After the Sang-Style Beauty Married the Disabled Villain [Transmigration] - Chapter 5

Uncle Li attended to Nan Liujing, helping him change into loungewear, before rushing to the kitchen to check on the situation.

As soon as he reached the door, he caught a pungent burnt smell. Wisps of black smoke drifted through the cracks. Good heavens, what happened?!

He pushed the door open, only to be met with a billowing cloud of thick smoke that made him stumble back, coughing. He hurriedly fanned the air with his jacket. Once the air cleared, he saw the steamer on the gas stove had been burned pitch-black. Shen Jiali was slumped over the cutting board, resting his head on a mound of flour, sleeping peacefully.

Uncle Li quickly turned off the gas and, using a wet towel to protect his hands, moved the pot to the sink. He lifted the lid to find a chaotic collection of large and small black lumps of various shapes.

“Mr. Shen!” Uncle Li roared. “How can you sleep? The flower rolls are charred!”

Shen Jiali blinked open his eyes groggily. The sudden intake of black smoke sent him into a fit of coughing. Once he caught his breath, he looked at the smoky surroundings and then at Uncle Li—whose face was almost as dark as the charred dough—and asked slowly:

“Uncle Li… have you come to the underworld too?”

Earlier, Shen Jiali had made a few rolls that didn’t look right. Fearing Uncle Li’s nagging, he had taken them out to re-knead them according to the tutorial book. But even with pictures, the instructions made his head spin. After getting the rolls onto the steamer, he decided to close his eyes for a “thirty-second” nap. He opened them an hour later.

Uncle Li was on the verge of tears as he stared at the carbonized rolls. “What are we going to do? It’s dinner time; the Master must be famished.”

Shen Jiali, tired of the lecturing, said quickly: “The other dishes are done. Take those over first. I’ll handle the rolls.”

Uncle Li was skeptical. “Really?” But with things as they were, he had no choice but to trust him.

Uncle Li brought the other dishes to the table. Nan Liujing had already made his way down the accessible stairs in his wheelchair. He was wearing a simple beige hoodie, his fluffy hair falling softly around his ears. The V-neck highlighted his long, elegant neck, making him look quite young.

He was looking through a magazine when he caught the burnt smell. He looked up coldly. “What happened?”

Uncle Li didn’t dare tell the truth. “Mr. Shen’s culinary skills are a bit unrefined; the heat for the rolls was a bit too high. He’s handling it now.” After a pause, he added: “Master, perhaps I should take over dinner duties from now on.”

“No. Let him do it,” Nan Liujing said without looking up.

Uncle Li sighed. I gave you fair warning; don’t blame me for not reminding you.

A long while later, Shen Jiali emerged with the rolls. At first glance, they were snow-white. Though their shapes were irregular, they at least looked edible.

Edible, my ass! Uncle Li was stunned.

Shen Jiali’s “handling it” consisted of pouring a layer of yogurt over the charred rolls to disguise them! Trusting him was the only professional mistake Uncle Li had made in his long life. And now, he had to be the one to taste them.

Nan Liujing closed his magazine and glanced at the rolls. “What is this?”

Shen Jiali didn’t look up, looking as if his soul had been sucked out. He just sat there catching his breath. “Flower rolls…”

Nan Liujing’s sharp brows furrowed. For Shen Jiali, if yogurt with fruit was “enjoying life,” then yogurt should be used for appropriate purposes—like color correction.

Nan Liujing pushed a fork toward Uncle Li. “Taste it.”

Uncle Li: T_T

It wasn’t just the rolls. The Cherry Foie Gras was supposed to be liver rolled into spheres and coated in cherry jam to mimic the fruit. No one had ever seen a polygonal cherry before. Nor had they seen a fish soup where the guts hadn’t been removed.

“Shen Jiali.” Nan Liujing stared at him coldly.

Shen Jiali let out a light huff of a breath as a response.

“This is the meal you made?”

Shen Jiali nodded. It was a simple response, yet it carried an air of being completely justified.

“Do you think this is edible?” Nan Liujing gripped his knife, his tone icy.

Shen Jiali: “I’m your wife, not your maid.”

Nan Liujing thought: Excellent. You’ve reached the point. He slid his phone across the table to Shen Jiali. “You speak of being a wife—have you fulfilled a single duty of a wife?”

Shen Jiali spoke weakly: “So ‘wife’ is a profession? Then… just send my salary to my WeChat.”

Nan Liujing: “…” As expected, this person cares for nothing but money.

“Look for yourself,” Nan Liujing said, tapping the phone.

Shen Jiali found it a hassle. Couldn’t he just push the phone closer? He had to straighten his back and stretch his arm—so exhausting. He glanced at the phone and saw the gossip magazine’s Weibo about him “cheating and flirting.”

He was confused. A “slacker” and “salted fish” like him, flirting with someone? How?

[You there? I’m very big, want to see my ‘chili’?] [I’m not.] [Babe, is it convenient to come out tonight?] [No. There’s a toilet at home.]

A flirting partner would likely hijack a train to escape after a conversation like that. But according to the original plot, the villain would use this as an excuse to punish him inhumanely until he died.

Shen Jiali suddenly stood up, pulled the leather belt from his waist, and offered it to Nan Liujing with both hands. He deliberately avoided looking at the man’s face.

He presented the belt: “Remember to strangle from the bottom up. That way, the forensic examiner will rule it as a suicide by hanging.”

Nan Liujing: “…” Uncle Li: “…”

Nan Liujing sneered. Did he think he could get away with this? He tapped the table. “Shen Jiali. Admit your mistake, or go upstairs and reflect in silence. Choose one.”

Shen Jiali thought: The villain is so kind, giving me a chance to admit a mistake. “I choose to reflect in silence.”

Uncle Li kept winking at him. “Mr. Shen, just say ‘I’m sorry’ and show some sincerity. It’s simple. The Master isn’t one to hold grudges.”

Shen Jiali was firm: “I want to reflect in silence.”

Nan Liujing narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Shen Jiali nodded and asked: “Can I increase the punishment for this ‘heinous crime’ to one year?” At least he’d have peace and quiet for a year.

Nan Liujing sneered. Being stubborn, are we? “Uncle Li, take him up. And take this belt—please ‘make the most of it’.”

Uncle Li took him to a small, dark storage room on the third floor filled with junk. He sighed and, following the order to “make the most of it,” used the belt to loosely bind Shen Jiali’s hands.

“The Master is kind to spare you. If he actually sued for infidelity, the Shen family would go bankrupt.”

Shen Jiali: “Mhm. Thank him for me.”

Shen Jiali looked around and found a life-sized handmade doll in the corner. It had a scowling face that said “I am evil.” Though he hadn’t seen Nan Liujing’s face, this was clearly a “Nan Liujing-style” doll.

He didn’t care why it was there. His knees went weak and he knelt straight down, leaning forward into the doll’s arms. He buried his face in its neck and sighed contentedly.

In Nan Liujing’s bedroom, two hours had passed. He closed his laptop and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Has he admitted his mistake?”

Uncle Li: “No. He’s still kneeling.”

An hour later. “Has he admitted his mistake?”

“No. But he’s fallen asleep. Very peacefully. I’ve never seen such high-quality sleep.”

Nan Liujing gripped his pen so hard his thumb turned white. Uncle Li watched, wondering if he was hallucinating could someone actually bend a steel pen with one hand?

Nan Liujing threw the pen in the trash. It was midnight. He opened his laptop; he wanted to see exactly what kind of “explicit photos” Shen Jiali had sent.

The whole internet was waiting. Even Shen Lanqing was frowning, unable to believe his brother would do this.

Nan Liujing told Uncle Li: “Log into your Weibo and get the photos.” He was too elegant to do something so low-class himself.

Uncle Li got the file. “Shall I check them first, or…?”

“Leave it,” Nan Liujing said. “Go attend to your work.”

At that same moment, a million netizens opened the 2GB file. They unzipped it with trembling hands—only to stare in confusion.

The first photo: A shiny-furred Dachshund running through the grass, its red tongue flying, with a cheeky expression. The second: The Dachshund lying on its back, legs splayed, shamelessly asking for belly rubs. The third: The Dachshund mounted on another Dachshund.

Netizens: Why are there only Dachshunds?! Where are the ‘explicit’ photos?! You call this porn?!

Shen Lanqing was stunned. Where are the photos of my brother? Why is it just a smooth little sausage dog?

[Dammit! I have to get up at 6:00 AM for work and I stayed up for a Dachshund?] [If Shen Jiali flirts by sending these ‘nudes,’ I actually think he’s quite cute…]

In his room, Nan Liujing waited until Uncle Li left before opening the file. He flipped through hundreds of daily photos of a Dachshund. His brow furrowed. Who is the weird one here? Why is everyone staying up for this? Are Dachshunds that popular now?

At the Shen villa, Yu Huaisu was shaking with rage.

She had rushed to her study to check the third folder on her laptop. It was indeed her own dog, Robbie. Where are the explicit photos? She checked every folder and finally found the “real” photos in the last one. The protagonist wasn’t actually Shen Jiali, but an escort who looked like him.

She had intended to ruin the couple’s reputation with a scandal. But why was it a Dachshund?!

She called her “friend” to scream at him. The paparazzi stammered: “Mrs. Yu… you know we have too many photos. When I checked the folder on the desktop, I must have clicked the wrong one. They both started with ‘S’…”

Yu Huaisu grit her teeth. Outside, the barking of her Dachshund, Robbie, made her even more annoyed.