Chapter 2 Breaking the Deadlock with a Backhand

After taking a shower, Mist opened the drawer, her eyes sweeping over the various toys inside. After a moment's hesitation, she closed the drawer again.

Ever since she realized something was off with her body, she had bought quite a few things online to bring herself some relief.

These items helped suppress the restlessness in her body to some extent, but not by much.

And after trying them a few times, instead of getting addicted, she found them tedious and boring.

Thinking she might have bought the wrong things, she did some research on different social platforms, but the experience remained the same-her body was restless, and even when relieved by a machine, she didn't feel much pleasure.

The bottom line was, her damn body just wanted a man.

Throwing herself onto the bed, Mist gritted her teeth for a long time before finally pulling out her phone and opening WeChat to check on her newly added contact.

Charles' profile picture and bio were incredibly unromantic.

His profile picture was just a bold, flaming, embossed text that said "Thomas."

His bio was simple and powerful-

My surname is Thomas, breaking the deadlock with a backhand. 😎

This combination of a cringey, over-the-top profile picture and a nonsensical social media quote was more of a turnoff than taking an ice-cold shower.

Mist wasn't sure if Charles was playing around with absurd humor or if he genuinely liked this kind of thing.

Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, Mist decided to ignore his empty, three-day-visible Moments and instead opened the chat window.

A guy with such a try-hard persona was one thing, but at least his legs wouldn't make him a player. She could tolerate it.

Opening the chat was easy, but figuring out what to say left her stuck.

She had known since childhood that her looks were an advantage. Adults liked her, peers actively sought her friendship, and as soon as romance became a thing, she was never short on admirers.

Despite receiving so many love letters and gifts that her drawers couldn't hold them all, she never had any real desire for romance. Especially after her body started acting up-her body wanted it, but her mind found relationships gross.

So, she had never dated anyone, nor had she ever actively pursued someone.

But what she wanted with Charles wasn't a real relationship anyway.

She wasn't looking for a boyfriend-just a safe, long-term hookup.

But how was she supposed to bring that up?

Mist searched online for advice, How do you suggest having sex with someone?

The answers were all over the place, but she liked the third most upvoted comment the best-

As long as the woman is pretty enough, one look is all it takes for a man to understand.

So... was she not pretty enough in Charles' eyes?

If that were the case, then not only were his legs useless, but his eyes were, too.

Just then, a WeChat notification popped up. Charles had texted her first.

Charles, [?]

Mist hadn't even figured out how to start the conversation yet. She stared at the question mark for a moment before responding in kind.

Mist, [?]

Charles, Weren't you going to explain that "angel" thing to me?

Mist, Oh.

Mist, I forgot.

Charles, .

Mist could practically feel his speechlessness through the screen. She started typing out a long explanation but deleted it before sending it.

The term "hand angel" was about using hands to help disabled people feel pleasure-a purely service-oriented thing. But her goal wasn't about giving pleasure; it was about getting pleasure.

If she explained it too bluntly, what if he misunderstood?

Tapping her fingers on the phone case, she went back to the answers she had read earlier, focusing on the second-highest upvoted one.

Thinking about her upcoming work commitments and the flood of attractive male classmates she'd be surrounded by once school started in a month, Mist gritted her teeth and typed out a message.

Mist, I just got out of the shower. My body's all wet.

Half a second after she sent the message, Charles' chat status changed to "Typing..."

Mist held her breath.

Charles, Go find a towel.

Mist, But I don't feel like using a towel~

This time, Charles took a while to reply. Just as Mist thought he was ignoring her, her screen lit up with his message.

Charles, Mist, have some self-respect.

Mist, "..."

AAAHHHH!

Kicking her blanket off the bed, Mist felt like crying. If it weren't for this damn body, why would she have to suffer like this?

She didn't even want to be dealing with men in the first place!

Stupid men! Stupid men!

Frustrated, Mist opened the app store and downloaded a hookup app.

But when she got to the registration page, she hesitated. She really wanted to give up on Charles and find a man who actually understood, but there were too many unknown risks.

The physical disparity between men and women aside, even if they met in a hotel and didn't know each other's real identities, she couldn't keep her face hidden forever.

And once her face was exposed, the guy would inevitably know who she was.

For the first time, Mist questioned her career choice. But she had already gotten into university, signed a contract with a company-she couldn't let this bodily issue derail her future.

Besides, she really enjoyed acting.

After weighing her options, she realized Charles was still the safest bet. He avoided crowds because of his leg, hated socializing, and always wore a hat and mask when he went out.

After a week of knowing him, he seemed decent enough. He was always so detached and indifferent-he didn't seem like the kind of guy who would brag online about sleeping with an actress.

But how was she supposed to make a move?

Lying in bed, Mist agonized over the question until she dozed off.

While she was half-asleep, the sound of a notification woke her.

Charles, It's going to rain tomorrow. I'm not going out.

Charles, Want to come over and play video games?

Huh?

Mist's drowsy brain took a few seconds to process the message.

Was Charles inviting her to his place to play games?

So when he told her to have self-respect earlier, was it just a way to make the first move himself?

Mist had no interest in video games, but she was thrilled by Charles' invitation.

Mist, Yes!

Charles, Excited?

Mist, Not excited.

Mist, I'm going to be reserved.

Hah.

Seeing her message, Charles smirked. He hoped she would actually stick to that.

Charles, Get some sleep.

Mist sent him a bunny blowing a kiss.

Charles exited the chat just to check how it displayed on his home screen-[Animated Sticker] Kiss.

She couldn't even say goodnight properly, just had to send a kiss emoji instead. Did she think she was being subtle?

When Mist woke up in the morning, the first thing she did was check her phone. Seeing that Charles' invitation wasn't just a dream but an actual message, she let out a big sigh of relief.

Going to bed early meant waking up early.

Mist went to the dance studio for her daily stretching routine. While making breakfast, she casually asked if Charles wanted some.

Receiving no response, she figured he was still asleep. After finishing her meal, Mist continued with her daily tasks.

She opened the assignment given by her company's acting coach and completed the required exercises. But soon, her mind began to wander. First, she wondered what game Charles would play with her, then her thoughts drifted to Charles' long, well-defined fingers, his distinctly masculine hands.

And then, her body started heating up.

After scrolling through her phone for a while, she realized she couldn't focus on anything except thinking about a man. Giving up on mindlessly watching short videos, she headed to the kitchen.

She busied herself for a while, then checked the time-it was only 10,30.

Mist, [I want to come over. Are you awake?]

This time, Charles responded,

Charles, [7702]

Realizing that these numbers were his home's passcode, Mist's heart raced with excitement.

Mist, [Are you up?]

She waited for three minutes but got no reply.

She wasn't sure if he had fallen back asleep or was just busy with something else.

Holding the sandwich she made, Mist arrived at Charles' door in under five minutes and entered the code.

"Charles?"

Mist called out into the living room. Hearing no response, she stood at the entrance for a minute.

A lot went through her mind in that minute.

First, she panicked for a moment, imagining Charles as a psychopathic killer. A disabled man who lured women into his home only to torture and murder them.

Then, her thoughts took another turn-if Charles had indeed gone back to sleep, she could sneak into his room, climb on top of him, and he wouldn't be able to fight back because of his legs.

The thought of pinning a man down won out in her mind.

Mist found a pair of disposable slippers in the shoe cabinet and started exploring.

As neighbors, their houses were structured similarly, though decorated differently.

Since she preferred open views, she lived upstairs. The first floor of her home had two rooms-one for dance and exercise, the other for storage.

Thinking about Charles' legs, Mist opened the room closest to the living room.

She was lucky-she got it right on the first try.

The room's blackout curtains were tightly shut, and the only light came from the open door.

A night of being sealed in had left the entire room filled with Charles' scent.

The overwhelming masculine pheromones made Mist grip the doorframe just to keep herself steady.

A large mound was visible under the covers of the two-meter-wide bed, making it easy for her to locate Charles.

Her gaze shifted to the wheelchair beside the bed before slowly moving to the foot of the bed. She debated whether to take off her shoes and sneak in quietly, lifting the covers and crawling from the foot of the bed to the head-where she'd press him down completely.

"Charles, are you still sleeping..."

Mist's head buzzed. She didn't want to do something as vile as forcing herself on a disabled person. She just wanted to wake him up. But her body was so desperate to do bad things that her voice grew softer and softer.

"Charles, are you awake?"

Mist slowly moved to the head of the bed, her eyes locked onto Charles like a hungry wolf spotting its prey.

Since the moment she met Charles, she had noticed that while he occasionally removed his mask, he always wore a hat.

At first, she had even wondered if he was balding.

Now, however, she set that concern aside.

His hairstyle was completely at odds with his usual aloof, indifferent demeanor-it was an American-style textured crop, a bold choice that truly tested facial attractiveness.

His naturally messy bedhead only enhanced his charm.

It made her want to devour him even more.

Mist's gaze traveled from his hair to the diamond stud in his ear, then to his slightly parted lips-lips that looked like they were waiting for a kiss.

Her dry tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth as she leaned down, her voice barely above a whisper,

"Charles, did you shower last night?"

If he had, she wasn't going to hold back!