Miss Wheelchair - Chapter 9

Because her physiological condition flared up again, Tan Xin had to begin the second surgery earlier than planned.

Luckily the system was fairly considerate — after all, this was a “dating experience” program, and unnecessary scenes could be skipped.

The next time Tan Xin opened her eyes she was already out of the operating room.

At that moment the system popped up again to settle the mission.

“Hello, Tan Xin. Mission settlement in progress. Please click the ‘Confirm’ button to proceed.”

She still felt numb all over, lying on the hospital bed and unable to move. The post-op weakness hadn’t left her yet. Weakly, she lifted a hand and jabbed the “Confirm” button floating in the holographic screen.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Lines of code streamed across the light-screen at high speed; the tiny characters blurred together into what looked like a blocky Tetris shape as they scrolled upward.

After a few dozen seconds a station-arrival chime sounded:

Ding-dong!

The display switched and announced the mission result:

“Congratulations, mission completed — improved Gu Ci’s public image. Her reputation index has risen from 20% to 80%; public favorability has significantly increased.”

Tan Xin felt relieved. “That’s good.”

She replayed the press conference in her head. She’d done well answering reporters’ questions — she’d recited the draft she’d prepared the day before without missing a word. Later, when Tang Jia’an showed up and the system began to interfere again, her curt “Get out!” had sent the system packing, and she was able to confront Tang Jia’an directly — only for her unreliable body to fail her and she fainted.

“Actually, I don’t feel like I did that much,” she admitted to herself.

To be fair: “Gu Ci’s turnaround is mainly due to herself. She cleared up the rumors up front and handled the damage control later. Her good reputation is because she’s a good person.”

The system seemed unable to process that statement, so it handed her case over to a human operator. The attendant’s tone was solicitous.

“Darling, are you saying you want to forfeit the mission reward?”

Tan Xin shook her head seriously. “No, not that.”

“Okay, then we’ll continue settlement. If anything goes wrong, shout ‘Human’ three times and we’ll appear to help you.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Four reward options appeared:

[Phone] [Car] [Social Security Card] [ID Card]

Not bad — all everyday necessities. Whoever designed the system clearly had real-life experience.

“Can I take them all?” Tan Xin asked earnestly.

“No,” came the obvious reply.

“But they all seem like essentials. Except the car — I can’t drive right now with my leg. If the world inside the system has poor transport, a car would be necessary.”

“The living conditions are equivalent to the 21st century.”

Tan Xin’s eyes lit up.

In other words, transportation was convenient.

Otherwise the system wouldn’t bother saying it was “21st-century–like” and instead hide behind something vague like, “Please choose yourself.”

“Okay, I’ll exclude the car.”

After the last wheelchair episode, she intended to choose carefully this time.

“Do the other three options have any hints?” she asked.

“No,” the system replied mechanically.

Tan Xin hesitated. If there was no traps, she’d obviously pick the phone. An ID and social security card could be reported lost and reissued at the relevant offices at any time. But she worried this phone would be a trap like the wheelchair — flashy on the surface but riddled with problems underneath. If it turned out to be a cheap second-hand phone, she might as well leave the hospital and buy one herself.

“You’re making me pick a prize — I should at least know what I’m getting, or it’s like a scam.”

She was here to experience romance, not to take part in some cruel prank show.

“Okay, I’ll ask one question. Please answer honestly — is that possible?”

The system fell silent. Clearly that was beyond the system’s remit.

Seeing this, Tan Xin shouted three times:

“Human! Human! Human!”

Ding-dong!

The display switched and a human customer-service avatar popped up with a chat window.

“Hello, darling. How can I help you?”

Tan Xin got straight to the point. Human operators were much easier to deal with than the system; they readily agreed to explain the prizes. But due to system settings, each user only had one opportunity to request an explanation. In other words, this was her one-and-only clarification right — next time a reward was distributed she wouldn’t be able to ask.

“Is the phone a smartphone?”

Always grab a good deal when you can, Tan Xin thought, and asked immediately.

The human customer-service quickly replied, “Yes, darling. This prize is the newest model smartphone, retail price 8,800.”

Nice.

Tan Xin was very pleased.

“Then I choose the phone.”

“Great. We’ve also detected that you have one remaining favorability settlement pending. Would you like to settle it now?”

Favorability?

So that meant Gu Ci’s favorability toward her had shifted?

Tan Xin was elated, though tinged with caution.

Gu Ci’s temperament was hard to read. Last time, because Tan Xin had accidentally fallen onto her wheelchair and brushed against her obsessive cleanliness, she had lost 10 points.

This time, she couldn’t tell if the change was good or bad.

“Do you want to settle the score now?”

When there was no response, human customer-service repeated the question.

Tan Xin hesitated no longer. “Go ahead.”

A knife to the neck, whether you stretch it out or shrink it back, cuts the same.

Might as well get it over with.

“Congratulations, Gu Ci’s favorability +10. Current favorability: [-10].”

Tan Xin was moved to tears.

At last, in Gu Ci’s eyes—those jaded, world-weary eyes—she had advanced from loathsome scum to merely an ordinary annoyance among the masses.

Progress worth celebrating.

________________________________________

A smartphone had many uses.

For instance, it let Tan Xin check how much money was in her bank account.

10,000.00.

Exactly ten thousand.

Six zeroes.

Why couldn’t it be 11,111.11?

Oh well, zeros in the account didn’t matter. What mattered was that, once things progressed further with Gu Ci, she just had to make sure she wasn’t the zero in bed.

She was already itching to kiss the tattoo on Gu Ci’s waist.

For her second surgery, Gu Ci had authorized a waiver of the surgical fees.

But the follow-up rehabilitation still needed to be paid.

It wasn’t too expensive—just over three thousand a week.

Following the signs to the payment counter in the first-floor lobby, Tan Xin had just pulled up the QR code when her phone buzzed, flashing a bright red exclamation mark.

“What the?”

She frowned, swiping at the screen several times to no avail, then had no choice but to power down and reboot.

“Sorry, my phone’s acting up,” she explained apologetically to the cashier.

The cashier waved it off—then glanced past her, spotting someone behind.

“President Gu.”

Tan Xin turned, startled. Sure enough, it was Gu Ci.

She was seated in her wheelchair, a laptop bag hanging at the side—likely here on business.

For an instant, Tan Xin thought she saw something flash in Gu Ci’s eyes, sharp as a blade.

Beep!

Red +5.

So it wasn’t her imagination.

Red meant anger.

Gu Ci was upset.

But definitely not with her—she was just quietly paying her bill, hadn’t done anything out of line.

Most likely it was about the hospital, or some subordinate who had been careless again.

“Good morning, President Gu.” Tan Xin greeted her properly.

“Morning.” Gu Ci’s expression didn’t shift. “What are you doing here?”

“Paying for this week’s therapy sessions.”

“Have you paid yet?” Gu Ci asked.

“Not yet.” Tan Xin held up her rebooting phone. “It froze just now. I had to restart it.”

Gu Ci gave her a long, heavy look. The weight of it was palpable, though Tan Xin couldn’t tell what it meant.

“Good.”

That single word was all she left, before maneuvering her wheelchair toward the elevators, her back a distant, frosty silhouette.

Tan Xin was left baffled. But come to think of it, Gu Ci hadn’t done anything at the payment counter—almost as if she’d come over just to greet her.

That alone proved she wasn’t just another face in the crowd.

Her heart bloomed sweet and light, her grin as bright as jasmine as she pulled out her new smartphone and finished the payment.

Meanwhile, Gu Ci had already arrived at the top-floor conference room.

The meeting hadn’t started yet; only her and Lu Ran were inside.

Lu Ran had caught sight of the earlier exchange, her gaze now tinged with the faint blush of gossip.

“That patient, Tan Xin—she seems to have a thing for you?”