Miss Wheelchair - Chapter 3

“Awake, or still half-asleep?”

That cool, detached voice slipped straight into Tan Xin’s ears, pulling her back from the edge of unconsciousness.

The system’s external restraint lifted. Her body, no longer drained of strength, regained its vitality. The white haze before her eyes vanished, and her vision returned to normal.

She pushed herself off the floor, patted the dust from her clothes, and perched on the edge of the bed. Her gaze, sneaky and uncertain, drifted toward the woman across from her—Gu Ci.

It was Tan Xin’s first time meeting her in person, and the impact of Gu Ci’s beauty was ten times stronger than what the flat screen had ever conveyed. Especially those proud, untamed eyes—arched brows, deep-set sockets—within their aloofness lay an unfathomable depth.

She resembled a sacred statue carved into the façade of a cathedral: exquisite, sorrow-tinged, making one yearn to uncover her story.

Attending physician Lu Ran gave Tan Xin a quick check and, after confirming she hadn’t injured herself, made the introduction:

“President Gu, this is Ms. Tan Xin. Ms. Tan, this is Gu Ci, the founder of our hospital.”

Straightening her posture, Tan Xin forced herself to offer a greeting. “Hello, President Gu.”

Gu Ci gave the faintest nod. “Hello, Ms. Tan. We’ve met before.”

That single line carried weight. When had they met? Where? What impression had she left? Any of it could affect how this “first encounter” played out.

Tan Xin thought quickly, scanning Gu Ci as though searching with a detector. No emotion values appeared above her head. It seemed Gu Ci’s heart was as calm as a mirror, her inner defenses formidable.

“Is that so.” Tan Xin curved her lips into a polite smile. “I’m afraid I’ve been rather weak lately. My memory isn’t the best. Where exactly did we meet?”

Gu Ci’s face betrayed nothing, her tone distant. “It was just a brief encounter. You needn’t give it any thought.”

So at least I didn’t leave a bad impression.

Relief softened Tan Xin’s chest. She shifted quickly to the next question.

“Then what brings you here today, President Gu?”

Gu Ci’s schedule was always packed, her spare time scarce. She went straight to the point:

“Yesterday, Ms. Tan, you attempted suicide in our hospital. I came to check on your condition.”

As expected—because of that.

Tan Xin waved her hands quickly. “No, no, I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I was just getting some air on the rooftop when I suddenly felt unwell and accidentally fell.”

Gu Ci didn’t press the issue—neither refuting nor believing her.

Beside her, Dr. Lu Ran slipped a hand into her white coat pocket and asked with meaning:

“There are rumors you did it for love. And the supposed object of that devotion is none other than the young lady visiting you today—Ms. Zhang.”

Zhang Huiqian bolted forward in alarm. “No, no, absolutely not! We don’t even know each other.”

Lu Ran raised a brow. “But people online dug up your high school graduation photo. You were classmates.”

“That—That was years ago! We haven’t been in touch since. You know perfectly well I’ve only ever liked you. Otherwise why would I, a perfectly good celebrity, risk my image by confessing to you during a livestream?”

Seizing the opportunity, Tan Xin chimed in with her own clarification:

“There’s really nothing between us. She came today just so I could explain for her, in case you misunderstood.”

She paused, then added:

“Besides, when I fell yesterday, the name I shouted wasn’t hers.”

Honestly, who in the world mishears ‘refund’ as ‘Huiqian’?

After her explanation, the misunderstanding between the two finally cleared.

And yet, Gu Ci had remained silent the entire time. A faint unease rose in Tan Xin’s chest. Cautiously, she looked at the woman in the wheelchair. Gu Ci’s eyes were cool, her expression steady, radiating the composed authority of someone always in control.

Their gazes met suddenly. At a loss, Tan Xin repeated herself lamely:

“Calling out a high school classmate’s name during a fall? Too strange—it’s impossible.”

Perhaps sensing her embarrassment, Gu Ci finally spoke, picking up her words:

“I know. You were shouting ‘refund.’”

Tan Xin froze—then lit up with joy. She hopped forward on one leg, grasped Gu Ci’s hand, and shook it vigorously.

“See? A kindred spirit is hard to find!”

At last! Not only had she found someone with beauty and brains, but also a soulmate who truly understood her.

For the system to create such a high-level character, she could only give it a five-star review.

Her heart soared for a mere three seconds. Then came Gu Ci’s next words:

“But I already told you—the first surgery was completed. That fee will not be refunded.”

Beep!

A sound effect chimed in midair.

Above Gu Ci’s head appeared an emotion value—purple +10.

Purple: contempt.

Tan Xin’s hand froze mid-shake, as though slapped in the face. Her stiff neck jerked, and she forced out a weak laugh.

“Surgery fee?”

Who asks for a refund after a surgery’s already been done?

Gu Ci didn’t answer—she only stared at her silently. The purple +10 above her head was immovable, as if daring this shameless debtor to produce yet another excuse.

Tan Xin hadn’t expected so many hidden traps. She turned to Zhang Huiqian, who could only shrug helplessly. Clearly, the system had laid plenty of pitfalls before letting them meet.

More than the surface of the moon—an endless crater field.

Whether one was an astronaut landing or Nüwa patching the sky—it was every woman for herself.

No matter.

Tan Xin consoled herself.

This wasn’t the real world, after all. And when it came to shamelessness, whoever had the thicker skin would win.

Contempt, is it?

She simply thought she was stingy and liked taking advantage of others, so if she apologized and took responsibility, that would be enough.

She turned back to Gu Ci and explained generously, “I was thoughtless before, Gu—please forgive me. Since the surgery’s already been done, there’s no reason to ask for the fee back.”

The contemptuous purple — “–10” — vanished.

That was barely acceptable.

Doctor Lu Ran standing nearby nodded approvingly. “I’m glad Miss Tan understood. I do think you’ve changed a lot since the accident.”

Tan Xin nodded and offered an explanation. “After walking the brink between life and death, your outlook definitely shifts. Karma or reincarnation, whatever you call it — I made a scene before and now I’m paying for it. My whole body aches, especially my guilty hands.”

Gu Ci’s face was cold; her words colder still. She said flatly, “They’re refilling. Of course it’ll hurt.”

“Refilling?”

Following her gaze, Tan Xin turned her hand over and saw it: dark crimson had flowed back a long way down the IV line.

“Heh,” she felt something pierce the thickness of her cheek and slap her across the face.

“All right, I’ll squat for a bit.”

Using the blood-refill excuse, she crouched down, cursing the system for throwing her into these traps while she tried to figure out how to smooth things over. Fortunately, her taekwondo training had given her steady legs — she could squat on her left leg without wobbling.

Zhang Huiqian, watching, was already starting to pick a Beijing courtyard out of her toenail — and that was just hearing about it. Tan Xin, living it, felt even worse. And the system — with Gu Ci giving off that “keep away” vibe, who would be easy to win over? Tan Xin hadn’t dated anyone before; couldn’t the system at least recommend someone simpler?

The small ward fell into a mortuary-like silence.

Gu Ci glanced at the person on the floor without a hint of comfort and repeated her purpose. “Miss Tan, I came today for two reasons: one, to confirm your health status; two, to confirm the truth about your fall yesterday. The police will be here shortly to take your statement. If you truly slipped, then why were you lingering on the rooftop for so long before the fall?”

Tan Xin couldn’t face Gu Ci. Only after the blood in the IV had finished returning did she whisper, “I just slipped.”

Hadn’t she already said she was fragile? Why pursue it?

Damn the system, always giving her awful multiple-choice questions. She’d finally picked the logically smoother option, and Gu Ci still didn’t believe her.

If only she could fall again.

Like before — body collapsing uncontrollably to the ground, every limb going limp, cold sweat in beads, face as pale as paper: that kind of genuine, bone-deep weakness would beat any flowery line.

She was thinking that when a violent shove to her back suddenly sent her flying like a bowling ball. Before she could react, she’d landed on Gu Ci’s wheelchair.

“Ah!” she cried out and reflexively dodged so she didn’t collide face-first with her, hitting the tire instead. Had her wheelchair not had intelligent anti-collision, she might have sent it flying.

Tan Xin was speechless.

Lucky for her, the system — hearing her thoughts — had arranged another fall. Unlucky for her, this time she didn’t get the breathless, sickly collapse: her face was flushed, her limbs strong, she looked as lively as someone ready to make dumplings on New Year’s Eve.

The worst part? Whose “frail” body almost flipped someone else’s wheelchair?

It’s fine.

Tan Xin told herself for the third time.

This was only a system, not the real world. Fictional social death wasn’t real social death.

She’d fallen, lost face, and the half-baked system had staged the whole scene — so she had to keep acting.

She grabbed the wheelchair armrests for support, hauled herself up, and forced a weak-sounding line at Gu Ci, “I — my health isn’t very good.”

Beep!

Another sound effect. The color above Gu Ci’s head shifted from purple to red.

Red +10.

Red: anger.

Gu Ci looked down imperiously, her eyelids drooping as if the amateur performance and the expression that didn’t match the line were giving her a headache. Her gaze landed on the hand clinging to the armrest; her eyes chilled. “You’ve dirtied my wheelchair.”

Behind them, Zhang Huiqian closed her eyes sympathetically, thinking: if this one’s hard to get, I’ll force a system exit — there’s no need to make myself suffer.

But the repeatedly battered Tan Xin looked pleased as punch, a soft smile brightening her face.

A germophobic? Even better.