The Sickly Double Doesn't Want to Be Spoiled - Chapter 35.2

Chapter 35.2

Meng Yuan was dazed for a moment. Does this man not work today?

“I’m up,” he said.

The door was then pushed open.

Lu Cong stood at the door wearing loungewear, his hair still a bit damp. Obviously, he had just showered after exercising.

“Let’s go,” he said. “The car is waiting.”

Meng Yuan looked at him and blinked.

“You’re not working?”

“It’s the weekend.”

“You used to work on weekends too.”

“That’s why I went crazy from work. I’m curing it.”

Meng Yuan: “…”

He turned his head and pursed his lips.

This extraordinary man, Lu Cong, had made him smile inexplicably again.

Meng Yuan pulled back the quilt and got out of bed. As he passed Lu Cong, he suddenly stopped.

“Today,” he scanned up and down, “you’re dressed quite casually.”

Lu Cong looked down at himself.

Loungewear, slippers, hair just washed and blown half-dry.

“Yeah,” he said. “Taking you to the hospital; no need for formal wear.”

Meng Yuan nodded and entered the bathroom. “You look better when you don’t wear formal clothes.”

“Really?” Lu Cong instinctively followed.

Bang!

The bathroom door slammed shut.

Lu Cong stopped abruptly and touched his perfect nose, which had almost been flattened.

“I should say, each has its own merits,” Meng Yuan’s muffled voice came from inside.

Lu Cong’s expression became a bit subtle.

After a while, he took out his phone, opened the front camera, carefully examined his own face, and couldn’t help but turn up the corners of his mouth.

This kid Meng Yuan is indeed quite honest.

…

After washing up, they headed out. Two cars were parked at the door.

One was a silver-gray van, larger than the business car Meng Yuan had ridden in before. The windows were dark, making the interior invisible.

“We’re taking this today?” Meng Yuan asked.

“Yeah,” the back door opened, and Lu Cong said, “It’s more comfortable inside; you can lie down.”

Meng Yuan took a look inside the car.

It was indeed very comfortable. Two independent seats, wide and soft, could be fully reclined.

The floor was covered in a dark gray carpet, and there was a small refrigerator and a wine cabinet next to it.

Meng Yuan sat in and sank into the seat.

Lu Cong came up from the other side and sat next to him.

The car started very steady, with almost no vibration.

Meng Yuan leaned against the seat and looked out the window, finding that the flowers along the road were all in bloom. Spring had come early this year.

“Are those all hydrangeas?” Meng Yuan asked.

Lu Cong took a look. Those rows of blue-purple hydrangeas were quite eye-catching.

“Yes,” Lu Cong said. “If you like them, I’ll have the gardener plant some in the courtyard when we get back.”

“Really?” Meng Yuan smiled happily.

Lu Cong looked at the smile blooming on his pale face. For some reason, a sweetness mixed with bitterness surged in his heart.

“Plant a lot of them,” he said.

…

Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of a white building.

Meng Yuan had been to this building many times in the inpatient department of Lingzhou Hospital. There was a lake behind it and a parking lot in front.

Every time he came, someone was waiting at the door, and every time he went in, someone led the way.

Today was the same.

The director and others were waiting at the door, followed by two doctors in white coats and several nurses.

As soon as the car stopped, the director came forward.

“Young Master Meng,” he greeted with a smile. Seeing Lu Cong, he was a bit surprised. “President Lu is here too?”

“Accompanying him for a look,” Lu Cong said expressionlessly. “Let’s go, get inside first.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” the director said hurriedly. “Everything is prepared. The doctors are waiting upstairs. Please follow me this way.”

Sixth floor, VIP ward.

The corridor was covered in dark gray carpet, paintings hung on the walls, and there was a faint scent of aromatherapy in the air. Meng Yuan was led into the infusion room.

The room was spacious and bright with an excellent view.

The sofa was against the wall. On the coffee table were fruit, pure water, and freshly brewed tea. Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the lake was visible; the spring lake water was a bright, shimmering blue.

“Young Master Meng, please sit here,” the nurse led Meng Yuan to the sofa, her voice very gentle. “I’ll help you disinfect.”

Meng Yuan sat on the sofa. The nurse carefully adjusted the backrest so that Meng Yuan was comfortably semi-reclined.

She gently pulled back Meng Yuan’s collar, revealing the skin below the collarbone. There was a small protrusion with a scar so faint it was almost unnoticeable.

The IV port had been installed before the New Year.

The skin below the collarbone was cut, a small opening made, the small port body inserted, and a thin tube directly connected to the large blood vessel near the heart before being sutured.

This would make future blood transfusions, injections, and blood draws much more convenient.

When it was first buried, there was a sense of a foreign object. Later, the wound healed, leaving a small protrusion that felt hard when pressed but didn’t hurt.

The nurse began to disinfect. The cotton swab was cool as it wiped over the skin, carrying a somewhat pungent scent.

Lu Cong sat on the sofa, watching the small protrusion under Meng Yuan’s collarbone as the nurse wiped it with povidone-iodine over and over.

His brow was slightly furrowed.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Meng Yuan said.

“When will it be removed?”

To his surprise, Meng Yuan smiled.

“It won’t be removed,” he said. “It stays forever.”

Lu Cong’s expression became very poor.

Disinfection complete, the nurse brought a tray.

On the tray was a very special needle, curved like a tiny hook.

“This is a Huber needle,” the nurse said. “Specially used for IV ports. The tip is curved so it stays fixed once inserted and won’t move around.”

She was explaining specifically for Lu Cong; after all, Meng Yuan had used this thing many times and was as familiar with it as could be.

Lu Cong’s expression darkened further, his hands tightening slightly. He tilted his chin toward the nurse: “Do your job, don’t mind me.”

“Understood.”

The nurse stopped looking at Lu Cong. She fell under Meng Yuan’s collarbone, found the position of the IV port, disinfected it, and prepared to insert the needle.

“There will be a tiny prick,” she said. “Please bear with it.”

Meng Yuan nodded.

When the needle went in, there was indeed a slight stinging sensation, but it lasted only a moment.

Then came that familiar feeling of cool liquid flowing into the body, directly to the heart through that thin tube.

The nurse fixed the needle in place and applied a transparent dressing.

“Done,” she said with a smile. “We can begin.”

Meng Yuan smiled and nodded to the nurse. “Thank you, sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s my duty,” the nurse said softly. “Please rest first. Let me know if you need anything.”

Having said that, she gestured to Lu Cong and walked out quietly, closing the door.

Lu Cong stood up and walked to Meng Yuan’s side.

He looked down at the dressing, the small external tube connected to the blood bag, and then to the position above Meng Yuan’s heart.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it,” Meng Yuan said. “It can stay in all the time. After the infusion, the needle is pulled out, and next time, we just use a new needle.”

Lu Cong didn’t say anything more.

He looked inexplicably anxious, paced around Meng Yuan, and then sat back down by the sofa.

The blood transfusion would take two hours.

Usually, Meng Yuan would sleep during this time, and the time would pass quickly.

But today Lu Cong was there, and Meng Yuan was a bit unsure if he should sleep.

“Will you be bored like this?” he asked Lu Cong.

“It’s fine,” Lu Cong said.

“Do you want me to keep you company and chat?”

Lu Cong wasn’t sure why he asked. After a thought: “Whatever works. Chat if you want, do whatever you need to do, don’t worry about me.”

Meng Yuan pursed his lips and hesitated for a few seconds before speaking: “Then I might sleep for a while.”

He pointed to the blood bag with his hand. “Every time I receive this, I get very sleepy.”

“You sleep,” Lu Cong said hurriedly. “Go to sleep. I’ll call you when it’s time. I’ll just handle some work.”

Hearing that he would handle work, Meng Yuan finally relaxed and curled himself up slightly. “Then you get busy. I’m sleeping.”

He closed his eyes.

Lu Cong sat there watching him for a while, then got up to search for something around the room, his movements very light so as not to wake Meng Yuan.

After a long time, he found a clean wool blanket from the cabinet under the shelf and gently placed it over Meng Yuan.

Then he stepped back a few paces and sat back on his own sofa.

Lu Cong wasn’t working. He actually had several contracts to review today, but in these two empty hours, he couldn’t take in a single thing.

He unconsciously rubbed his hands, his mind in a mess. For the first time in such a peaceful setting, he felt a massive, irrepressible sense of unease.

…

“Meng Yuan? Meng Yuan, wake up…”

Meng Yuan was woken by Lu Cong gently patting his cheek.

His voice was very light, carrying an undetectable hint of caution, his fingers pressing lightly against Meng Yuan’s temple.

Meng Yuan opened his eyes slowly, feeling lazy all over. “Is it over?”

“Yes, it’s over,” Lu Cong said. “The nurse is coming in to remove the needle.”

Meng Yuan nodded.

Lu Cong moved aside to make room. The nurse walked up, first peeled off the dressing, then pinched the Huber needle and gave it a gentle pull.

out came the needle.

A tiny red dot remained at the site of the IV port. The nurse pressed it with a cotton swab for a while and then applied a small piece of gauze.

“All set,” she said. “Remove this tomorrow after you get back. Don’t shower today; you can shower normally tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

Meng Yuan covered his chest and sat up.

Lu Cong gave him a hand from behind.

Possessed by some impulse, he touched the gauze; it was a bit swollen, but not much.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

The same question again.

Meng Yuan looked at him and suddenly laughed a laugh filled with a bit of helplessness.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he said. “It really doesn’t.”

Lu Cong pursed his lips, realizing that he was asking this too frequently, so he stopped talking and helped Meng Yuan adjust the collar of his clothes.

On the way back, leaning against the seat, Meng Yuan fell asleep again.

His clear-headed time was becoming less and less.

Lu Cong knew clearly this was no illusion, and a trace of something strange rose in his heart, like being lightly pricked by something.

But right now, Meng Yuan’s sleep wasn’t due to discomfort or exhaustion.

It was because the levels had risen briefly after the transfusion, causing the long-lasting pain in his body to fade slightly, bringing a comfortable drowsiness.

At such a time, Meng Yuan could rarely get a good night’s sleep.

So Lu Cong lightened his movements and suppressed all noise, only quietly watching Meng Yuan.

Meng Yuan lay on the fully reclined seat, and the sunlight shone through the car window onto his face.

The spring sun was so warm, the most beautiful and gentle of the four seasons, capable of stimulating all the tiny life buried deep under the soil.

Meng Yuan’s pale profile also became vibrant at that moment, becoming healthy and vivid.

His lips turned rosy, his face developed color from the sun, his breathing was steady and even, and his features were relaxed.

It seemed as if he would sleep on happily like this forever, then wake up at the appropriate time to continue a happy and steady life.

Lu Cong was dazed by the fantasy for a moment.

Then he suddenly snapped awake.

Because he realized that spring is actually very short.