The Sickly Double Doesn't Want to Be Spoiled - Chapter 37

Chapter 37

After spending the summer playing, by the time autumn arrived, Meng Yuan began to feel a bit tired.

It wasn’t the kind of tiredness that could be cured by a night’s sleep; it was a fatigue that seeped out from the gaps in his bones.

Sometimes when he woke up in the morning, it felt as if he hadn’t slept all night. Walking two steps felt like running eight hundred meters. Even sitting still, he felt he couldn’t catch his breath.

But Meng Yuan didn’t say anything.

It wasn’t that he was intentionally trying to hide something; he just felt there was no need.

His illness was like this sometimes better, sometimes worse. When it was good, he was much like a normal person; when it turned bad… Well, turning bad was just like how it is now.

Looking at it from another perspective, knowing in advance when one will die is actually quite good; at least one won’t be constantly startled.

For example, Meng Yuan knew he wouldn’t die during this current stage, so he also knew that no matter how uncomfortable he felt as if he were dying it was usually just an illusion, and he would typically recover after a few minutes.

If he spoke out about every little thing, it wouldn’t serve any purpose other than making others worry.

Meng Yuan got up as usual, ate as usual, and sat in the living room staring blankly as usual. When his body felt a bit better, he also went out to play as usual.

Everything was as per usual.

Only Qin Qing felt something was wrong.

“Xiao Yuan, have you lost weight again recently?”

Meng Yuan looked down at himself: “Have I?”

“Yes,” Qin Qing said seriously.

“Probably not,” Meng Yuan tried to laugh it off with a joke: “Where do I have any meat left to lose?”

“But you have lost weight.” Qin Qing was persistent: “I mentioned it to President Lu yesterday, and he also thinks you’ve gotten thinner.”

She even brought in an accomplice.

“You guys…” Meng Yuan felt somewhat helpless and smiled: “He’s usually not even home; what could he know?”

“It’s precisely because he only comes back occasionally that he sees it more clearly,” Qin Qing said. “Someone like me who stays with you every day finds it easier to miss. If he hadn’t mentioned it yesterday, I wouldn’t have even realized!”

“Oh, it’s really nothing,” Meng Yuan took her arm and acted spoiled. “Look, isn’t my appetite quite good? As long as I can eat, there won’t be any big problems. Don’t worry.”

That was true.

At any time, as long as one can still eat, there is hope. It is true for humans and animals alike.

Meng Yuan’s words managed to comfort Qin Qing slightly, but she still maintained an expression as if facing a formidable enemy.

“Then I’ll go make you something more to eat,” she ran toward the kitchen. “It’s time for afternoon tea.”

Looking at her flustered back, Meng Yuan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

…

After autumn set in and the weather turned cool, the number of times Lu Cong returned to the villa gradually increased.

It went from coming once in a while to staying two or three days a week, and later, he came for dinner almost every day.

During meals, he would intentionally or unintentionally ask about Meng Yuan’s physical condition.

Every time Meng Yuan heard this, he felt a bit apprehensive.

He couldn’t distinguish whether Lu Cong was simply concerned or if he was hinting at something.

Most of the time, Lu Cong’s emotions could not be discerned from his face or tone. It was also possible that Meng Yuan’s “cultivation” wasn’t deep enough; he almost never could guess what Lu Cong was actually thinking when he said a sentence.

Today was the same. Before Lu Cong went out, he stood at the entrance hall, adjusting his tie one last time in front of the mirror.

Through the mirror, he could see Meng Yuan sitting on the sofa in the distance behind him.

Meng Yuan was flipping through a book. Sunlight shone through the window and fell on him, making that face look a bit transparent.

Lu Cong looked at him for two seconds and suddenly asked, “How are you feeling today?”

Meng Yuan raised his head, and his gaze met Lu Cong’s in the mirror.

As usual, he still couldn’t understand Lu Cong’s expression and didn’t know what kind of answer the other party expected to receive.

“Today…” Meng Yuan pondered and eventually could only tell the truth: “Today is okay.”

“Is there anywhere uncomfortable?”

Meng Yuan shook his head, then nodded.

Lu Cong’s brow furrowed, and he turned to look at him: “Is it comfortable or uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable,” Meng Yuan said.

Lu Cong immediately walked toward him, looking as if he were about to drag him to the hospital.

Meng Yuan hurriedly said, “But it’s like this every day!”

He softened his tone and looked up at Lu Cong: “At my level, it’s impossible to have absolutely no feeling at all. I can only say it’s all within the normal range; it’s not a big problem.”

With every word said, Lu Cong’s expression darkened by a notch.

Meng Yuan sighed and tentatively told him: “Really, don’t worry. I have a sense of this body; nothing will go wrong.”

Lu Cong gazed at him without blinking, his brow furrowed deeply enough to crush a mosquito. “You’d better be right.”

He took a deep breath, looked away, tugged at his tie, and said to Meng Yuan: “Qin Qing is taking leave today. If anything happens, finding Auntie Li, or Song Zhen is fine too. Their phones are on 24 hours a day.”

Meng Yuan nodded: “I know.”

Lu Cong looked at him a couple more times before finally turning to leave.

Meng Yuan continued reading.

After reading for a while, his eyelids felt a bit heavy.

Sure enough, he really wasn’t cut out for studying. Since childhood, he would get dizzy just looking at words; being able to get into university was entirely due to the diligence of “hanging by the hair and piercing the thigh.”

Though in the end, even though he got in, he didn’t go.

“Sigh.”

Meng Yuan put the book down, leaned back on the sofa, closed his eyes, and dozed for a bit.

When he opened them again, it was already dark.

Meng Yuan was stunned for a moment and checked the time: seven o’clock in the evening.

He had slept for an entire day? It was simply incredible.

What was even more incredible was that he was still tired.

Meng Yuan moved slightly; his arms and legs felt as if they were filled with lead. Even a slight shift felt like a struggle.

He slowly sat up, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and pressed his hands against his temples.

He heard the sound of the door opening.

Lu Cong was back.

He walked in and saw Meng Yuan sitting on the sofa, hunched over and motionless. His footsteps paused for a moment before he quickened his pace forward.

“Why didn’t you turn on the light?”

Only then did Meng Yuan realize the room was indeed dark.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say “just woke up,” but his throat was so dry he couldn’t speak; making a sound brought a slight stinging pain.

Meng Yuan frowned and covered his throat.

Lu Cong turned on the floor lamp by the sofa and stood still in front of him.

He reached out, cupping Meng Yuan’s chin to lift his face up: “Your complexion isn’t right.”

Meng Yuan blinked, trying hard to let his voice out: “Slept too much.”

His voice was incredibly hoarse.

Lu Cong felt his forehead again; the temperature was actually okay, but Meng Yuan’s eyes lacked spirit, and his skin was white with a hint of blue.

“We’re going to the hospital tomorrow,” he said.

Meng Yuan was stunned for a moment: “No need, I just had a transfusion the day before”

“We’re going to the hospital tomorrow,” Lu Cong repeated once more, his tone heavier than before. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

Meng Yuan looked at him, wanting to say something.

But in the end, he said nothing.

He nodded silently and wearily.

He was indeed too tired so tired he didn’t even have the strength to argue.

…

Early the next morning, Meng Yuan was lying on a clinical bed in the hospital.

It was still that same private hospital, the same blood collection room, and that familiar doctor.

But this time it wasn’t a blood transfusion; it was for an examination.

Meng Yuan lay on the hospital bed, watching the nurse draw several tubes of dark red blood from beneath his collarbone.

He was still wearing his pajamas. As usual, he couldn’t get up in the morning and had been practically carried to the hospital by Lu Cong all the way; he only barely woke up during the blood draw.

Lu Cong sat on the sofa nearby, watching in silence.

His gaze was very focused, his brow furrowed, and his lips tightly pressed.

Meng Yuan caught a glimpse of his expression from the corner of his eye and suddenly wanted to laugh a little.

“Do you have this expression during meetings too?” he said jokingly.

Lu Cong glanced at him. “Not this amiable.”

Meng Yuan burst out laughing.

He laughed until he felt dizzy, then pressed his lips together and curled up slightly.

Lu Cong instinctively stood up and took two steps forward, but the nurse beat him to it and supported Meng Yuan.

“Be careful,” the nurse said gently. “Watch your emotions; don’t get too excited.”

Meng Yuan recovered a bit and smiled apologetically at the nurse: “Okay, I’ll be careful.”

Lu Cong didn’t speak. Standing where he was, his fingers unconsciously tightened and then released.

After the blood draw, the nurse pressed the needle site with a cotton swab and then applied a medical dressing over the wound.

“All done,” she said. “Now, wait for the results.”

The results wouldn’t come out that quickly. During the wait, Lu Cong accompanied Meng Yuan as he ate breakfast.

Perhaps because he felt uncomfortable after the blood draw, Meng Yuan’s appetite today was worse than usual; he didn’t even finish a bowl of porridge before it went cold.

His expression was listless. He scooped with the soup spoon in the bowl for a long time, only taking a few bites in the end.

Lu Cong watched him silently for a while. When even the last trace of steam vanished from Meng Yuan’s soup bowl, he reached out and took it away.

“If it’s cold, don’t eat it.”

Meng Yuan didn’t insist either. He propped up his chin and sighed: “Today’s food feels like it has no taste.”

Lu Cong glanced at him but didn’t speak.

Today’s breakfast taste was no different from usual; he knew the medication had somewhat affected Meng Yuan’s sense of taste.

The doctor walked in, holding a stack of forms, his expression not looking very good.

“Young Master Meng,” he said, “The recent indicators…”

He paused.

Meng Yuan looked at him, very calmly: “It’s okay, you can say it.”

The doctor looked at Lu Cong, then at Meng Yuan, and spoke: “The hemoglobin has dropped severely, platelets are low too, and neutrophils… are not good. Overall, the disease is progressing.”

Lu Cong’s voice rang out: “What does that mean?”

The doctor looked at him, weighing his words: “It means… The bone marrow’s blood-building function is further declining. Anemia will worsen, the risk of infection will rise, and the risk of bleeding will also rise.”

The room fell silent.

Meng Yuan sat on the sofa, picking at the napkin in his hand, not showing too much surprise.

“I understand,” he said. “What do we do next?”

Lu Cong also looked at the doctor, his hands involuntarily tightening.

“The treatment plan needs adjustment,” the doctor said. “My suggestion is to be hospitalized first to do a comprehensive assessment and see if there are better options.”

Lu Cong lowered his head, his face showing no specific expression.

After a long while, he nodded: “Fine, hospitalization.”

…

Meng Yuan finally ended up staying in the hospital.

Unsurprisingly, from today onward, he will be staying here for a long time.

Can I still go out to play?

Meng Yuan lay on the hospital bed, staring somewhat blankly out the window.

His ward had very good lighting. In the late afternoon, the sun shone directly in, turning everything golden.

Through the floor-to-ceiling window, Meng Yuan could see the lake outside. Autumn had arrived, and the maple forest by the lake had turned red; the leaves swayed like a ball of fire, with occasional birds flying past.

Meng Yuan didn’t know if he could ever go out again.

But he knew he wasn’t willing to stay here forever. The final moments of his life absolutely could not be spent entirely on a hospital bed.

The nurse came in to take his temperature, measure his blood pressure, and draw blood.

Meng Yuan was very cooperative, unbuttoning, pulling back his collar, pressing the cotton swab; he was so familiar with the entire process that he had developed muscle memory.

Lu Cong sat nearby; he had been sitting here all day.

“Don’t you need to go to work?” Meng Yuan finally asked.

Lu Cong leaned back into the sofa: “Not working for the time being.”

Meng Yuan: “?”

“Qin Qing said I’ve been a bit manic lately, likely from working. I asked Song Zhen, and Song Zhen said so too,” he looked at Meng Yuan. “So for the sake of my mental state, I decided to rest for a few days.”

Meng Yuan: “…”

He opened his mouth and blinked a few times, unable to speak.

The way Lu Cong looked now was indeed a bit abnormal.

“Then… then okay…” Meng Yuan stammered: “Is it enough just to take a holiday? Do you need to get checked out? The psychiatry department here is also very good”

“I have my own plans,” Lu Cong interrupted. “What you should worry about is your own body.”

Meng Yuan was startled and quickly nodded: “I understand, I understand.”

He stayed quiet for a while but still couldn’t help himself: “Then if you keep not going to work like this, won’t the company go bankrupt?”

Lu Cong: “…No.”

“No impact at all?”

“I might make a bit less money.”

Then Lu Cong saw Meng Yuan reveal an expression of utter horror.

“Make less money?!” Meng Yuan’s heart ached as if that money were being taken out of his own wallet: “That is absolutely unacceptable!”

Lu Cong: “No”

“You should probably go back to work; being a bit manic isn’t a big problem,” Meng Yuan said earnestly. “Believe me, having no money is much more terrif”

“Meng Yuan!” Lu Cong gritted his teeth.

Meng Yuan finally shut up.

He saw the veins on Lu Cong’s forehead throbbing.

“Sorry,” Meng Yuan’s voice weakened. “I got too excited.”

“It’s good that you know,” Lu Cong’s words seemed to be squeezed out of his throat. “The doctor said your emotions cannot have big ups and downs.”

Meng Yuan nodded repeatedly.

“Also,” Lu Cong added.

Meng Yuan tentatively raised his head to look at him.

Lu Cong took a step closer to him: “Even if I make less money, it’s enough for ten of you to live for dozens of lifetimes.”

“So money is the last thing you should worry about.”

“Do you understand?”

Meng Yuan’s eyes lit up.

Heavens, so wealthy.

He replied obediently: “Understood.”

Only then did Lu Cong’s expression soften slightly, and he reached out to ruffle Meng Yuan’s head.

He ruffled Meng Yuan’s smooth hair into a messy bird’s nest.

…

After staying in the hospital for a week, Meng Yuan felt a little better.

Although his body continued to weaken uncontrollably, with various injections being dripped into him every day, the dizziness and fatigue weren’t as severe.

It was just boring, extremely boring.

Meng Yuan’s range of activities became very limited.

Aside from the hospital garden, he could only walk around his ward every day.

Even for an occasional trip to the garden, he had to wear a thick coat and two layers of masks.

The doctor said that given his current physical condition, any tiny infection could trigger a major problem.

TV programs were boring; Meng Yuan would fall asleep while watching and stare blankly out the window upon waking up.

While staring blankly, his thoughts would drift far away, imagining himself running on a lawn or lying on a beach in another hemisphere basking in the sun.

In short, not here.

He didn’t want to be here anymore.

Lu Cong still came to accompany him often, occasionally bringing his work into the ward.

Right now, he was in the hallway outside making a phone call.

Meng Yuan was sitting on the bed following a drama when suddenly his vision blurred. Meng Yuan blinked hard, and a bead of blood dripped onto the tablet.

A nosebleed.

Meng Yuan quickly turned off the screen and took a tissue to block his nose. Fortunately, the blood flow wasn’t much and basically stopped; it was just that the dried blood on his face felt uncomfortable.

He slowly sat up, got out of bed, and wanted to go to the bathroom to wash his face.

When his feet stepped on the ground, he felt the floor was a bit shaky.

He held onto the edge of the bed and stood for a while, waiting for that wave of dizziness to pass, then slowly walked toward the bathroom.

After washing the bloodstains off his face, Meng Yuan pulled a few tissues to wipe the water, then suddenly felt he couldn’t catch his breath.

His chest felt as if it were being pressed down by something; it was incredibly stifling.

Meng Yuan propped himself against the sink, gasping for air, but he couldn’t draw any in; it felt as if his lungs had collapsed.

Patter.

Patter.

Globs of bright red blood dripped onto the marble countertop, dissolving in the water stains.

Patter.

Patter.

More and more.

Meng Yuan used tissues to block it, used a towel to block it, but he simply couldn’t; the nosebleed quickly dyed the snow-white towel red as well.

The smell of blood rushed straight into his mouth. Meng Yuan’s stomach suddenly churned, and he leaned over the sink and vomited.

Then he froze.

He saw that he had vomited a pool of blood.

How can it be blood? Why would I vomit blood?

His brain seemed to have frozen; Meng Yuan couldn’t do any more thinking.

The images before his eyes began to sway.

The walls, the floor, the doorframe, and himself in the mirror were all swaying.

Meng Yuan heard his own heartbeat thump-thump, thump-thump! It was so fast it felt like it would jump out of his chest.

He wanted to call for help, but he couldn’t make a sound.

His fingers gripped the edge of the sink with force, then suddenly lost strength in an instant. Meng Yuan’s knees buckled, and he knelt straight down.

He had become so thin there wasn’t much meat left; his kneecaps hitting the floor made a very crisp sound.

But Meng Yuan found that he surprisingly couldn’t feel the pain.

His vision became darker and darker, as if someone were dimming the world bit by bit.

There was a buzzing sound in his ears; he couldn’t hear anything.