Chapter 62

Chapter 62

◎ Taking the pulse again. ◎

Ren Suiyi’s back stiffened, and he stood frozen in place, completely lost.

He wondered if the book’s Meng Qi had ever cried his eyes out in front of him before, and if so, how he had reacted back then.

Now, with Meng Qi bawling his eyes out, Ren Suiyi was totally caught off guard. For a moment, he held Meng Qi, whose head was buried deep in his chest, like he was holding a fragile piece of china. His eyes fixed on the swirl in Meng Qi’s hair, his arms gradually tightening, but his mind wandered elsewhere. His mouth opened and closed a few times, yet in the end, not a single word escaped.

Maybe for a big-shot CEO type, sweet talk is harder to get out than cold words—something he’d have to go out of his way to figure out.

Or maybe, this silence was exactly what Meng Qi wanted.

“What’s going on?! Meng Qi, are you crying?!”

In a flash, Kuang Hui yanked Dong Jiaming into Meng Qi’s room like a tornado, then stood at the bathroom door, poking his head in. When his eyes met Ren Suiyi’s, he wisely backed off.

But he didn’t move his feet, quickly shifting his eyes to Meng Qi, checking him out from head to toe without missing a beat, likely checking if Meng Qi was hurt anywhere.

Ren Suiyi subtly shifted his weight, using his shoulder to block Meng Qi’s upper body from view. Then he cleared his throat and explained to Kuang Hui and Dong Jiaming, who’d rushed over, “His stomach’s upset. He’s been throwing up for a while and feels like crap.”

Kuang Hui stopped his nosy staring along with Ren Suiyi’s movement, but the look of total distrust for Ren Suiyi didn’t go away. He said, half joking, half serious, “Oh—is that so? Then—should we take him to the hospital?”

A grown-ass man crying after puking a couple times? No way! Meng Qi wasn’t some wimpy little kid.

Clearly, Kuang Hui wasn’t buying Ren Suiyi’s story, but given Ren Suiyi’s status and position, he couldn’t directly contradict him, so he could only take a veiled, but obvious, sarcastic dig.

If it were anyone else who dared to mess with his friend, Kuang Hui would’ve ripped them a new one! Meng Qi could read between the lines in Kuang Hui’s words, so he tensed up in Ren Suiyi’s arms, scared Kuang Hui might run his mouth and say something to provoke Ren Suiyi, or worse, talk Ren Suiyi into dragging him to the hospital.

Actually, when Kuang Hui had burst in yelling “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?”, Meng Qi had come to his senses. He knew that warm, broad chest wasn’t his grandpa’s—it was Ren Suiyi’s. He’d wanted to jump out of Ren Suiyi’s arms right away, but the nosy look in Kuang Hui’s eyes as he checked him out had put him in a tough spot. To avoid getting openly roasted by Kuang Hui, he had no choice but to stay buried in Ren Suiyi’s chest like a scared ostrich, silently hoping Ren Suiyi could read his mind and use his CEO powers to “shoo” Kuang Hui and Dong Jiaming out.

But then Kuang Hui mentioned the hospital.

The hospital—whoever wanted to go could go, but he wasn’t stepping foot in one. In his mind, the smell of disinfectant was almost as gross as the smell of tripe. He’d barely managed to hold back the urge to puke; he couldn’t jump back into that mess and start puking all over again!

No way! Absolutely not!

So, the second Kuang Hui finished speaking, Meng Qi “came back to life” and jumped out of Ren Suiyi’s arms. He turned his back to avoid the three sets of eyes staring at him, then walked to the sink, turned on the water, and splashed his face. After about seven or eight splashes, he quit, but didn’t lift his head. Keeping his head down, he said to the three of them, “I’m fine now. No need for the hospital.”

His voice was unusually quiet, full of embarrassment and uncertainty.

“Do you have a thing against hospitals? The second someone says ‘hospital,’ you say you’re fine? If you were really fine, that’d be great—everyone wants you to get better. But are you really? You pull this crap every now and then… Is your stomach made of iron? Can you really take it? Fine, even if you can, we who have to watch can’t take it.” Kuang Hui’s voice was at least ten times louder than Meng Qi’s. After getting it all out in one breath, he rolled his eyes dramatically.

Meng Qi grabbed a paper towel to dry his face, quickly glancing at the mirror over the sink. Seeing that his eyes weren’t red or puffy anymore, he turned to face Kuang Hui and the others, only sneaking a glance at Ren Suiyi from the corner of his eye, not meeting his gaze directly. “Isn’t it true that sickness comes fast and goes slow? Especially with tricky stomach problems. You gotta give me time to recover. I can’t just run to the hospital at the first sign of trouble. That’s just making extra work for the medical staff and wasting their time on stuff that’s not an emergency. It’s completely unnecessary.”

Raised by old folks who were scared of doctors their whole lives, Meng Qi had long adopted their mindset of “treat small stuff yourself, tough out the big stuff, and never go to the hospital unless you absolutely have to.” So, even without the disinfectant thing, Meng Qi wouldn’t go easily.

But this mindset, out of everyone in the room, probably only Qi Yun would get and agree with. Qi Yun wasn’t there right now—he’d probably gone out to take out the garbage—so Meng Qi was on his own, and the six eyes staring at him felt even more intense.

“Oh my god, Meng Qi, should I give you a ‘Saint Award’?” Kuang Hui couldn’t help himself and finally roasted him.

Meng Qi pursed his lips, thinking, *No need for an award, just stop bugging me about the hospital.*

Just as Meng Qi was stuck, Ren Suiyi suddenly stepped forward, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him toward the big bed in the middle of the bedroom, saying as they walked, “Rest on the bed for ten minutes. If you still feel bad after that, we’re going to the hospital.”

At the word “bed,” Meng Qi’s back went numb, like a million ants were crawling all over it, making him extremely uncomfortable.

Minutes ago, Ren Suiyi had picked him up off the floor specifically to get him to rest on the bed.

And what had he done? He’d burst out crying with a loud “waaah”…

Meng Qi snuck a look at the front of Ren Suiyi’s shirt. Sure enough, there was a big, dark water stain—dirty and out of place, ruining an expensive custom shirt.

That was his doing.

So embarrassing. He wished he could crawl into a hole and disappear. Meng Qi sheepishly looked away.

Ren Suiyi led Meng Qi to the bed, gently pressed his shoulders to make him sit, then thoughtfully pulled the AC blanket over him. After a pause, he turned to Kuang Hui and said, “Could you grab a glass of hot water? Thanks.”

Without a word, Kuang Hui turned and walked to the living room.

His attitude was totally different from when he’d been roasting Meng Qi, which made Meng Qi sigh inside and swallow the “no need” he’d been about to say.

Once Kuang Hui was gone, Ren Suiyi frowned and suggested to Meng Qi, “It’s too much of a hassle without a housekeeper. I think we need to hire another one to look after you.”

*I finally got rid of one big shot; I don’t want another one coming back!*

Meng Qi shook his head hard. “No, no. I was doing fine on my own before. Now that Kuang Hui and Dong Jiaming have moved in, with them here, I definitely don’t need a housekeeper.”

“They moved in?” Ren Suiyi’s frown deepened, and he lowered his voice to ask.

Meng Qi met Ren Suiyi’s eyes openly and replied, “Yeah, they moved in with me. They’re in the room next door. Kuang Hui is a happy-go-lucky guy—wherever he is, there’s laughter. And Dong Jiaming is a TCM expert. Either of them is way more helpful than a live-in housekeeper.”

*Sorry, Kuang Hui and Dong Jiaming, I’m using you to get out of this. I’ll make it up to you later,* Meng Qi added silently.

“TCM expert?” Ren Suiyi asked, shifting his eyes to Dong Jiaming, who’d been standing there silently like an NPC, his confused look growing.

*Oops, I oversold that a bit…*

“Dong Jiaming isn’t an expert yet, but he’s the grandson of a legendary Chinese medicine master. He might become one someday,” Meng Qi said, tilting his head awkwardly to glance at Dong Jiaming, who shot him a look. Meng Qi smiled sheepishly and quickly turned back to explain to Ren Suiyi, “Even someone from a medical family who’s not an expert yet is still impressive. He diagnosed my gastroenteritis just by feeling my pulse.”

After patiently listening to Meng Qi, Ren Suiyi looked at Dong Jiaming again, sizing him up seriously. Seeming to believe Meng Qi, he nodded at Dong Jiaming when their eyes met, giving him a nod of approval.

Getting a bit more respect from Ren Suiyi was a huge deal. Even the usually reserved Dong Jiaming couldn’t help but crack a smile and said openly, “Our Dong family has practiced medicine for over a hundred years. I’ve followed my grandpa on house calls since I was a kid, and through osmosis, I’ve picked up some basics.”

The “basics” learned from a legendary TCM master were far from ordinary—they were probably top-notch.

Ren Suiyi thought for a few seconds, then willingly stepped aside from the bed, gesturing for Dong Jiaming to sit. “Then I’ll leave Meng Qi in your hands.”

Meng Qi: …

*Why does this sound like a goodbye?*

“I’ll do what I can.” Dong Jiaming nodded, walked over to Meng Qi, and confidently took his left hand to check his pulse. But as he went on, his confidence faded. His brow gradually furrowed, and he gave Meng Qi several puzzled looks, finally asking, “Besides the vomiting, anything else bothering you?”

Meng Qi’s heart raced at Dong Jiaming’s look, and he lied without missing a beat, “No, everything else is fine.”

In truth, besides the constant nausea, he’d also been sleepy, occasionally dizzy, and even had ringing in his ears twice.

But his gut told him not to casually spill these symptoms, especially with Ren Suiyi there.

So, before Dong Jiaming could ask another question, Meng Qi cut him off quickly, “If I feel anything off, I’ll definitely tell Brother Yiyi right away, don’t worry.”

He emphasized the words “Brother Yiyi,” hoping Dong Jiaming would get the hint and not talk about his condition in front of someone else.