Marrying the Male Lead’s Disabled Uncle – Chapter 17

Chapter 17: The Dean’s Sincere Invitation

As soon as the alarm rang, Yan Han’s eyes snapped open. He reached out and turned it off.

The villa’s landscaping was impeccable. The morning sun outside the window bathed the dew-covered leaves in a vibrant green glow. Accompanied by the gentle chirping of birds, he had slept exceptionally well last night. At this moment, he felt completely recharged, both physically and mentally. He had never experienced such a beautiful morning before.

Sure enough, my guess was right—having Pei Lang in the room really helped me sleep.

Glancing toward the sofa, a figure lay nestled quietly within, soft, smooth hair spilling over the cushions. It must feel nice to the touch. As usual, Yan Han struggled a little to get up, dressed, washed up, and wheeled himself over to Pei Lang’s side. Lowering his head, he observed him. In sleep, Pei Lang resembled a little fox. The red teardrop mole at the corner of his eye was both alluring and innocent, and the curve of his closed eyes carried a natural charm, as if he could effortlessly captivate anyone the moment he opened them.

And coincidentally, Pei Lang did just that.

Yan Han found himself facing a pair of defenseless, drowsy eyes. Unlike himself, who would immediately tense up upon waking, Pei Lang’s gaze reflected utter relaxation—an unshakable belief that there was no danger around him. For some reason, Yan Han found those eyes dazzling, shining with a kind of brilliance he had never encountered before.

“Mr. Yan, you’re up so early?” Pei Lang yawned, pulling his hands out from under the quilt, stretching lazily as he greeted him.

“Leave once you’re awake.” Yan Han fixed his gaze on him, his tone curt.

Pei Lang finally shook off the last traces of sleep, slipped on his slippers, folded the quilt neatly, and made his way to the door. “Alright, I’ll head back and catch up on some sleep.”

“You’re not going for your morning run?”

“Not today. I’ll rest this morning and work out in the afternoon.”

Yan Han headed downstairs for breakfast, waiting for Su Jia to pick him up for work. To his surprise, he ran into Pei Lang at the dining table.

Pei Lang explained that he preferred eating his fill before sleeping—otherwise, he’d wake up hungry too soon. And waking up hungry was one of the most painful experiences in the world.

Yan Han listened but didn’t comment. However, he made a note of one thing: Pei Lang loved to eat and feared going hungry. Could it be that he lacked food as a child? Yan Han had never experienced that himself, so he couldn’t imagine what it was like.

In truth, Pei Lang wasn’t afraid of hunger. His father had been strict during his childhood martial arts training, forbidding him from eating many foods. Later, when he began singing, he had to follow his agent’s dietary restrictions. And once he started acting, the rules were even stricter.

Now, however, no one controlled what he ate. He was free to enjoy whatever he wanted, and the best part? This body could eat anything without gaining weight. So why not indulge?

I have to train and practice martial arts every day. How can I do that without enough food?

After breakfast, Pei Lang went back to nap, while Yan Han left for work.

Su Jia was driving. Noticing that Yan Han’s expression was less icy than usual, she bravely suggested, “Boss, would you like some music? I recently found a song that’s really good.”

Yan Han, seated in the back, remained silent. But Su Jia understood that meant tacit approval, so she hit play.

A soft, soothing melody filled the car. The accompaniment was pleasant, the voice gentle yet powerful, the lyrics both poetic and uplifting. Listening to it felt like stepping into a serene mountain forest—sunlight filtering through the leaves in golden streaks, reflecting on the babbling brook, washing away the dust in one’s heart, leaving behind a profound sense of peace.

Having slept well last night, with the sunlight ahead not too harsh and music flowing in his ears, Yan Han unexpectedly commented, “It’s a good song.”

It was rare for the boss to share her taste in music! Su Jia, thrilled at successfully introducing the song to him, exclaimed excitedly, “Right? I’ve been listening to this on repeat for days. Whenever work gets stressful, this song reminds me that life is still worth it!”

Yan Han, ever sharp, immediately caught the underlying message. His voice turned cold. “You’re saying work is stressful?”

“Ah… No, no, it’s not the job! It’s just my own personal struggles, hehe~~” She smiled outwardly but cried inwardly.

Yan Han, however, wasn’t done. “That voice sounds familiar.” He had felt it the moment the singer started.

“I thought so too! For a second, I even wondered if one of my uncles had secretly started singing!”

“Uncle?” Yan Han raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, boss! You wouldn’t know since you don’t pay attention to this stuff. This song has been trending online for days. The singer is supposedly some guy in his fifties.”

However, after thinking about it again, she hesitated. The voice was indeed familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint any relatives who sounded like this.

“Oh, right, boss, there’s a meeting in another city in a few days. Would you like to attend in person?”

Due to his mobility issues, Yan Han had delegated most company affairs to others and avoided business trips whenever possible. However, this meeting was particularly important, so Su Jia decided to ask.

“Let Yao Shuo handle it.”

“Got it, boss.”

Over the next few days, Yan Han seemed less occupied, returning home earlier after work. Since Pei Lang was around, Yan Han’s appetite improved significantly, and he found himself eating more than before.

After dinner, they each returned to their rooms to work. When it was nearly bedtime, Pei Lang would show up in Yan Han’s room with his quilt, give him a massage, chat for a while, and then go to sleep.

After a few days of this routine, Pei Lang began to feel like a favored concubine who brought his own bedding.

Yan Han was so stingy that he refused to prepare an extra quilt for the sofa and remained indifferent as he watched Pei Lang carry his quilt up and down the stairs every night.

One day, after uploading a new song to the platform, Pei Lang received a private message that caught his attention.

The sender was the director of an orphanage.

[Director: Hello, I’m the director of Tianguang Orphanage. Your songs are beautiful, and the children love them. Children’s Day is coming up in a few days. Would you be willing to perform at our orphanage?]

Pei Lang stared at the message, lost in thought.

An orphanage…

The platform he used focused on mental health, so it wasn’t surprising that the director played his songs for the children growing up in such an environment. Without parents or relatives, the director was the only one celebrating Children’s Day with them. Since the kids liked his music, it wasn’t unreasonable for the director to invite him.

But the issue was that Pei Lang had deliberately crafted an online persona as an older man to conceal his identity. If he performed in person, wouldn’t he be exposed?

On the other hand, if he refused, the children would be disappointed. If even such a small wish couldn’t be fulfilled on Children’s Day, then what joyful memories would they have of their childhood?

Just as he was debating whether to accept or how to decline, another message arrived.

[Director: Don’t worry, our orphanage isn’t large, so there won’t be much attention. Other than the children, it’s just me here—the caregivers won’t be present. We’ll keep your identity confidential, so you don’t need to worry about exposure.]

[Director: I sincerely invite you. If you really don’t want to come, that’s okay—though the children are very excited about it. If you have any concerns, let me know, and I’ll do my best to accommodate you.]

Judging by her profile picture, the director seemed to be an older woman. Her words were sincere, and she wasn’t pressuring him. Pei Lang clicked on her profile and found the orphanage’s front view along with its detailed address—it didn’t look like a scam.

The internet was a useful tool. Pei Lang quickly researched the orphanage’s background. Tianguang Orphanage had been around for 18 years, and the director’s name and photos matched the private message sender. There were also various online posts from volunteers sharing their experiences there. Everything confirmed that the orphanage was real and that the director’s invitation was genuine.

After a long moment, Pei Lang finally replied:

“I’m sorry, I need some time to think about it. Can I give you an answer tomorrow?”

[Director: Of course! Thank you for replying. I’ll wait for your decision.]

Pei Lang’s main concern, however, was still Yan Xiuyuan.

Yan Xiuyuan was determined to take revenge on him. Since Pei Lang had been staying in the villa lately, he had remained hidden, making it impossible for Yan Xiuyuan to find him. But the grudge hadn’t disappeared. If Pei Lang went outside, he would inevitably be exposed.

He was alone in this world, with no one to back him up. Meanwhile, Yan Xiuyuan was the male protagonist, blessed with both plot armor and a powerful background. Pei Lang couldn’t afford to fight him.

Yan Han had already done him a huge favor by giving him a place to hide. He had no obligation to protect him beyond that. In fact, everyone knew that the original owner had been entangled with Yan Xiuyuan, and even Yan Han’s father was aware of it. If anything about the past were to come to light, the worst that would happen to Yan Han was being metaphorically “cuckolded”—it wasn’t a major loss for him.

Yan Han had helped him so much; Pei Lang didn’t want to exploit that kindness by using Yan Han’s reputation as a shield.

I’ll give the director my answer tomorrow. I trust that she’ll keep my identity secret, but dealing with Yan Xiuyuan is another problem.

This matter lingered in his mind until Yan Han returned home for dinner that evening. While they sat at the table together, Pei Lang casually brought it up.

“Mr. Yan, what’s Yan Xiuyuan been up to lately?”

Yan Han, who had been eating quietly, suddenly turned cold. His sharp gaze flicked toward Pei Lang, but Pei Lang pretended not to notice.

Is their relationship so bad that they can’t even mention each other’s names?

Pei Lang mused inwardly. Yan Xiuyuan was an idiot—it was understandable that Yan Han, as his elder, disliked him.

Thinking back to his own interactions with Yan Xiuyuan, Pei Lang figured that if even he couldn’t tolerate a few phone calls, then someone like Yan Han—who had been stuck with him for over twenty years—must find him unbearable. It was no surprise that he didn’t like him.

Yan Han’s voice was cold. “I have no interest in his affairs.”

Pei Lang felt a little stifled. He fell silent for a while, eating quietly while observing the little man on Yan Han’s shoulder.

Ever since hearing Yan Xiuyuan’s name, the little man had been sulking. He poked at the rice in his bowl with his chopsticks, looking as if he were venting his frustration.

After a moment, Pei Lang spoke again, this time more directly. “Mr. Yan, I just wanted to ask if Yan Xiuyuan is still looking for me. I plan to go out in a few days.”

Yan Han’s eyes sharpened. “Where are you going?”

“Uh… just out for a walk.”

Pei Lang paused. He hadn’t expected Yan Han to probe further. Even Yan Han himself hadn’t expected to ask.

Yan Han’s tone remained indifferent. “He hasn’t given up, but it’s not that serious. If you want to go out, you can.”

Pei Lang trusted Yan Han. If he said it was fine, then it was fine. He let out a quiet sigh of relief and finished the last bite of food in his bowl. “Alright, thank you, Mr. Yan. I’ll head back to my room now. Enjoy your meal.”

But just as Pei Lang stood up, Yan Han stood up as well.

Pei Lang blinked in confusion.

Although Yan Han’s appetite had improved when eating with Pei Lang, he still ate less than most people. He hadn’t left the table earlier simply because he had wanted to stay with Pei Lang.

Now that Pei Lang was leaving, there was no reason for him to stay either.

Pei Lang found it odd, but he didn’t overthink it and simply went upstairs.

Yan Han silently watched him retreat up the stairs, his expression unreadable—light and shadow flickering in his dark eyes.

It wasn’t until Pei Lang’s figure disappeared around the corner that Yan Han finally looked away and took the elevator back to his room.