After that brief moment of distraction by the inexplicable sensation in his legs—Lu Jin regained his composure. The spark in his eyes died out, replaced by a familiar, lifeless stillness. He had agreed to accompany Xia Zhen to the hospital, but he had no intention of being the one under the stethoscope.
They arrived early, avoiding the chaotic registration queues [挂号排队 Guàhào páiduì: Hospitals in China are often incredibly crowded, requiring patients to arrive at dawn just to secure a spot with a specialist] of the morning rush. In a quiet corner of the lobby, he parked his chair. “I’ll wait for you here.”
“Then I’ll go register you first.” As Xia Zhen turned to leave, his hand shot out, catching her wrist. She turned back, surprised. “Lu Jin?”
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice laced with a stubborn, defensive edge. “I don’t need a doctor.”
Xia Zhen studied him for a moment, then slowly squatted down so they were eye-to-eye. “Is it because you’ve been disappointed so many times that you’ve decided it’s safer not to have expectations at all?”
Lu Jin looked down at her, the silence between them stretching thin.
When he was eight, after the doctors delivered the finality of his paralysis, his family had been quick to accept the “truth.” He hadn’t. He had spent years obsessively saving every spare coin, pouring his energy into affording a single consultation, only for each high hope to be crushed. Eventually, he learned that hope was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Even if he could “feel” his legs now, what of it? It was likely just a phantom limb sensation—a cruel trick of his mind.
Seeing his withdrawal, Xia Zhen felt a flare of frustration, but she quickly suppressed it. She knew the walls he lived behind weren’t built in a day. Her eyes darted around the lobby, searching for a way through.
Lu Jin knew that look. She was plotting.
Sure enough, Xia Zhen’s eyes widened as she looked past his shoulder. “Teacher Wen? What are you doing here?”
Lu Jin didn’t flinch. He sat like a statue.
An awkward silence filled the air. Xia Zhen’s bottom lip began to tremble, her eyes welling with a look of profound resentment.
Seeing her “sorrow,” Lu Jin finally sighed, a hint of helplessness softening his gaze. He slowly turned his head to look behind him.
Got him. Delight flashed in Xia Zhen’s eyes. She used the distraction to poke his thigh—hard. His hand immediately clamped over hers, his face flushing a deep, sudden red.
“What are you doing?” he hissed, his voice cold but his composure rattled. In his world, a man’s thigh was strictly off-limits, especially to a girl.
Xia Zhen didn’t pull away. She beamed at him. “If you really can’t feel your legs, how did you know I was ‘secretly’ touching you?”
Lu Jin froze, the logic hitting him like a physical blow.
Xia Zhen grabbed both of his hands, shaking them gently to anchor him. “I promise you, Lu Jin, this isn’t your imagination. You can feel them. Even if every doctor in the world says you’re a lost cause, you have to believe yourself this once. They’re wrong. You’re right. Just believe in yourself, okay?”
Lu Jin’s hands trembled. He lowered his eyelids, hiding the storm of emotions brewing within. “Why are you wasting your time on me?”
It was the question that had been eating at him since the moment she sat next to him. He was terrified of the answer. He feared this pampered young lady [大小姐 Dàxiǎojiě] saw him as nothing more than a “curiosity”—a broken toy to be played with until the novelty wore off. His pride wouldn’t survive being a “passing interest.” Yet, having tasted the warmth of her presence, he was deathly afraid of returning to the cold.
Xia Zhen blinked, looking genuinely puzzled. “I’ve made it so obvious… you really haven’t noticed?”
“Noticed what?”
“I have a crush on you.”
Lu Jin’s entire body went rigid. “You… what?”
“I have a crush on you. I like you, so I want to be good to you. Do you understand now?”
Her confession was so blunt, so utterly unbelievable, that Lu Jin wondered if he had finally lost his mind. He stared blankly at her as she continued to chatter away.
“I wanted to keep it a quiet, unassuming secret,” she muttered, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “But then I got worried. What if someone else likes you too? I had to make my move obvious enough so that any rivals would think twice before trying to steal you away from me…”
He listened, dazed. What was she saying? What was there to “secretly love” about a monster in a wheelchair? Who could possibly want to steal him?
Lu Jin felt his throat go dry. Just as he was about to let her sweet words lead him over the edge, a bitter voice inside him screamed: Who could ever love a freak?
His body grew increasingly stiff. He knew he should pull his hands away, that he should stop her “hypocritical” speech, but he lacked the strength to let go. No one had ever held his hand like this. No one had ever spoken to him as if he were someone worth fighting for.
When Xia Zhen finally finished her long-winded plan to “nip his other suitors in the bud,” she looked up and saw him. He looked like he was about to shatter. His eyes were rimmed with red, his lips were bloodless, and his expression was one of total, devastating vulnerability.
“Lu Jin?” she whispered, stunned.
“You’re always doing this,” she scolded gently, though her heart ached. “Keeping everything bottled up, making me guess. Even if I’m a genius, guessing is exhausting! It’s bad for our relationship, you know?”
Lu Jin looked at her helplessly as she leaned in closer, her warm palms cupping his face.
“I just don’t know what to do with you,” she sighed. “Fine. I’m giving you a chance. Tell me. What are you thinking?”
He felt the dark aura of his own insecurity swirling around him. She was too close—a living flame burning away the last of his logic. Finally, he whispered, “Your jokes… they scare me.”
Xia Zhen’s eyes widened. “I just poured my heart out to you, and you think it’s a joke? Am I really such a failure at flirting?”
“No,” he rasped. “I’m the failure.”
He was so deeply insecure that he couldn’t conceive of a world where he was the protagonist of someone’s affection.
Xia Zhen stood up, her face turning solemn. Lu Jin felt a spike of tension. He gripped the hem of his school uniform [校服 Xiàofú] so hard the veins on the back of his hands bulged. He waited for the rejection, for the “just kidding.”
Instead, she bent over and wrapped her arms around him.
Lu Jin’s vision went blurry. He was being held. Truly held.
“Lu Jin…” she whispered into his ear, her voice a soft, warm velvet. “Let me tell you a secret. The very fact that I fell for you at first sight… that makes you the proudest, most enviable man in the world.”
Her voice was quiet, yet the weight of her words was deafening. The fortress he had spent ten years building didn’t just crack—it crumbled into dust.In that instant, Lu Jin felt as if he were drifting through the clouds—light, unsteady, and precariously high. It was a terrifying sensation; the higher he floated, the more he feared the inevitable crash back to the earth.
But above the clouds, there were vistas he had never dared to imagine.
His remaining rationality, a cold and practiced voice in his head, screamed at him not to trust her—at least, not so quickly. What would he do if she abandoned him one day? What could he do?
Xia Zhen felt his body trembling under her touch. She released her embrace and straightened up, looking down at him with narrowed, observant eyes. His face was deathly pale, his mask of composure completely shattered. In that moment, he looked more fragile and vulnerable than a child. His light-colored eyes were wide with a mix of helplessness and panic, as if Xia Zhen weren’t a girl, but some beautiful monster he couldn’t comprehend.
Xia Zhen reached out, her fingers hooking into the corners of his mouth and tugging them upward into a comical, forced grin. She laughed, the sound bright and grounding. “If you don’t know how to react right now, then just smile.”
The skin where she touched him seemed to catch fire. His eyelashes fluttered, and he shifted his gaze, unable to meet her eyes.
“Little girl!” a surprised voice called out from across the lobby.
Xia Zhen turned to see an elderly woman hurrying toward them. She recognized her immediately and offered a warm smile. “Hello, Grandma.”
A young man in a white lab coat followed close behind. “Mom, you know her?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” the woman exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion. “The other day, Chaochao ran into the street and almost got hit. This is the girl who saved him! Look, her injuries haven’t even healed yet!”
Sure enough, the raw abrasions were still visible on Xia Zhen’s knees and palms. The man’s expression shifted to one of profound gratitude. “Thank you so much! If it weren’t for you, my son would be in a hospital bed right now—or worse.”
Xia Zhen beamed, her modesty perfectly pitched. “My teachers always say we should help others. I only did what anyone would do.”
The old woman looked at Xia Zhen with undisguised admiration. In an era of cynicism, such a “kind-hearted young lady” was a rare treasure. “You left so fast that day; I didn’t even get to thank you properly. What brings you here today, dear?” She glanced curiously at the boy in the wheelchair.
“I caught a bit of a cold,” Xia Zhen explained, “but more importantly, I’m accompanying my friend for a check-up.”
The old woman turned to her son. “Here is your chance to repay her! You must take care of them.”
The man nodded vigorously. “My son is the Vice President here,” the woman told Xia Zhen. “Any tests you need, any medicine—it’s all on him. We will cover everything.”
Xia Zhen had been racking her brain for a way to help the financially struggling Lu Jin without bruising his fierce pride. Hearing this, she didn’t hesitate for a second. She nodded and gave a brilliant smile. “Okay! Thank you!”
Her lack of pretension made her even more endearing to the old woman, who quickly had her son lead them through the Green Channel [绿色通道 Lǜsè tōngdào: A fast-track medical service in Chinese hospitals that bypasses standard queues for emergencies or VIPs].
As the wheelchair was pushed forward, Lu Jin’s body remained taut with tension. Xia Zhen leaned down, her breath warm against his ear. “Think of it this way: I did a good deed, and you’re reaping the rewards. But remember, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. You owe me a favor now; you’ll have to pay it back later.”
Hearing her frame it as a “debt” rather than “charity,” his shoulders finally relaxed.
Xia Zhen, worried he was still overthinking, added playfully, “Don’t worry, I won’t use this debt to force you into dating me.”
Strangely, instead of feeling relieved, Lu Jin felt a sudden, sharp tightness in his chest.
Xia Zhen’s diagnosis was simple: a cold brought on by exhaustion and the chill. But Lu Jin’s results were a different story.
The doctor’s expression was grave as he looked over the charts. “Malnutrition is the least of it. His suppressed emotions have placed an immense burden on his nervous system. His body is fragile, and a lack of proper maintenance has led to several hidden ailments.”
Lu Jin wasn’t surprised. He had lived in this breaking body long enough to know its faults. But Xia Zhen leaned forward, her voice urgent. “Can he recover? Will there be permanent damage?”
The Vice President added, “Be thorough, Doctor.”
The doctor flipped through the results, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Scientifically speaking, after ten years of atrophy, irreversible damage is expected. But strangely… his body has shown signs of subtle improvement recently.”
When he reached the final page, the doctor’s eyes widened. He looked at Lu Jin. “You said previous hospitals told you your legs were beyond saving? According to these scans, that’s not true. The bones and nerves were damaged, yes, but there is an active tendency for self-repair occurring right now.”
Lu Jin froze. His heart hammered against his ribs.
“The human body is a miracle,” the doctor continued. “Sometimes, it tells us not to give up through self-healing. With intensive treatment and dedicated rehabilitation…”
Before he could finish, Xia Zhen practically jumped out of her skin. She grabbed Lu Jin’s hand, her smile brighter than a Gacha SSR [SSR: “Specially Super Rare,” the highest tier of characters in mobile games]. “Lu Jin! Did you hear that? You can’t give up! You’re going to stand up!”
Lu Jin didn’t speak. He couldn’t.
Xia Zhen tilted her head, reaching out to touch his lips, but they curved upward on their own first. The boy’s eyes were shimmering, the corners of his lids flushed a faint pink. His handsome face, usually a mask of ice, gained a sudden, radiant color.
Xia Zhen felt a sudden dryness in her throat. Her hand, suspended in mid-air, was gently caught by his.
Xia Zhen, who usually considered herself an “experienced driver” [老司机 Lǎo sījī: Slang for someone who is experienced, often in a flirtatious or worldly sense] in the game of romance, felt her face go up in flames. Oh my god, she thought, he’s actually tempting!
“Are they really just friends?” the doctor whispered to the Vice President.
The Vice President glanced at them and chuckled. “Friends or not, haven’t you ever been through Puberty [青春期 Qīngchūnqī: The ‘Spring’ of youth, often associated with first loves and impulsive emotions]?”
The doctor smiled knowingly. After all, who hasn’t been young and in love?