The Sickly Double Doesn't Want to Be Spoiled - Chapter 24.1

Chapter 24.1

The bonfire crackled, sending sparks flying into the air, only to be swayed and extinguished by the sea breeze.

When Meng Yuan leaned closer, Lu Cong could have actually dodged.

After all, Meng Yuan had been staring at the corner of his mouth for a long time, muttering something about a mole or a sesame seed.

Thus, Lu Cong also clearly saw Meng Yuan’s lips flickering, saw those perpetually sorrowful eyes misty with a watery light, and saw the firelight dancing across his face.

He had a full four or five seconds to react to everything.

But he did nothing.

He simply watched Meng Yuan draw near, as if possessed by a nightmare.

Until that kiss landed on the corner of his mouth.

Meng Yuan was honest and obedient; he never overstepped or acted on his own initiative.

It was as if he had lived honestly for many years but was still someone who would be bullied somewhat numb, submissively following every instruction dropped upon him.

Lu Cong was the one who spoke first.

Meng Yuan was merely following suit.

But this kiss was too light. Meng Yuan’s lips were cool, occupying only a very small space at the corner of his mouth, much like how Meng Yuan always curled up at the very edge of the bed whenever he slept.

Wherever he went, he occupied only a tiny amount of space.

But Lu Cong’s heart still skipped a beat.

Just one beat.

Immediately after, it began to thud frantically, so loud that his ears were filled with the clamorous heartbeat.

Lu Cong felt a moment of vertigo.

The next second, he suddenly snapped awake, a deep sense of dread rising in his heart.

In the moment that long-dormant heartbeat arrived, what he felt was not confusion, not joy, nor any kind of head-spinning happiness.

Instead, it was a prophetic, profound dread.

He wanted to push Meng Yuan away directly.

But Meng Yuan’s kiss was slight and brief; before Lu Cong could even react, he had already pulled away.

This kid didn’t have any particular reaction after kissing him either, still looking at him with those bright eyes.

There was a hint of numbness in those eyes, as if he had completed a piece of assigned work.

“Okay,” Meng Yuan said, his voice fluttering, “Finished kissing…”

Then those eyes closed.

His whole body tipped forward, falling directly into Lu Cong’s arms.

Lu Cong instinctively caught him, feeling that fluffy head rest against the crook of his neck.

Looking down again, the kid had already forgotten everything and fallen into a deep sleep.

Maintaining this posture, Lu Cong stared at Meng Yuan for a long time.

The bonfire continued to crackle and pop. Local residents danced around the fire, their singing coming in waves.

Meng Yuan’s breathing was steady in his arms. The firelight made his face look very warm; it didn’t look as pale or slightly bluish as it did during the day, but now carried a bit of a rosy glow.

Meng Yuan’s eyelashes were very long. The light of the bonfire seemed to possess some kind of magic, flickering and swaying, casting a large shadow over his eyelids.

Lu Cong did not look away, and his eyes no longer held any emotion. Panic, heartbeat—none remained; there wasn’t even doubt or thought.

He just looked at Meng Yuan in silence until his eyes became incredibly dry, a stinging pain reaching the back of his gaze.

…

The next morning, Meng Yuan was woken up by a headache.

He opened his eyes and found the curtains weren’t pulled tight. Sunlight leaked through the gap, landing right on his face and making him dizzy.

He buried his face in the pillow and let out a muffled groan.

The bedding was woven from organic cotton grown on the island, soaked in gardenia and Tahitian vanilla, but the fresh scent failed to alleviate his physical discomfort.

Headache.

It felt like someone was tapping a small hammer against his temples one beat at a time, not heavy, but annoying.

Meng Yuan lay there for a while to recover. The headache didn’t subside, but the memories of last night returned.

The bonfire, the dinner, the vanilla sweet wine…

Meng Yuan’s eyes suddenly snapped wide open.

He kissed Lu Cong.

In front of all those people, he kissed Lu Cong?

He initiated it and leaned in to kiss him?!

Wait… Meng Yuan pressed his temples as his memory continued to recover.

The local residents were cheering for them to kiss. Meng Yuan couldn’t understand them, Lu Cong translated for him, and then he followed suit.

Meng Yuan: “…”

Am I insane?

He closed his eyes in despair.

He blamed his previous life for being too deeply poisoned by capitalists working honestly and following every arrangement made by the boss.

In this life, even though he was so rich, as soon as he got drunk, the “workhorse” sequelae manifested without fail.

He just didn’t know what Lu Cong was thinking.

That guy was so narcissistic; surely he wouldn’t think Meng Yuan liked him, right?

What a terrible development. Meng Yuan’s head ached even more.

Just then, the bedroom door opened.

Meng Yuan froze.

Lu Cong walked in, holding a tray in his hands.

He wore a light gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His expression was as indifferent as usual, showing no emotion.

On the tray was a bowl of porridge, a few small side dishes, a glass of warm water, and a blister pack of medicine. After being on the island for a few days, Meng Yuan finally saw Chinese food again.

Lu Cong placed the tray on the nightstand: “Awake?”

“Mhm…” Meng Yuan’s voice was muffled by the blankets.

Lu Cong sized up his complexion: “Headache?”

“Mhm…”

Lu Cong said nothing more and handed him the warm water: “Get up and take the medicine first.”

Meng Yuan sat up, took it, and downed the medicine with the warm water in one go, frowning at the bitter taste of the medicine residue in his throat.

He covered his neck for a moment before putting down the water glass, stealing a glance at Lu Cong.

“Um…” he said softly, “About last night, that…”

“Do you remember?” Lu Cong suddenly asked.

Meng Yuan was stunned.

“What happened last night,” Lu Cong looked at him, “How much do you remember?”

Meng Yuan’s heart thudded. It was over, over, over. Why did he feel like Lu Cong was here to demand an explanation?

“I wanted to make sure you don’t misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“…”

Meng Yuan was too embarrassed to say the words “kissed you,” as it made it seem like he had initiated a kiss and then refused to take responsibility.

After agonizing back and forth, he simply decided to play rogue.

“You were the one who told me to kiss you,” he said.

“I know,” Lu Cong said calmly.

Meng Yuan: “?”

He just admitted it like that?

He blanked out for a moment.

“I know I was the one who said it first,” Lu Cong said. “So, haven’t I also refrained from bringing it up proactively?”

He faced the wide-eyed, dazed Meng Yuan: “I will act as if it never happened. You don’t need to feel any burden.”

He paused for a moment to let Meng Yuan digest this.

Last night, after carrying back the Meng Yuan who had either fallen asleep or fainted from drunkenness, Lu Cong hadn’t returned to his own room immediately.

He stood on the terrace for a long time.

The villa faced the sea directly. At night, the dark surface of the sea was vast and boundless. The sea breeze was strong, making his shirt flap loudly.

He looked at the crescent moon in the distance. The silvery moonlight broke through the black sky, spreading a shimmering path across the sea that extended to where the eye could not see.

He thought of Meng Yuan.

A commercial marriage to a person he chose himself.

Meng Yuan’s information had been put into a database to be dismantled and analyzed, eventually determining that the union of the two families could maximize mutual interests.

Lu Cong valued this, and only this.

Everyone hated commercial marriages; the more money and status one had, the more they wanted to pursue pure love.

Lu Cong found this extremely annoying.

He admitted he was arrogant and conceited. By nature, his desire for power and status was deeper than for love. He had no time and zero desire to establish an intimate relationship with anyone.

The kind of marriage loathed and despised by love-seekers, the kind written in black and white in a contract was exactly what he believed to be the greatest creation of human development.

He firmly believed that only those with weak and overthinking temperaments would indulge in love and eventually be destroyed by it.

His mother was that kind of person.

She was someone completely different from him, someone standing on the opposite side.

Weak, naive, and full of fantasies about pure love.

Around the age of seven or eight, after Lu Cong had a basic perception of the good and evil in human nature, he had warned his mother about his father’s unreliability.

But his mother was truly, very, very naive. Consequently, she could not accept his father’s betrayal and could not bear to have the truth laid bare before her eyes.

She selfishly ended her own life.

She selfishly abandoned her only child.

Kneeling before his mother’s funeral hall, the young Lu Cong looked up at her portrait. The woman wouldn’t even leave a trace of a smile in that gray-white photograph for him.

From then on, Lu Cong swore he would never become a person like her.

He would never be weak, never believe others, and never harbor longing. Never.

Never.

Meng Yuan’s face overlapped in his mind.

Meng Yuan didn’t understand the reason, but he still nodded obediently: “Okay, let’s not mention it then. It was all the wine’s fault.”

Lu Cong closed his eyes, hiding the surging emotions in the depths of his gaze.

He pushed the meal tray a bit closer to Meng Yuan: “Eat something.”

“Thank you.” Meng Yuan picked up the spoon.

This kid had a unique piety toward food. Before eating, he would hold his utensils and carefully look over every dish on the table before moving his chopsticks.

Usually, he was unwilling to leave leftovers, but due to physical reasons, he had never eaten much.