Chapter 59 Past and Future: One, the Survivor. ...

Liang Siyu and Matt took the drunken Nathan home. Everyone was on Long Island for Christmas, and they were having a party at a bar tonight.

Apart from the two of them who drank soft drinks for their profession, almost everyone else was drunk.

Matt patted Liang Siyu on the shoulder: "Tell me about that algorithm next time, I'd like to try it too."

"Of course, I'll have Ada give you a trial account."

The algorithm-assisted surgical procedure practice program has been initially completed, and a wider trial will be conducted next semester.

They waved goodbye and went home.

The next morning, Claudia's voice came faintly from outside the door, "Ned, want to go out for brunch?"

Liang Siyu sat up in bed, feeling cold all over, as if her head was sealed with cement.

"Mom, I think I have a fever, it might be the flu..." His voice was so hoarse that even he didn't recognize it.

Claudia pushed open the door, and he quickly stopped her, "Don't come in, Mom, think about CC."

CC and Ed are back from their Christmas holidays, especially since CC is due to give birth in mid-January, and it would be terrible if she got infected.

Claudia paused slightly, but seeing her son's flushed face, she came in anyway and took out an electronic thermometer from the medicine box on the bookshelf.

“39 degrees? No way. I’ll call your dad. He needs to come back. He’s always playing golf…”

"No need, Mom, it's just the flu, just give me a Tylenol."

Liang Siyu protested in a low, hoarse voice. He was a medical student himself and knew what he should do. Why did he call his father back?

“Drink your medicine!” Claudia shoved the medicine and water into his hands, her tone curt. “And, as you said, CC can’t be infected. I’ll have Ed take CC to Grandma’s place.”

Although the houses are all suites and there are two separate kitchens, the central air conditioning system still poses a risk of infection, so this arrangement is the safest.

When Richard returned, he jokingly teased Claudia, saying that in her eyes, Ned was like the gingerbread man under the Christmas tree who would never grow up.

He patted his wife on the shoulder, "Ned will be graduating from medical school in two years, you have to trust his judgment."

Liang Siyu leaned against the headboard, drinking water and nodding unconsciously.

But a few days later, Richard heard his son coughing and saw him slowly exhale after coughing. He immediately stopped laughing and called a pulmonologist.

Fortunately, the doctor arrived and, based on Liang Siyu's recent X-ray, confirmed that he only had mild pneumonia. He was prescribed oral antibiotics and advised that it was best for him to remain in home isolation for the time being to avoid cross-infection at the hospital.

On the fourth day after taking the medication, Liang Siyu felt much better. He processed a few work emails in the morning and went downstairs to get his lunch before returning to his room.

After dinner, he felt drowsy and his chest felt a little tight. Each deep breath seemed to remind him that the inflammation had not completely subsided, so he slowly lay back down on the bed.

In the evening, there was a knock at the door. He woke up groggily and heard light footsteps.

He complained in a hoarse voice, "Mom, I'm fine by myself, cough cough, please don't keep coming in, be careful not to infect anyone."

The figure walked around the rattan screen, and his half-supported body suddenly froze—was it Ada?

He suddenly realized that she hadn't replied to his messages at noon today; she was on the plane at that time.

"Don't come any closer!" he shouted, quickly turning around to look for his mask. In his haste, his breathing became erratic, and his shoulders heaved.

He put on his mask, took two slow breaths, and then turned around to examine her appearance inch by inch.

N95 masks and medical gloves are very good. The masks fit well, but the gloves are a bit large. Overall, the protection is adequate.

Ginkgo print shirt – she's fine at home, but hopefully she can wear a cardigan on the street to keep warm.

Her eyes were a little red—not good; the flight must have made her uncomfortable.

Getting too close to him—that's bad, there's a risk of droplet transmission. We need ventilation, at least two meters away.

Meeting his silent, restraining gaze, Xu Aida forced a helpless twitch at the corner of his mouth beneath his mask and had no choice but to stop.

Two meters apart—she still remembered his request.

The flu from her past life came two weeks early. She had originally planned to remind him at the end of the holiday not to be so careless and to take precautions.

Although, as she recalled, it was just a slight cough, and he was in good health and recovered in two weeks, it's always better to get sick less often.

Seeing her standing at the foot of the bed, he relaxed a little: "Ada, could you open the window for me for a bit? Does the room smell a bit like the chicken soup from lunch?"

It's been seven days already, and theoretically the risk shouldn't be too high. But he doesn't want to gamble on that small probability.

She had the flu last year and coughed for almost three weeks, longer than the average person gets pneumonia.

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s too cold at night, don’t open the window.”

Seeing him about to get up, she quickly stepped back: "Two meters, right? I'll be out in a minute, don't open the window, Ned!"

She remembered that in her past life, he insisted on opening the window, and his cough worsened the next day.

Those details, inch by inch, have all come back; it doesn't feel like something that happened ten years ago.

Her eyes were a little moist again. She instinctively reached out to raise her hand, only to realize that the medical gloves on her hands caused a dry, itchy feeling, like in the autumn and winter.

She raised her hand and forced a smile: "See, the protection is in place, isn't it?"

"Yes, that was great." He tried to lighten his tone, but his gaze lingered on her slightly reddened eyes. "You just got off the plane, didn't you?"

"Much better, anyway I'll be flying back." She shrugged.

How can that be the same? They had agreed that she would go home by herself, but when she returned, he would pick her up and stay with her.

He couldn't help but cough lightly twice, trying his best to suppress the itching in his throat: "What do you want for dinner? Would you like some hot soup? I'll tell Mom."

She subconsciously took two steps forward, but then stopped: "Are you tired of it? It's a pity, Claudia has already started making clear chicken soup again."

"Alright, you should have some too." He cleared his throat. "Okay, you set off early this morning, now it's time to go back and rest."

She nodded, then suddenly remembered something and placed the thermos on the bedside table: "Hot pear soup."

She walked to the door, glanced back at him through the gap in the rattan screen. He had lost some weight and was leaning against the headboard, his shoulders trembling slightly. She hurried out.

Just as she closed the door, a low cough sounded behind her. She blinked frantically and quickly walked towards the guest room diagonally opposite.

That night, Xu Aida rubbed his forehead, thought for a moment, and sent Liang Siyu a message: "I won't go in tomorrow. Don't leave the windows open for extended periods; the cold air isn't good for you."

His reply came quickly: "Okay, don't worry, go to sleep early."

Her cheeks were flushed as she lay down on the pillow, hoping it was just a low-grade fever due to emotional stress and that she would feel better by tomorrow.

With antibiotic treatment, Liang Siyu's cough has significantly decreased, and she is sleeping quite well at night.

However, when he contacted his mother around 11 a.m. and learned that Ada hadn't left her room, his heart sank.

He tried to keep his voice steady: "She was probably too tired from flying yesterday. She's also not used to the winter on the East Coast. It's too cold, and the wind makes her prone to migraines."

He didn't want to reveal Ada's true physical condition, but he also hoped that his mother would take better care of her.

"Okay, I'll call her around midnight and see how she is."

He endured it for less than fifteen minutes before finally pressing FaceTime. Only when her face appeared on the phone screen did the dull pain in his lungs lessen.

"Are you feeling unwell?" He wished he could reach through the screen and touch her forehead.

She rubbed her eyes: "Sleepy. What time is it?"

"11:30." He looked closely at the face; it was a little red. Had the person just woken up? Or did they have a fever?

She sat up abruptly in surprise: "It's 11:30! Why didn't I hear the alarm?"

“That’s not important.” He asked again, “Ada, how are you feeling now? Are your muscles sore? Do you have a fever?”

"Oh my god, I didn't hear the alarm." She scratched her head. "Oh no, I didn't hear it at all."

She said she would get up for breakfast, but she slept in so late. Knowing Claudia's personality, she must have baked bread for her at least twice.

When she hurriedly washed up and went out, she found a hot lunch on the door, with a note left by Claudia.

[Get some rest. PS: Please return your plates to the first-floor kitchen; Ned's tableware is in the basement kitchen.]

They continued to take meals in this alternating manner and meet briefly while wearing masks, until the fifth day after Xu Aida's arrival, when Liang Siyu's antibiotic treatment ended.

Quite coincidentally, CC gave birth to her daughter at a nearby private hospital that same day. It is said that the process was a bit difficult, but fortunately both mother and daughter are safe.

In the evening, the four family members had a long-awaited meal together, and the final soufflé was incredibly sweet.

During the first week back on campus, undergraduates had not yet returned for classes, and the campus was still bathed in the lingering warmth of the holiday, quiet and gentle.

Xu Aida was busy giving the program that assisted in practicing surgical procedures a final check.

Although Professor Will was still reluctant to make this an official teaching procedure, more than 80% of the second-year MD students signed up to participate in the trial this semester, so whether he was willing or not didn't matter to him anymore.

Today, Liang Siyu had rat surgery. She was home alone and writing a relatively simple test program. She typed very fast on the keyboard and unconsciously started swaying to the music.

After finishing most of the writing, her stomach started growling. She glanced at the clock and saw it was 12:30. She pushed aside the keyboard and prepared to go downstairs for a hamburger.

She pushed open the study door, and Liang Siyu was sitting at the dining table, seemingly lost in thought.

Huh? When did he get back? How come she didn't hear him at all?

Oh, she's been playing rock music all day.

Isn't rat surgery supposed to be finished by 2 PM? Maybe we can speed things up today?

“Ned, is the surgery over?” She jumped over happily, but then caught a whiff of the animal house.

Is it disinfectant? It doesn't seem to be propionic acid?

"You didn't change your clothes?" She frowned slightly and reached out to gently flick his forehead. "Why are you ignoring me?"

He raised his hand to block it, but then pulled it back as if he had been electrocuted.

Xu Aida hadn't seen anything clearly at first, but his expression made her heart clench instantly.

"What's wrong?" She couldn't help but look at his right hand, following his strange movement.

That usually steady and slender hand was trembling, but more importantly, it was flushed.

She grabbed the hand in a flash and pulled it onto the table.

For the first time, she discovered that she was actually strong enough to contend with him; no, he was completely out of sorts.

"What is this?" She looked at the dense layer of tiny red rashes and suddenly felt dizzy.

"Are you having an allergic reaction?"

Allergy? Rat? No, gloves!

She took a step forward, and her iliac bone hit the edge of the dining table.

She took a step back and almost tripped over her own slippers.

“Ada!” she heard a gasp.

He grabbed her arms, and she realized that she wasn't backing away or tripping over her slippers; rather, her whole body was going limp and sliding down.

He carried her to the sofa and coughed lightly twice.

She woke up suddenly, her small, cold hand pressed against his chest: "How are you?"

He hadn't coughed for over a week, but his strength hadn't fully recovered after the pneumonia.

He shook his head: "It's nothing, just a tickle in my throat, it's all better now."

She stared at the sharply defined, sculpted face, and through it, she seemed to see another face.

His first feature film role was brief, and he wore special effects makeup with a scar on half of his face.

One, a fire survivor.

Yes, survivors.

That was the role she thought he played best in his early career; every second of it made her want to cry.

So that's how it is?

He wanted to touch her face, but then withdrew his hand.

"Perhaps it's just that the pneumonia hasn't completely healed, and the immune system is overreacting. It will get better in a few weeks. There are many cases like this."

"On the contrary, the rate of allergic reactions to medical gloves is very low, only 2%, so it's okay, don't worry."

She wanted to shake her head. No, no, he didn't know yet, but she already knew the ending.

She couldn't say anything. That familiar feeling of tightness in her chest returned, but it was much worse than in her previous life, almost suffocating.

She hugged him, breathing heavily.

A weary, low voice drifted from the study: "Tipping through the glittering city, we slipped on diamond shoes, joyfully dancing ice ballet, a lucky bluebird flying over our shoulders. In this false empire, we are half-dreaming, half-awake." [Note]

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Author's Note: The lyrics are from "Fake Empire".

The original text is as follows:

Tiptoe through our shiny city,

With our diamond slippers on,

Do our gay ballet on ice,

Bluebirds on our shoulders

We're half awake in a fake empire.