The Sickly Double Doesn't Want to Be Spoiled - Chapter 39 

Chapter 39 

If it weren’t a matter of absolute necessity, Lu Cong would never have made this call.

“How rare. You’re actually calling me,” a voice on the other end said, sounding delighted yet tinged with mockery. “Do you know how many times I double-checked the caller ID?”

“I want to ask you for a favor.”

Ignoring the other man’s teasing, Lu Cong got straight to the point.

The voice on the other end paused, and the tone became more serious: “What’s wrong? We haven’t seen each other in years, and your first move is a plea for help?”

“Why else do you think I’d contact you?”

“…Fair point.”

On the other side of the call, Xie Zhu put down his coffee and glanced at the call interface again. It was indeed Lu Cong.

Speaking of which, he and Lu Cong used to be good friends. Their families were old family friends, and the two had known each other since childhood.

Unfortunately, something happened later. Lu Cong’s father had an affair with Xie Zhu’s mother, which effectively drove Xie Zhu’s biological father to death from anger. Lu Cong’s biological mother passed away shortly after.

It was a massive scandal that both families kept hidden. Not many people knew; to the outside world, it just seemed that the two families focused on different fields and their friendship gradually faded.

When it happened, Lu Cong and Xie Zhu were still children. Ultimately, they couldn’t be blamed, but continuing to be friends felt quite awkward.

Later, Xie Zhu settled in Switzerland, and the two sides lost contact.

Who would have thought that after more than ten years, Lu Cong would actually call him?

“I’m married,” Lu Cong said.

Xie Zhu nodded: “I’ve heard rumors. Is it a child from the Meng family? A top-tier alliance, congrats.”

“So, I want to ask you to help me find a matching bone marrow. I need to arrange a bone marrow transplant as soon as possible, the sooner the better.”

Xie Zhu couldn’t figure out the causal relationship for a moment.

“…Are you sick?”

Lu Cong didn’t respond.

Xie Zhu understood: “It’s your wife?”

Lu Cong’s voice carried a heavy fatigue: “MDS. He’s already passed the acute phase. My doctors say a bone marrow transplant is mandatory immediately. We can’t delay any longer.”

“Myelodysplastic Syndrome, a malignant hematologic tumor…” Xie Zhu murmured, his brow furrowing. “How did he get such a disease? How old?”

“Turning 22 soon.”

“Tsk,” Xie Zhu propped his forehead. “So young. High metabolism, strong cell activity it’s indeed troublesome when it becomes acute. Your doctors’ advice is correct.”

“He has Rh-negative Type A blood,” Lu Cong said. “We haven’t found a perfect match domestically, so I wanted to ask if you have any solutions over there.”

The Xie family had been in the medical industry for three generations. His grandfather was among the first group of medical doctors to study abroad, his father did medical equipment import-export trade, and his mother was the founder of a pharmaceutical company.

As for Xie Zhu himself, after graduating from Harvard Medical School, he served as a resident at Johns Hopkins and then did research at Stanford for a few years. He was now settled in Switzerland, holding the title of advisor to the World Health Organization while consulting for several top pharmaceutical companies.

Simply put, he basically knew everyone in the global medical circle.

He could essentially get his hands on any resource in the global medical circle.

The depth and breadth of his connections in the medical world far exceeded Lu Cong’s. If even he couldn’t find a match…

Then perhaps there really was no way.

Xie Zhu was silent for a long time before finally clutching his phone and uttering a “damn.”

“Are you stacking buffs on me here?”

This matter did sound tricky, but not hopeless.

Although Lu Cong wasn’t a medical professional, his domestic resources were not few. For him to be so disheveled that he couldn’t sleep in the early hours and had to call for help meant he truly was at the end of his rope.

But why was it this bad?

It was just a rare blood type; it shouldn’t be that they couldn’t find a single match after searching the whole country, right?

“What about relatives?” Xie Zhu asked. “That old man from the Meng family produced so many kids like a mass-producing breeding pig; not a single one matches?”

“…No, none of them work.”

“Damn…” Xie Zhu rubbed his ear. “Why does this sound wrong to me? It’s like someone is forcing him to die. Logically, it shouldn’t be this hard.”

Lu Cong sighed, his voice extremely low: “I really have no other options.”

Xie Zhu was silent for a moment.

He truly never thought the day would come when Lu Cong would be pushed into such a corner.

“Fine, I got it,” he said. “The most important thing now is to stabilize his blood counts and avoid infection. I’ll go ask about the bone marrow for you. Tell you what, I have business and need to return to the country the day after tomorrow. Let’s talk in detail when we meet.”

…

Meng Yuan couldn’t sleep.

He was brewing a plan to run away, unsure if it was feasible.

Regardless, he definitely didn’t want to die.

In the novel’s plot, his character ceased to exist from this point onward. If he stayed and conformed to the plot, he would definitely have to die.

Disappearing of his own accord might be the only solution.

But Meng Yuan always felt some hesitation. After all, these were just his guesses and might not be correct.

So what should he do?

He needed to consider it more carefully.

Meng Yuan tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Under the anxiety, he felt a slight heart palpitation.

He sat up, poured some water to take his medicine, and bent over, pressing his hand against his chest.

By the time his chaotic heartbeat settled down, his last bit of sleepiness had vanished.

Out of boredom, he opened the bedroom door.

Driven by some impulse, he suddenly wanted to take a walk in the yard.

Walking to the top of the stairs and passing the study, he heard faint voices from inside.

It was Lu Cong on the phone.

The voice was very low, but the night was too quiet; Meng Yuan still heard it.

“…Coming back the day after tomorrow?”

“Send me the flight… I’ll wait for you at the airport…”

Lu Cong’s voice sounded delighted and urgent.

“…Indeed in a hurry… No need… I’ll book the hotel…”

Meng Yuan: “!”

He stood frozen in place as if struck by lightning.

What did that mean? They were coming back already?

The day after tomorrow… the day after tomorrow!

Meng Yuan’s heart thundered. He panicked instantly.

What should he do now? What on earth should he do?

Lu Cong rarely showed emotion, but now he was so happy and impatient it was easy to guess who was on the other end.

But why was it so fast? Meng Yuan didn’t even have much time to think.

He turned and went back to his room.

Dawn was nearly breaking. Meng Yuan sat by the bed and didn’t sleep all night.

He had originally thought there was still some time to slowly design a strategy at least he needed to find a place to run to and ensure he wouldn’t be found.

He had to make Lu Cong believe he would truly disappear completely and wouldn’t suddenly pop up one day to cause trouble.

What should he do?

Meng Yuan’s mind was in a mess.

However, the more panicked he was, the more clearly he saw his own desire.

He didn’t want to die, and he didn’t want to become a pauper again.

It was indeed greedy.

But why couldn’t he be greedy just once? Why did he have to be so submissive? Wasn’t dying once enough? Did he have to die a second time?

As the sky brightened, Meng Yuan turned his head to look at the half-open window. The morning light was faint, and the sky was hazy.

He calmed down, looking somberly at the approaching dawn, a decision already made in his heart.

…

In the early morning, Meng Xiyin finished her morning run, returned home to make herself a cup of coffee, and picked up her phone. She saw an unexpected text message.

Though she said “unexpected,” it was actually within her expectations, just earlier than she had thought.

She dialed back immediately. The other side picked up very quickly, as if they had been waiting for her reply.

“Hello, Sister,” Meng Yuan’s voice came through.

Meng Xiyin sat on the sofa with her coffee: “What is it?”

“Can we,” Meng Yuan seemed somewhat hesitant, “can we meet?”

“When?”

“Now.”

Meng Xiyin’s hand paused for a moment.

…

When Meng Yuan went downstairs, Lu Cong was sitting in the living room.

A stack of documents lay on the coffee table while he was looking at a tablet in his hand, his finger sliding across the screen. He wore a pair of rimless glasses on the bridge of his nose, looking focused and serious.

Hearing footsteps, Lu Cong looked up.

“Awake?”

“Mhm.”

Meng Yuan nodded. In reality, he hadn’t slept at all.

“Come and sit,” Lu Cong said.

So Meng Yuan walked over and sat down beside him.

Lu Cong turned off the tablet and set it aside, studying Meng Yuan’s face for a moment: “Your complexion is poor. Did you not sleep well last night?”

“Really?” Meng Yuan rubbed his face as if embarrassed. “I actually slept quite well.”

Well, with Meng Yuan’s body, whether he slept well or not, it was hard for his complexion to ever be rosy again.

Lu Cong’s heart felt as if it had been pricked by something.

Meng Yuan had changed his clothes, looking as if he were about to go out. Lu Cong asked: “Are you going out?”

“Yes,” Meng Yuan pursed his lips and smiled. “I saw the weather is nice and my body feels okay today, so I want to go for a walk.”

Observing Lu Cong’s expression, he explained carefully: “I won’t go far, just nearby. I won’t go to crowded places either. I just feel the flowers are blooming so well outside… Is that okay?”

How could Lu Cong have the heart to say no?

Although Meng Yuan’s body was indeed unfit for going out now especially to crowded places, which would greatly increase the risk of infection.

But he only wanted to go out and look at flowers.

What harm could fragile flowers have?

In a short while perhaps a few days, perhaps a few weeks Meng Yuan would only be able to lie on a hospital bed, slowly, slowly whittling away his time.

That was truly too cruel.

“Alright,” Lu Cong said. “Remember to take your medicine first and wear several layers of masks.”

Meng Yuan became joyful.

His eyes, usually dull from daily illness, were exceptionally bright now, like a bird that had regained its freedom.

“I will!” he said. “Thank you.”

Lu Cong smiled and rubbed his head.

“By the way,” he remembered something official. “I have business tomorrow and won’t be back for dinner. Tell Qin Qing she doesn’t need to make my portion.”

After speaking, he didn’t get a response from Meng Yuan.

Meng Yuan was looking at him with a gaze that was somewhat doting, yet also seemed to be drifting away.

The lights in the living room weren’t on this morning. The windows were covered by translucent gauze curtains, so the light wasn’t actually bright. Meng Yuan’s eyes seemed somewhat moist.

Lu Cong was stunned for a moment.

For the first time the very first time he read some indecipherable emotions in Meng Yuan’s eyes.

Meng Yuan was very simple, with almost no ability to hide his thoughts. From the very beginning, Lu Cong could see right through him with one glance.

But now, he was confused.

Lu Cong’s heart thumped heavily twice, a subtle and unfamiliar sense of unease rising within him.

“Meng Yuan, you…”

However, that lasted only for a brief moment. Meng Yuan soon smiled again, as if that expression just now was merely Lu Cong’s hallucination.

“Okay,” he said. “I got it. I’ll pass it on to Sister Qin Qing. But it’s a pity; tomorrow night Sister Qin Qing is going to personally cook pan-seared lamb chops. You’re missing out on a treat.”

These plain words, almost like a promise that they would meet again tomorrow night, slightly soothed Lu Cong’s uneasy heart.

“Yeah, it’s a pity,” he smiled. “I won’t miss it next time.”

…

At ten o’clock in the morning, Meng Yuan knocked on Meng Xiyin’s door.

Meng Xiyin lived alone in a high-end residence in the city center. She had purchased the top three floors of a 300-square-meter flat and knocked them through, making it as luxurious as a palace.

Meng Xiyin opened the door personally and led him in. When Meng Yuan took off his coat and mask, her eyebrows twitched slightly.

Even though she had prepared herself mentally, she was still shocked by how thin Meng Yuan had become.

“How did you get this thin?” she blurted out.

Meng Yuan’s face was devoid of blood, his cheeks were sunken, and his wrists were so thin they were just the very image of someone terminally ill.

“I am indeed terminally ill,” Meng Yuan said, as if guessing the words she hadn’t spoken, and gave a thin smile. “It’s been a bit serious lately.”

Meng Xiyin’s expression became solemn: “Why are you looking for me?”

Meng Yuan twisted his fingers, having been anxious since entering the door.

“I want to ask you for a favor,” he said. “Sister, what you said before about giving me an opportunity, and that I could come to you if I needed it.”

Meng Xiyin nodded: “That’s right, I did say that. So, what do you want me to help you with?”

Meng Yuan opened his mouth, then paused, looking around.

“There’s no one else,” Meng Xiyin said. “I sent the maid home early. It’s just the two of us.”

“Okay, thank you…” Meng Yuan let out a breath.

When he looked up again, his gaze was resolute: “I want you to help me leave this place.”