Chapter 111

The sky was still bright; it was just past noon. But according to Xiang Feiran’s routine, the first thing he did after coming home was always to take a bath.

The caregiver had already filled the bathtub with water and was testing the temperature when Shang Mingbao said, “I’ll help him.”

A person unable to take care of himself reflects his social status and financial standing through his cleanliness and appearance. In this regard, Xiang Feiran would never be shortchanged. After his daily full-body wipe-down, he would undergo a professional two-hour massage for meridian relaxation. However, when he was in the hospital, his hygiene care was never handled by Shang Mingbao, nor did he allow her to be present.

The caregiver paused, then gently said, “Mr. Xiang is a grown man…”

“I’ll try, or I can help you out,” Shang Mingbao interjected.

Being effectively the employer, the caregiver had nothing more to say and nodded in agreement, saying, “I’ll go get the towels.”

Xiang Feiran put down his book, removed his glasses, and slowly moved his electric wheelchair toward the bathroom. Seeing Shang Mingbao inside with her shirt sleeves rolled up, he froze for a moment.

Shang Mingbao looked up from her lowered gaze and took two steps toward the door. “Today, I’ll help you bathe.”

Xiang Feiran turned his face slightly toward the door, his expression calm. “Get out.”

But Shang Mingbao ignored him and leaned down to unbutton his shirt. “My legs are here; you can’t get rid of me.”

Xiang Feiran grabbed her hand, stopping her motion. He didn’t use much force, but the rejection was unmistakable. He spoke softly, “Babe, I don’t want you to see me like this.”

He had been frail for a long time, his body no longer as pleasing as it once was, and the mottled scars on his skin had yet to fade.

A hint of anger appeared on Shang Mingbao’s otherwise expressionless face. “Xiang Feiran, you’re more concerned about appearances than I am.”

Several buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing his shoulders, chest, and the scars on his back. Half a year had passed, and they had faded, but his body’s ability to heal while in a coma had been compromised. Shang Mingbao wrapped her arms around Xiang Feiran’s neck, her head drooping weakly, her fingers trembling as she continued to unbutton his shirt, only to have her hands caught by Xiang Feiran.

“Don’t be sad,” he murmured, trying to comfort her.

The caregiver had been standing quietly at the doorway for a while, not wanting to intrude.

In the end, Shang Mingbao didn’t stay inside. When she came out, she looked dejected, but her lips were flushed, clearly having been kissed for some time to console her.

The bathroom was filled with steam, and after the sound of the shower stopped, there was the splashing of water in the bathtub. The water had been infused with medicinal herbs to help with blood circulation and meridian regulation. Xiang Feiran’s arms rested on the edge of the porcelain white bathtub, his eyes closed, his face full of restraint. In the past, he would never have had the patience for a long bath, but now he wanted to recover so badly that he wouldn’t refuse anything that could help.

After his bath and blow-drying his hair, he changed clothes and made a voice call to Xiang Lianqiao. He didn’t use a video call because Xiang Lianqiao knew this house well, and it would be easy to notice something was off.

He said he would need to stay in New Caledonia for several more months, perhaps half a year. Once he had some free time in a few days, he would make a video call.

Xiang Lianqiao stroked the soft leather of his office chair’s armrest and kept repeating, “Okay, okay, okay…”

The assistant entered after a while and found the elderly man staring at the acacia tree outside the window. It was unclear what book he had been reading, but his aged, clear eyes couldn’t hide their redness.

The quietest time of the summer afternoon was around three or four o’clock, with only the long, lingering sound of cicadas in the flame trees outside the courtyard. Xiang Feiran sat on the sofa, holding several academic papers by PhD students from his research group over the past six months. As he read, his brows furrowed more and more. If it weren’t for fear of startling people by suddenly “coming back to life,” he would have definitely wanted to hold a conference call.

Shang Mingbao did nothing but sit nearby and watch him.

After a long time, Xiang Feiran lifted his gaze slightly from the paper. “Find something to do.”

Shang Mingbao replied, “I am doing something—watching you.”

The stack of papers, filled with various charts, made a faint rustling sound in Xiang Feiran’s palm as they crumpled.

His expression remained calm. After reading a few more lines intently, he set the papers down.

Shang Mingbao blinked. “Am I disturbing you?”

No way; she hadn’t even said anything, just breathed.

“Come here.”

Following his words, Shang Mingbao moved closer, and Xiang Feiran raised an arm to pull her into his embrace. “Alright, no more noise now.”

Shang Mingbao protested, lifting her head, “I wasn’t even making noise—mmm!”

Her words were muffled by his hand.

His palm still carried the scent of the medicinal herbs from earlier—a soothing and comforting aroma.

Patients don’t have a nightlife; after dinner, it’s time for a walk along the community path to relax and then wash up and go to bed. Dusk had just fallen, and a jogger with a high ponytail passed by, repeatedly looking back at the person in the wheelchair, finding him familiar but unable to recall where she’d seen him.

All the rooms in the villa were cleaned up. Shang Mingbao hugged her pillow and nudged her shoes with her toes. “Should I sleep in the guest room, or here?”

Though she often squeezed into his bed during the last week in the hospital, that was under the guise of being a caregiver. Now that he had been discharged…

Xiang Feiran reflected briefly, “Was my restless sleep bothering you?”

He remembered that she was a light sleeper, swearing to find a quiet husband to sleep next to. Xiang Feiran usually slept well, but in his condition, he had more dreams and woke easily. Turning over was difficult, inevitably disturbing her.

Shang Mingbao immediately shook her head. “No!” Then she muttered under her breath, “I thought you wouldn’t want…”

To share a bed, there had to be a legitimate reason, right? Being a caregiver was a valid excuse, but what about now?

Shang Mingbao put the pillow back, lifted the blanket, and knelt on the bed. “The doctor said you need to go to bed early.”

It was only eight o’clock.

But he had been awake for a long time today and had been busy, so his mind was already tired. Xiang Feiran took off his glasses and turned off the bedside lamp on his side. Suddenly, he realized—it’s so early, Shang Mingbao surely wouldn’t be able to sleep but had to lie there with him.

He changed his mind. “Why don’t you sleep in the guest room?”

Shang Mingbao pouted unhappily, drawing out her tone, “Oh.”

She seemed ready to retreat, but Xiang Feiran’s hand clasped the back of her head. “No goodnight kiss?”

Shang Mingbao felt like something in his mind had indeed changed… She bit her lip and said, “How about I give you a head massage?”

When they used to go on field trips, after returning to the tent at night, it was always Xiang Feiran who massaged her. She secretly learned a bit and even consulted a doctor over the past half month.

Shang Mingbao dimmed the lights and placed her fingertips on his head, pausing for a moment before applying a gentle pressure. Xiang Feiran closed his eyes, his brow bones and facial features sharp as a sculpture under the dim light. Her skills weren’t great, but he knew to keep quiet.

Before long, her movements became increasingly light, showing her distraction. Xiang Feiran thought she was tired. He opened his eyes and unexpectedly found Shang Mingbao’s face very close to his.

“…”

Shang Mingbao felt a wave of embarrassment from being caught in the act. She pressed her lips together tightly. After a moment of eye contact, Xiang Feiran grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her without saying a word.

Recently, they had found the most comfortable position for kissing: kneeling with her knees apart on either side of him, her hands propped on the headboard. This way, she wouldn’t press down on him, and they wouldn’t need to rest for two hours after just a few minutes of kissing.

But now, in the middle of their kiss, Xiang Feiran took hold of one of her wrists and clearly guided her hand to his neck.

When her fingertips brushed against his Adam’s apple, Shang Mingbao felt as if her whole body was weightless, her heartbeat skipping fiercely.

“Shouldn’t you also adjust your routine?” Xiang Feiran’s voice was tinged with a huskiness that didn’t belong to him.

Shang Mingbao couldn’t leave. He supported her by the waist and said, “Go turn off the light.”

The glass lampshade’s light flickered out, and with the curtains left open, the room filled with moonlight in the darkness.

Amid the rustling sound of clothes, Shang Mingbao slipped under the blanket, resting her head on Xiang Feiran’s arm. Her hand followed the muscular contours under his T-shirt, from his waist up to his back. She knew he had lost weight, so she hugged him tighter, leaned into him, her neck tilted to meet his lips and tongue’s possession.

This unconventional method of rehabilitation proved to be quite effective.

This place was far wider than a hospital bed; many things they wanted to do could now be tried out.

Shang Mingbao, feeling a bit lightheaded from a lack of oxygen, pulled her lips away slightly, listening to the sound of his Adam’s apple swallowing and his heavy breathing.

“When you told me that day to wait for you to come back, what else was there?” she asked softly, pretending to be nonchalant as she caught her breath.

She had wanted to ask for a long time, but he had just woken up, and the cold dread of nightmares hadn’t faded. The rehabilitation process was tedious, and he was only alert for three or four hours each day. It was hard for him to talk, and she couldn’t bear to force him to discuss such serious matters.

“Baby.”

“Huh?”

“After that comes ‘baby.’”

Shang Mingbao’s heart tightened. “I didn’t receive it.”

“I didn’t send it.”

For nothing.

“Why didn’t you send it?” Shang Mingbao asked angrily.

“Because I wanted to say it face to face.” Xiang Feiran recalled that night. “I saw you were still typing, but the signal was already lost, so I had to go out to find a satellite signal to call you back. Later…”

The rain was so heavy, drowning out the rumble of the mountains and the river upstream. Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, he wasn’t buried by landslides at the center of the disaster but was instead swept away by the aftershock. In the few seconds before the disaster struck, the danger alarm in Xiang Feiran’s mind had reached its peak, but human ability in the face of nature is so small. The only thing he could do was protect his head and assume the position that would take the least impact.

“Don’t say it—” Shang Mingbao pressed her finger against his lips. “Don’t think about it anymore. Forget it, just forget it all.”

“Okay.” Xiang Feiran kissed her palm. “I won’t ever let you worry again.”

He had a strong constitution and recovered quickly, his body temperature much higher than that of someone who had been ill for a long time. Shang Mingbao, wrapped in his embrace, began to sweat, smelling the faint medicinal scent on him. After a while, she asked, “What is our relationship now?”

Xiang Feiran: “?”

“We’ve kissed, hugged, and slept so close…”

“We’ve kissed, hugged.” Xiang Feiran squinted and asked, “What do you think our relationship is?”

Shang Mingbao already had an answer in her heart and answered seriously, “I gave you my answer long ago; it’s you who hasn’t given me yours. What if you’ve just had a brush with death and find everyone friendly…”

What kind of mind would find things so friendly that it leads to the bed?

“Shang Mingbao,” Xiang Feiran called her softly and paused for a moment. “What kept me alive and waking up was you. It’s because I still want to love you, to keep seeing you, kissing you, being with you. So I couldn’t bear to die. Thinking of you still loving me, waiting for me, I didn’t dare to die. I almost gave up, thinking that if I ended it all, it might be a lesser pain for you.”

That night was dangerous, and although Suining was shouting desperately for his soul, he didn’t hear it. It wasn’t that he believed he could survive this and wake up again, but he believed that without him, Shang Mingbao wouldn’t live well.

Shang Mingbao’s eyes grew warm. She felt so complete, yet there was still a tiny gap in her heart.

“Is it… these things that made you realize?”

As soon as she said this, she regretted it.

She was overthinking it. Realizations born from life and death, were they not realizations? The love that is awakened between life and death, is it not refined love? How many people’s love fails to survive the trials of sickness and hardship, living their whole lives under a routine marriage vow, while they had made it through…

She shouldn’t have overthought it.

“No.” Xiang Feiran tightened his arms, his smile barely visible. “Are you stupid? Didn’t I already tell you before the coma to wait for me to come back? I met a monk who knew Tibetan, and he told me,” he paused, clearly hearing Shang Mingbao’s held breath, “some people, when they were nineteen, presumptuously called themselves ‘Ajia’ in my WeChat.”

Shang Mingbao felt like she wanted to escape from the heat: “I don’t know what you’re talking about… What does ‘Ajia on the good’ mean…”

But Xiang Feiran’s arm remained unmoving, his eyes illuminated by the streetlight, gazing at her with a starry, cold, and resolute intensity: “Be my girlfriend.”

Shang Mingbao’s body felt as if it was frozen in place, her ear touched by Xiang Feiran’s hot breath.

“Is that okay?” he asked softly again.

“…”

“Your leg will get better. The other functions should be fine too. You’ve seen all the check-up reports and images.”

Shang Mingbao pouted: “I wasn’t concerned about that…”

Xiang Feiran couldn’t help but smile, leaning in to kiss her. He was unleashing his charm, and Shang Mingbao was defenseless, her body soft as the green silk of early spring, the buttons of her collar undone one by one.

“You can’t…” Shang Mingbao weakly tried to stop him.

“Right now, I indeed can’t,” Xiang Feiran said with remarkable calmness.

“…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Aren’t men supposed to avoid saying they can’t?” Shang Mingbao was almost impressed by his calmness.

“That’s a man who really can’t.”

“…”

He was indeed not “unable,” but “not allowed.” Shang Mingbao was afraid to kneel, worried about bumping into something stimulating but unsatisfying.

To avoid her talking more, Xiang Feiran’s kiss moved from her earlobe back to her lips, lingering and tenderly sucking for a long time.

It was maddening. Just a courtyard away, cars passed by on the road, and there were dog barks—at 8:30, it was the peak time for people to come home and walk their dogs, making the sounds in this room feel quite guilty.

Xiang Feiran’s legs needed months of systematic rehabilitation to recover; they were not yet able to support him in turning over on his own. While chatting and kissing just now, he had to lie sideways and half on his body, reaching his limit. When he stopped kissing, he rubbed his knuckles against Shang Mingbao’s cheek, his gaze slightly hazy in the dim light.

“Come on top.”

Shang Mingbao felt dry-mouthed, obediently spreading her knees and sitting down, bending forward, letting her loose collar fall down.

Her black hair cascaded down, pushed behind her ears by Xiang Feiran. He gazed at her with such fascination, his muted breath carrying a husky tone: “Call me.”

Shang Mingbao’s soft lips brushed against his ear: “Xiang Feiran.”

“And?”

“Feiran-ge.”

“And?”

“Teacher Xiang.”

Xiang Feiran seemed to smile slightly, not asking for more, but inexplicably asked: “Shouldn’t your hands be rehabilitated too?”

Hearing his cold, hoarse question, Shang Mingbao felt a buzzing in her head, spreading from her heels to the top of her head.

“N-No, that’s not necessary…” She stuttered, feeling as if she were burning, “It seems pretty normal…”

A faint, almost sighing sound fell near her ear: “Really?”

Shang Mingbao couldn’t speak, closing her eyes, her beautiful, delicate brows knitted as if enduring something, her face flushed red as she buried it in his neck.

People with weak bodies have skin on their fingertips that wrinkles more easily. Xiang Feiran, kissing her earlobe, felt a slight, awkward resistance and chuckled softly: “Well, it’s been two years.”

Shang Mingbao hit him, but he rubbed away all her strength with his damp palm.