After the Sang-Style Beauty Married the Disabled Villain [Transmigration] - Chapter 2

After a journey spent drifting in and out of sleep, Shen Jiali felt a dull ache in his muscles upon arriving at his destination; every bone in his body seemed to be screaming in protest.

Uncle Li stepped out of the car with deferential grace to open the door for him. “Mr. Shen, we are home.”

The villain’s home sat at the end of a tree-lined path, secluded and peaceful. The architectural style was understated a simple yet stylish three-story building with walls made of transparent, reinforced tempered glass. It had been treated with a one-way finish, concealing the interior while appearing from a distance like a massive, sapphire-blue gem.

Shen Jiali followed Uncle Li through the gates, carrying the thermal flask.

His eyes were met with a scene of flourishing life. The hundred-acre courtyard was filled with greenery—mostly tropical plants that normally disliked the northern cold, somehow kept alive through sheer force of will. In the center was a circular fountain where flowing water washed away impurities, leaving the surface crystal clear, reflecting the azure sky and the drifting clouds.

Uncle Li spoke with a hint of pride. “This is a garden landscape painstakingly cultivated by the Eldest Young Master, modeled after the British Royal Gardens. If you’re interested, I can show you around.”

Shen Jiali didn’t even look. “I want to go inside. It’s cold out.”

Uncle Li shot a suspicious glance at the blazing sun overhead. It was May; calling this cold was a stretch.

Once inside, the style matched the exterior: cold marble floors and a primary color palette of black, gray, and white perfectly mirroring the villain’s detached and impersonal character. Shen Jiali had heard that nine out of ten CEO novels described the “gloomy villain” as living in an equally cold, heartless villa.

Even though the thermal flask was light, Shen Jiali felt exhausted from carrying it. He set it down on a table and asked Uncle Li:

“Grandpa, where is my room?”

He desperately needed twenty minutes of lying down to recover his strength. Even breathing felt like a chore.

Uncle Li checked his watch and smiled. “The Eldest Young Master is already back and waiting for you in his room. You can take the tonic up to him now. Also, just call me Uncle Li.”

Shen Jiali didn’t understand. What was the point of a villain making so much money if he still had to do everything himself? But as long as he delivered the tonic, he could go lie down, right?

He picked up the flask it felt so heavy.

Following Uncle Li’s directions, he headed straight upstairs. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, with dimness spilling through the crack and a faint scent of sandalwood drifting in the air. Shen Jiali gave a perfunctory knock before a cold voice sounded from within: “Enter.”

The voice was deep, short, and distant.

As he pushed the door open, he found the room shrouded in darkness despite it being midday. Deep blue velvet curtains obscured the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, blocking out every sliver of light. In the gloom, Shen Jiali’s eyes caught a figure sitting by the window.

A steel wheelchair was turned away from him, concealing the person’s face. He could only see the villain’s back: thick, black hair neatly trimmed at the nape; a gray shirt outlining broad, sturdy shoulders as formidable as a jade mountain.

This person had to be the major villain of the original novel, Nan Liujing.

Nan Liujing remained silent, a laptop resting on his knees. On the screen was a file the butler had sent an hour ago.

TCM Ingredients: Licorice, Clove, Seaweed, Asarum, Veratrum. Note: Consuming Asarum and Veratrum together produces extreme toxicity, which can lead directly to death.

He stared at the word “death” on the screen, his thin, handsome lips curling into an enigmatic smile.

The precarious Shen Group was a mess that everyone avoided, yet his stepmother had convinced his father to arrange this marriage at such a time. Her intentions were transparent. Perhaps his paralyzed legs had become a burden in their eyes.

First day after the wedding, and a bowl of “tonic” is delivered. Was she worried the inheritance of his assets was moving too slowly?

Minutes passed, and Nan Liujing still gave no response. Shen Jiali, holding the bowl, found it both heavy and hot. He wasn’t going to play along.

“Are you drinking this or not?” Shen Jiali’s tone was lethargic and weak.

Nan Liujing gave a cold sneer. He expected the next line to be a harsh “You’ll drink it whether you want to or not.”

“If you won’t drink it, I will,” Shen Jiali said, lifting the bowl.

Nan Liujing’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He finally reacted, turning his face slightly to see Shen Jiali draining the bowl in one go with practiced ease.

Nan Liujing, who had already instructed Uncle Li to replace the tonic with an effervescent tablet: ?

Shen Jiali realized it didn’t taste like medicine at all; it was sweet, orange-flavored, and fizzy. He set the bowl on the table and turned to leave.

“Wash the bowl yourself. I’m tired. I’m going to lie down for a few hours.”

Shen Jiali wandered downstairs but couldn’t find Uncle Li, so he found a random room and lay down. He didn’t know how long he slept before a knock at the door woke him up. He pulled the quilt over his head, ignoring it.

“Mr. Shen, it’s Butler Li. It’s dinner time.”

Shen Jiali opened his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Everything hurt. “I don’t want to eat,” he said weakly.

“But you are responsible for cooking dinner,” Uncle Li said.

Shen Jiali sighed. What was the point of being a villain with a butler if he still had to cook? But if he didn’t comply, he knew Uncle Li would never stop nagging.

Shen Jiali dragged his exhausted body to the kitchen. The ingredients were ready, with detailed instructions on sticky notes. Fortunately, the villa was full of modern appliances—automatic peelers and eggbeaters saving him some trouble. However, there was no machine for cleaning pig intestines.

Following the process, he had to flip the intestines and clean them with starch to ensure no odor remained. Shen Jiali fell into a contemplative daze. If the ‘original’ flavor of the intestines is washed away, what’s the point of eating them? I don’t understand these people.

A long while later, Shen Jiali dragged himself out and collapsed onto a sofa, looking like half his life had been drained away.

Nan Liujing and Uncle Li arrived in the dining room, only to catch a faint, foul scent in the air. Uncle Li whispered to Nan Liujing, “Is this smell… okay?”

Nan Liujing didn’t care. He wanted this result an excuse to mark another entry in Shen Jiali’s book of misdeeds. “Go call him to eat,” he whispered.

Uncle Li approached the sofa with a professional smile. “Mr. Shen, please join us. You should personally taste the fruits of your labor.”

“I don’t want to eat.” Eating was too much work chewing, swallowing especially with a rumored “hideous pervert villain.”

“You must. A balanced diet is essential for health,” Uncle Li started his sermon again.

Unable to stand the nagging, Shen Jiali got up and went to the dining room. Nan Liujing was already seated. Before him were several plates of dark, unidentifiable substances. The only recognizable thing was the fruit salad, though the apples and bananas were whole and unpeeled, merely drizzled with yogurt.

Uncle Li shook his head in pity. Nan Liujing, however, showed no emotion, instead studying the “food” carefully.

Shen Jiali sat down, his loose shirt hanging off his thin frame like a disheveled sail. He didn’t want to see his “ugly and evil” husband; his half-closed eyes were veiled by long lashes.

Nan Liujing studied him. The boy’s cuffs were unbuttoned, revealing thin, snow-white wrists with visible pale purple veins. He looked sickly and lifeless.

“Look up,” Nan Liujing said coldly.

“I don’t dare to,” Shen Jiali’s head dropped even lower.

“Reason. Speak.” Nan Liujing’s sharp eyes were like a hawk’s.

“I have a poor appetite and am easily influenced by external factors.”

Nan Liujing let out a light laugh, his eyes cold. He identified the plate of intestines by the smell and pushed it toward Shen Jiali. “Try it. You spent so much effort on it.”

“I won’t. It’s not poisoned,” Shen Jiali said succinctly. He recalled the original novel described Nan Liujing as extremely paranoid, suspecting everyone of trying to kill him.

Nan Liujing watched him. This was the first time he had looked at Shen Jiali closely. Why was a pampered young master so thin? He looked like he could pass away after the slightest bit of exertion.

To ensure it was edible, Nan Liujing said to Uncle Li, “Uncle Li, you eat first.”

Uncle Li: ?

But under his master’s orders, he didn’t dare refuse. He slowly lifted his fork, his fingers trembling. The intestines were charred black and emitted a foul stench. He looked at Nan Liujing with eyes that asked, “Are you really going to discard years of loyalty?”

Nan Liujing ignored him. Uncle Li chewed a small piece, then immediately grabbed a tissue to cover his mouth.

“How does it taste?” Nan Liujing asked casually.

Uncle Li forced a smile that looked worse than crying. “It tastes… excellent. Like a master chef descended from heaven.”

Shen Jiali stood up. “Then I won’t take it from you. I’m going up to rest.”

Shen Jiali lay down peacefully. He had eaten nothing all day but didn’t feel hungry; instead, he was glad no one was bothering him.

Before transmigrating, Shen Jiali and his mother had lived together, both suffering from hereditary cardiovascular defects. Their medical bills had drained their savings. After his mother died of a heart attack, Shen Jiali had lost his only relative and any interest in the world. He hated everything equally; living was hard, and he had been pulled back from death by doctors too many times.

He habitually reached for his phone to look at photos of his mother, but realized it wasn’t his phone. It was a stylish taro-purple model the original owner’s phone.

The wallpaper was a crazed anime character sticking out its tongue and flipping off the screen. The contact list was filled with names like “Idiot No. 1” to “Idiot No. N” and “Backup No. 1” to “Backup No. N.”

Just as he was about to turn it off, a notification from Weibo popped up. He accidentally clicked it and saw a deluge of private messages:

Daily check: Is Shen Jiali dead yet? I heard you married that disabled, ugly freak from Huanhai Electronics? Congratulations! Has the police caught you yet for harming the real Shen family heir? You’re just a cast-off. A black-hearted freak who would even harm his own mother deserves to be dumped in the wilderness.

Shen Jiali: Ah, yes, yes. I’d also like to know when I can finally be free. Thanks for the well-wishes.

The original owner was a piece of work unfaithful, fond of hiring escorts, and prone to sending explicit photos. Eventually, a price dispute had led to his photos being leaked, making him a social pariah overnight.