Wei Yumeng was ushered into the room and her eyes fell upon a man sitting in a wheelchair by the window. Even from his back, she had a feeling he must be handsome.
When the man turned around, Wei Yumeng was startled by his appearance. She had seen handsome men before, but never one as cold yet alluring as him. He was a man who embodied both charisma and good looks.
His dark, beautiful eyes seemed to burn with a hidden flame, making Wei Yumeng's heart skip a beat.
Zhan Mohan could see through her thoughts with a single glance, letting out a disdainful scoff.
"Have you seen enough? If so, come and attend to me."
Attend to me?
This was the first time Wei Yumeng had heard such a term, and it made her feel uncomfortable. Remembering what Old Master Zhan had said, she slowly walked forward.
"Is there anything you need me to do?"
"Massage me." The man's voice was as cold as ice, carrying an irrefutable authority.
She dared not disobey. If she went back on her word, not only would Wei Anguo stop caring for her critically ill mother, but the Zhan family would also not allow her to leave.
Now, this was the only path before her.
Fortunately, her maternal grandmother had been a renowned traditional Chinese medicine practitioner, so she knew a little about trivial matters.
She looked around, preparing to grab a stool to sit on, when she heard the man's exceedingly indifferent voice.
"Who gave you permission to sit?"
Wei Yumeng's hand, holding the stool, paused abruptly. She looked at him, not understanding.
"Then how should I massage?"
The man's long, slender fingers pointed to the floor, a wicked curve forming on his lips.
"Kneel on the floor."
Wei Yumeng clenched her fists, her slender shoulders trembling slightly as she desperately maintained her expression.
She put down the stool, walked to his side, and slowly lowered her knees. Her skin touched the cold floor. Though it was summer, she felt a bone-chilling cold.
Her hands slowly landed on his long legs, encased in suit pants. What fine legs, only a pity...
Her movements were slow and gentle, appearing extremely patient.
Zhan Mohan looked down at her. Her face was a perfect oval, with delicate features. Especially her eyes, which seemed to hold starlight, yet also a hint of defiance. He concluded she was a woman with thorns.
On the surface, she was respectful, but he guessed she was mentally criticizing him. He had seen many like her.
"Mr. Zhan, is the pressure suitable?"
She asked without much thought, having often massaged her mother before, it slipped out naturally.
But she had overlooked one point: this man's lower body was paralyzed and had no sensation.
By the time she realized, it was too late. The man's cold, large hand gripped her jaw. Their eyes met. His face was like a sculpture, devoid of emotion, his gaze filled with a chilling intensity that was terrifying.
"Are you doing this deliberately?"
He knew his lower body was paralyzed, yet she still asked such a question. Wasn't that rubbing salt into his wounds?
This woman truly needed to be taught a lesson.
Wei Yumeng's eyes welled up with tears from the pain. She could hear the creaking of bones.
"I... I'm sorry."
Hearing her plea, Zhan Mohan released her.
Wei Yumeng raised her hand to wipe away the tears from her eyes and continued to massage him. This time, she decided to remain silent. Surely, he couldn't find fault with her now.
She wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not, but she thought she felt his body tense up. Then again, his lower body was paralyzed; he shouldn't feel anything.
As she stood up after the massage, a sharp pain suddenly shot through her legs, causing her to stagger and fall onto the man...