Chapter 47 – Qin Shi, Broken Leg and All, Appears at the Door

Before the headline about Qin Shi’s injury popped up, Li Huan‑huan was in the dashboard of her Your Highness the Cat account.

Now that Dongfang Jiao and Aunt Zhao know her identity, she can’t keep pretending. If Qin Shi—Hot‑Pot‑or‑Barbecue—ever learns the cat‑streamer is really her, the tidy line she drew between their worlds will vanish. Better to cut ties clean: post a notice, go on indefinite hiatus, slip back into anonymity.

She finishes typing the announcement when a news alert flashes:

“4 p.m. – Star (Qin Shi) of Team Wolf attacked at a charity ‘Hydro‑Jump’ event, rushed to hospital…”

Injured? She taps in at once: an unidentified assailant, condition unknown, fans crowding the ER.

This twist wasn’t in the novel—or was it? Her memory yields nothing. Panic flickers. The hiatus post can wait; she exits and opens her new chat with Dongfang Jiao… then stops. On what grounds can she ask about Qin Shi?

Outside the streamer identity, what are they? Ex‑blind‑date partners? Casual acquaintances? Everyone at that wedding made it clear they came from different worlds. She chose the road of retreat; she mustn’t turn back now.

She drops the phone and stares out the window beside her radiant white cat as dusk swallows the park. A long, restless night follows.

Morning brings an update: the club says the suspect is in custody, Qin Shi is out of danger, receiving treatment, and public order must be respected. Fans demand harsh punishment; Li Huan‑huan finally exhales—the protagonist aura holds. She publishes the hiatus notice.

Chaos erupts in the comments. People assume she’s sulking over losing “Rookie King.” She posts another lie: just overworked, taking a break. Then logs off.

Days pass. The club announces Qin Shi has been discharged but needs home rest. Fine—end of story.

Until her mother, Su Mei, calls:

“Huan‑huan, can you look after Xiao‑Shi for a while?”

What?! Me?

Qin Shi has a fractured lower leg, full cast, can’t manage alone. He hates hospitals, refuses strangers in his home. His parents are perpetually flying everywhere. Su Mei suggested her daughter: they live across the hall, meals will be delivered; just pop in, lend a hand.

“He came back here?” Li Huan‑huan blurts. She’d assumed he’d stay with family elsewhere.

“Yes,” says Mom. “Sweetie, they’ve helped us before—remember Aunt Zhao drove me to the ER? It’s only neighborly.”

“But Mom, Qin Shi and I ‘broke up.’ It’ll be… awkward.”

“So be friends. You’re not marrying him, just helping.”

Logic falters; adult courtesy wins. Mom hangs up, apparently satisfied. Next, Aunt Zhao phones, effusive with thanks and trust.

Stunned, Li Huan‑huan hears the hallway chime: the meal delivery. Without thinking, she’s at door 149—her apartment—and steps across to 150. The cook aunt stands there with a tiffin carrier.

“I’m a friend,” Li Huan‑huan says. “His leg’s in a cast; I’ll take it in.”

The woman hands it over. Li Huan‑huan takes a breath, recalls the keypad code Dongfang Jiao once gave her, and reaches out—when the door swings open from inside.

Qin Shi stands there, on crutches, casted leg hovering, eyes meeting hers.

She freezes, lunchbox in hand.

And the story—quite literally—picks up from here.