Three Months Later

"Boss, how much for a bouquet of lilies?"

Xia Chuan asked the florist. Seeing the price was still within his budget, he had the owner wrap them up.

He wasn’t fond of flowers—they felt frivolous—but today, he’d bought them anyway.

Frugal as he was, Xia Chuan only splurged for one reason:

Today was Mo Yao’s discharge day.

—

Mo Yao hadn’t died.

Police had inflated air cushions below just in time, saving her life. But…

Xia Chuan’s chest tightened at the thought.

She’d survived, yes—but during the fall, she’d slammed into an air conditioner unit jutting from a window. Her leg joints shattered. Surgeons amputated to save what remained. Mo Yao would spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair.

After surgery, her emotions ran wild. She’d tried to kill herself countless times, only to be pinned down by nurses and injected with sedatives.

It felt like stepping back into that hopeless time from two years ago.

The bitterest irony? She wasn’t leaving the hospital because she’d recovered. She’d simply run out of money. As an out-of-towner with no insurance or medical coverage, her savings had drained fast. Without Xia Chuan scrimping to cover her bills, she’d never have lasted three months.

Now, with nothing left, Xia Chuan couldn’t fathom how she’d survive.

—

Lost in thought, Xia Chuan hadn’t realized he’d already reached the hospital.

He walked down the corridor to her room and pushed the door open.

"Mo Yao, just woke up?" he called warmly to the girl on the bed.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t even turn. Her gaze stayed fixed on the window.

Xia Chuan was used to her silence, yet it still stung.

"Well," he said, forcing a chuckle, "let me pack your things. We’ll head out soon."

He set the lilies on the bedside table and began gathering her belongings. Everything was ready; only the discharge paperwork remained.

His eyes drifted back to her. Since he’d entered, she hadn’t once looked his way.

*She must hate me.*

Xia Chuan lowered his gaze.

—

After finishing the paperwork, Xia Chuan returned.

"Mo Yao, time to go."

He wheeled the chair beside her bed. As he reached to lift her, she snapped:

"Get away! I don’t need help from a liar!"

She shot him a venomous glare and struggled to sit up alone.

Without legs, even that simple motion was agony. The uneven plaster casts on her thighs offered no support. She twisted and heaved, but couldn’t rise.

Xia Chuan sighed and lifted her gently.

"Let go! I don’t want your pity!" she cried, squirming as he carried her to the wheelchair.

The moment she settled in, she ducked her head, teeth clenched—as if his touch disgusted her.

Xia Chuan pushed her out without a word.

Summer heat blasted them at the entrance. Cicadas droned in the scorching air.

Xia Chuan blinked against the glare—and felt the wheelchair jerk forward.

Mo Yao was propelling herself away, her silhouette small and stubborn in the sunlight.

Guilt twisted in his chest. He gave a wry smile and hurried after her.

He caught up quickly, reaching for the chair—only for her to spin the wheels faster, trying to escape him.

A wheelchair couldn’t outrun legs. He grasped the handles again.

"Mo Yao, stop this," he murmured.

"Let go! I don’t need you!" she whirled around, eyes blazing. Tears glittered in the sun.

Xia Chuan flinched and released her.

She sped off without looking back.

Watching her retreat, Xia Chuan felt a hollow ache.

For someone in a wheelchair, she moved startlingly fast—frantically spinning the rims, as if fleeing.

It wasn’t just leaving. It was running.

In that flash of eye contact, he’d seen no anger. Only fear.

She’d been burned too many times by false warmth. At first, it felt like sunlight. But the closer she got, the hotter the flames grew—until her skin blistered and she remembered:

*This isn’t the sun. It’s fire.*

She wasn’t running from him. She was running from hope.

—

Mo Yao pushed the wheels harder, not glancing back.

*Xia Chuan must’ve stopped chasing by now…*

*He won’t see…*

Her tears finally broke free, dripping down her cheeks.

*Xia Chuan… please stop being so kind to me…*

She’d never been strong. She’d tried to die.

This wasn’t her first cry. Every time he left her hospital room, she’d bury her face in the pillow until it soaked through.

His kindness wasn’t warmth anymore. It was fire, searing her heart.

*If you don’t love me… stop giving me hope I don’t deserve.*

Her sobs hitched. She spun the wheels faster—

*Thud.*

The chair jammed against something. Momentum threw her forward.

Xia Chuan snapped out of his daze and sprinted over.

The scorching pavement bit into Mo Yao’s palms. She tried to stand—once, twice—but collapsed each time. Then she remembered:

*I don’t have legs.*

Helplessness crashed over her. Tears flooded her eyes as heat seeped through her clothes.

"Mo Yao, are you hurt?" Xia Chuan knelt, reaching for her.

"Don’t touch me! I can get up myself!" Her voice cracked with tears.

Xia Chuan saw her tear-streaked face. His heart clenched.

"Mo Yao, I—"

"Stop talking! Don’t say anything! Just… let me die alone! I’m scared… please… leave me be." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I have nothing left… so stop giving me hope I shouldn’t have. You make me…"

She choked.

"...make me think you might still love me."

She did love him. Even now. She could never hate him. She’d only built walls to push him away.

But in this moment, under the sun, those walls crumbled. Only a trembling girl remained.

—

"Yeah. I like you too."

—

The voice made Mo Yao freeze. She looked up, disbelieving.

The speaker smiled down at her.

"I mean it. I like you, Mo Yao."

"Liar… you’re lying…"

Seeing Xia Chuan’s gentle smile, fresh tears threatened to spill.

He chuckled softly and lifted her.

Pressed against his warm chest, Mo Yao blushed through her tears.

He settled her back into the wheelchair, holding her gaze.

"This time, I won’t lie. I’ll stay by your side forever."

"Let me be your legs."

Sunlight haloed his face. Mo Yao didn’t know if he meant it. But even a lie felt like salvation.

"Silly Xia Chuan… *sob*… idiot Xia Chuan… why say it now? *sob*… It’s too late…"

She pounded his chest with trembling fists, then buried her face in his shirt, weeping.

—

Xia Chuan pushed the wheelchair slowly. Mo Yao had fallen asleep, a faint smile on her lips—perhaps dreaming sweetly.

He stopped. Stared at her sleeping face.

*Do I really like her?*

The question surfaced unbidden. His answer came faster.

*No.*

Even now, he didn’t love Mo Yao. What he felt was pity.

So why had he told her he liked her?

Of course, it was because this gave Xia Chuan an excuse to take good care of Mo Yao, easing the guilt in his heart.

But these weren't the main reasons. The primary reason was—

Liu Yixia had successfully confessed to Liu Ziyang at the sports festival days ago.

Was it painful? After years of unrequited love ending like this, how could it not hurt? Yet he couldn't cry. Of course, it had always been one-sided; he'd never even confessed to Liu Yixia. Perhaps this feeling was just the restless stirrings of youth.

Since the girl he liked had found happiness, Xia Chuan had decided to let go. It also gave him reason to accept Mo Yao's affection.

But this bond was false—he'd only chosen the gentle one because his true love didn't return his feelings.

Xia Chuan didn't know what consequences this choice would bring, but he had no other option.

To help Mo Yao regain her will to live, he had to pretend to be her lover.

Perhaps Mo Yao guessed he was lying, but craving his affection deep down, she chose to deceive herself.

That's how people are. Even knowing the truth, they still chase false illusions without hesitation.

He didn't know his future—he had no spare thoughts for it—but...

Even if it was all a lie...

At least he was still by her side, wasn't he?

Rather than facing reality's cruelty alone, sinking into the illusion together felt better.

Xia Chuan lowered his head slightly, gazing at Mo Yao's sleeping face, and chuckled softly.

Then, the boy slowly pushed the wheelchair, watching her peaceful slumber, and stepped toward the unknown tomorrow.

Yandere Arc (End)