Chapter 88 A Late Discovery
Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were so busy that they stayed outside for five days in a row.
Wei Wuxian's new drama had begun filming, with several days of non-stop nighttime scenes. Lan Wangji, on the other hand, was stuck on an urgent international project, video conferences stretching for most of the day. The two could only talk on the phone late at night, and hearing the children calling "Daddy" and "Father" on the other end of the line, they assumed all was well at home.
Sizhui would call on time every day, his voice steady and gentle. After reporting on his homework and daily life, he would always add, "We're all fine, go ahead and get on with your business." Wei Wuxian would occasionally detect a slight nasal twang in his voice, and when he asked about it, he would always brush it off with, "Maybe it was just the wind."
It wasn’t until the evening of the sixth day when Lan Xichen came to the old house to retrieve documents and pushed open Si Zhui’s door that he realized something was wrong.
The young man slumped over his desk, his cheeks flushed unnaturally, his breathing rapid. The water glass beside him was already empty, and he rested his forehead against the cool surface, as if trying to soothe his discomfort. Hearing the noise, he jerked his head up, his eyes still a bit dazed. When he saw Lan Xichen, he hurriedly tried to sit up, but staggered and nearly fell.
“Si Zhui?” Lan Xichen walked over quickly and reached out to touch his forehead. His fingertips instantly flinched at the scorching heat. “You have a fever? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
Si Zhui's lips were dry and cracked, and his voice was so low and hoarse that it was almost inaudible: "Uncle... I'm fine, I'll be fine after taking the medicine..."
"Did you take medicine? What medicine? When did the fever start?" Lan Xichen's tone suddenly became stern. He searched through the desk drawers, but only found a box of expired fever-reducing medicine. His hands were shaking with anger. "Who told you to carry it on your own? Why didn't you tell us?"
Si Zhui was frightened by his unprecedented severity. His eyes instantly turned red, but he bit his lip and refused to cry. He just lowered his head and whispered, "Daddy and father are busy... I don't want them to worry..."
“Nonsense!” Lan Xichen’s voice was filled with anger, but more of it was heartache. “If you’re sick, just tell me! Do you think that’s sensible? You’re playing with your own body!”
He rarely lost his temper with children, but in his fury, his aura was somewhat similar to Lan Qiren's when he was disciplining his disciples. Si Zhui shuddered at his yelling, tears finally falling, but he still shook his head stubbornly, "I won't go to the hospital..."
"The fever has reached this level, we must go to the hospital!" Lan Xichen took out his cell phone and was about to dial a number, but Si Zhui suddenly grabbed his wrist.
The boy's hands were burning hot, yet his strength was astonishing. His eyes were filled with resistance and fear: "No... I don't want the injection..."
Lan Xichen then remembered that Sizhui had contracted a chronic illness in the mass graves as a child. Whenever Wangji took him to see a doctor, he'd always had to undergo acupuncture. The memory of those thin silver needles piercing his skin became an indelible shadow of his childhood. In modern times, he had an instinctive fear of hospitals and needles.
“Si Zhui, be obedient.” Lan Xichen softened his tone, but remained firm. “It’s just a visit to the doctor, not necessarily an injection. If you delay any longer, your illness will only get worse.”
Si Zhui shook his head vigorously, tears streaming down his face, but he bit his lip tightly, refusing to utter a sound. He was afraid Lan Xichen would get angry again, and even more afraid that his tears would worry his father and his father far away. But the aggrieved child missed his father and his father dearly.
Lan Xichen felt a pang of pain in his heart as he watched him, his face filled with fear and forbearance. He squatted down and gently wiped the tears from the boy's face. "Was it because Uncle was too fierce just now and scared you?"
Si Zhui nodded, then quickly shook his head, choking back tears as he said, "I didn't mean to... I'm just... I'm just afraid of needles..."
“I know.” Lan Xichen’s voice softened. “Uncle will be with you. If the doctor says you need an injection, I’ll cover it for you, okay?”
Si Zhui sniffed, looked at the tenderness in Lan Xichen's eyes, hesitated for a long time, and then nodded gently.
Lan Xichen immediately called Wen Ning, asking him to prepare a car, and then dialed Lan Wangji's number. When the call was connected, he tried to sound calm, but his anxiety remained. "Wangji, when can you guys come back? Sizhui has a high fever."
Lan Wangji was in the conference room on the other end of the line. Upon hearing this, he stood up abruptly, his chair legs scraping against the floor. "How many degrees? When did it start? Why are you telling me now?"
The string of questions was filled with suppressed anger and panic. Wei Wuxian was right beside him, and when he heard the words "Si Zhui has a fever," the script in his hand fell to the ground, his face turning pale.
"He's been sent to the hospital. Don't worry too much. Be careful on the way." Lan Xichen said this and hung up the phone. He looked at Si Zhui who had his temperature taken by the nurse. The young man was clutching the corner of his clothes, his eyes wide open looking in the direction of the infusion room, his whole body tense.
“Don’t be afraid, uncle is here.” Lan Xichen held his burning hand. “Let’s get a checkup first. Be good.”
Si Zhui nodded, but when he was led to the clinic by the nurse, he paused and looked back at Lan Xichen, his eyes full of dependence - just like when he was a child in the Cloud Recesses, when he made mistakes and was punished by his great uncle and father, he would always secretly glance at Lan Xichen standing in the corridor, knowing that his uncle would protect him.
The child, who had originally held out hope of not having to get injections, felt completely disheartened when he heard the nurse coldly say that he needed two fever-reducing injections and a treatment injection.
Lan Xichen could only hold the child tightly, as the child covered his eyes, signaling the doctor to give him the injection quickly. "Uncle, no, no, no..."
Lan Xichen's heart softened, and he quickly followed, patting him gently on the back. "Let's go, we're done. Daddy and father will be back when we get home."
The boy finally took a step forward, his small figure looking exceptionally frail under the pale hospital light. Lan Xichen gazed at his tense back and suddenly understood—this child was incredibly sensible, so sensible that he kept all his grievances and fears hidden within himself, fearing any inconvenience for others.
And this kind of understanding is what makes people feel the most distressed.
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