GHML – Chapter 7.3: Is There Something Wrong With His Brain? (3)
“He’s impossible!”
He Jiang smashed his phone on the ground.
We have not contacted each other for two days and the first text he sent was to provoke me?
What a waste of his effort to get Lin Lin to monitor his phone for messages so that he could reply the moment they took a break from filming.
Cai Minmin looked at the agitated He Jiang. Lin Lin had warned her of his possible unstable temperaments these few days. She had not been fibbing. Just as she was deciding between staying as quiet as a chicken and going up to show some concern, He Jiang picked up his phone off the ground, wiped it and settled back down in his chair.
His face was still dark and ominous.
An eye for an eye. You scolded me first so you can’t blame me for doing something in retaliation.
Shang Jing had provoked him out of the blue. Something was not right there. He Jiang checked his home camera footage.
There was no one in the study nor the living room.
It’s already this time of the day. He couldn’t still be sleeping?
He Jiang furrowed his brow and pulled the time bar back to an earlier time in the day. Soon, the image of Shang Jing sitting on the floor in the living room, looking for the thermometer, appeared on the screen. While he was looking for it, he sneezed three times. Three minutes later, he could be seen emerging from his room fully covered in long sleeves and pants.
When he was changing shoes at the entrance, the camera had captured a close up of his pale and sick face.
He Jiang massaged his temples.
Shang Jing was truly gifted at making him angry.
Connecting the dots, it was possible Shang Jing had made use of his condition as a topic to seek trouble with him.
He Jiang paced around the dressing room in frustration. In the end, he decided to engage the help of the helper auntie to fetch Shang Jing and prepare the meals earlier, even adding supper to the mix. If there was a need, she could also stay over to look after him.
Xiao Bei almost fell off his chair when he heard that. The film emperor himself had never allowed anyone to stay the night when he was sick. Shang Jing was only down with flu and he had allowed her to do so.
If things continue to progress as such, there was a possibility he would one day be allowed to spend the night at the film emperor’s villa.
Back at the clinic, Shang Jing had kept his handphone after texting He Jiang.
“Can you do a skin prick test on me?”
As the long needle sank into his elbow, an acute pain pierced through the area where he was pricked. Approximately fifteen minutes later, the area swelled up like a mosquito bite.
Half an hour later, Shang Jing was receiving an IV drip at a corner of the clinic. The blood from his face had been drained from him, leaving his face as pale as a sheet of paper.
He supported himself on the railing. Two rounds of white bandages were intertwined around his arm to keep the needle in place.
Right at this moment, the phone rang in his pocket. It was Auntie Huang asking him where he was.
Shang Jing informed her of the clinic’s name and his condition, and before he knew it, Auntie Huang appeared at the entrance of the clinic. She waved at him and said through the phone, “I’m here. If there’s anything, just call me. I’ll accompany you.”
Hearing that, Shang Jing was embarrassed. He was already an adult. To still require adult accompaniment for a mere IV drip, how inappropriate was that? “Auntie, it’s alright. My condition is not serious.”
Auntie Huang: “Mr. He had requested for a lavish meal to be prepared every Friday. He’s not available today and you’re unwell and should stay off oily food for the time being. Since I have some extra time on hand, I should do something to make up for the difference. If not, it will not be right for me to receive today’s pay.”
Seeing how determined Auntie Huang was, he decided to give up and let her stay. He was also happy to have someone to talk to. “Thank you, auntie.”
Auntie Huang was a motherly figure to him. Not only had she cooked for him, she had accompanied him to the doctor.
Shang Jing looked down at the floor to conceal the sadness in his eyes.
There was a reason he had not attempted to find his family since losing his memories.
Snippets of his memories regarding them had been coming back to him.
His father had passed away on the job when he was still very young.
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As for his mother… Shang Jing rubbed his icy cold finger tips together. The only impression he had of his mother at this juncture was her throwing a cup on the ground and screaming at him, “Don’t even appear in front of me again! And don’t call me mother!”
One of the broken shards of the glass had sliced through his pants and cut his leg. There was blood everywhere.
This must have happened recently as the wound on his calf was still painful.
He could only think on the bright side. Maybe they had cut ties with each other because she was not supportive of his marriage.
But deep down, he knew that was not the case.