The Scum Gong Refuses the Crematorium [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 16

Lu Mingyue’s styling formulas were truly effective. Once researched thoroughly, they allowed for effortless switching between styles. This had recently allowed Jiang Huaisu to dominate her social circles; not only were her selfies radiant, but even group photos—without any retouching—looked better than those of others who had spent hours editing.

She no longer had to worry about others “forgetting” to edit her into the picture.

This was also the reason why, despite seeing the ambiguous moment between Sheng Yan and Lu Mingyue that day, she ultimately said nothing.

Hadn’t Sheng Yan asked her to have a little more patience in accepting an imperfect version of him?

Upon returning home, Jiang Huaisu sought out a pile of BL movies, TV shows, and novels to observe. She wanted to see exactly what magic lay within that made these two love each other unto death, unable to break apart after years of entanglement.

Meanwhile, after coaxing her and sending her safely home, Sheng Yan asked Lu Mingyue out privately: “Are you free for the rest of the day?”

Lu Mingyue was surprised. “Treating me to dinner?”

Sheng Yan tilted his head to look at him. “Give me the honor. It’s to thank you for helping me with Sister Jiang, and for introducing James earlier.”

“Alright.” Since Sheng Yan put it that way, Lu Mingyue had no reason to refuse.

However, after getting into the car and heading out to eat, he discovered the destination wasn’t a restaurant.

Lu Mingyue looked up at the massive, illuminated sign that shone brightly in the night sky: Sanatorium. He asked curiously, “Are restaurants these days being this avant-garde? Starting to use reverse psychology to attract customers?”

Would a place like this actually have business?

Sheng Yan smiled and led Lu Mingyue inside. “This isn’t a restaurant; it’s a sanatorium. I’ve made an appointment with an expert to look at your waist.”

Lu Mingyue’s footsteps faltered for a moment as he followed Sheng Yan.

But he quickly caught up, making small talk to fill the silence: “What made you think of booking an expert for me?”

Sheng Yan looked at him and smiled. “Because my heart aches for you.”

Lu Mingyue’s steps faltered again. This wasn’t the first time Sheng Yan had said those words today, but it was the first time they were said like this—striking directly at his heart. Even knowing it was likely a joke, he couldn’t deny being touched. It felt as if his heart had been brushed by an open flame—not painful, but searingly hot.

Sheng Yan walked toward the consultation room without stopping. Seeing that Lu Mingyue hadn’t kept up, he turned back and saw him dazed. He teased, “Do you still have that childhood symptom of being afraid of doctors?”

Lu Mingyue snapped out of it, his gaze landing on Sheng Yan’s smiling face and swaying red earring. He smiled back. “As long as one is a patient, who isn’t afraid of doctors?”

Thump, thump, thump.

Those were the sounds of Lu Mingyue’s footsteps as he walked toward Sheng Yan. Suddenly, in this silent corridor lit by harsh white lights, Lu Mingyue felt as if he had caught a disease called “Sheng Yan.” Otherwise, why couldn’t he control his pace toward him?

The expert Sheng Yan booked was the most famous orthopedic specialist in the country. He examined Lu Mingyue’s old injury. “Too much time has passed. The bones that shattered and became inflamed back then have already fused back. Spinal vertebrae are different from other bones; we can’t just break them again to re-treat them.”

In other words, it was incurable.

Sheng Yan lowered his eyes, looking at the scar beneath the edge of Lu Mingyue’s shirt—a patch of skin distinctly different in color from the rest. His gaze darkened.

Lu Mingyue, however, felt nothing. He had known this result five years ago. He said indifferently, “It’s fine. I can walk and run. It doesn’t affect my daily life.”

“That’s only temporary,” the doctor shook his head. “If you weren’t sitting for long periods, we could manage it slowly. Though this condition will be with you for life, at least you wouldn’t suffer as much.”

“But given the nature of your work, your waist cannot handle this burden day and night. If you continue like this, within ten years, you will face major issues—very likely paralysis of the lower body.”

“Paralysis?” Lu Mingyue was stunned for a moment, but quickly became philosophical. “That’s fine too. My upper body can still move, right? I can use an electric wheelchair; it won’t affect anything.”

It was the doctor’s turn to be surprised. Usually, people would be crying or shouting in a panic about treatment after hearing such news. This patient was remarkably open-minded.

“It’s good that you have such an optimistic attitude,” the doctor nodded. “But we aren’t at the ten-year mark yet. Things haven’t reached the worst-case scenario. If you start paying attention now, it might not come to that.”

“Here,” the doctor provided his treatment plan. “I will customize a special waist brace for you. Wear it during work or when doing heavy lifting to reduce the pressure. But remember, you can’t wear it all the time; when resting, you need to let the vertebrae adapt to supporting your body. Also, if you can reduce your workload, you really should.”

“Furthermore, you must undergo regular maintenance. Three times a week shouldn’t be too difficult for you, right?”

The doctor lectured Lu Mingyue for two hours. By the time they came out, Lu Mingyue was so hungry his stomach was sticking to his back.

He didn’t even expect Sheng Yan to treat him to a fancy meal anymore. He bought some bread and drinks at a bakery near the sanatorium and started eating immediately. When one is starving, everything tastes like a delicacy.

When he finished and looked up, he saw Sheng Yan still holding the bread and drink he’d given him, looking as if his soul had wandered off to the horizon. He said jokingly, “I’ve wronged Brother Sheng, making you eat bread with me. Once we’re back in the city, shall I treat you to a feast?”

The sanatorium was in a quiet, high-end suburb. There wasn’t a single restaurant nearby; the bakery was the only place Lu Mingyue could find food.

Sheng Yan snapped back to reality, took a few bites of the bread, and shook his head. “It’s fine. No need. This is edible.”

Lu Mingyue saw him eat without any sign of discomfort and felt relieved. The driver was in the restroom, and it would take at least an hour and a half to get back to the city. He was worried Sheng Yan’s delicate body wouldn’t handle being hungry for that long.

Eating something to line the stomach was much better.

Sheng Yan took a few more bites, looking at Lu Mingyue sitting beside him as if nothing were wrong. He suddenly asked, “Don’t you feel resentful?”

“Hmm? Resentful about what?”

Sheng Yan didn’t speak.

When he performed villain missions, he had a habit: he would resolve the grudges of the original body. After all, they were “antagonists,” not necessarily “evil people.” Although he hadn’t enjoyed the kindness the original body received, since he occupied the body, he had to honor it. Similarly, even though he hadn’t committed the original body’s sins, they still existed. He had to repay those who were kind and compensate those who were harmed.

Lu Mingyue smiled. “You mean the illness in my body?”

They were sitting on a roadside bench outside the sanatorium, surrounded by Sweetbay Magnolia trees. Under the moonlight and streetlamps, Lu Mingyue looked at the somewhat ethereal Sheng Yan and laughed. “Brother Sheng, you don’t know—those born into poverty don’t have the luxury of being resentful.”

“All our energy is spent fighting against scarcity and the misfortunes that strike out of nowhere. Resentment only makes a messy life worse. It’s better to spend that time finding a way out of the predicament.”

Sheng Yan took a sip of his drink and understood. So, he had accepted the news of impending paralysis so quickly because he had already thought of the “wheelchair” solution?

Sheng Yan gripped the warm drink cup. “You are very much like someone I once knew.”

Lu Mingyue was curious. “Who?”

Sheng Yan thought for a moment. “A god wandering the world. He told me: if you can’t accept it, then change it.”

“A god?” Lu Mingyue was astonished. One rarely heard such a descriptor from a modern person, especially from someone like Sheng Yan. A person called a “god” by Sheng Yan… what kind of person would that be?

Sheng Yan didn’t elaborate. He changed the subject. “Who do you think manipulated Sister Jiang?”

The only person capable of reaching Director Jiang and manipulating her into making them turn on each other was that person.

Lu Mingyue leaned back against the bench, his temples throbbing with pain. “Brother Sheng, your charm is truly immense.”

Sheng Yan didn’t see it that way. “It’s called being haunted.”

Lu Mingyue asked, “Then how does Brother Sheng plan to deal with this ‘ghost’?”

Sheng Yan said calmly, “He will get what he deserves.”

“What about you?” Sheng Yan didn’t reveal his own methods but looked at Lu Mingyue, wanting to know how he planned to handle Song Liguang. Since Song Liguang dared to use Sister Jiang once, there would likely be a second and third time. He wouldn’t stop until he achieved his goal. He believed Lu Mingyue knew this too.

Lu Mingyue raised his chin and gave the same answer: “He will get what he deserves from me, too.”

Sheng Yan smiled. “Then how do you plan to deal with me and Sister Jiang?”

Since Lu Mingyue wasn’t the soft-hearted type to let Song Liguang off, what about the people who had once made his life miserable?

Lu Mingyue fell silent. He looked up at the Sweetbay Magnolia tree above. It was late September, and most of the flowers had withered; only in the spots covered by leaves did a few scattered blooms remain.

He sighed.

Could he say he had never hated them? Of course, he had. During those lonely days abroad, during the physical agony of his illness, and the countless times he couldn’t find a way out. He had felt so much hatred.

But he happened to not be a very obsessive person. Born poor and without roots, he understood the pain and suffering of the world all too well. The rope always breaks at the thinnest point; misfortune always finds the miserable.

Whenever he resented the tricks of fate, he would look at the distant city lights. Did the farmers working hard in the fields hate the parents who gave them life? Did the construction workers hate themselves for not working harder in school? Did the people lying in hospital beds hate the heavens for not giving them healthy bodies?

Of course, they did. But after the resentment, they still had to accept it.

What else could they do? Life was already like this—should they take revenge on society? That would just turn them into spreaders of suffering, making them no different from those who caused their pain in the first place.

If no one saves me, I will save myself.

A hardworking farmer can leap through the “Dragon’s Gate,” a construction worker can become a boss, and a patient can defeat their illness. As long as I am strong enough, no one can bully or humiliate me again.

Sheng Yan watched as the resentment in Lu Mingyue’s eyes gradually transformed into a resolute, unwavering determination. He was surprised. “Truly no more resentment?”

Lu Mingyue turned to look at Sheng Yan—at that face which, like a demon, could cast him into hell, or like an angel, could lead him to heaven.

Born from an unknown courage, he suddenly leaned in and kissed Sheng Yan on the cheek.

Unlike Sheng Yan’s previous emotionless kiss, this one was exceptionally intimate and lingering. Like the magnolia flowers clinging to the branches, stubbornly refusing to wither, it told its secrets to the world as the breeze passed by.

Sheng Yan had never received such a magnanimous and gentle affection. Before he could react, his ears turned red.

Lu Mingyue pulled away and suddenly laughed. “Because I intend to claim it all back from you.”

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