I'm Crushing on Gorgeous Faces in Variety Shows!-Chapter 81: Brother Cheng’s Princess Carry~

Cheng Zhirang had a luxury brand show event in the afternoon, and it didn’t finish until six o’clock while sitting inside the venue.

Just after it ended and he reached the underground parking lot, Assistant Wen hurriedly informed him that Chengcheng was having a fever at home. Chen Song had postponed her work and was rushing home, asking if she should take a detour to give her a lift.

A child’s illness can’t be delayed. Although Chen Song had been having many such inappropriate schedule issues recently, Cheng Zhirang didn’t say much, just nodded and said it was fine.

With his approval, Assistant Wen drove quickly, and just as they were about to arrive, they received a call from Chen Song saying Chengcheng’s fever had reached thirty-nine degrees and needed to be taken to the hospital quickly.

The situation was so serious, but they had only just realized it upon returning. When the car arrived at their community, Cheng Zhirang directly followed Assistant Wen upstairs.

Just as he walked into Chen Song’s house, Cheng Zhirang halted his steps and went back to the entrance to glance left.

At the slightly open doorway, there was no light, only a phone screen lit up in the middle of the hallway.

"What’s wrong, Brother?"

Assistant Wen had already gone inside and picked up Chengcheng, while Chen Song, in a panic, was holding a messily packed luggage bag, following behind.

Cheng Zhirang turned his leather shoes obliquely towards the opposite direction of the door and said, "It looks like something’s wrong at Mu Qiu’s place, I’ll go check it out."

Assistant Wen was taken aback.

When the three of them reached Mu Qiu’s door, they opened it to find a slender figure collapsed at the entrance. Cheng Zhirang lowered his voice, crouched down with a serious expression, "She’s in trouble, take her to the hospital as well. Sister Chen, pick up her phone."

After quickly saying this, he picked Mu Qiu up in a princess carry, her head swayed against Cheng Zhirang’s chest, yet she still didn’t wake up.

Among the three still standing, two were carrying a person, one holding a large bag. They quickly got into the car, and Assistant Wen hit the gas, heading to the hospital.

"To Tianxiang, I’ll have someone open the other passage."

"Alright, Brother Cheng!"

When Mu Qiu woke up, it was almost midnight. Her face was starkly pale, lying in the quiet ward; she opened her eyes to see a white ceiling.

Good, she had been discovered.

The habit of living alone had helped her "rescue" herself.

Reassured, she closed her eyes again and after a long while, opened them to survey the ward anew.

"Brother Cheng?"

After calling out two words, she felt her throat dry and itchy, her lips so parched that even opening her mouth felt uncomfortable.

Cheng Zhirang handed her a cup of water just in time, the bed elevated, and he pulled up a chair to sit down.

"Have a sip of water first. The doctor said you have acute gastroenteritis, possibly from eating something bad for dinner. I wanted to contact your family or friends, but I couldn’t unlock your phone to find any contact details, so it’s just the people from my studio watching over you."

Though he said it was people from the studio, in actuality, Chen Song was watching over Chengcheng, and Assistant Wen was busy running around, getting test results, paying for medicine, and buying food for everyone. Despite how improper it seemed, for the moment he was the only one who could stay there.

Mu Qiu nodded to indicate her understanding, then leaned against the headboard, holding the water cup, her fingers gently stroking the cup’s edge, her tender eyelashes fluttering.

"Thank you, Brother Cheng. How did you find me?"

Cheng Zhirang: "Your phone screen lit up in the hallway. Fortunately, Chengcheng had a fever, so we were all there."

Mu Qiu nodded again.

If her phone hadn’t lit up just right, there was no light in her room, so even if she managed to unlock the door and collapse at the entrance, no one might have noticed.

Should she be thankful for the timely message or introspect as to why she didn’t keep her lights on at all times?

A tear dropped into the water cup, causing slight ripples.

Cheng Zhirang paused, looked at the cup, then politely averted his gaze.

Mu Qiu also turned her head, looking towards the bathroom in the ward, trying hard to hold back her urge to cry.

She initiated a topic to discuss.

"Brother Cheng, did you see that little segment I sent you yesterday?"

Cheng Zhirang turned his gaze back seriously, cooperating with her: "I saw it, it was well-written. But why did you make a character who could face death so calmly?"

"I checked your Baidu Encyclopedia, it doesn’t seem like you’ve acted in many artsy films with a strong rural vibe."

"You’ve researched?" He grew interested. Such a young girl in her early twenties, writing tragedy with such ease and indifference, was quite odd in itself.

Mu Qiu finally held back her tears, though her eyes were still slightly red. She said, "I have been to a nursing home, have you?"

Cheng Zhirang honestly shook his head.

Mu Qiu reminisced while gazing out the window: "There used to be a small town nursing home not far from where I lived. It wasn’t big, built into the ground, each room hardly saw any sunlight. But on sunny days, they would get up at five o’clock to sunbathe and chat outside. I’ve delivered supplies there a few times. Twice, just after exchanging a few words with an old man fanning himself on a rocking chair, who smiled at me, when I didn’t get far out, firecrackers sounded from inside."

She paused, fearing he wouldn’t understand, and added, "Each time an elderly person passed away, they would promptly light a string of firecrackers to notify everyone. Every elderly resident’s room had such a string of firecrackers. Death was so common there; everyone had gotten used to it—easygoing or indifferent, that’s how they all were."

Cheng Zhirang listened intently. Being an actor, he had played many roles over ten years, but never experienced this kind. Hearing about such unknown knowledge intrigued him.

"Do you think no one fears death?"

"Of course they do, but only those who die. And their fear only shows at five in the morning when it’s not yet light and no one else sees it. Rising so early gives them a long day to use and enjoy, and the final moment comes in their mix of understanding and unwillful anticipation."

"So it’s not really easygoing, and only the onlookers are indifferent."

Mu Qiu glanced at him, smiling to lighten the mood, "Brother Cheng, I’m an onlooker too."

Cheng Zhirang’s gaze lingered on her smiling face for two seconds.

Because of the illness, she looked pale and weak altogether, her lips were also pale, only her eyes were slightly red, even with a beaming smile, it wasn’t as bright as before.

Also, without that crisp laughter, the smile felt somewhat out of place.

After observing for two seconds, he remarked: "Authors writing from the perspective of different characters don’t necessarily share the same views as the protagonist."

Although the author who creates the story would have similar feelings and thoughts.

Mu Qiu was noncommittal to this explanation, "Actually, I also need to apologize for sending you the story without your consent. At that time, I just thought this story might pique your interest, just like mine."

"That’s alright."

"Haven’t asked yet, how is Chengcheng?"

"The fever’s subsided."

"When can I be discharged?"

Cheng Zhirang frowned, "The doctor said it’s best to stay one more day."

Mu Qiu received the answer she wanted and nodded thoughtfully.

Still have one more day together, huh.