Fell Deeply In Love With My Ex-Husband's Fiancé - Chapter 79

Chapter 79: Vomiting – For the first time, he wondered if letting go would be better…

With the computer, Lu Feiran’s life seemed to return to some semblance of normalcy. The fixed working hours—two hours every morning and three hours every afternoon—allowed him to momentarily detach from his current state of house arrest.

He opened the office software, hesitatingly glanced at Lance, and meeting the other man’s calm gaze, he clicked login.

His heart was pounding, like a child doing something naughty right under the teacher’s nose.

Two seconds later, the office software successfully logged in. Lu Feiran sighed in relief, only to hear a voice beside him: “Work is work. Don’t do anything else.”

Lu Feiran curled his fingers, gripping the mouse. “Don’t bother me!”

He spoke toughly, but he honestly refrained from sending any distress signals to anyone.

He thought for a moment and couldn’t think of anyone who would help him.

Lance was the company’s largest shareholder. Even Xu Wei could tell their relationship was complicated. How could others be ignorant? Furthermore, his relationship with them wasn’t close enough for them to risk offending Lance for his sake.

Lu Feiran lowered his gaze and silently started his day’s work.

…

He behaved for two days. On the evening of the third day, Lu Feiran logged into his work email. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted an email subject that stood out from the rest of his work content. He nervously backed out to the desktop and cautiously checked Lance.

Lance was sitting beside him, reading a thick, heavy foreign book with slightly yellowed pages, holding it very steadily.

The room’s heater was lit, the fire crackling not far away. The sound of turning pages echoed intermittently. The whole house felt like a rare safe haven in a bitter cold apocalypse.

Under his milk-white sweater, Lu Feiran’s back was covered in a thin layer of sweat. He touched his face, forcing himself to continue his work rhythm, but the frequency of his mouse clicks betrayed his distraction.

Lance leaned closer. The large book was placed aside. The hot, broad body made Lu Feiran sweat even more visibly.

Lance wiped a bead of sweat from his hair and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Lu Feiran steadied his mind and didn’t answer immediately, instead continuing to process some documents as usual. Only after Lance hugged him did he slowly push the blond man away.

“I’m hot. I want a drink.”

Feeling Lance’s hand press against his forehead, Lu Feiran simply pushed the computer away and leaned back onto the sofa, his limbs slack, sprawling on it weakly.

“Why are you so hot?” Lance asked. “Are you nervous?”

“…”

Lu Feiran was only slightly nervous, but Lance pointing it out made his panic almost impossible to hide. He quickly stood up and pushed Lance again. “I don’t want a drink anymore.”

Lance looked at him thoughtfully, placed a hand on his shoulder, gently pressing him to stay put, and said softly, “Okay, wait a moment.”

Lu Feiran finally sat down, looking annoyed that Lance hadn’t immediately followed his instructions.

As the footsteps faded, Lu Feiran immediately opened the computer. Standing by the desk, he leaned over the screen and located the strange email he had briefly scanned earlier.

[Lu Feiran!! Where have you gone!! I went to your hotel, and the front desk said you checked out! Are you alive? Reply if you get this!! Lance can reply too, just tell me my brother is safe!!!]

Good old Hua Zi! True to form, growing up wearing the same pair of pants as me!

Lu Feiran was so touched he nearly cried. He rubbed his nose and was about to reply to the email when suddenly, the computer screen went black.

He froze for a moment, lifting the laptop to look at it from all angles. He pressed the power button to restart it, but it wouldn’t respond.

He sweated more profusely. Wearing only a thin sweater, Lu Feiran was burning up. He fiddled with the computer repeatedly but couldn’t get it to work.

He looked up and saw Lance, who had returned with a glass of iced fruit tea without him noticing.

The glass cup was placed on the desk. The ice cubes were crystal clear, and the golden juice was bright and vibrant, like a high-hanging sun, making him sweat rivers.

“Ranran, do you know how obvious it is when you’re nervous?” Lance said slowly. As he passed by Lu Feiran, his eyes were sharp, discerning everything, and he glanced casually at the computer.

Lu Feiran’s stunned face was reflected in the black screen.

Lu Feiran sat down dazedly. Right. Since Lance was willing to give him the computer, he must have been fully prepared.

Why give him hope only to let him despair?

He sat down, clutching his chest, unwilling to look at Lance’s face or answer his question.

He felt like a hamster trapped in a cage. The cage was large, full of climbing frames, running wheels, and other toys, but those were just enrichment; his world was only that small, confined cage.

A dull pain suddenly struck his chest. His vision blurred, and Lu Feiran braced himself against the desk to stay standing.

A warm hand quickly reached out to support him. He waved it away, looking elsewhere: “Does seeing me like this give you satisfaction?”

“No,” Lance denied, but his steady tone offered no apology to Lu Feiran. “As long as you don’t think about leaving, I won’t stop you from doing anything.”

Lu Feiran nodded, not speaking again, unwilling to repeat the pointless cycle.

“It’s dinner time. I’ll go cook,” Lance didn’t continue the sharp conversation either. He took the computer and left.

Lu Feiran lay on the sofa, knees bent, arms crossed, staring blankly ahead.

He felt like he was turning into a dead piece of wood, sprouting a large cluster of mushrooms in a dark, damp corner.

But he also realized that he wasn’t the only one turning into rotten wood; Lance was too.

Lance seemed to have become a puppet who only revolved around him: kissing him, hugging him, caring for him, doing everything for him.

Aside from when they were in bed, Lu Feiran rarely saw any sign of emotion on Lance’s face. Was he doing this deliberately?

Lu Feiran rubbed his forehead, unable to figure it out. He actually didn’t think Lance was enjoying himself. With both their pain compounded, he felt it necessary to end this endless war quickly.

He couldn’t even last a week; if he waited a full month, someone would definitely go crazy.

…

Perhaps sensing Lu Feiran’s low mood, Lance didn’t prepare an elaborate meal, opting instead for easily digestible congee.

A thick bowl was placed in front of Lu Feiran, fragrant, but incapable of tempting any appetite.

Lu Feiran’s eyelashes fluttered. He picked up the spoon and quietly began to drink.

Suddenly, he covered his mouth and stood up, his expression one of agonizing pain. He barely managed to keep himself from collapsing to the floor by gripping the corner of the table.

Lance rushed over and scooped him up, using one hand to pry open his jaw to check his mouth. A mouthful of thick white congee was spat out onto Lance’s hand.

Lu Feiran slumped onto the floor like a broken doll.

Lance’s green pupils trembled, his expression momentarily contorted, and the veins on his taut arms bulged.

Lance quickly checked that Lu Feiran wasn’t choking, then picked him up and carried him onto the helicopter.

…

Only when the surroundings fell silent did Lu Feiran open his eyes.

He couldn’t believe he possessed such superb acting skills. Maybe he had a chance to enter the acting industry in the future.

He had successfully deceived Lance. Now he was in a hospital, changed into light green patient clothes, having just undergone an examination. He heard the doctors talking to each other, their expressions somewhat enigmatic, as if they didn’t understand why a perfectly healthy person would suddenly vomit and faint.

He had no restraints on him, nor was he hooked up to an IV drip. He was just lying there alone.

But Lu Feiran didn’t dare move. He feared this was another trap. He counted the seconds in his mind, only daring to slowly lift his head after five minutes.

Footsteps approached the door. Lu Feiran immediately pulled the blanket over his head, pretending to sleep.

However, the rhythm of the steps was unfamiliar. They stopped about a meter from the foot of the bed.

“You are very healthy, Sir. Faking illness is not a good idea. Hospital beds are not that soft.”

The speaker was a brown-haired doctor, around forty, wearing a white coat and holding a report. He smiled kindly at Lu Feiran.

Lu Feiran pulled the blanket down slightly, watching the doctor warily, just watching.

The doctor raised an eyebrow in confusion: “My name is Benjamin. Well, I don’t speak Chinese, and I assumed you could understand English. Sorry. Let me call your family member in.”

“No, wait.” Lu Feiran extended his slender wrist and waved it twice in the air. “Don’t call him, thank you. Doctor, I am not faking illness.”

To prove he genuinely needed medical attention, Lu Feiran quickly added: “Actually, my heart has always felt uncomfortable, a constant dull ache. My father died of heart failure. I might have inherited it. Could you check me, please?”

The doctor paused, flipping through the report. “According to the current report, you are very healthy. It seems we need to add a few more examination items.”

He suddenly changed the subject: “You have chronic gastritis, but your recent meals have been regular and your diet healthy. Why would you vomit?”

Lu Feiran shrank his chin further into the blanket and admitted, “That was faked.”

The doctor closed the report file and smiled, “You might need some time alone. I will ask the nurse to take you for the examinations shortly. As for your family member… I will explain the situation to him.”

After the doctor left, silence returned to the room. Lu Feiran’s heart started pounding again. He suddenly sat up, planted his bare feet on the floor, ran to the window, looked down, and nearly got vertigo.

Not good. How many floors does this hospital have?

He returned to the bed, rubbing his temples in frustration. It looked like he’d have to wait for the nurse to take him for his check-up before finding an opportunity.

…

After the cardiac ultrasound, Lu Feiran excused himself to use the restroom, getting the nurse to leave, and then left by himself.

Inside the bathroom stall, he still couldn’t quite believe the nurse hadn’t followed him.

He stayed in the stall for a few minutes, then slipped out. The corridor was empty. There was no one around, giving him an absurd sense that he was free to wander as he pleased.

But how could that be possible?

Inside the doctor’s office, Lance stood by the window looking at a bare tree, unbuttoning a button at his collar. His clothes were filthy; the congee had been spilled on them, and Lu Feiran had vomited all over him. They were ruined and unwearable.

But he didn’t care. He walked to the desk and repeatedly flipped through Lu Feiran’s sparse examination reports.

Under the bright light, his hair was messy. The gold color looked dull, like the cheap reflection of cellophane. He had dark circles under his eyes, and stubble was beginning to appear on his jaw—something that would have been unthinkable before.

“I have a clean shirt here. Will you wear mine, or should I have someone send one over?” Benjamin asked thoughtfully.

Lance didn’t ask for clean clothes to be sent over, nor did he intend to wear someone else’s. He slowly shook his head, dropped the report, and sat in the chair, his fingers twitching. “Give me a cigarette.”

Benjamin spread his hands. “I don’t smoke. You didn’t smoke before. Did you pick it up recently?”

Lance gave a bitter smile, clenched his hands into fists, glanced towards the door, then forced his eyes back. Even though he tried to control himself, a hint of hostility still uncontrollably surfaced on his face.

Benjamin looked at his expression, pondered for a moment, and decided to be direct: “I have all your case files sent by Cheng. You maintained very well before. Even without medication, you could remain calm. But now… your condition isn’t good. You haven’t had a follow-up visit in a long time.”

Benjamin was Cheng Ming’s direct senior during graduate school, and Lance had known him for years.

This was the private hospital he co-founded, but Lance didn’t want to have a follow-up here.

Lance said, “Don’t worry about me. I’m just staying here for a bit.”

He didn’t smoke either, but merely smelling the faint scent of tobacco usually calmed him. He needed this now to help numb himself.

He was waiting, waiting for Lu Feiran to leave the hospital.

A vein throbbed painfully on Lance’s temple. He was struggling to endure.

How could he not know Lu Feiran was faking it? But seeing him vomit like that, in such distress, how could he not bring Lu Feiran out?

Knowing Lu Feiran was perfectly healthy, Lance wondered: Is he vomiting because he’s staying with me?

He had messed up everything again. Lu Feiran was someone who would rather break than bend. How could he be willing to be coerced?

Love consumes. Lance’s edges and claws were being gradually devoured. He sucked on his broken fingers, retreating step by step, trying to make one final concession.

Benjamin looked at him, shaking his head. He knew his advice was useless, but he insisted: “Lance, you should be hospitalized for treatment. Your lover knows you are ill. He will understand and stay with you. The way things are now, you will push him further and further away.”

“Don’t tell him about my condition,” Lance coldly glared at Benjamin, then turned his head to look at the clock.

He had lost everything. He didn’t want to completely turn into a madman in front of Lu Feiran. If that happened… there would truly be no way to recover.

No one would ever need him again.

Benjamin stopped talking, instead fetching his clean shirt and handing it to Lance: “I have a feeling you still want to see him. Put on something decent.”

…

Lu Feiran finally saw some patients other than himself on the second floor, which inexplicably reassured him. He studied every window and the surroundings beneath them.

He didn’t plan to leave through the main entrance. To be safe, climbing out the window offered a greater chance of escape.

In a short while, he found an excellent spot. There were piles of debris stacked against the wall beneath the window, and the ground was soft lawn. Even if he fell, he wouldn’t be seriously injured.

Lu Feiran scanned his surroundings, cautiously opened the window, held onto the ledge with both hands, and used his toes to inch his way down, hooking the cardboard boxes below.

But he didn’t realize the boxes were empty. The moment his foot landed on the surface, it sank rapidly. The sudden loss of balance made his hands go weak. He lost his grip on the window ledge and tumbled backward, only managing to protect the back of his head.

He fell into a warm embrace that carried a faint scent of coconut, identical to the one he wore.

His stomach suddenly felt sick. Lu Feiran stiffened as Lance carried him down.

He kept his head bowed, his back turned, his mind in chaos. Subconsciously, he wanted to find an excuse, but then he felt he hadn’t done anything wrong.

The outdoor temperature was low, making him shiver involuntarily. The thin patient gown offered no protection. Goosebumps covered both his arms.

Lu Feiran waited for the storm to break. No matter how angry Lance got, he was ready to fiercely scold Lance back.

But the anticipated downpour never came. The sun still hung high in the sky, though it offered little warmth.

Lance supported Lu Feiran’s arms and said softly, “There’s still one check-up left. We’ll leave after it’s done.”

He had changed out of the shirt soiled with vomit, putting on a clean black one, which made his complexion look even worse. The shirt was clearly a size too small, tight across the chest with two buttons undone, and even his arms felt constrained.

But he seemed completely unfazed, his smile warmer than a spring breeze in March. Lu Feiran frowned, bewildered.

Lance’s hand slid down and took Lu Feiran’s. In the clasp of their hands, Lu Feiran’s shivering stopped. Lance led him back towards the hospital building.

“Your chest has been uncomfortable all this time. Why didn’t you tell me? It was my oversight not to notice. This check-up must be done properly. Come on, let’s finish the exam first.”

“I’m afraid it’s hereditary, and I didn’t dare face it,” Lu Feiran continued Lance’s thread, smoothly glossing over his attempt to escape through the window. Everything was calm, as if nothing had happened.

“Don’t worry. Just take good care of yourself. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Lance smiled, his demeanor still very gentle, as if he was willing to agree to all of Lu Feiran’s requests. “After the check-up, I’ll take you to Berlin, okay?”

Lu Feiran’s pupils constricted rapidly. He wasn’t even in France anymore.

“No, I don’t want to go,” Lu Feiran turned his face away. It was the same no matter where they went; it was just a movable cage.

They stepped through the hospital doors. The warmth enveloped Lu Feiran, reviving his frozen body. He stretched his neck, dropped Lance’s hand, and walked towards the elevator.

Lance’s hand was left empty, raised upwards, grasping weakly, then relaxing.

When he brought Lu Feiran here, and saw the doctor’s expression after the preliminary check-up, Lance knew that Lu Feiran was perfectly fine.

But he pretended ignorance. He expertly feigned panic and fear, deceiving everyone.

Benjamin told him to rest, but he sat alone in Benjamin’s office, his face darkening, his thumb vigorously pressing against his temple, leaving two red marks.

Lance, who was skilled at reading people’s minds, repeatedly failed with Lu Feiran. He was fooled by amateur acting.

Perhaps he knew it was fake, but he dared not risk the one-in-ten-thousand chance that it was real.

Lu Feiran constantly slipped out of his control. His lover was the sum of all the unexpected events he faced.

For the first time, he wondered if letting go would be better.

But the thought only lasted a few minutes. The weak part of Lance’s mind was cruelly suppressed by himself. He put on the clean shirt provided by Benjamin and rushed to retrieve his derailed lover and bring him home.

He endured everything again. Seeing Lu Feiran’s frail body dangling mid-air, risking injury just to escape him, Lance had only one thought—

I’m sorry, I still cannot live without you. Not unless I die.