Twenty minutes later, Ian Sullivan’s car screeched to a halt outside the villa. He got out of the car, carrying his dical kit, and hurried inside, still wearing his slippers.
Aunt Tawny was already waiting anxiously at the door, and she imdiately led Ian Sullivan to check on Vincent Hawthorne.
At this mont, Vincent Hawthorne was lying on the couch in the study. His tall figure made the two-ter long sofa seem cramped by comparison.
Vincent’s face was deathly pale, one hand pressing on his stomach, sweating from the pain.
Hearing footsteps approach, he struggled to lift his eyelids, clearly expecting to see soone. But when his gaze settled on Ian Sullivan, who walked in, his half-raised head fell heavily back onto the pillow.
...They actually called the family doctor over, so she really doesn’t care about him anymore!
Tanya Sinclair, how dare she?!
The stomach is an emotional organ and it instantly seized with excruciating pain again.
Vincent’s brows were tightly knit, a sheen of sweat on his forehead from the agony.
As the Hawthorne Family’s family doctor for five years, Ian often visited, mostly to check on Caden and Joy for minor ailnts.
Joy was slightly weaker, but the Hawthorne Family had treasured her since birth, providing her with rare supplents, and her diet was managed by a dedicated nutritionist. Even a weak constitution had been nurtured.
As for Vincent, there was even less to say. He had a regular fitness routine, with a lean and toned physique, not the kind of person who seed weak. Moreover, Ian was trained in both Western and traditional dicine and had taken Vincent’s pulse before. There were no issues with his health!
How could he suddenly have such a severe stomach pain?
Ian quickly conducted an examination on Vincent and checked his pulse again, his expression visibly worried.
Vincent’s pulse was...
"How could it be like this?" Ian murmured, incredulous.
"What’s wrong, Dr. Sullivan? He’s going to be alright, isn’t he?" Aunt Tawny, not understanding the situation, couldn’t help but ask upon seeing Ian’s reaction.
"Has Mr. Hawthorne ever had this condition before?" Ian countered.
Aunt Tawny didn’t understand dicine, but being an old mber of the Hawthorne Family, she naturally knew about Vincent Hawthorne’s past. However, ever since being with Mrs. Hawthorne, his health had improved...
"Mr. Hawthorne, he..."
Aunt Tawny had just opened her mouth when Ian had already lost interest in listening.
"Aunt Tawny, go help Mr. Hawthorne pack a few clothes. I’m going to get sothing from the trunk and will be right back. We need to get him to a hospital!" Ian said sternly.
He wasn’t confident he could treat this.
"Alright." Aunt Tawny, seeing his serious expression, didn’t dare delay and went to carry out his instructions imdiately.
Ian hurried downstairs, only to run into Tanya Sinclair at the stairwell.
He was extrely surprised, "Mrs. Hawthorne? You’re ho."
The implication was obvious. Since she was ho, how could she be calmly sipping a cup of hot tea here while Vincent was in so much pain he was almost dying?
Ian recalled that Mrs. Hawthorne was said to love Vincent Hawthorne to the bone, reportedly having pursued him for many years.
Wait...
Ian caught the scent of dicine; it wasn’t a cup of hot tea in Tanya Sinclair’s hand but a bag of ward traditional dicine.
Tanya had already handed the cup of dicine to Ian.
"Give this dicine to Mr. Hawthorne; he’ll feel much better after drinking it." Tanya, still in her pajamas, draped herself in a simple shawl, with her long hair gently resting. She radiated a quiet, serene aura that inexplicably cald those around her.
Tanya continued to ask, "Dr. Sullivan, do you know acupuncture?"
"...Yes."
She handed him an acupuncture kit.
"After Mr. Hawthorne drinks the dicine, use the half-inch, one-inch, and two-and-a-half-inch silver needles from inside, following the sequence from the farther to the closer points in relation to his stomach, and apply them to the relevant clogged acupoints."
Tanya said this, noticing Ian looking at her with skepticism, hesitant to accept the kit.
She spoke softly, her tone so neutral it was impossible to detect any emotion, "I have been taking care of Vincent’s health since I was twelve. No one knows his illness better than I do. Taking him to the hospital won’t help."
"..."
In the end, Ian gritted his teeth and chose to trust Tanya Sinclair.
Because he was well aware that with Vincent’s chaotic pulse state, taking him to the hospital might actually be of no real help.
It wasn’t life-threatening, but enough to tornt him, leaving him in a half-dead state for quite so ti.
Ian took the dical kit handed to him by Tanya, carrying the warm dicine she prepared, and turned to head upstairs. Reaching the corner, he couldn’t help but glance downwards.
Tanya was already walking away from the stairwell towards the kitchen, her slender figure imrsed in the moonlight, as if a breeze could scatter her into the night.
"..."
Ian restrained himself and looked away, quickly walking towards the study.
Tanya stopped in the kitchen, opened a gridded cabinet door in the corner, inside which was a small freezer.
It was sothing she purchased five years ago.
Inside were dozens of bags of dicine, divided into three types of packages, all prepared for Vincent Hawthorne.
Five years ago, in the days leading up to her due date, she worried about any unforeseen events. Concerned about Vincent’s health, fearing that if she were truly gone, he would fall ill again from grief and distress.
After all, the stomach is closely tied to emotions.
So she specifically found a familiar pharmacy, paid for ten years’ worth of dicine in one go, having them prepare five bags per the three prescriptions each month, regularly sending them to the villa. When fresh ones were sent, the old ones were thrown away.
Now it seems she was simply overthinking things.
Even if she turned into a vegetable, even if she had died on the day of childbirth five years ago, Vincent would’ve neither grieved nor shed a single tear.
The night wind blew in from the window, bringing a chill.
Tanya closed her eyes.
She vaguely recalled the first ti she t Vincent.
It was that sumr when she was twelve. Tanya still rembered, it was a rainy day and she had just picked a handful of fresh lotus seeds from the backyard pond, risking the rain to take them to the pharmacy for her grandpa.
As soon as she entered, she saw a sickly yet beautiful young man sitting there softly coughing.
The person who brought him was talking with Grandpa Sinclair, looking worried and anxious, imploring him to save their young master.
Tanya Sinclair, twelve years old, stood by the door holding a big bunch of lotus seeds and flowers, unsure for a mont whether she should interrupt.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the pale and sickly young man suddenly stand up, walk over to her, and offer his jacket.
He averted his gaze and didn’t look at her, gently reminding, ’Your clothes are wet.’
Tanya, in a daze, glanced down and saw her white dress was sticking to her, even revealing the outlines of her undergarnts...
Her face instantly turned tomato red, awkwardly snatching the young man’s jacket, she wrapped herself up and turned away hurriedly.
Behind her, ca the sound of the young man’s elusive laughter, mingled with a soft cough...
Later, her grandfather told her that the boy who suddenly showed up was a young master from a prestigious family, his surna Hawthorne and first na Vincent.
He was a premature baby, inherently weak, a slight chill would lead to a high fever that wouldn’t recede, and there were several tis he was sent to the ICU.
The Hawthornes couldn’t find a better way, thus brought him to the dical hall...
That day, as the cicadas droned outside the window, she stood up after hearing Grandpa’s account, went to close the window, and saw the clouds in the sky, standing there in a trance, inexplicably blushing.
A girl’s crush ca on so suddenly, like that afternoon’s sumr rain that unreasonably drenched her.
...
Her thoughts scattered with the sudden strong night wind, Tanya slowly opened her eyes and looked out of the window.
The night was cloudless, stars filling the sky.
She wiped the unnoticed tear stains off her face, turned away without reluctance, and left.
This grand romance seed like her one-woman show from beginning to end.
And now, it’s ti for it to end...
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