Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I have poor health and difficulty moving.

It’s not that I truly cannot walk; I am simply too weak to stand for long periods.

Yet, when he saw me sitting in my wheelchair, Xu Sixian did not show the same pity or shock as everyone else. He didn’t even spare my legs a second glance, instead lowering his eyes politely with a gentle, reserved expression.

Uncle Chen informed him of the details regarding my sponsorship. The terms were exceptionally generous and flexible; if he met my requirements, he would even receive a massive sum of money, enough to settle his family’s future.

Xu Sixian’s fingers, hanging at his side, curled slightly.

Every gift of fate comes with a price tag already attached.

There was no way he couldn’t guess that there’s no such thing as a free lunch.

Uncle Chen handled matters tactfully. Sensing his doubts, he explained that Xu Sixian had simply happened to be selected as the investment target for a certain charitable project.

I remained silent, though I felt the explanation was unnecessary.

I was certain Xu Sixian would not refuse.

He must have been suppressed to the point of suffocation by now.

Cheng Song wouldn’t actively target Xu Sixian, but Cheng Song only needed to show a hint of displeasure for some self-proclaimed clever people to do things to “please” him.

For instance, easily ruining Xu Sixian’s job, taking away his grandmother’s hospital bed, and then spreading rumors to ensure he couldn’t even keep his footing at school.

When a person is driven to a dead end, what room do they have to refuse?

Who else could he turn to for help? Who could he even ask what he had done wrong?

And yet, from beginning to end, he didn’t say the word “yes” once.

It wasn’t until Uncle Chen left and closed the door.

“Miss He,” Xu Sixian asked with clear eyes and honest intent, “what do I need to give in return?”

I felt a bit unwell and leaned over the table to rest. It took a long while before I gave a low murmur in response.

Xu Sixian noticed my discomfort. Seeing that I hadn’t spoken, he hesitated for a moment before pouring me a glass of warm water.

His slender fingers pushed the porcelain cup toward me; they had a texture like polished jade.

Then, I saw him speak.

I couldn’t hear his voice clearly; I only saw those beautifully shaped thin lips moving. He seemed to be asking if I needed him to call for Uncle Chen.

Sunlight fell across my eyelashes. I squinted, observing his elegant, refined features.

Suddenly, I felt very satisfied.

He was quite handsome-not at all inferior to Su Wantang.

What did I want him to give?

I hadn’t decided.

I was just curious.

The He Family had eyes and ears everywhere. Things that Cheng Song went to great lengths to hide reached my ears in less than half a day.

It was just that in the past, I didn’t care and pretended not to know.

My eyes and heart were full of Cheng Song. I deferred to him; as long as he stayed by my side and was willing to coax me, that was enough.

But this time was different.

I suddenly felt a strong sense of curiosity about things other than Cheng Song.

Cheng Song once told his friends that it felt like he was personally raising a flower.

Watching her grow, bloom, and stand tall; a wild beauty of the mountains, brilliant because of his sunlight and shy because of his rain-a flower that bloomed only for him.

He was addicted to that feeling.

He described it so beautifully that I wanted to try it, too.

“I want to plant a tree,” I suddenly spoke up, very seriously and slowly. “I want to experience the feeling of giving him sunlight and rain, and watching him grow.”

Xu Sixian froze.

He didn’t understand my words and looked somewhat bewildered.

I gave a small yawn and switched to a more direct way of speaking: “I want to keep you.”

He currently had nowhere else to go. If I was the only one helping him, then he could be considered a tree growing solely for me, couldn’t he?

Xu Sixian fell silent.

Then, his ears turned red.

He was a bit flustered, a bit embarrassed, and a bit speechless.

I knew those words might sound a bit frivolous, but I didn’t care much.

I thought he would probably feel insulted.

But for some reason, as he looked at me, his expression remained gentle. A hint of helplessness appeared, softening that distant coldness that usually kept people at arm’s length.

He even knelt down to straighten the blanket that had slipped from my knees, brushing away the dust that had settled on it.

This reaction was different from those female leads in TV dramas who would argue their case and say, “You’re insulting me.”

“Miss He…” He started to speak but stopped, asking hesitantly, “Will you… tell your family about this?”