SDVPP Chapter 58

Chi Han was afraid that the temperature at night would be too low and freeze the puppy, so he went to the storage room, found a small heater, and secured it inside the box. Then he stuffed the puppy inside along with its soft cushion.

The little puppy had been cold and hungry for more than half the day. Now, finally settling down, it lay on the warm, soft pillow. It lazily let out a yawn and, with half-lidded eyes, quickly drifted off to sleep.

Chi Han reached out and turned off the light. The surroundings instantly went dark, with only a few floor lamps in the corners of the room glowing faintly and hazily.

Those had been specially bought and placed there by Rong Xu, saying he was worried that Chi Han might bump into things when he got up at night.

But Rong Xu himself had sat alone in a wheelchair for many years, with no one ever leaving a lamp on for him.

Chi Han instinctively wanted to go talk to Rong Xu, but when he got to the doorway, he hesitated and backed off.

Forget it. It’s too late now. Rong Xu had a long day and might already be asleep. Whatever needs to be said can wait until tomorrow.

Chi Han squatted by the door, racking his brain for a long time, and finally found a completely nonsensical excuse for himself, then went back to his room and lay down.

The class group chat on his phone was buzzing with activity. Everyone was enthusiastically uploading photos from the dinner gathering.

Naturally, the one who appeared the most was the campus belle from the neighboring school, Song Yao.

The guys who hadn’t been able to attend the dinner were wailing like crazy, flooding the chat, all tagging the people who posted the pictures and asking if they had the goddess’s contact info.

After taking a shower, Chi Han came out to see that the group messages had already surpassed 99+. With the flood of endless onomatopoeias, anyone who didn’t know better would think it was a group of apes.

“Childish. A bunch of little brats.”

As a corporate slave more evolved than the primates, Chi Han made a rather disdainful remark.

While drying his hair, he casually scrolled up through the messages and only then noticed—there was a photo of Rong Xu in there.

In the photo, Rong Xu had one hand loosely resting on the car window, his head slightly turned as he looked at something outside. Though the lights outside the clubhouse were bright and dazzling, all they managed to reflect in his eyes was an intense, inky blackness.

The photo itself wasn’t particularly good—parts of the background were even blurred into ghostly smears.

But Chi Han just couldn’t look away.

Not only did he zoom in to look more closely, but he stared at it for a full ten minutes. And not only did he stare for ten minutes, but he also ended up saving the photo.

The group chat was moving too fast. Most people’s attention was still focused on Song Yao.

Chi Han scrolled for a long time but couldn’t find a second photo of Rong Xu. Feeling somewhat disappointed, he tossed his phone aside—only to pick it up again after a while, unwilling to give up, intending to tag the classmate who had posted the photo.

Unfortunately, that classmate had just taken the shot on a whim and didn’t have any others.

Chi Han lay flat on the bed, his mind filled with the expression in Rong Xu’s eyes from that photo.

Why was it that in this world, someone could stir his heart so deeply with just a single glance?

Other than Rong Xu, no one else could do that.

Chi Han placed a hand over his eyes, his mind a complete mess.

He decided to do something to calm himself down.

Since Rong Xu had been acting off lately, he had to figure out the reason. If both of them kept bottling things up, just how long were they planning to stay stuck in this awkward silence?

As a mature and rational adult, he decided he would be the one to initiate a conversation, talk it out properly.

It wasn’t like it was the first time, anyway.

As if something had finally clicked, Chi Han suddenly felt a wave of clarity wash over him, and his expression also eased noticeably.

But to start a conversation, you always need an excuse.

Chi Han thought it over, planning to begin with something polite before getting to the real point.

Chi Han: [photo.jpg]

Chi Han: Are you still awake? Just saw this photo of you in the group chat and thought it looked pretty good—sending it to you to have a look.

Five minutes passed after the message was sent, and still no response from the other side.

The chat window displayed those two lonely lines. Chi Han sat cross-legged with arms folded, staring seriously at the phone lying on the bed, fiercely debating between two possibilities: “Rong Xu is asleep” vs. “Rong Xu is awake but doesn’t want to reply.”

……

Outside the window, the rain showed no sign of stopping.

Rong Xu despised rainy nights like this. The noisy sound of it all only made one’s mind more restless.

He stared coldly out the window. Raindrops streamed down the glass, damp and endless, as if someone out there was crying nonstop.

With a soft mechanical hum, the heavy curtains slowly closed along the rails, shutting out the moisture and everything beyond.

But the moment the world quieted down, unwelcome thoughts began surging up again, flooding in layers, suffocatingly thick.

Rong Xu turned his wheelchair toward the full-length mirror by the bed, scrutinizing the reflection within.

Lifeless.

He reached out to touch the mirror, coldness instantly wrapped around his fingertips.

Is this the person Chi Han faces every day?

Uncontrollably, the image of that photo on Chi Han’s phone surfaced in Rong Xu’s mind—the one of Song Yao, the girl in the picture laughing so brightly and boldly.

Rong Xu clutched the blanket over his legs tightly, a piercing chill spreading through his body.

“Chi Han…”

Leaning sideways against the armrest, he murmured the name in a low whisper, the kind that only slips out when the pain is so deep it numbs the mind.

Just one word—and Rong Xu’s teeth were already sinking into his lower lip.

If only he could stand…

Rong Xu slowly opened his eyes. He had never believed in gods or deities, but at this moment, he desperately wished that some divine being out there could hear his prayer.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when, amid the silence, the sharp ring of the phone suddenly broke through.

Rong Xu turned his head toward the phone on the table. His heart suddenly skipped two strong, urgent beats—somehow, he sensed something.

The moment he answered the call, his assistant’s voice came through, barely able to contain the excitement:

“Just now, we got word from the overseas team. There’s hope for your legs! Delrian Hospital looked over your test results and is willing to perform a reconstructive surgery.”

Rong Xu’s eyes trembled faintly, and he accidentally knocked over a pen beside him.

He hurriedly picked it up, drew in a quiet breath, and asked in his usual calm tone, “Did they say… what’s the success rate of the surgery?”

The assistant paused for a moment, then replied in a measured voice, “If we use the medical equipment we purchased earlier… the success rate might reach fifty percent. This is already the highest probability among all the hospitals we’ve consulted.”

Fifty percent.

Rong Xu closed his eyes, his expression now utterly devoid of any emotion.

He gave a slight nod. “How long will the recovery period be?”

“One year.”

The phone line instantly fell into silence. Just as the assistant couldn’t hold back anymore and was about to say something, Rong Xu’s distinctively cool voice sounded again.

“Alright. Then go ahead and arrange the hospitalization as soon as possible.”

……

It wasn’t until the call ended that the overwhelming sense of suffocation finally came crashing down.

Rong Xu lowered his gaze to his own legs.

The phone on the table vibrated twice on its own, and the screen lit up.

Only after a long time did Rong Xu shift his gaze toward the tabletop. With just a glance, a faint warmth appeared in those eyes that were usually cold and empty.

It was a message from Chi Han.

He instinctively tapped the screen to type a reply, but just as he came back to his senses, he realized he had nearly sent what was truly on his mind.

Rong Xu: [Chi Han, can you—]

The reply came almost instantly, as if the other person had been waiting the whole time.

Chi Han: [Can I what?]

Chi Han: [Where are you? Why did you disappear again??]

Rong Xu’s phone kept vibrating nonstop, yet even though he usually hated noise the most, he couldn’t help the slight curve that lifted the corners of his lips.

He pressed his forehead gently against the screen, silently and devoutly whispering in his heart.

Mine.

Please wait for me.

By the time Chi Han couldn’t take it anymore and stormed over to Rong Xu’s room, phone in hand, the reply finally came—unhurried and calm, just two words: Sleep now.

Chi Han: ???

Why did this feel so inexplicably like being led on and dumped?

And so, the person who had originally set out determined to console someone else ended up tossing and turning all night, unable to sleep a wink.

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