Marrying the Male Lead’s Disabled Uncle – Chapter 16

Chapter 16 Come to my room and give me a massage

That day, Yan Han’s father had called him back to the old house, saying they hadn’t had dinner together in a long time. After some thought, he decided to go.

However, once there, he ran into his eldest brother—Yan Xiuyuan’s father.

The conversation quickly turned into an argument.

A bad one.

His mood soured, and afterward, he went drinking. He rarely let himself get drunk, but that night, he did.

By the time he realized he had been sent home, it was already too late.

That night, he had a dream.

A dream of the car accident from years ago.

His legs—bloody, torn apart, filled with searing pain.

The agony was so intense that it jolted him back to partial consciousness, yet his body refused to move, his eyes unable to open.

The pain didn’t stop even when he was awake.

It was a living purgatory, fire running through his veins, his nerves screaming.

Until—

A pair of slender, cold hands touched his legs.

At that moment, the burning agony dulled just a little.

The hands weren’t skilled, but they were gentle.

They massaged his legs, easing the pain bit by bit.

He didn’t know how long those hands worked—only that they stayed until he finally fell asleep.

That night was the best sleep he had had since his accident.

But it also caused him to miss his morning meeting the next day.

When he woke up, he saw Pei Lang sleeping beside his bed.

If the weather had been colder, the idiot probably would have frozen.

At first, he was angry.

Pei Lang had come into his room without permission.

But…

The guy had no ill intentions.

He had given him a massage, taken care of him all night.

So, in the end, Yan Han wasn’t really angry.

He was just uncomfortable.

For so long, he had insisted that he didn’t need anyone.

That he was completely fine on his own.

But after experiencing being taken care of, he finally understood the difference between being alone and having someone there.

It shook him.

He had always thought that no matter how hard he worked, he was still just a useless cripple—that his existence would never not be pathetic.

And then Pei Lang came along and disrupted everything.

That night, he had slept soundly.

But the nights after?

His insomnia got even worse.

If Pei Lang hadn’t given him that one night of good sleep, he would have continued enduring without a second thought.

Now, however—he couldn’t accept it.

The absence of that peaceful sleep made the sleepless nights feel unbearable.

It was all Pei Lang’s fault.

He was frustrated, and after struggling with it for days, he finally decided to test something.

Would he only be able to fall asleep if Pei Lang was there?

But asking someone to sleep with him was far too humiliating.

So he made it sound like a demand, a cold threat—like a true tyrant.

Even though, in reality, he was nervous as hell.

His ears turned red before he could even control it.

And Pei Lang?

Of course, he saw everything.

The tiny figure on Yan Han’s shoulder was even worse—rolling around in its quilt, too shy to show its face.

Seeing how awkward and nervous Yan Han actually was, Pei Lang felt completely at ease.

He had acted in so many dramas.

He had even slept with people before for work.

If Yan Han wanted him to act out a scene, then fine.

Besides…

He had a feeling he wouldn’t be the one suffering the most in this arrangement.

—

After dinner, the two of them returned to their rooms.

Pei Lang lived on the second floor.

Yan Han lived on the third.

One took the stairs, the other took the elevator.

Each went their separate ways, but both knew they’d soon be sleeping in the same room.

Back in his own space, Pei Lang uploaded another song.

This time, it was just guitar and vocals—simple, raw, no professional mixing.

It was clear he was using cheap equipment, but it didn’t matter.

His voice alone was enough to make people ignore everything else.

Ever since that last video, those who remained were the ones who genuinely enjoyed his music.

No one called him “little brother” anymore.

Now, he was “Uncle Lang” or just “Uncle.”

The tone was warm, light-hearted, kind—like how a child would speak to a trusted elder.

Pei Lang found himself smiling.

“If I want kindness from others, I must first be kind to them.”

The atmosphere on this website was good.

People here weren’t here to hate—they were here to heal.

Feeling satisfied, Pei Lang spent some time chatting in the comments section, losing track of time.

By the time he finally yawned, sleepiness creeping in, he suddenly remembered—

Oh. Right. I need to go find Yan Han.

He went to the bathroom, washed up, then put on his pajamas before heading upstairs to the third floor.

Knocking on Yan Han’s bedroom door, he waited.

The door didn’t open.

But the study door next to it was ajar.

A moment later, Yan Han emerged.

His eyes swept over Pei Lang’s sleepwear, and his frown deepened.

Pei Lang glanced down at himself.

What? Was there something wrong with his pajamas?

Besides, if he wasn’t wearing pajamas, did Yan Han expect him to sleep naked?!

Yan Han ignored his reaction. With a slight movement, the electronic sensor unlocked his bedroom door, and he wheeled himself inside without another word.

Pei Lang stood at the threshold, hesitating.

“Mr. Yan… Can I come in directly?”

Yan Han responded without looking back.

“You’ve been here before.”

Pei Lang chuckled and stepped inside.

“Mr. Yan, are you going to take a shower first? Do you want me to step out for a moment? Or—” He smirked. “Do you need help washing?”

“No need.“

The response was immediate and ice-cold.

Pei Lang laughed but didn’t push further. He simply stood there and waited.

Yan Han grabbed his pajamas and disappeared into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, he emerged.

He had changed out of his suit, now wearing black pajamas, his damp hair slightly tousled.

Wordlessly, he wheeled himself toward the bed, grabbed a book, and looked as if he was about to get in.

Pei Lang watched, intrigued.

Yan Han noticed.

“Don’t look. Close your eyes.“

Pei Lang obediently covered his eyes with his hands.

Through the gaps in his fingers, he saw Yan Han press a switch on his wheelchair.

The back of the wheelchair lifted, aligning perfectly with the height of the bed.

With a controlled movement, Yan Han braced himself, supporting his weight with his arms before dragging his legs onto the bed.

Once positioned, he adjusted his legs manually, placed a pillow beneath his lower back, and picked up his book, pretending to read.

Pei Lang—eyes still closed—sighed dramatically.

“Mr. Yan, if you wanted me to close my eyes, you could have just said you were shy.“

Yan Han had no idea that Pei Lang had seen everything—every movement, every subtle hesitation—as he transferred himself from the wheelchair to the bed.

Pei Lang, watching from the side, felt a small pang of sympathy.

“Mr. Yan, are you okay?” he asked softly.

Yan Han didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he ordered, “Come here.”

Pei Lang put his hands down and walked over slowly.

“Mr. Yan, we agreed to discuss the details of ‘sleeping together’ first,” he said with a teasing smile. “So, what exactly do you want me to do?”

He wasn’t worried.

Yan Han would never actually make such a request.

That man was far too serious for that.

Hearing Pei Lang’s tactful way of putting things, Yan Han felt less awkward.

“I married you to cure my legs,” he admitted. “I don’t know if that superstition is true or not, but… your massage skills are good. At the very least, they help relieve my pain.”

That made sense.

Pei Lang’s father used to force him to practice martial arts as a child, so he was all too familiar with muscle soreness. Over time, he had learned how to relieve pain through self-massage techniques.

He wasn’t a doctor.

But he had suffered enough to figure things out.

“Come to my room at night and give me a leg massage,” Yan Han stated. “In exchange, I’ll help you deal with Yan Xiuyuan and provide you with food.”

After the photo incident, it was clear that Yan Xiuyuan hated Pei Lang more than ever.

Pei Lang had no background, no allies, no one to protect him.

Only Yan Han had the power to shield him.

It was a very fair deal.

Pei Lang understood immediately and agreed without hesitation.

“Mr. Yan has helped me so much,” he said sincerely. “Even without this deal, I’d still be willing to help you.”

Yan Han glanced at him.

“To make things easier, you should just sleep in my room for now,” he added casually.

Pei Lang froze for a second, then nodded.

“Alright.”

Did Yan Han need a massage in the middle of the night?

Would he be woken up at odd hours for this?

Pei Lang stared at Yan Han’s shoulder, his eyes falling on the tiny figure sitting there.

The little man, pleased by Pei Lang’s agreement, happily sat cross-legged on the bed, inspecting Yan Han’s legs.

…He was way too cute.

Thinking back to how Yan Han had groaned in pain that night, Pei Lang couldn’t bring himself to complain.

Looking around, Pei Lang noticed there was only one bed in the room.

The only other place to sleep was the sofa—a large one, but bare.

“Mr. Yan, I’ll go grab my blanket from my room,” Pei Lang said. “There’s nothing on the sofa.”

Yan Han didn’t say anything, simply nodding in approval.

He hadn’t planned on letting Pei Lang sleep in his bed anyway.

Seeing that Pei Lang was sensible enough to make the decision himself, Yan Han’s opinion of him improved slightly.

After getting permission, Pei Lang left.

As he walked down the hallway, he sighed to himself.

He had always dreamed of clinging to a powerful figure for protection—but he never imagined that one day, he’d literally be hugging Yan Han’s thigh.

…Even if it was just through massage.

His hands were going to suffer, for sure.

But when he thought about how much he needed Yan Han’s help, and about how Yan Han was genuinely dealing with chronic pain, his heart softened.

By the time he returned, Yan Han had already settled in bed, reading a book.

Pei Lang, not wanting to disturb him, quietly curled up on the sofa and started browsing his phone.

At some point, he felt drowsy.

Just as he was about to fall asleep—

“Come here.”

Yan Han’s voice startled him awake.

Rubbing his eyes, Pei Lang got up, shuffled across the room in his slippers, and approached the bed.

Yan Han had already put his book down.

“My legs hurt,” he said simply. “Massage them.”

Pei Lang didn’t complain.

He lifted the blanket and carefully rolled up Yan Han’s pajama pants.

Under the dim light, Yan Han’s pale skin was exposed—marked with scars.

Some old, some more recent.

The sight was shocking.

Yan Han tensed.

His sharp eyes immediately locked onto Pei Lang’s face, trying to catch any reaction—

Would he show disgust? Would he pity him?

But Pei Lang’s expression remained calm.

“Does it hurt in your calf?” he asked, starting from the bottom and slowly pressing his fingers upward, inch by inch.

“Yeah.”

…Actually, his legs weren’t hurting tonight.

He had just needed an excuse to call Pei Lang over.

How could he possibly say that he needed someone there to sleep?

“Mr. Yan, do your legs hurt often?” Pei Lang asked, gently massaging the scars with his fingertips.

Yan Han didn’t answer.

From his perspective, all he could see was Pei Lang’s focused face—his long eyelashes casting shadows under the light.

His hands were warm, steady, and strong.

He didn’t show pity.

He didn’t show revulsion.

He simply accepted it.

And for some reason—

Yan Han could clearly feel the sensation of those fingers working on his skin.

A tingling feeling crept through his legs, something strange, unfamiliar… but not unpleasant.

His eyelids grew heavy.

Pei Lang, noticing that Yan Han didn’t seem interested in talking, stayed silent as well.

The room was peaceful.

Pei Lang massaged for a long time, almost wondering if Yan Han had fallen asleep—

Until he looked up and met Yan Han’s gaze.

At some point, Yan Han had been watching him.

But his eyes were different from usual.

Gone was the usual coldness.

Pei Lang’s heartbeat skipped, just for a second.

“Mr. Yan,” he blurted out, forcing a smile to hide his sudden nervousness, “you weren’t asleep?”

“Are you sleepy?” Yan Han asked instead.

Pei Lang had been massaging him for over thirty minutes.

No complaints.

No signs of impatience.

Yan Han wasn’t an inhuman person.

It was nearly midnight.

It was time for both of them to sleep.

“It’s fine,” Pei Lang said. “Just… my hands are a little sore.”

He flexed his fingers.

Seeing this, Yan Han spoke.

“Go to bed.”

Pei Lang blinked, a little surprised.

Then he grinned.

“Oh. Good night, Mr. Yan.”

With that, he got off the bed, curled up on the sofa, and quickly fell asleep.

Yan Han removed the pillow behind his back and lay flat.

All the lights were controlled by the switch near the bed.

With a single press, the room was plunged into darkness.

Everything felt the same as usual—

Except…

There was now one more person in the room.

And the bed still carried the scent of Pei Lang’s shower gel.

For the first time in days, Yan Han felt completely at ease.

His body and mind relaxed—

And without even realizing it, he fell into a deep sleep.