, using his arms to shift his body into the wheelchair. Carefully avoiding the tasseled edges of the rug, he moved cautiously toward the room’s exit.

The hallway was empty, with its marble floors gleaming in a way that exuded luxury. Zhu Yingying’s villa in District Seven was already considered extravagant, but this mansion, with its vast spaces and opulent décor, was so over-the-top that Zhu Ming began to wonder if he was wandering through a palace.

Just as he started to think he might get completely lost, he finally encountered another person.

To be precise, a woman with delicate features and a tranquil aura.

She was wearing a long, lavender gauze dress, her hair loosely pinned up, and she was sitting barefoot on a windowsill, holding a pencil as she bent over a notebook, sketching something.

Zhu Ming noticed that she wore a bracelet of arranged pearls on her wrist, with a beautifully cut pale pink gemstone dangling from it—a gem so exquisite and valuable that its worth was immediately apparent.

The gemstone’s gentle, luminous glow complemented her calm demeanor perfectly.

For most people, wearing such an expensive bracelet would make them afraid to even breathe the lightest, but the woman casually worked the pencil against the rough paper, completely indifferent to the friction between it and the gem.

When Zhu Ming had woken up earlier, he had guessed that he might be in Xi Xianqing’s home. However, as he observed the woman, her demeanor made her seem more like the mistress of this grand mansion.

Still groggy from sleep, Zhu Ming struggled to make sense of his surroundings. Hesitantly, he asked, “Excuse me, do you know Xi Xianqing?”

The woman seemed to sense something. She turned her head toward him, her expression one of mild confusion.

Then Zhu Ming saw that her eyes widened as if in some surprise.

Zhu Ming felt that something was wrong, but he couldn’t tell.

The woman gave a gentle, bashful smile, tucking her hair behind her ear as she raised a hand to point to it. She shook her head somewhat embarrassedly towards Zhu Ming.

Finally, she opened her mouth, “I… can’t hear you clearly. Could you… speak a bit slower?”

Although her words were somewhat intelligible, her enunciation was extremely unclear.

Zhu Ming reacted at once.

She was a hearing-impaired person.

Judging by the extent of her speech impediment, it was likely congenital deafness, as she must have lost her hearing before developing her language skills.

A subtle tremor ran through Zhu Ming’s chest. He slowed his speech, carefully enunciating his words to make his lip movements easier to read. “I was asking… if you know where Xi Xianqing is—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, as his gaze fell on the space behind the woman.

He saw her spiritual manifestation: a peac0ck.

But it wasn’t the familiar, prideful green peac0ck he knew. This was a female white peac0ck, her feathers shorter and rounder, her posture gentler and more approachable.

The white peac0ck shared the same round, beady eyes and an elegant fan-shaped crest atop its head, but lacked the green peac0ck’s aristocratic, flowing tail feathers. Its demeanor was lighter, livelier, and carried a playful energy.

Zhu Ming, who had been groggy until now, was instantly alert. His eyes widened. “You must be—”

At the same time, footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway. Zhu Ming paused, instinctively turning toward the sound.

The woman, though unable to hear the approaching footsteps, noticed the change in Zhu Ming’s expression.

Realizing something, she pursed her lips, her face falling into a guilty pout like a child caught misbehaving. Then, with a pitiful expression, she turned around.

“Xi Mufei, the publisher said that you’re dragging out your manuscript again this month.”

At the end of the corridor, Xi Xianqing’s face was devoid of expression. He raised a hand and signed fluently in practiced sign language as he addressed the woman: “The editor just called me. You’d better give me an explanation right now.”

Author’s Note:

En, one can’t walk, one can’t hear, and the other seems fine—except the feathers on his butt can’t get up.