“Is this kitty’s new home?”
“Is this your home?”
When Jiang Yuhan awoke from a long dream, he had returned to the year he was ten.
His legs were still crippled and numb, but his heart surged with overwhelming joy.
His An’an was still alive.
In this life, he was willing to invent a nonexistent auspicious dream, openly declaring that the illegitimate son of the Wen family was his lucky star, and insisting that five-year-old Wen Anli be brought to the general’s residence.
Before long, the whole city was abuzz with tales of the young master Jiang’s superstitious dream and the Wen family’s sparrow soaring to the treetops.
No one knew that this usually aloof, reserved young master of the Jiang family, so refined and detached from the world, would henceforth give every ounce of tenderness, possessiveness, and favoritism in his life to a child named Wen Anli.
He pushed his wheelchair to a stop before the little boy, let the frost fall from his face, and reached out to him with a smile.
The hand he took at five years old was the hand Jiang Yuhan let Wen Anli hold for the rest of his life.
From then on, a new fashion swept the capital, and everyone marveled:
“I hear the young master Jiang feeds that child himself, holding him in his arms, without a thought for his injured leg!”
“Someone at school bullied him, and the young master Jiang flew into a rage, forcing them all to come kneel and beg forgiveness!”
“That young master Wen must be spoiled beyond all reason by the young master Jiang. No one in the whole capital dares cross him!”
Rumors swirled, but the two at the center of the storm carried on, cozy and content.
Wen Anli sat comfortably on Jiang Yuhan’s lap, his expression languid. Without even looking up, he obediently opened his mouth to be fed.
Jiang Yuhan held a silver spoon in his long-fingered hand, patiently feeding him. His voice was so tender it seemed to melt into a stream:
“Good boy, eat a little more. You must not have eaten properly at school.”
Jiang Yuhan gently pinched his soft waist. They had been apart for only half a month, yet the boy had grown thinner again. He was worried and annoyed, but could never bring himself to be cross with the little tyrant in his arms.
Wen Anli’s features were clear and bright, his manner proud and composed. Nurtured by such doting, he brimmed with lively confidence, no longer showing even a trace of the numbness and loneliness once hidden in his eyes.
Jiang Yuhan gazed at him, pride filling his heart. Then something lightly scratched his cheek.
The little one had grown impatient waiting for his food. He looked up at Jiang Yuhan, his eyes holding a hint of discontent and confusion.
Jiang Yuhan’s heart softened. Unable to hold back any longer, he slipped his hands beneath the boy’s arms and lifted him, burying his face in that soft little belly and taking a deep, greedy breath.
Wen Anli sighed helplessly.
His Ahan-gege would never outgrow this habit of craving his closeness at every turn.
This was his precious An’an, lost and found again, the one he would protect with everything he had for the rest of his life.
The sinister schemes, bone-deep cold, and countless regrets of his previous life had all become the past.
In this life, there was only you: tenderness year after year, endless doting, without exception.
【Reborn, possessive, lovesick, disabled young master × sweet, docile young master spoiled beyond all reason】
The male lead’s legs will get better later.
Theme: Cherish every moment.
