He stuffed the fridge with bought groceries and lined the countertops with spices and kitchenware. A deep sense of satisfaction welled up inside him.

The small shelf Uncle Lin gave him fit perfectly in the narrow gap between the bed and the wall, maximizing the cramped space.

"Finally feels like a real home," Qi Yan sighed contentedly.

Pride swelled in his chest after arranging everything with his own hands—until an inexplicable chill crept up his spine.

He turned to find his sister puffing her cheeks, glaring at him furiously. Her notebook read: 【Why are there three sets of bowls and chopsticks?】

"Ah! This set? Someone recommended these porcelain bowls—the pattern’s pretty, and it was a ‘buy two, get one free’ deal."

【We never have guests! There’s no need for a third set!】

"Guests aren’t the point. What if you accidentally break a bowl? Having a spare is practical, right?" Qi Yan replied, genuinely puzzled.

【Only an idiot like you would break a bowl!】

Why did she suddenly bristle? Women’s hearts were hard enough to read; his sister’s—silent yet brimming with unspoken thoughts—was utterly baffling.

Qi Yan chose to retreat. Best to wait out this inexplicable fury. Otherwise, her notebook might fly straight at his face again.

Night fell quietly. Qi Yan began preparing dinner. Tools and ingredients were ready, but he was no skilled cook. His sister Qi Ran used to help their mom in the kitchen back home.

But after two years in the hospital, her fingers hadn’t touched water for household chores. Her current condition made even using the toilet alone impossible.

No choice—he had to try.

He measured rice for two by instinct, washed it thoroughly to remove grit, then added water an inch above the grains in the cooker.

He plugged it in, locked the lid, and pressed "Cook." Soon, fragrant rice would be ready.

Qi Yan didn’t rest. He pulled lean pork and carrots from the fridge, chopping them unevenly—his artistic hands were hopeless with knives.

Every few minutes, he glanced back at Qi Ran. Unable to speak or move freely, she needed constant attention. Any delay could turn serious.

When he finished chopping, he noticed something wrong. Qi Ran lay on her side, face flushed, eyes shut tight. Her body trembled slightly as she curled her waist, hands pressed below her stomach.

She’d been reading quietly on the bed just minutes ago. No fever, no sudden illness. Only one explanation remained—she needed to pee.

*Why didn’t I notice sooner?* Guilt stabbed him. Distracted by setting up their new home, he’d forgotten her most basic needs.

Since leaving the hospital that morning—train ride, arrival in DongSui Town—she hadn’t drunk a drop of water. But her bladder still worked.

"Ran, do you need the toilet?" Qi Yan asked bluntly.

Qi Ran shook her head first, then nodded reluctantly, her cheeks burning redder.

"Why didn’t you say something earlier? You’ve been holding it in too long."

She opened her eyes slowly, tears glistening at the corners. She bit her lip and wrote: 【I was too shy…】

"Nothing to be shy about between siblings! We bathed together as kids!" Qi Yan declared earnestly. He slid an arm under her shoulders and the other beneath her knees, lifting her toward the bathroom.

The bare bathroom held only a laundry sink and a squat toilet—no mirror, no water heater, no showerhead. A bathtub was unthinkable.

*Squat toilet.* Panic seized him. He’d been reckless. Bringing her home so soon without checking the place first—was it a mistake?

Her paralysis was partial; nerve signals couldn’t reach her legs, but she could still control her bladder. Squatting, however, was impossible.

What now? Delaying risked an accident. After her injury, rare bedwetting incidents had crushed her spirit for days. He couldn’t let that happen—not when her recovery was his only goal.

Qi Ran realized the problem too. Her bladder felt ready to burst. If she lost control now, she’d soak him. Her heart hammered twice as fast.

Her trembling hand scrawled on the notebook: 【Brother, hold me while I pee.】

Qi Yan jolted. *Of course.* Why hadn’t he thought of that?

"I’ll stand by the toilet. You pull down your underwear—"

【You do it.】

No time to question why—her hands full of notebook? Weak fingers? He couldn’t hesitate.

Qi Yan crouched, settling her on his lap. His right arm secured her waist while his left slipped under her skirt.

*Gulp.*

His throat tightened. He’d dressed her before, but this—this was a first.

His fingers found the waistband in the dark, careful not to stray. He hooked her underwear with two fingers, easing it down to her ankle.

*Haaah…*

His shaky exhale brushed her ear. Her skin flushed deeper crimson.

He gripped her thighs, positioning her over the toilet. His voice came out rough, parched: "Go ahead, Ran."

【My skirt.】

"Right! Right!"

He hastily gathered her skirt, baring pale skin and slender hips.

Silence stretched. Her ears stayed fiercely red. *Too shy to go?* He understood—even he’d hesitate with someone watching.

His dry throat clicked. Instinct took over. He made a soft "Pssst… pssst…" sound, like coaxing a child.

Finally—*plop… splash!* A stream gushed out. Qi Yan nearly cheered: *It’s working!*

The flow slowed to drips. He lowered her skirt, covering her. As he reached to pull up her underwear, she tapped the notebook: 【Tissues.】

*Right again.* He couldn’t help with that part. He held her steady with one arm, handing her two tissues with the other.

When the tissues vanished into the toilet and her underwear was back in place, Qi Yan flushed. The ordeal was over.

Back in bed, Qi Ran buried her face in the pillow like an ostrich, motionless.

Qi Yan checked his phone screen. His own reflection stared back—face burning red. If he felt this flustered, how must she feel?

He took back his earlier words. *Nothing to be shy about between siblings?*

Exactly *because* they were siblings, the shame cut twice as deep.