That day, he was summoned by his father to the old family home. His father mentioned it had been a while since they last had a meal together. After some thought, he decided to go. However, he ran into his elder brother—Yan Xiuyuan’s father—and things turned unpleasant. In a rare moment he got drunk, his mood sour. Always meticulous, he had no memory of when or how he was sent home.
He had a dream. In it, he relived the car accident from years ago—the scene vivid. His legs were mangled, the excruciating pain pulling his faint consciousness back to the surface, though he couldn’t open his eyes. The scorching, searing pain in his legs etched itself into his mind, as though branding him.
The agony was bone-deep, a relentless torment through flesh, bones, and nerves, accompanied by an overwhelming heat that felt like purgatory.
Then, a pair of slender, cool hands pressed against his muscles. The unbearable heat and pain subsided slightly under the touch. The hands weren’t particularly skilled at massaging, but the pressure was just right. Somehow, they miraculously eased the pain.
He didn’t know how long those hands worked on him. He only remembered that they massaged his legs until he fell asleep—a rare, peaceful sleep since his injury. That night, he slept better than he had in years and even missed his morning meeting the next day.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Pei Lang sleeping soundly by his bedside. Thankfully, the weather was good; otherwise, he might have caught a chill sleeping like that. Pei Lang had taken it upon himself to care for him. He was annoyed, but since the other man meant no harm and had even massaged him, he couldn’t muster any real anger.
The only thing that bothered him was the realization that, all along, he had thought he didn’t need anyone’s care to manage just fine. But that night, after being looked after by Pei Lang, he finally noticed the stark difference between being cared for and not.
The awareness of his past self-delusions gnawed at him. No matter how hard he tried, he remained a cripple who needed care—a burden who even had to be carried like a princess. This left him feeling awkward and miserable. Worse still, his insomnia worsened after that night. It all seemed to be Pei Lang’s fault.
If it weren’t for that night of care, his imagined independence wouldn’t have been shattered. Living within his own narrative hadn’t felt unbearable before. Pei Lang gave him one good night of sleep. When insomnia returned as it always had, it became intolerable.
So, after a few days of awkwardness, he decided to test a theory: was it only when Pei Lang stayed with him that he could sleep?
As a dignified CEO, asking someone to sleep beside him was utterly humiliating. So, with a cold expression that carried all the intimidating aura of a domineering boss, he issued the request as a threat. Despite his outward composure, his ears subtly turned red, betraying the pure-hearted old man behind the facade.
Pei Lang could see through Yan Han’s inner turmoil.
The little chibi perched on his shoulder reacted even more dramatically, diving under the covers, rolling around in embarrassment, too shy to show its face.
Precisely because he could sense Yan Han’s nervousness and bashfulness, Pei Lang wasn’t too concerned. Having acted in dramas before, sharing a bed with someone was no big deal. Since Yan Han had made the request, he’d treat it like a performance. Besides… who’s to say he’d be the one at a disadvantage?
After dinner, the two retreated to their respective rooms. Pei Lang stayed on the second floor, while Yan Han was on the third. One took the stairs, the other the elevator. They went their separate ways, finding it hard to believe that in a short while, they’d actually be sleeping in the same room.
Back in his room, Pei Lang uploaded another song to his platform. He didn’t use any fancy equipment for accompaniment, opting instead to sing with his guitar. Because he was so strapped for cash, even his instruments were cheap. Luckily, they were just background—Pei Lang’s voice was captivating enough to make listeners overlook the music entirely.
After that viral video, those who stuck around were genuinely there for his singing. The only thing that had changed was how his fans addressed him. They no longer called him “little brother”. The comment section was now full of people calling him “uncle” or “sir”.
Their tone was lighthearted, some even childlike, with kindness woven into every word.
Hoping to be treated kindly themselves, they chose to treat others kindly first. The community on this platform had an especially warm atmosphere; everyone seemed like a little angel. Pei Lang felt his mood lift as he scrolled through the comments and even started chatting with people there.
Time ticked by, and before long, Pei Lang grew sleepy.
Only then did he remember he was supposed to go find Yan Han. After a quick shower, yawning as he went, he made his way up to the third floor and knocked on Yan Han’s bedroom door.
The bedroom door didn’t open, but the study next door did. Yan Han emerged with a serious expression, glancing briefly at Pei Lang, who was freshly showered and dressed in pajamas. His brows furrowed.
Pei Lang looked down at himself. Is my outfit inappropriate? Then he thought, But what else should I wear to sleep? Unless… he expects me to sleep naked?
Yan Han used an electronic sensor to open the bedroom door and went inside first. Pei Lang hesitated at the threshold. “Mr. Yan, should I just come in?”
“It’s not like you haven’t been in here before,” Yan Han replied.
Pei Lang chuckled and stepped in. “Mr. Yan, are you going to shower first? Should I step out, or… help you with it?”
“That’s unnecessary!” Yan Han snapped coldly. Unsure of what else to do, Pei Lang stayed by the door, not daring to move. Yan Han grabbed a set of sleepwear and headed into the bathroom.
About ten minutes later, Yan Han emerged, having changed out of his suit and into black pajamas. He wheeled himself over to the bed, grabbed a book, and prepared to climb into bed. Pei Lang watched him with his bright, beautiful eyes, making Yan Han frown. “Don’t look. Close your eyes.”
“Oh, okay.” Pei Lang quickly covered his eyes with his hands.
Soft shuffling noises came from the bedside. Peeking through his fingers, Pei Lang saw Yan Han press a button on his wheelchair, lowering the backrest until it was level with the bed. Using his arms, Yan Han painstakingly lifted his upper body and dragged his seemingly lifeless legs onto the bed. Once he was settled, he restored the wheelchair to its original state.
Yan Han adjusted his upper body into position, manually straightened his legs, placed a pillow behind his lower back, and picked up the book he’d grabbed earlier, pretending to read.
The whole reason he told Pei Lang to close his eyes was so he wouldn’t see the awkward and undignified process of getting into bed.
What Yan Han didn’t realize was that Pei Lang had witnessed everything. A twinge of heartache stirred in Pei Lang’s chest.
“Mr. Yan, are you ready!?” he asked.
“Come over,” Yan Han said. Only then did Pei Lang lower his hands and walk over slowly.
“Mr. Yan, we agreed to discuss the sleeping arrangement in detail. Go ahead—how should I do this?” Pei Lang asked, his tone straightforward. He didn’t overthink it; there was no way Yan Han genuinely wanted to share a bed with him. A man like Yan Han would never do that.
Pei Lang’s tact put Yan Han in a slightly better mood and his awkwardness eased a bit. “Marrying you was for the sake of treating my legs. Whether the superstitions are true or not, your massage skills are passable. They’re finally proving useful for my legs.”
Of course! Pei Lang thought. Back when my dad forced me to practice martial arts, my legs ached all the time. I’ve basically become a self-taught expert by now.
“From now on, come to my room at night to massage my legs. In exchange, I’ll help you deal with Yan Xiuyuan and make sure you have food to eat.” Yan Han’s tone was matter-of-fact. From the earlier photo incident, it was clear that Yan Xiuyuan hated Pei Lang even more than before. Isolated and without allies, Pei Lang had only him to rely on.
It was a good deal. Pei Lang understood immediately and agreed without hesitation. “Mr. Yan has already helped me so much. Even without this arrangement, I’d still be happy to help you.”
“For convenience, you’ll temporarily sleep in my room,” Yan Han added. Pei Lang froze for a moment before nodding.
“All right,” he replied. Sleeping here just for the sake of convenience? Does that mean I might have to give him a massage in the middle of the night? Or worse, get woken up while I’m asleep? Pei Lang stared at Yan Han, his gaze falling on the little chibi sitting on his shoulder. The little chibi, delighted by Pei Lang’s agreement, happily perched on the bed and inspected its legs. Pei Lang recalled how Yan Han had whimpered in pain that night and, finding the little chibi so endearing, couldn’t muster any complaints.
There was no way he’d be sleeping on the bed. The sofa would have to do. However, aside from a few throw pillows, there wasn’t much on it. “Mr. Yan, I’ll go back to my room and grab a blanket. The sofa doesn’t have one.”
Without needing Yan Han to say anything, Pei Lang had already sorted out his sleeping arrangement. Naturally, Yan Han wouldn’t let him share the bed.
Pei Lang’s thoughtfulness made Yan Han see him in a slightly new light.
After Yan Han gave his consent, Pei Lang finally left the room.
He had always dreamed of clinging to someone powerful, though he hadn’t expected it to happen someday—even if this wasn’t what he had in mind. Pei Lang sighed. From now on, he’d have to give Yan Han a massage every day. His hands were in for a rough time. But his heart softened when he thought about how much he needed Yan Han and the pain the man endured.
After fetching a blanket and making up the sofa, Pei Lang saw that Yan Han was engrossed in his book. Not wanting to disturb him, he nestled into the spacious sofa and scrolled through his phone.
At eleven o’clock, Pei Lang, who had been feeling sleepy for a while, was on the verge of dozing off when Yan Han called out, “Come here.”
Pei Lang snapped awake, slipped on his slippers, and approached Yan Han’s bed. Yan Han set his book aside, his expression calm. “My legs hurt. Massage them.”
Pei Lang gently lifted the blanket and carefully rolled up Yan Han’s pajama pants. The skin of his legs was unnaturally pale, marred with scars that looked terrifying. Yan Han was, in truth, even more nervous than Pei Lang. His sharp gaze bore into Pei Lang, ready to scrutinize every reaction.
“Is it your lower leg that hurts?” Pei Lang asked, unsure of the precise location. His fingers pressed upward along Yan Han’s leg inch by inch, probing for the sore spot.
“Mm.” In reality, Yan Han’s legs weren’t in pain tonight. He just wanted to get a good night’s sleep and couldn’t think of a more reasonable excuse. He certainly wasn’t about to admit that he was a man who needed company to fall asleep.
“Does Mr. Yan’s leg hurt often?” Pei Lang asked, his fingers brushing over the scars as he focused on the massage.
From Yan Han’s vantage point, he could see Pei Lang’s handsome face and his gentle yet firm hands. Pei Lang’s expression was serious—neither repulsed nor overly sympathetic. This reaction was precisely what Yan Han preferred.
Though his legs lacked much sensation or strength, Yan Han could feel the pressure and touch of Pei Lang’s hands. A tingling warmth spread from his calves, unfamiliar and almost addictive. Yan Han unconsciously narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.
Realizing Yan Han seemed reluctant to answer his question, Pei Lang didn’t press further.
The room fell into silence. Pei Lang continued massaging for a long time without Yan Han uttering another word. He even began to wonder if Yan Han had fallen asleep. When he looked up, however, their eyes met. Yan Han’s gaze, devoid of its usual sharpness and coldness, made Pei Lang’s heart inexplicably skip a beat.
“Oh, so Mr. Yan wasn’t asleep,” Pei Lang said with a smile, masking his awkwardness.
“Are you tired?” Yan Han asked. Pei Lang had been massaging for over half an hour without complaint or any sign of dissatisfaction. Yan Han wasn’t heartless—it was almost midnight, it was time to sleep.
“It’s fine, just that my hands are a bit sore,” Pei Lang admitted, seizing the moment to rub his hands together. He was about to resume the massage when Yan Han spoke again.
“Go to sleep.”
“Oh, okay. Goodnight, Mr. Yan,” Pei Lang replied, getting off the bed and curling up on the sofa. Within moments, he was fast asleep.
Yan Han removed the pillow from behind his back and lay flat on the bed. For convenience, all the lights in the room were controlled from the headboard. With the press of a button, the room plunged into darkness. Unlike before, the space now held another person. The faint scent of Pei Lang’s body wash lingered in the air.
After several nights of insomnia, Yan Han finally felt comfortable. With the lights off and his body at ease, he soon drifted off to sleep as well.
