After eating their fill, they left the bowls and chopsticks in the sink for now.

Exhausted from a full day of moving and settling in, they craved a thorough, relaxing shower that night.

This applied to both Qi Yan and Qi Ran.

Bathing independently was impossible for his sister in her current state. Yet she loved cleanliness—not quite obsessive, but before the accident, she’d often shower twice a day in summer when sweating heavily.

Now, bathing felt like a luxury. At the hospital, she could only wipe herself down and change into fresh clothes.

It was frustrating, but reality. She also disliked others touching her body—even female nurses.

So Qi Yan washed her hair on weekends when he had no classes. For her upper body, she’d lather soap herself and rinse under the shower.

Without a water heater, they boiled water manually. Aunt Chunxiang recommended an immersion heater—quick and simple, but risky. They had to be careful.

Never fill the bucket completely. Leave a third empty. Overflowing boiling water could splash dangerously.

Qi Yan placed the heater gently, ensuring all coils were submerged but not touching the bucket’s sides or bottom. Otherwise, the plastic might melt or even catch fire.

Only after double-checking did he plug it in to heat the water.

One bucket wasn’t enough for his sister. After the first batch heated, he let the heater cool for two minutes, then repeated the process twice more.

Qi Yan carried a chair into the bathroom first. He laid out towels and fresh clothes nearby so she could dress immediately after bathing, avoiding chills.

"Xiao Ran, the hot water’s ready. Let’s go bathe…"

Qi Ran nodded vigorously. Her big, glistening eyes blinked, golden stars seeming to twinkle in her crystal-clear red pupils.

Her joy was obvious—she adored bathing to the point of forgetting everything else.

Her routine was slightly unusual: she’d rinse her body first, then have him wash her hair, and finally rinse again.

He mixed hot and cold water to a comfortable temperature. Around her, seated on a small stool, he placed shampoo, a ladle, towels, and her phone—all within easy reach.

"I’ll wash the dishes first. I’ll be back in five minutes to wash your hair. Press the phone’s ringtone if you need anything."

Qi Ran nodded in understanding. Bathing was the only time she didn’t carry her pen and notebook—perhaps because she wanted to forget her troubles while doing what she loved most.

Qi Yan closed the frosted glass door. He worried, but boundaries mattered. Even as siblings, some lines couldn’t be crossed.

This reminded him of the embarrassing moment earlier when he’d helped her pee.

Qi Yan shook his head sharply, banishing the thought. "She’s my sister. My sister… What am I thinking? Time to wash dishes."

Distracted, he scrubbed pots and pans, glancing at the clock every few seconds.

That failed pot of rice could be stir-fried tomorrow morning—no need to waste it.

At exactly four minutes and forty seconds into her bath, a loud splash echoed from the bathroom.

Qi Yan dropped his rag and rushed over, yanking the glass door open. Qi Ran lay on the floor, wrapped only in a towel that barely covered her chest. Her pale skin below the waist was fully exposed.

He had no time to admire the sight. He lifted her up, rewrapping the towel securely.

Qi Ran raised her tearful face. She surely wanted to apologize: *Brother, I’m sorry for troubling you again.*

But she couldn’t speak or write her thoughts in her notebook right now.

Qi Yan stroked her head first. "It’s okay. I’m not mad. Just glad you’re not hurt."

She’d knocked over the washbasin—probably reaching for shampoo to wash her own hair, losing balance and falling.

"I know you want to lighten my load. But this is nothing for me. Honestly, washing your hair is a pleasure!" Qi Yan smiled.

With ordinary siblings, she’d have yelled "Pervert!" and kicked him in the groin.

Her hair was long, reaching her waist. She’d often considered cutting it short—or even shaving it all off—to save him effort.

Qi Yan had stopped her. Not just because she’d still be beautiful bald or short-haired. He’d care for her no matter what. He just couldn’t bear seeing her hurt herself for his sake.

"Keep your hair long for me," he’d once told her. Back then, he hadn’t realized how deeply those words would resonate with a young girl.