The Villainous Classmate is My Lucky Star Chapter 245
Translated by Pure
Chapter 245 Everything Will Definitely Be Alright (2)
Despite diligently adhering to his daily regimen of medications, Mu Yang witnessed no discernible improvement, and the crimson patches continued their relentless spread.
As time wore on, Mu Yang's condition deteriorated further. Nausea plagued him whenever he caught a whiff of the medicine, yet he valiantly suppressed his discomfort to avoid alarming Chi Jingxi, obediently consuming each dose.
His vitality waned visibly, evident in his diminishing energy levels. Initially able to engage in leisurely activities around the house, Mu Yang gradually retreated to the confines of his room, his complexion growing increasingly pallid with each passing day.
One day, as Wen Yantong entered Mu Yang's room, she was greeted by the scent of cosmetics powder wafting through the air. Raising an eyebrow playfully, she quipped, "What's this? Are you hiding a girl in your room?"
Approaching the bed, Wen Yantong noted the marked improvement in Mu Yang's complexion. His cheeks held a healthier flush, and his lips bore a touch of color.
Upon catching sight of Wen Yantong, Mu Yang responded with a smile.
"Feeling better?" Wen Yantong inquired as she took a seat beside him.
Mu Yang replied, "Of course. It’s just I stayed up a bit late playing last night, so I’m feeling a little sleepy right now."
Wen Yantong's tone turned reproachful. "Even now, you're still playing around?"
Mu Yang offered an apologetic smile. "I slept too much during the day. I feel like taking a stroll outside."
Wen Yantong urged caution. "Just wait a little longer. Once we find a solution to rid your body of those red patches, then you can play around all you want."
Mu Yang, unusually compliant, followed Wen Yantong's directives without protest. After conversing with her for a brief moment, he let out a loud yawn, signaling his desire to rest.
Sensing his fatigue, Wen Yantong offered a few words of counsel before taking her leave. Once outside, her countenance quickly soured.
Later that evening, following a bath, Wen Yantong sought out Chi Jingxi.
Chi Jingxi had been consumed with worry over Mu Yang's condition, evident in his lack of energy. Upon catching sight of Wen Yantong's approach, he promptly set aside the book he had been reading and hastened to greet her.
Wen Yantong inquired about his reading material. "What are you reading?"
"It's a compilation of local epidemics in Yibei," Chi Jingxi explained, a hint of frustration evident in his voice. "No one seems to have encountered a similar case to Mu Yang's mysterious illness, so I've been scouring through this, hoping to uncover any relevant information." He rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily, a sign of the long hours spent poring over the text.
Wen Yantong released a heavy sigh, her face etched with concern. "Mu Xingyi's condition is getting worse with each passing day. Despite its painless symptoms, it's draining him of all his vitality."
It was evident to all that Mu Yang's strength was waning, despite his attempts to conceal it.
Chi Jingxi nodded solemnly. "I'm brainstorming potential solutions."
"He's very strong mentally. He’s still concerned about sparing us worry even though he’s the sick one," Wen Yantong conveyed. "During my visit today, I saw that he had applied rouge to his face and lips. The fragrance was so strong when I got closer."
Wen Yantong's revelation prompted a somber silence from Chi Jingxi. After a prolonged pause, he spoke with a heavy tone, "He's more frightened than any of us."
Having grown up together, Chi Jingxi possessed an intimate understanding of Mu Yang. Despite his forced smiles, Chi Jingxi could discern the underlying fear Mu Yang harbored towards the illness. It was evident that Mu Yang was apprehensive, yet he chose to mask his concerns to alleviate the worries of those around him.
Chi Jingxi had spared no effort in recent days, dedicating himself tirelessly to the pursuit of answers. He sacrificed sleep, allowing himself no more than five hours each night, meticulously scouring through every record of epidemics in Yibei. Additionally, he dispatched individuals to inquire far and wide, seeking any previous instances of the disease.
Wen Yantong also pondered deeply on the matter. Recalling details from the original book, she remembered a plague that had ravaged Chang'an, deliberately orchestrated by Chi Jingxi's adversaries. This affliction, characterized by red patches covering the body, mirrored Mu Yang's current condition.
However, a notable distinction arose between the current situation and the plague depicted in the original book. While both exhibited red patches on the body, the latter was accompanied by a myriad of severe symptoms including headaches, coughing up blood, skin hemorrhaging, and persistent high fever. Yet, Mu Yang displayed only red patches and weight loss, without any other observable symptoms. This discrepancy left Wen Yantong uncertain as to whether the current affliction truly mirrored the plague from the original plot.
Wen Yantong furrowed her brows in deep contemplation, her expression marred by unresolved anxiety. Sensing her distress, Chi Jingxi approached her and tenderly smoothed out the creases between her eyebrows with gentle fingertips. "Don't fret," he reassured her softly. "I will find a solution."
A pang of emotion gripped Wen Yantong suddenly, her nose tingling with a hint of soreness. Reflecting on Mu Yang's usual vivacity and vigor, juxtaposed with his current frailty due to the illness, her eyes welled up with tears.
Suppressing her tears, Wen Yantong lifted her arms and enveloped Chi Jingxi in a somber embrace. "We must find a way to save him," she murmured despondently.
Chi Jingxi tenderly stroked her head and replied in a hushed tone, "We will. I promise."
As night descended, the household grew quiet, punctuated only by the sporadic sounds of guards patrolling the premises.
Unable to find rest, Mu Yang clutched the pillow tightly to his chest as he sat upon the bed. Servants approached, inquiring about his actions, but he merely waved them off without a word.
Mu Yang got up and strode to Fu Zixian's room, his feet bare upon the floor. The guards parted respectfully as he passed.
Gently tapping on the door, Mu Yang whispered, "Fu Zixian, Fu Zixian, are you asleep?"
Fu Zixian, still awake, swiftly rose from his bed upon hearing Mu Yang's voice. Hastening to the door, he greeted Mu Yang with concern etched upon his features. Observing Mu Yang's pallid complexion, Fu Zixian wasted no time in ushering him inside.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Fu Zixian inquired, motioning for someone to fetch a basin of water as he guided Mu Yang to a seat.
Mu Yang, visibly thinner with the prominence of bones in his wrists, shook his head faintly. "No," he replied softly.
Fu Zixian's voice softened to a whisper as he inquired, "Then why did you come to me?"
Mu Yang met his gaze earnestly. "I want to sleep with you tonight," he admitted.
While it wasn't the first time Mu Yang had made such a request, in the past, he had always done so with confidence, even a hint of arrogance. Yet, this time, it was different; there was a plea in his tone.
Fu Zixian's smile widened. "Okay," he agreed readily.
Shortly thereafter, the basin of water arrived, and Fu Zixian personally knelt down to cleanse Mu Yang's feet. Despite the red patches covering Mu Yang's legs and feet, a sight that had instilled fear in the servants, Fu Zixian took it upon himself to attend to Mu Yang's needs, disregarding any apprehension.
Once his feet were cleansed, Mu Yang took the initiative to recline in the inner half of the bed, draping a thin silk cover over himself as he gazed up at the canopy above the bed with wide eyes.
As Fu Zixian settled beside him, the room fell into darkness as the lights were extinguished. Sensing Mu Yang's silent contemplation, Fu Zixian remained still, patiently awaiting his words.
After a brief pause, Mu Yang finally broke the silence with a weighty question. "What will happen after death?"
Fu Zixian was taken aback by the unexpected inquiry, but his response was composed. "I don't know," he admitted.
Mu Yang nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. Only the dead may know this," he mused.
Fu Zixian concurred quietly. "Yes."
Mu Yang fell silent for a moment before speaking again, his voice tinged with apprehension. "I feel like I'm going to die."
Fu Zixian reacted swiftly, dismissing Mu Yang's words. "Don't speak such things," he insisted firmly. "It won't happen."
But Mu Yang persisted, his tone resolute. "It's true. I can feel it."
Sensing the tremor in Mu Yang's voice, Fu Zixian recognized his fear. With gentle warmth, he reassured him, "Mu Xingyi, you will be fine. The Little Marquis and I are actively seeking a way to treat you. Shao Jing boasts many renowned doctors; surely, among them, there is one who can cure your ailment."
"I'm afraid I won't be able to wait until that time," Mu Yang confessed, his voice trembling with tears. "When I came to Yibei despite my father's objections, I had already considered the possibility. Even if I were to die in battle here, as long as I am with you guys, I'm willing. But I never imagined that I would succumb to illness. It's completely humiliating."
"Nonsense," Fu Zixian frowned and interjected.
"This is too far from home. I don't want to die here," Mu Yang lamented. "By the time my body is transported back, it'll have already rotted, and the foul odor will attract countless insects."
He sniffled and quietly wiped away his tears.
Fu Zixian, at a loss for words, offered a simple reassurance. "Don't worry, we will definitely cure you."
As the two conversed, a sudden knock echoed at the door.
Fu Zixian rose to his feet, instructing his servants to answer the door. Upon its opening, Wen Yantong and Chi Jingxi entered, one following the other.
With the room illuminated once more, Mu Yang's red eyes and moist lashes were apparent. Catching sight of this, Wen Yantong's smile softened. "I knew I'd find you here," she remarked warmly. "Come, I've prepared some sweet porridge. Come and give it a try."
Mu Yang made an effort to brighten his spirits. "You can actually make sweet porridge?"
Wen Yantong gestured for the servants to place the cask on the table and personally served a bowl to Mu Yang. "My mother taught me how to make this when I was a child. If you weren’t sick, I wouldn't have made it."
From the side, Chi Jingxi interjected, "Yang'er, come here."
Mu Yang wiped his eyes as if nothing had occurred and rose from the bed. "Brother Xi, why are you also here in the middle of the night?"
Chi Jingxi affectionately ruffled his hair. "I'm here to catch you secretly crying."
Mu Yang emitted a light snort. "Did not."
Wen Yantong handed him a bowl of sweet porridge, and the group settled side by side on the soft couch.
Wen Yantong and Fu Zixian remained mostly silent, listening attentively as Mu Yang and Chi Jingxi conversed. Initially, it was Chi Jingxi who spoke more, reminiscing about the past and recalling Mu Yang's aspirations. Perhaps stirred by these words, Mu Yang, though mentally weakened, began to engage more in the conversation, gradually opening up.
As Mu Yang spoke, his energy gradually waned, his voice fading until he eventually drifted into slumber, still clutching the sweet porridge.
The other three, in solemn silence, quietly sipped their porridge.
After some time passed, Mu Yang appeared to have fallen asleep, his head resting on Chi Jingxi's shoulder, the bowl still firmly grasped in his hand.
Wen Yantong savored the last sip from her bowl, chewing on the sweet grains before speaking softly, "Don't worry. Everything will definitely be alright."
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The author has something to say:
[Chi Jingxi’s Little Diary]
The fourteenth day of the Eighth Lunar Month:
The porridge... was a bit too sweet.
As sweet as the words uttered from her mouth.