It's been raining continuously.
Xiao Shuihan and Luo Yilan walked side by side toward Xiao Wujie's room.
They barely slept a wink last night.
While in Xiao Qianshan's room, Xiao Shuihan was able to barely suppress his emotions and retort to Xiao Yuxuan in a sarcastic tone.
Back in her room, her emotions overwhelmed her, and she cried all night in Luo Yilan's arms. Her eyes are still red and swollen.
Xiao Wujie still didn't show up for breakfast today.
The two of them were unable to sit still when their beloved child, whom they had lost for many years, was right in front of them and was bedridden with illness.
He had almost lost the ability to think, and before he could come to his senses, he was already not far from Xiao Wujie's room.
"Ah Lan, is our son still asleep?"
"Won't our presence disturb our son? He's already feeling unwell."
Looking at the closed door in the distance, Xiao Shuihan suddenly felt his palms sweating. He stopped and nervously asked Luo Yilan beside him.
Luo Yilan, dressed in an elegant black dress with delicate gold trim, exuded a queenly aura. She gently squeezed Xiao Shuihan's palm, a slight tremor in her eyes.
"There are servants at the door; just ask them."
As she spoke, she took Xiao Shuihan's hand and started walking forward, but Xiao Shuihan grabbed her arm and stopped her in place.
Xiao Shuihan glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to them, then stepped forward, wrapped his arms around Luo Yilan's waist, and buried his face in Luo Yilan's neck.
In public, he was the shrewd and resourceful Third Master of the Xiao family, but in front of Luo Yilan, he was like a large, bewildered dog seeking coaxing, asking in a low, hoarse voice:
"Ah Lan, I'm scared, what should I do?"
Will my son dislike me?
Luo Yilan reached out and gently patted his shoulder, her voice cool and noble: "Then I'll go by myself?"
Upon hearing this, Xiao Shuihan hugged her even tighter, burying his face in the crook of her neck and shaking his head repeatedly.
"No, you have to take me with you."
Luo Yilan gently ruffled his hair, her eyes filled with helplessness and favoritism, and comforted him:
"Okay, I'm nervous too, but can you resist going?"
"At least check if the child is feeling better."
Xiao Shuihan nodded slightly, loosened her arms from around his waist, gritted her teeth, and walked alongside him.
By the time he reached the door, he had completely transformed into the brilliant and elegant Third Master Xiao.
The servant saw him about to bow, but he raised his hand to interrupt her, his expression cold, and asked in a low, indifferent voice:
"Have Xiao Xiao and Miss Chu woken up?"
Just as the maid was about to answer that he was awake, several low, hoarse, and weary coughs came from inside the room.
Xiao Shuihan frowned immediately: "Open the door."
In the room, Xiao Wujie leaned weakly against the headboard, an oxygen tube inserted into his nose, his face as white as paper, looking extremely ill.
The continuous rain aggravated his old abdominal injury, weakened his immune system, and caused pneumonia, high fever, chest tightness, and shortness of breath.
Chu Liyue held the thermometer to his forehead, her brows furrowing as she looked at the 37.8 reading on the monitor.
I took antipyretics, but my temperature still wouldn't drop to normal.
Chu Liyue tried to get up to get a fever-reducing patch, but Xiao Wujie could only weakly lift his hand, gently tugging at her skirt. His eyes were filled with pain as he spoke in a hoarse voice:
"Sister, your head is all sweaty. I'll put on the mask later. I want a hug."
As he spoke, his breathing became labored, and he turned his head away, coughing softly in discomfort.
Chu Liyue gently patted his back, pulled him into her arms, slipped her palm under the covers, and lightly stroked his abdomen, asking in a low, cold voice:
"Does it still hurt?"
Xiao Wujie leaned on her shoulder, sounding exhausted:
"Much better, it doesn't hurt as much anymore."
Chu Liyue was about to lower her head and gently kiss him when she heard the sound and suddenly looked up.
Xiao Shuihan and Luo Yilan walked in side by side, their gazes fixed on Xiao Wujie, taking in his sickly and haggard appearance.
A tremendous wave of heartache washed over me, my eyes stung as if sand had gotten into them, and a hot, moist sensation welled up inside.
When Xiao Wujie saw them, his eyes involuntarily darted away and lowered. His pale hand, which was resting on Chu Liyue's leg, unconsciously tightened its grip on her skirt.
Luo Yilan held Xiao Shuihan's trembling hand tightly, and the two walked to the bedside. The servants handed them chairs at the right time.
After nodding to Chu Liyue, Luo Yilan looked up at Xiao Wujie, trying her best to control her voice and keep it steady and gentle:
"child……"
"Wu Jie, may I call you that?"
Xiao Wujie's fingertips trembled slightly. He looked up and met her gaze for a moment, then pulled away immediately: "Okay."
His hoarse and weak voice, like a bow plucked at the taut strings in Luo Yilan's heart, left a uniquely poignant and melancholic lingering sound.
Her heart ached with sorrow. Why was her child, who was so good, being tormented by God to the point where he could barely speak?
At close range, she could even smell the blood mixed in with his labored breathing.
Xiao Qianshan's statement that he was terminally ill and on the verge of death was by no means an exaggeration.
If Luo Yilan hadn't been holding his hand tightly, Xiao Shuihan would have almost lost his composure. He gritted his teeth and forced back his surging emotions.
He waited twenty years for his child to return, only to find the child so ill. It was like stabbing him in the heart with a knife; it was more painful than killing him.
His eyes were red, and his voice was hoarse as he spoke: "Good boy, why do you look worse and worse?"
What did the doctor say?
Xiao Wujie's hand, hidden under the blanket, grasped Chu Liyue's hand as if seeking support, holding it tightly. He lowered his head slightly, his bangs slightly messy and blocking his eyes.
"It's just... a minor ailment from before."
He spoke softly, but Luo Yilan and Xiao Shuihan felt as if a dull punch had landed squarely on their hearts.
My old minor ailments...
So, this is how you've been living all these years?
Xiao Wujie sat stiffly, a sudden surge of blood rising in his chest. He coughed abruptly, a sharp pain in his chest accompanied by a throbbing pain from the hidden injury in his abdomen. He instinctively arched his back, his fingertips trembling with pain.
Chu Liyue gently patted his back until he felt slightly better. She then laid him flat, letting him half-lie in her arms, her brows furrowing with heartache.
Tears welled up in Xiao Wujie's eyes as he gripped Chu Liyue's hand tightly to his heart, panting heavily.
Xiao Shuihan and Luo Yilan turned deathly pale as they watched this scene.
Bloodshot welled up in Xiao Shuihan's eyes, and his surging emotions seemed about to burst out of his chest. He practically uttered each word one by one:
"Good child, don't be afraid, you should rest well."
After saying that, he took Luo Yilan's hand and left the room almost as if he were fleeing.
Xiao Wujie leaned against Chu Liyue's chest, watching their departing figures, his gaze trembling.
He instinctively wanted to bury his face in Chu Liyue's arms, but Chu Liyue gently lifted his chin and made him look into her eyes.
Chu Liyue's eyes were like deep pools, unfathomable. She gazed into Xiao Wujie's eyes for a moment, then her gaze shifted slightly. She lowered her head and pressed her cheek against his, whispering in the wind:
"Sweetie, are you...afraid of them?"
If you don't like it, I'll take you home, our home.
Xiao Wujie hooked his arm around her neck, his gaze trembling slightly as he pressed his face against her chest. After a long while, he whispered hoarsely:
"Sister, I don't know..." how to get along with them?
He had never received it, never experienced it, and no one had ever taught him.
He won't.
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