The Sickly Double Doesn't Want to Be Spoiled - Chapter 23.2

Chapter 23.2

“Yes,” Qin Qing sighed. “Wasn’t he also in meetings the whole time on the plane? He actually doesn’t usually take breaks.”

“Then it seems he really has gone crazy from work.” Meng Yuan shook his head regretfully.

Qin Qing: “?”

…

Back in the lounge cabin, Meng Yuan fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

After being tossed around for most of the day, his energy could no longer hold out.

As the ship swayed, his calves also trembled, and he felt dizzy.

He leaned against the sofa to sit down. As soon as he touched the soft cashmere blanket, Meng Yuan felt as if a heavy stone were weighing down his eyelids.

He lay down on the cushion and, once his eyes closed, he could no longer open them.

Qin Qing brought over a glass of warm water. In just a few short minutes, Meng Yuan had already fallen into a deep sleep clutching the blanket.

Hoping that Meng Yuan might not be fully asleep yet, she tried calling his name, but Meng Yuan immediately frowned in discomfort.

Qin Qing quickly went silent, not daring to disturb him further, and could only take the water back.

Lu Cong sat at the bar far away from Meng Yuan, a specially mixed cocktail beside him, and had already opened his computer to start handling work.

Qin Qing sensed the atmosphere between the two and pulled Song Zhen to one side.

“Did you tell Xiao Yuan about President Lu working overtime and pushing back his work?” she asked.

“Yes,” Song Zhen stated frankly. “The boss told me to say it.”

Qin Qing was startled: “He instructed you personally?”

“Well, not exactly,” Song Zhen recalled. “I guessed it myself based on his attitude.”

“…” Qin Qing hesitated: “Are you sure you guessed correctly?”

“Of course. I’ve been the boss’s assistant for so many years; if I couldn’t even read this much into things, then I might as well stop working.”

Song Zhen frowned, not allowing anyone to challenge his authority.

“Fine, fine, fine, consider it my poor phrasing,” Qin Qing thought for two seconds and changed her wording: “What I mean is, how did you say it to Xiao Yuan?”

“I just said it normally,” Song Zhen said seriously. “Sister Qing, I know what you want to say. Although the boss and Young Master Meng are in a commercial marriage, at least their identities are tied together. It wouldn’t look good if word got out that they get along too distantly.”

Qin Qing nodded repeatedly, not expecting this straight-as-a-steel-rod man to understand this.

Song Zhen: “So when I relayed it to Young Master Meng, I specifically emphasized the boss’s hard work and the difficulty of this trip, aiming to make Young Master Meng feel bad for the boss in hopes of promoting their relationship. I’m sure Young Master Meng must understand.”

After saying that, he gave a nod of self-affirmation.

Qin Qing: “o.o”

Her eyes were dull, as if she had just finished listening to a work summary report, her mind a mess.

Can… Can he really understand?

But why did she feel that the way this was conveyed… didn’t taste quite right?

Qin Qing looked at the two figures of Meng Yuan and Lu Cong separated by a chasm, and worry crept onto her brow.

…

The dinner banquet was held on the beach with a bonfire.

Meng Yuan’s spirit was a bit better after waking up. He went back to the residence to take a shower and change his clothes.

When he arrived at the seaside, it was exactly dusk. The long table was set up on a reef flat exposed after the tide had receded an excellent spot for viewing the sunset.

At this time, the sun was slowly sinking below the horizon. The sky was a vast expanse of golden yellow; as the setting sun fell into the deep sea, it was dyed into a beautiful crimson-purple by the afterglow.

The world was absolutely silent, and Meng Yuan watched for a long time.

He was wearing the sunglasses Qin Qing had bought for him. Watching the sunset with them was no different from with the naked eye, except his eyes wouldn’t hurt from the glare.

It turned out expensive sunglasses were so comfortable to wear. After the sun went down, Meng Yuan took them off and looked at them carefully, turning them over and over but unable to see what brand they were.

Lu Cong was already waiting for him at the long table, and Meng Yuan quickened his pace to walk over.

“When did you arrive?” He smiled apologetically. “I didn’t even notice.”

The waiter pulled out chairs for the two of them. Lu Cong sat down and wiped his hands with a wet towel: “The Young Master is busy looking at the scenery; how would he notice me?”

Meng Yuan: “…”

Here we go again, starting with the sarcasm.

“Are you still angry?” Meng Yuan asked.

Probably not expecting him to be so direct, Lu Cong glanced at him in surprise. “Do you want to hear the truth or a lie?”

“The truth, of course!”

“Hiss, what should I do then,” Lu Cong said, feigning difficulty. “But I only want to tell a lie.”

Meng Yuan: “?”

He was stunned for a moment, and then the corners of his mouth drooped.

He felt wronged.

Looking at his wilted appearance, Lu Cong finally couldn’t help but laugh, patting the top of his head:

“Alright, I was teasing you.”

Meng Yuan immediately raised his head, his eyes brightening a bit.

Lu Cong rested his elbows on the table and leaned in a bit closer to him: “Am I such a petty person in your eyes?”

Meng Yuan thought for a moment and shook his head honestly: “That does seem not to be the case.”

“So?”

“So you’re not angry anymore?”

Lu Cong corrected him: “I was never angry to begin with.”

“But you were almost…”

Almost as angry as a rooster.

Meng Yuan shut his mouth in time, his limited emotional intelligence reaching its peak at this moment.

“That’s good then,” he laughed. “You’re most handsome when you’re not angry!”

The corners of Lu Cong’s lips rose, and he raised a hand to slightly suppress it: “Stop sucking up.”

The chef began to serve the dishes. Tonight’s main course featured seafood, accompanied by suckling pig roasted in an underground kiln and breadfruit.

The waiter provided them with hot cocoa and a sweet wine flavored with vanilla pods. Meng Yuan suddenly had the impulse to try the wine.

He stared at the wine glass for a while before asking cautiously: “Can I try this?”

Lu Cong had long guessed he would have this idea and was just waiting for the kid to speak up himself.

But Meng Yuan was even more patient than he had imagined; he had been itching to try it for a long, long time before asking such a question in a small voice.

Lu Cong was afraid that if this continued, Meng Yuan’s eyes would get stuck to the wine glass.

“Under normal circumstances, your body is not suitable for drinking alcohol,” Lu Cong said.

Hearing this, Meng Yuan’s shoulders slumped. The courage he had spent so long building up was suddenly punctured, and he deflated like a balloon.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But today is a special case,” Lu Cong added.

Meng Yuan snapped upright, sensing a turn for the better. He saw Lu Cong smile at him under the flickering candlelight.

“We’ve flown such a long way to play; it feels like it would leave a regret if we don’t let loose a bit, right?”

“Yes, yes!” Meng Yuan nodded eagerly, echoing: “I’ll only drink a little bit, just to taste the flavor. I won’t drink much.”

“Then just have a taste,” Lu Cong said.

He had consulted a doctor beforehand; the alcohol content of this wine was low, making it almost no different from a beverage. Drinking a small amount wouldn’t have much impact on Meng Yuan’s health.

He pushed the wine glass in front of Meng Yuan. Meng Yuan picked it up and took a sip, and his whole being immediately brightened as he looked up and laughed heartily at him.

Truly so cute.

Lu Cong couldn’t help but curl the corners of his mouth, then warned him: “Restrain yourself. Drink less. Be careful not to let extreme joy turn to sorrow.”

“How could that happen? I definitely won’t!”

One hour later, sorrow came from the wine.

Meng Yuan was drunk. Heaven knew he had only taken two tiny sips, yet he was actually drunk.

It was completely beyond Lu Cong’s expectations.

Meng Yuan was even harder to deal with after drinking too much. He suddenly became very talkative, pulling Lu Cong into a rambling conversation as if he wanted to tell all the stories of his life.

“To be honest, I… I really didn’t expect to have a day like today…”

His cheeks were flushed red and his eyes were glazed. He moved step by step from across the long table until he finally sat beside Lu Cong, clutching Lu Cong’s arm for a heart-to-heart talk.

“Lu Cong, do you know? I… I…” He straightened his back and patted his chest: “I’m actually very amazing! My whole family relied on me to survive!”

“Yes, yes, yes, you’re amazing, you’re the most amazing,” Lu Cong replied while supporting him.

He was practically at his wit’s end being pestered by Meng Yuan. On one hand, he had to be careful to protect this “ancestor” from falling, and on the other, he had to incessantly push away the head Meng Yuan kept leaning in.

Once this guy drank, his body was like it was covered in glue. His arms had suction like an octopus once stuck to the body, they couldn’t be pulled off.

“But I never thought I could live a life like this.”

At the peak of his excitement, Meng Yuan suddenly became dejected again: “How could I still come to a place like this?”

He picked up the wine glass, wanting to continue drinking.

Lu Cong snatched it directly and threw it into a corner where Meng Yuan couldn’t reach.

Meng Yuan had already climbed onto him, resting his head on his shoulder. Lu Cong’s nose was filled with the sweet, wine-scented breath of the boy.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, knowing the answer.

Meng Yuan looked up, using the flickering candlelight on the table to examine Lu Cong’s face, finding that Lu Cong was looking at him with an inscrutable, scrutinizing gaze.

“What are you pretending for?” Meng Yuan said suddenly.

He seemed to have suddenly developed a bit of a temper, his tone becoming blunt: “You know everything, don’t you?”

“You’ve obviously guessed everything, so what are you pretending for here?”

Lu Cong said nothing, his eyebrows twitching slightly. He engaged in a silent standoff with Meng Yuan’s gaze for a long time.

This time, Meng Yuan did not back down from start to finish, stubbornly staring directly into his eyes.

Not until Lu Cong’s expression softened and a hint of a smile crept into the corners of his eyes.

“So where did you come from?” he asked.

“From… from a place that is similar, yet very different.”

“Do you want to go back?”

Meng Yuan stopped talking, his eyes vacant and out of focus.

The sky was very dark, now boundless loneliness, filled with a scattering of stars.

The local residents lit a bonfire on the beach, and Polynesian dancers were about to perform a fire knife dance.

At the most bustling moment, they danced over to Meng Yuan and invited him to twirl an unlit fire stick.

When he snapped back to his senses, Meng Yuan found himself in the center of the crowd, with Lu Cong standing side-by-side with him.

With the help of the dancers, he gently twirled the wooden stick in his hand, and cheers erupted all around as laughter drifted away with the rising flames.

The scorching firelight made his eyes feel warm.

“No,” he said softly.

“What?” Lu Cong lowered his head amidst the noise.

“I’m not going back,” Meng Yuan looked up and smiled at him. “I’m really too happy today.”

Lu Cong was puzzled: “Were you happy even when there was almost an accident in the sea?”

“Happy, yes, happy then too,” Meng Yuan’s eyes turned red as he smiled: “I want to be this happy forever.”

Lu Cong’s heart gave a jolt.

He had never seen Meng Yuan show such a look in his eyes.

The bonfire danced in the depths of his eyes. The island’s night sky was clear and cloudless, the stars were massive and twinkling behind him.

“Then don’t go back,” Lu Cong said instinctively.

“Your brothers and sisters are all helping you find a matching bone marrow. We will definitely find one.”

“Them? Why would they help me?” Meng Yuan found it funny: “They can’t wait for me to die.”

“I used a bit of means on them,” Lu Cong said, looking at Meng Yuan’s dazed expression: “In short, there will be a way.”

There won’t be. There is no way at all.

Meng Yuan knew very well in his heart that he would die on time, die completely and cleanly, without leaving even a tiny trace behind.

“But why did you?” He looked toward Lu Cong, his gaze somewhat empty.

“Why what?”

“…Nothing,” Meng Yuan smiled. “I mean, thank you.”

Meng Yuan smiled even more happily, the two sips of wine he had drunk dyeing his entire face crimson.

He looked up at the sky and down at the water in a daze, that incomparable happiness surfacing again.

At the same time, that very, very heavy sorrow also appeared.

Lu Cong had initially thought it was an illusion, but only now did he realize that this sadness was Meng Yuan’s shadow, following his happiness like an inseparable companion.

“I actually went into the ocean,” Meng Yuan recalled. “I saw corals and so many beautiful fish. I even had dinner by the sea, with a group of people dancing around a bonfire next to me.”

“So life can actually be lived like this.”

His eyes shimmered with a crystal-like light dazed and staggered: “Lu Cong, so life can actually be lived like this…”

“I never knew.”

As if possessed, Lu Cong raised his hand and touched the corner of his eye.

A surge of longing rose in his chest, an impulsive longing for the unknown.

“Then how did you live before?”

As the words fell, he startled even himself.

He realized that for the first time, he truly felt a desire, one called “inquiry” toward Meng Yuan.

But Meng Yuan didn’t answer.

He was truly drunk; his thoughts drifted away from time to time, and his emotions fluctuated between high and low. Suddenly, he pressed both hands against Lu Cong’s face.

“Why do you have a mole here?”

Lu Cong was dazed.

Meng Yuan fumbled around the corner of his mouth for a long while before shaking his head: “Oh, it’s not a mole. It’s a sesame seed. Did you get a sesame seed on you while eating?”

“What drunken nonsense are you talking about?”

Was there even a single sesame seed at dinner?

Meng Yuan looked again carefully: “Oh, no. It’s not a mole, not a sesame seed. There’s nothing. My eyes are playing tricks on me.”

He straightened up and took a few steps back, his footsteps stumbling, nearly stepping into the fire pit.

Lu Cong grabbed his wrist and pulled him back, and he slumped limply against Lu Cong’s chest.

The surrounding area was noisy with voices. The local residents were chattering in a foreign language he couldn’t understand, sounding like they were cheering.

“What are they saying?” Meng Yuan asked.

“They want us to kiss.”

“Oh…”

Meng Yuan’s eyes were cloudy. He looked up at Lu Cong for a while.

Lu Cong’s lips had no sesame seeds and no moles.

Meng Yuan laughed and obediently planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth.