Chapter 22.22 The trajectory of fate prevents one from participating in the surgery; it's destiny...
Hsu Ai-ta reiterated, "It's okay, I can do it myself."
Having lived alone for so many years, she was used to driving herself to the hospital when she was sick. There was no need for him to forgo surgery for a minor flu.
Of course, there were some withdrawal symptoms at first. Who could blame her for being so lucky in the first year of her marriage, having both a soulmate and a sweetheart who could listen to her talk about her research and philosophy, and also cook pasta and make coffee for her.
However, during her time away across the ocean, she repeatedly reminded herself that love is freedom, not bondage.
If you choose a soulmate, you must learn to respect their independence, even if they are heading towards a distant place beyond your reach.
That's how she convinced herself back then. Now, of course, she shouldn't get addicted again.
We need to quarantine. I can manage on my own.
Liang Siyu closed his eyes briefly, his throat bobbing slightly. This was Ada—excessively calm and rational, to the point that he felt she didn't need him at all.
He softened his voice, as if he were pressing the soft pedal on a piano.
"Don't overthink it, I'm already a close contact. You may not know, but primate surgeries have much stricter infection prevention requirements than those for rodents. I have to proactively declare my case and withdraw from the surgery."
Her expression immediately changed: "Huh?"
Is that really the case? Doesn't this mean all their hard work recently has been in vain? The surgery is only four days away.
He put his arm around her shoulder and said, "I'll go get the medicine. It's too late now, though. We'll go to the school hospital early tomorrow morning for a RIDT (rapid antigen test) and get some oseltamivir."
She curled up back in bed, her forehead throbbing, her eyes vacant: "Then... about the surgery..."
How could I be so unlucky as to get the flu at this time?
"There will be plenty of opportunities in the future, there's no rush. Don't overthink it, okay?"
It was certainly a pity to miss this opportunity, but he wasn't the type to be impatient for quick success. The only disgusting thing was that Evan, that scoundrel, was going to be smug again.
He pursed his lips, banishing the thought from his mind, and leaned down to gently stroke her cheek.
"But we spent so much time working on the algorithm... and it all went to Evan for nothing."
She was truly unwilling to accept it. The thought of that person's arrogance, pretentiousness, and even his threat made her heart clench with anger, and her nose felt even more congested.
He smoothed her hair and said with a touch of humor, "Lie down, Algorithm Queen."
He lightly pressed his thumb against her brow: "When you get back, a bunch of MDs will want to try out the algorithm. That'll keep Evan angry for a while."
He was naturally unwilling to accept it, but seeing how indignant she was, he could only try to comfort her.
Xu Aida took the medicine, shrank back into the quilt, felt a little cold on his back, and his eyelids slowly grew heavy.
He was right beside her, and she should have felt at ease, but for some reason, she felt a vague anxiety, as if reminding her that she had forgotten something important.
Before falling asleep, she barely opened her eyes and glanced at him one last time. In a daze, she saw the hardships he would face years later in his slightly furrowed brows.
He looked at her flushed cheeks and chapped lips, and his heart ached. Even if isolation was still an option, he would never leave her for the sake of surgery.
He's been so selfish lately, only thinking about his own surgery and letting her stay up all night coding, which weakened her immune system and made her infected.
Liang Siyu was extremely annoyed and wished she could go back a month and shake herself awake.
Half-asleep, Xu Aida felt a dry throat, a burning sensation in his bones that was both itchy and painful, and a fog on his back, like a damp winter in Hangzhou.
She felt a sudden tightness in her chest and began to cough.
In her daze, a pair of familiar arms embraced her and patted her. Oh, it must be him coming back after finishing filming.
She leaned against his chest: "...You're back?"
Liang Siyu's hand, which was patting his back, paused for a second before returning to its original position.
She opened her eyes groggily, her voice hoarse: "...water, Ned."
He went to the kitchen and made himself a cup of chamomile tea, a mild natural sedative that helps with sleep.
She sipped her drink in his arms, coughing occasionally, and soon said she was done.
He put down the cup and coaxed her to sleep, then heard a murmur, "This time... how long can you stay?"
He looked down and saw that her hand was gripping the hem of her pajamas.
He tried to hold her small hand; she trembled slightly, her palm covered in fine, cool sweat.
He tightened his arms, pulling her completely into his embrace, so she could feel his presence.
This irrational behavior increases the chances of infection, but he can't be rational right now.
Her two sentences turned his heart into a sliced lemon, squeezed hard, and oozing endless sour juice.
He hadn't left, unless she had another nightmare. Was he already gone in her nightmare? In her half-asleep state, did she think she was seeing his phantom?
Early in the morning, a light rain was falling, and the sky was gray. Xu Aida couldn't feel the warmth of spring; when he returned from the school hospital, he only felt shivering from the cold.
She was dizzy when he helped her home from the parking lot. She slumped into the sofa, took her medicine, and stared blankly at the steam rising from the cup.
Liang Siyu took out her phone and quickly wrote an email to her supervisor.
Dear Professor Brooke:
This morning, Ada tested positive for influenza A. We live together, and I have become a close contact.
I'm informing you immediately because there will be primate surgery scheduled for Friday so the team can prepare for risk management and coordination. Thank you for your understanding and guidance.
Sincerely, Ned.
He hesitated for a moment and only copied Professor Brooke's secretary, Jenna, instead of copying Evan as usual.
He paused for two seconds, took a deep breath, and pressed the send button.
"Ada, go back and lie down. How about some clear chicken soup for lunch? Or French onion soup?" He was about to go out to buy some ingredients.
“Onion soup, please.” She made her choice quickly. Liang Siyu’s clear chicken soup, with only scallions, ginger, and salt, was too bland, while the French onion soup, which he made according to his grandmother Granny Vivi’s recipe, tasted quite good.
He put on a mask and went out.
She wrapped herself in the blanket, feeling dizzy and lightheaded, with a sore back, but she couldn't fall asleep no matter how much she tossed and turned.
Just as she was trying to count the sheep, a sudden thought came to her.
If Ned misses this surgery opportunity, the one he can participate in is likely to be the one in October this year—exactly the same as in his previous life.
She worked hard to develop algorithms and help him improve his practice efficiency, reducing the negative impact of the butterfly effect. But now, a chance flu outbreak has brought everything back to square one.
Sweat clung to her skin, her hair roots were slightly damp, and her back felt hot and humid. But a silent breeze swept by, bringing a refreshing coolness. It was as if a voice was whispering mockingly in her ear: "Don't be silly, you're just wasting your time."
She pressed her forehead, which felt like it was about to explode, unsure whether she felt shock, anger, fear, or sorrow.
Reason reminded her that this was just a sample, and individual cases were not enough to prove anything.
However, meeting Lin Anmin in New York was a hint, and so was this flu.
Are these changes and coincidences constantly reminding her that the rules have revealed their authoritative truth, and that she should stop resisting the inevitability of fate?
She slammed her fist on the bed. Holy shit, maybe the so-called "undiscovered truth" was nothing more than her wishful thinking and subjective misjudgment.
Can she try again? Will things really be different? Next time, who will be changed beyond recognition like Evan? And who will pay the price for her interference?
She stared blankly at the ceiling, which was a blurry gray-white, like the sky outside, so gloomy that no light could be seen.
When Liang Siyu returned, he gently opened the bedroom door a crack and peeked in. She was wearing an eye mask and quietly nestled in the blankets.
He went back to the kitchen to cook, slowly sautéing the onions until they were caramelized, then adding a splash of white wine and stirring to release their aroma. He then poured in the broth and spices and simmered it over low heat.
While the soup was simmering on the stove, he fried shrimp and asparagus, then sliced brioche bread and put it in the oven.
Turning around, I realized that she had quietly opened the bedroom door sometime earlier.
"It smells so good..."
She leaned against the door frame, her hair slightly disheveled, a thin blanket draped over her shoulders, her shoulders hunched, like a slender willow by the Hudson River, shivering slightly in the cold.
At the dining table, she dipped a small piece of bread into the onion soup and ate it slowly, like a bird pecking at food.
Liang Siyu brought over a small box of pear puree; it was refreshing and sweet and sour, and might whet the appetite.
She stirred it slowly with a spoon, and didn't take a second bite for a long time.
"Too cold?" he asked, thinking that he could make a hot dessert that night, like stewed pear with rock sugar.
After a few seconds, she shook her head, her smile even gentler than before, "Oh, it's not sour, it tastes quite good."
He lost his appetite, and she was completely absent-minded, as if she were immersed in another world.
He suspected that she wasn't just feeling unwell because of the flu, but also because she had nightmares again during her light sleep that morning.
He decided almost instantly that he would stay by her side every step of the way for the next few days, so that she wouldn't panic anymore.
Xu Aida finally admitted that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't eat. The frustration that had been lingering in his stomach all morning felt like a stone pressing on his armor.
She pulled the blanket around her shoulders. "I'm going back to lie down for a while."
Liang Siyu carried her back directly. She wanted to lie down and sleep, but he gently supported her.
He pulled her close, letting her lean against him. "We just finished lunch, sit for a while. Did you sleep well this morning? Are you still feeling unwell?"
She nodded, then shook her head, and remained silent.
He gently tightened his arm; his fingers, which were as steady as steel when conducting animal experiments, were now trembling slightly.
"I'm not going anywhere today. If you feel unwell, no matter where you are... please tell me, okay?"
Xu Aida lowered her eyes: "I'm really fine, I feel much better after taking the medicine."
That's all she could say.
Liang Siyu actually wanted to ask if she had seen his plane crash again, but he swallowed the words back.
He had hoped it was just a short-lived nightmare, but now, lasting over a month, the nightmare was even more complete than he had imagined. It was more like post-traumatic stress disorder, yet not quite typical.
The more she refused to talk about it, the less he dared to expose her, fearing it would trigger a stronger emotional reaction from her, and if she wanted to break up again, it would only make things worse.
He knew it was fake, but he couldn't say anything, dared not touch it. He was there, yet powerless. He swallowed hard, as if he had swallowed a nail.
Buzz—My phone vibrated twice; there was a new email.
"Ada, I have good news for you."
He deliberately adopted a cheerful tone, trying to divert her attention, "Brook chose Raphael as the first assist for the first half, instead of letting Evan do the whole thing. I think Evan's going to be furious. How about that? Feeling a little happier?"
She said listlessly, "Whoever it is, what does it have to do with me?"
A moment later, she pushed him away and kicked off the blanket: "It's so hot."
A layer of cold sweat broke out on her neck, and her ears burned red. He helped her wipe herself down and covered her with a thin blanket to keep her from getting too hot. But less than an hour later, she started shivering again, so he wrapped her in a quilt.
He needs to call the department store and buy a few sets of soft, comfortable long-sleeved pajamas. This California girl, all her pajamas are short-sleeved.
In the evening, her fever subsided briefly. After taking a shower, with her hair still damp and messy, she tugged at her pink pajamas and said, "Ned, we need to talk about this. Can we stop buying pink all the time?"
Perhaps major life events like the opportunity for surgery are hard to change, but the color of the clothing can probably be altered.
"Okay." The soft and elegant peony pink color should suit her well, but she doesn't seem to like this type.
He pressed her shoulder and gently pushed her back into the bathroom: "Come on, let's dry our hair."
A warm breeze was blowing, and as she looked at them in the mirror, she felt as if she were watching a silent film re-enactment.
Perhaps Lin Anmin will always come looking for him, perhaps the surgery will always be Evan's chance. She can't change anyone's trajectory.
Wait a minute, what did he say before his afternoon nap?
"Who did you say Ichisuke was again?" she asked hesitantly.
He leaned close to her ear: "Raphael was the first half, but Evan only got the second half. He used others as pawns, and ended up shooting himself in the foot."
Xu Aida leaned against him. Perhaps, not everything is destined to be the same?
Of course. Hope was still as faint as a small fish in the ocean, but at least she saw a ripple from its tail.
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