Chapter 63: 063: Jiang Zhi just beca a father like that
The dead of night was cold and silent, with the winter wind biting fiercely.
“Old Madam, Old Madam!”
Outside, Gui Family’s lady called out in a frantic tone.
Old Lady Jiang got dressed and rose to her feet, “What’s all this noise in the middle of the night?”
“Old Madam, the young master is coughing up blood.”
Outside the room, the first snowfall of winter began to flutter down with white, grey-white snowflakes. It had been eagerly anticipated for days and had finally arrived.
“What’s going on out there?”
The servants outside replied, “They say the young master’s chronic illness has flared up, and he has coughed up quite a bit of blood.”
Afterward, Luo Changfang called for Fuli.
Jiang Fuli got up, put on a coat, and went to open the door.
Luo Changfang ordered the servants to stand guard at the door, entered the room, sat down, and poured a cup of tea, “I had soone check Brother Zhi’s dical records, and there are so issues with his internal organs.”
Every year was the sa, co winter, the sole scion of the third room would be hanging between life and death, with not a single one of his organs in good health, yet sohow he kept grasping at life.
“Not long ago, Dr. Hong from the clinic ntioned so drugs that, if taken for a long period, could lead to cardiopulmonary failure.”
The lamp on the wall was old, and its dim light fell on Jiang Fuli’s face. She shared a resemblance with Luo Changfang, about three or four points worth—plump lips, deep-set eyes, and a facial structure that was sharp and distinct. When combined, however, they possessed an androgynous charm.
In the Jiang Family, the most business-savvy was the first house’s Jiang Xiaolin, but when it ca to thoroughness and shrewdness, Jiang Fuli was by no ans inferior.
“Do you suspect sothing about Brother Zhi’s illness?”
She did suspect sothing, “That fox of his has beco too cunning for his own good, I have to be wary.”
If he wasn’t cunning, he would already be a ghost.
“Have you had it tested?”
She humd in affirmation but did not elaborate, turning instead to instruct the servants outside, “Go take a look and see if it’s true or false.”
“Yes.”
At three in the morning, Jiang Zhi was taken to the hospital, Qin Shiyu left at three thirty, and Xue Bingxue arrived on his heels.
He took one look at the blood-stained tissues in the trash can and knew what was happening, “How many pills have you taken?”
“Three.”
Xue Bingxue imdiately stiffened his face, which looked no older than eighteen, “Have you no regard for your life?”
The dicine was still in the developntal phase, with severe side effects. One pill was enough to sap his strength for a week, but he wasn’t afraid to die, taking three at once.
He said nonchalantly, “I cough up blood every winter, it won’t kill .”
But it would damage the liver and lungs!
And could cause infertility!
Xue Bingxue wanted to scold him but wasn’t good at it and couldn’t win against him, so he glared instead, “Has soone in the Jiang Family grown suspicious?”
He humd in response, having vomited blood earlier, his face now as white as paper, “Without Jiang Family’s support, Jin Song wouldn’t dare tamper with things over my head.”
The attempted seduction was just a front; there were two groups that night. The first was to divert attention; the second was there to test his ttle.
So, he coughed up blood to put those people ‘at ease.’
“Brother Zhi,” Xue Bingxue said with a seriousness that made him seem like a little old man, “Do you really like that girl with the facial mask?”
Jiang Zhi choked.
Why are you suddenly asking this?!
“If you really like her and want to spend the rest of your life with her, don’t recklessly take dicine anymore,” Xue Bingxue said, “Brother Zhi, you need to start cherishing your life.”
Among this group, Xue Bingxue was the oldest, despite having the face of an eighteen-year-old and being cowardly in front of the girl he had secretly adored for over a decade. But his thoughts were always the most comprehensive and mature—his principles so upright that even in this dark world, he could find a large patch of pure land.
Jiang Zhi was different. He had no principles, no bottom line, was harsh on others, and even harsher on himself. He didn’t value life, didn’t fear death—getting involved for fun when interested, and resorting to taking dicine when bored. He cared neither for himself nor for others—a person who was both righteous and wicked, acting on a whim.
He once said sothing that Xue Bingxue always rembered.
“Dead is dead, killed is killed.”
The forr referred to Jiang Zhi himself, while the latter referred to all the people he didn’t care about.
But this ti, Xue Bingxue’s words had stunned him.
He needed to start cherishing his life…
He had to stop treating life as a ga, stop playing with it for applause.
He started fearing death because of Zhou Xufang.
After a long while, he said to Xue Bingxue, “Don’t prescribe any more dicine from now on.”
Snow had fallen all night, and by morning, the world was enveloped in a clean, white layer. The snow in the Imperial City always fell fast and hard, with the wind turning it into an apocalyptic spectacle.
At noon, Ah Wan had finished eating and ca over, shook off the snow on his body, and waited at the doorway until the cold dampness had dissipated before entering the ward.
Jiang Zhi lay there, looking out the window.
Ah Wan thought he might be pondering life. “Boss, would you like a bowl of hearty soup?” He set the soup he brought on the cabinet and highly recomnded it, “My mom has been simring it all morning.”
It wasn’t an exaggeration—his mother’s soup-making skills could rival those of a five-star chef, and it was all thanks to Jiang Zhi. Ever since the kidney transplant, his mother had treated Jiang Zhi like her own son, and she would worry more than anyone else whenever Jiang Zhi was hospitalized, thinking of all ways to nourish his body, hence mastering the art of soup-making.
His mother, Ms. Song, might have forgotten that although it was Jiang Zhi who paid for that kidney, her own son had signed a thirty-year indenture.
Ah Wan had grown used to it and was no longer sad. He filled a large bowl with soup and brought it over.
Jiang Zhi maintained his position, not moving an inch.
“Go and arrange my discharge.”
“That’s not advisable. With your current condition, you can’t be reckless. It’s snowing heavily outside, and it’s cold. It’s better if you stay in the hospital.” Don’t go out and risk dying young from the cold.
“When I tell you to go, you go.”
His look was as cold as the early winter’s snow outside.
Ah Wan shivered from his frostiness, shrank his neck, and moved back. “I daren’t. Old Lady Jiang said this morning when she left, to make sure I keep an eye on you.”
Look at him, his employer’s face pale with just a touch of red—the spitting image of soone on their deathbed. He dared not let him go out.
After giving it so thought, Ah Wan asked, “Do you want to be discharged because of Miss Zhou?” His employer was shaless enough to use his illness as an excuse, insisting that poor Miss Zhou, who was struggling to make ends et, invite him to a al.
Jiang Zhi remained silent and just used his enchanting peach blossom eyes to casually shoot out cold air.
Ah Wan moved back further. “How about you tell Miss Zhou that you’re ill and can’t make it?”
“That won’t do.”
His tone was uncompromising, leaving no room for negotiation.
Ah Wan racked his brains. “Boss, Miss Zhou is such a nice person. If she knew you were hospitalized, she would surely co to see you. Nowadays, girls can’t stand the ‘beauty trap’ or ‘suffering act’.”
Hmm, comrade Lin Wanwan is a collector of Korean drama tropes. Although not the sharpest, she understands much more than most when it cos to matters of n and won.
Jiang Zhi was silent for a mont.
Ah Wan continued to persuade. “The weather isn’t good today, and since the restaurant hasn’t been booked yet, it’s the perfect opportunity to arrange another ti with Miss Zhou. If Miss Zhou cos to visit you at the hospital, you’ll have another chance to see her.”
Indeed—
After a mont of consideration, Jiang Zhi took out his phone and sent a WeChat ssage to Zhou Xufang.
“I’m sick.”
Then three minutes went by, ten minutes passed, twenty minutes elapsed… And she still hadn’t replied!
Miss Zhou, smacked in the face: “…”
Jiang Zhi threw his phone onto the table, his eyes seed to lt with the heavy snow outside: “Didn’t you say she would co to the hospital to see ?”
Ah Wan scratched his head, trying to appear as sincere and innocent as possible: “Maybe she’s busy and didn’t see the WeChat ssage. Why don’t you call her?”
Jiang Zhi kicked the blanket off his feet, turned over to lie down, and sulked as if he were holding a grudge against soone.
Ah Wan: “…”
The mood swings of a boy in unrequited love, indeed so fickle and childish. Let’s see how long you can keep it up!
Less than thirty seconds later—
“Cough cough cough cough cough…”
He coughed and wheezed, propped up his sickly body to sit up, drank a few sips of soup, then listlessly reached for the water cup on the cabinet, took a sip, and casually grabbed his phone.
Ah Wan: “…”
Ah, n.
Pretending to know nothing, Ah Wan sneakily glanced at his boss’s phone.
He had saved her na as a Zhou Xufang, at the very top of the contact list.
The phone rang for a while before it was picked up.
“Hello.”
Over the phone, the wind was louder than her voice; she must have been outside.
Jiang Zhi coughed, cleared his throat: “It’s .”
“I know it’s you.”
Hmm, obedient enough.
Jiang Zhi leaned against the pillows, his bones felt as soft as a delicate patient who needed tender care. He asked her, a bit annoyed: “Why aren’t you checking WeChat?”
Zhou Xufang said: “I’m distributing flyers.”
“…”
How many jobs is she working! She doesn’t even rest in such heavy snow.
He coughed a few tis: “I’m hospitalized.”
His voice sounded weak, his tone quite pampered, as if saying: I’m sick! How dare you not comply with my wishes?
Upon hearing this, Zhou Xufang imdiately asked: “Are you sick? Is it serious?”
“Cough cough cough cough cough…” He replied weakly, “Yeah, it’s serious.”
Zhou Xufang decided on the spot: “Then I’ll co see you after I’m done handing out flyers.”
Why wait until after handing out flyers?!
Jiang Zhi couldn’t wait: “You—”
Now! Co! See! !
But she didn’t wait for him to finish speaking, hastily interrupted: “The foreman is here, I have to hang up.”
Then there was a series of beeping sounds.
Jiang Zhi, who just spat blood last night and felt like doing so again: “…”
This feeling, it was like being kicked in the chest by a grass mud horse; pain was secondary, the main thing was—it hurt his pride.
Crash!
Jiang Zhi threw his phone hard onto the cabinet.
“Lin Wanwan.”
Ah Wan’s scalp tingled with fear, but luckily, his phone rang just in ti: “My mom is video calling.” He turned his back to answer the video call from Ms. Song, “Mom!” You truly are a Guanyin saving the suffering!
On the phone screen, there was Ms. Song’s face, round as if drawn with a compass, with a head full of fashionable instant noodle curls, and a girl’s hair clip despite being close to sixty.
“Did you give Jiang Zhi the soup?”
Ms. Song asked about Jiang Zhi as soon as she spoke.
Ah Wan nodded and shook his head, his eyes carrying the grievance of a son: “I did.”
Although Ms. Song had a girly heart, she had quite a fierce temper: “What are you shaking at? Move aside, don’t block my cara.”
This is one’s own mother, one’s own mother!
Ah Wan silently moved his head out of the cara’s view, letting Jiang Zhi appear on screen.
The lioness’s face from a second ago transford to that of a blooming flower: “Jiang Zhi.”
Ah, Ms. Song was a face-con, switching male idols every three days, but Jiang Zhi had been favored for two years.
Jiang Zhi called her auntie.
“Are you feeling better?” Ms. Song’s eyes looked as though they could squeeze out water with their tenderness.
Jiang Zhi, not too close but polite and patient: “Much better.”
“I put so warming and supplenting herbs in the soup I stewed for you; you should drink more.”
“Okay.”
That’s when, in the video, a rooster crowed.
Then Ms. Song’s round face moved away from the screen, revealing a chicken’s head.
Ms. Song holding the chicken: “Shuangxi, co and bow to your daddy.”
Jiang Zhi, who suddenly beca a daddy: “…”
He barely recognized that chicken; it had plumped up more than a size since Zhou Xufang had given it to him, now dressed in a pink skirt, wearing a red bow tie, and a green head flower, looking like a festive and comical mascot.
Ah Wan explained on the side: “My mom nad your pet chicken Shuangxi, and made a bunch of little skirts for it.” No matter how many tis he stated that it was a rooster, it still couldn’t stop Ms. Song’s overflowing maternal love and dressing habits.
The Shuangxi in the video was excited, fluttering its wings and clucking.
Ms. Song said Shuangxi was bowing to daddy.
Jiang Zhi, possibly infertile and now a rooster’s daddy: “…”
Daddy?
His heart felt as if it was being scratched by chicken claws, it was painful and irritating, and oddly enough, it itched.
After hanging up the video call, the pressure in the sickroom remained low. Ah Wan felt it too, almost unable to breathe; perhaps it was ti to go to the restroom.
And as Ah Wan took his fourth trip to the toilet, Shuangxi’s ‘mommy,’ Zhou Xufang, finally arrived.
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