The NO.1 Food Stall in the Wasteland novel Chapter 172

Chapter 172: Chapter 172: Lives Like Ants, People Like Weeds

Fu Cheng knew he shouldn’t be sulking at Shen Lu.

But the thought of her staring at Xue Can’s bare torso just moments ago ignited an inexplicable anger within him.

’My physique isn’t bad either. Granted, I haven’t worked out in so long that my muscles aren’t as defined, but...’

Fu Cheng suddenly realized that, at the end of the day, he was a disabled man with incomplete limbs. Xue Can might be inferior to him in other areas, but he could run and jump. He was a whole person. That fact alone was enough to completely eclipse him.

The man grew even more despondent.

Shen Lu misinterpreted Fu Cheng’s silence, assuming he was in too much pain to type. She immediately put down her spoon and went to unwrap his bandages.

"Wounds get infected easily in this damp weather. Is yours inflamed? That shouldn’t be possible. I’ve been changing your dressings on schedule."

Shen Lu muttered to herself, running through all the possible reasons for his discomfort.

The man suddenly grabbed her hand, and a few indistinct syllables escaped his throat.

"Shen... Lu..."

Shen Lu’s eyes widened. She looked up in astonishment. "You can talk?"

Calling out Shen Lu’s name had taken all of Fu Cheng’s strength. His chest heaved, and he seemed to want to say more, but his vocal cords failed him, refusing to vibrate again.

Fu Cheng had no choice but to send a message: I’m not in pain. I’m just in a bad mood.

Fu Cheng didn’t like to over-explain things to people; he was a man of few words.

But when it came to Shen Lu, he couldn’t stand the thought of her misunderstanding him.

"Why are you in a bad mood?" Shen Lu began to answer her own question. "Is it because you’re recovering too slowly? But didn’t we get you checked out at the hospital? Considering the extent of your injuries, your current condition is already a miracle."

The hospital had sent the last check-up report to Shen Lu, and of course, many of his levels weren’t normal.

But Fu Cheng was a trauma patient, so having abnormal readings was, paradoxically, normal.

The doctor also said that Fu Cheng had an excellent constitution and strong regenerative abilities. With careful nursing and proper nutrition, he would be able to stand again.

The doctor even recommended she have Fu Cheng treated at the hospital with a "strengthening nutrient shot" that cost 100,000 a pop. One a day for half a year, and he’d be guaranteed to recover at the fastest possible rate.

Shen Lu was speechless. ’Do I look like I’m made of money?’

Still, she discussed it with Fu Cheng. He didn’t want to go to the hospital, so Shen Lu respected his wishes and continued to let him recuperate at home.

Fu Cheng was miserable.

He wasn’t in a bad mood because of his physical condition, but how was he supposed to explain the real reason to Shen Lu?

Was he supposed to tell her he saw her sneak several peeks at the shirtless Xue Can?

After running through various excuses in his head, a dejected Fu Cheng typed out a few words.

Fu Cheng: Xue Can is not a good person.

It dawned on Shen Lu. "You don’t like Xue Can?"

Fu Cheng: Yeah.

"But it’s not like you two have to deal with each other," Shen Lu said, confused. "You don’t have to like him, but it shouldn’t be so bad that you can’t even eat, right?"

Fu Cheng: I’m worried he’ll do something to hurt you. He’s tried to harm you more than once before.

"That’s true. But we’re partners now. As long as he has any sense of professional integrity, he won’t make a move on his own boss."

’Besides, he wouldn’t get far even if he did try anything. I have a one-hundred-percent damage reflection ability protecting me.’

"Don’t worry, don’t worry. You can rest assured I’ll watch out for myself." Shen Lu patted the back of his hand. "So, are you going to eat or not?"

He hated it when she used that tone, as if she were placating a child.

But at this point, pressing the issue would just make him seem petty and unreasonable.

Fu Cheng felt like he was wasting his breath.

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