The Sickly Double Doesn't Want to Be Spoiled - Chapter 30.1

Chapter 30.1

“Coming!” Qin Qing was busily working and handed something to Lu Cong. “I couldn’t find a thermometer, only a temperature gun.”

Lu Cong took it. “This will do.”

These things weren’t as accurate as traditional thermometers, but they were convenient and would suffice for now.

Qin Qing stood by the side, watching nervously as Lu Cong clicked the temperature gun against Meng Yuan’s forehead. “How is it? Is he running a fever? The wedding banquet hasn’t even started yet, and there’s a whole day to endure. What are we going to do?”

Lu Cong didn’t speak; he frowned as he carefully checked the temperature gun.

Meng Yuan, feeling dizzy and curled up in his chair, reached out and nudged Lu Cong’s hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not feverish.”

Lu Cong ignored him, pressed his hand back down, and continued looking at the numbers on the display 36.9°C.

Indeed, no fever.

He let out a small sigh of relief and tossed the temperature gun back to Qin Qing. “He’s fine. He probably just got too warm while sleeping.”

Meng Yuan tilted his head and glanced at him. “See what I told you? It’s impossible for me to have a fever.”

He had just checked it himself not long ago.

The makeup artist turned his face back toward her and added a few more strokes to his cheeks, letting out a long sigh. “All done!”

She stepped back two paces, looking at her masterpiece with satisfaction. “Simply perfect. Young Master Meng, Mr. Lu, what do you think?”

Meng Yuan looked into the mirror and froze for a moment.

The person in the mirror was wearing a custom-tailored white suit, his hair styled exquisitely, and his face held a perfect touch of color. He actually looked very handsome.

He had always felt his face was merely “delicate.”

In his previous life, he had been weathered by the sun and wind without proper care, always looking sallow and thin. In this life, his circumstances were better, but because of his illness, he often looked very frail.

Now, it was just right.

It was as if he really was a young master who had been pampered and loved by ten thousand people since birth, never having faced a day of hardship. There was even a sense of clarity in his eyes.

Meng Yuan thought about it carefully; this was probably because his gaze was a bit vacant.

There was no helping it; he was stunned by his own beauty.

Snap.

Lu Cong snapped his fingers in front of his eyes.

“What kind of habit is it to be infatuated with yourself?” He looked disgusted. “Get up, tidy yourself, and get ready to head out.”

Meng Yuan: “…”

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and watched Lu Cong’s back, as proud as a peacock.

What, Lu Cong was allowed to be narcissistic but Meng Yuan wasn’t allowed to admire himself?

As if Lu Cong wasn’t the one who had to stare at the mirror for several seconds of self-appreciation every time he washed his hands after using the bathroom.

“Boss.”

Song Zhen pushed the door open and entered. “The car is downstairs. We can leave anytime.”

“Good.”

Lu Cong waved his hand to signal Song Zhen to step out first, then turned to Meng Yuan. Before he could speak, Meng Yuan had already stood up consciously.

He straightened his clothes and had Qin Qing double-check that everything was normal before walking toward Lu Cong.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Marriage is like a battlefield. Let’s go fight this war. Don’t be nervous; I guarantee you’ll emerge victorious.”

Lu Cong remained silent, scanning him from head to toe with a complex expression. “Actually, aren’t you the one who’s nervous?”

Meng Yuan: “…”

They both looked down at Meng Yuan’s trembling hands.

After a long silence, Meng Yuan offered a pale defense: “Well, it’s my first time getting married, of course I’m nervous.”

Lu Cong: “Then why am I not nervous?”

“Who knows if this is your first marriage,” Meng Yuan muttered under his breath.

“Meng Yuan!” Lu Cong grew a bit stern.

Meng Yuan suddenly snapped out of it and shivered, realizing he had spoken without thinking.

“Sorry…” he whispered.

Lu Cong looked at him deeply for several seconds. “Don’t speak recklessly like that again.”

Meng Yuan nodded repeatedly. “I understand.”

Probably too tired to argue with him, Lu Cong sighed and pulled something out from the inner pocket of his suit, handing it to him.

“Take this.”

“What is this?”

Meng Yuan curiously accepted it and found it was an envelope—a pale blue envelope with a faint luster, tied with a dark blue ribbon.

Lu Cong: “Your speech. I had someone write it for you. Just read it later.”

“That’s so great!” Meng Yuan’s eyes lit up.

Lu Cong had already turned to leave, and Meng Yuan hurried to catch up.

“You never gave it to me, I thought you forgot. I even had nightmares last night, thinking what if you gave it to me right before I went on stage? How would I memorize it? Turns out I don’t need to memorize it at all.”

With the person beside him chirping away like a sparrow, Lu Cong helplessly rubbed his temples, but the corners of his lips quivered slightly.

“How can everything give you nightmares?” he teased.

Then he watched with satisfaction as a look of defeat appeared on Meng Yuan’s face.

“I know you well enough,” Lu Cong said in high spirits. “Even if you volunteered to memorize it, I wouldn’t dare let you. This is the wedding for both of us, and I have a reputation to uphold.”

The car was at the door. The driver had been waiting and opened the door for them. Lu Cong leaned in and sat down.

Meng Yuan followed closely behind. “It’s good to care about reputation. You’re the first person to make me feel that a man caring about his ‘face’ isn’t entirely without benefits.”

Lu Cong was stunned for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing. “I can’t even tell if you’re praising me or insulting me.”

“Of course I’m praising you!” Meng Yuan blinked with an expression of pure sincerity.

The car door closed. The light behind him vanished, and his face became even clearer.

Lu Cong was slightly dazed for a moment, then immediately averted his gaze and instructed the driver, “Let’s go.”

…

The wedding was held at the Lingzhou Hotel.

Located in the city center, it was the first hotel established during the early days of the group. Since then, all of the Lu family’s important banquets have been held there.

The wedding began at noon. Guests were just starting to arrive, and as soon as Meng Yuan reached the hotel, he was led to a lounge.

Probably out of some sort of etiquette, he and Lu Cong were separated, each using a different lounge.

In Meng Yuan’s mind, weddings usually had a groom’s lounge and a bride’s lounge, but they were both men. Using two identical groom’s lounges seemed a bit redundant.

Other couples don’t see each other before the wedding for a whole night.

But them? Last night they watched another Russian science documentary together.

Not the one from the island, but a different one.

Meng Yuan had been stubborn, feeling he definitely had the ability to watch a whole film without losing focus, so he suggested trying again to Lu Cong.

At the time, Lu Cong’s expression had been complex, even tinged with a bit of reminiscence.

Before the first segment of narration in the opening credits ended just as Meng Yuan was about to fall dead asleep Lu Cong told him: “I stopped believing in that kind of stubbornness twenty years ago.”

This morning, they had also done their makeup together and left together, only to be separated for a few hours for no apparent reason. It was truly formalistic and a waste of space.

Sitting in the lounge, Meng Yuan didn’t get any rest.

Guests came to see him one after another.

Some said they were his friends, some said they were relatives, bringing their whole families in for photos.

Meng Yuan just sat in the middle, doing nothing but grinning for the camera until his face felt stiff.

After the photo-seekers left, his brothers and sisters entered next.

Meng Yuan had been slumped over in exhaustion, but upon seeing them, he immediately snapped awake and sat up straight, gripping the armrests.

He could feel Qin Qing beside him tense up instantly as well.

“What brings you all here?” Qin Qing didn’t show it on her face, greeting them with a smile. “Come, please sit.”

Meng Yuan didn’t speak. He scanned the group but didn’t see the eldest sister.

She wouldn’t even come to her brother’s wedding? What a woman of character.

“No need,” the second sister said. “We just came to see Xiao Yuan and then we’re leaving; there are things to attend to outside.”

The other brothers nodded in agreement.

Their attitudes seemed different both like and unlike before. There was still a hint of pride in their brows, and they didn’t say much. Each left a large red envelope and departed.

Both Meng Yuan and Qin Qing were stunned.

Qin Qing picked up a red envelope, opened it to check, and asked Meng Yuan with a cautious face: “Is this money poisoned?”

Just kidding, how could RMB be poisoned?