2
You’re Sick, Not Useless, Right?
Chapter 2: You’re Sick, Not Crippled, Right?
Hey, was he really waiting to be carried?
Fu Jing crossed his arms over his chest. “Jiang You, unless I’m mistaken, you’re sick, not crippled, right?”
A melody rose in the trembling Liang Chen’s heart—I want to escape, but I can’t get away~
Liang Chen felt like a turkey roasting on a spit, sizzling so much he was about to drip grease.
One was his direct boss, the other was his boss’s boss.
This was truly a battlefield of conflicts.
Finally, gritting his teeth, his eyes so determined it seemed he was about to join the Party the next second, he resolutely took a step forward.
But the moment he lifted his foot, Fu Jing’s glare froze his movements.
Liang Chen rubbed his hands together, awkwardly stopping in place.
With no other choice, Jiang You had to rely on himself, though he truly had little strength at the moment.
Jiang You sighed softly, propping his arms on the wheelchair armrests and struggling to stand up.
He had just taken one small step forward when—thump—
Jiang You weakly collapsed to his knees, the IV stand toppling over with him.
Just before it could crash down on him, Fu Jing swiftly caught it.
But the needle had pulled out, and blood immediately began flowing from the back of Jiang You’s hand.
Fu Jing furrowed his brows, his expression growing even more impatient.
Liang Chen took the IV stand from Fu Jing’s hands.
When Jiang You looked back, he saw Liang Chen holding the IV stand.
Jiang You’s figure, curled on the floor, looked as thin and fragile as a withered, broken leaf.
Fu Jing looked down at him disdainfully. “Even Lin Daiyu would have to kowtow upon seeing you.”
Jiang You sat on the floor with his head bowed, feeling waves of dull pain in his heart at Fu Jing’s sarcastic remarks.
“Aren’t you going to get up?” Fu Jing’s voice carried pressure.
“Carry me, or I won’t get up.” Jiang You sounded like a petulant child.
Fu Jing: “……………………”
Fu Jing crouched in front of him, grabbed Jiang You by the collar, and pulled him closer. “Looking for trouble, are you?Fu Jing’s movements were slow throughout, not particularly fierce, his casual demeanor appearing somewhat playboy-ish.
But he froze when he met Jiang You’s gaze.
Jiang You’s eyes were dim, like a winter forest—utterly silent and lifeless.
An indescribable irritation welled up inexplicably in Fu Jing’s heart.
Jiang You: “If you’re not going to carry me, then just leave.”
Jiang You’s voice was soft and weak, carrying a chill.
Fu Jing pressed his lips into a tight line, silently exhaling a heavy breath before grabbing Jiang You’s wrist and lightly wrapping an arm around his waist.
Just then, the hospital room door was pushed open.
Jiang You’s assistant, Zhao Linsheng, walked in carrying a box of strawberry cake.
Fu Jing released Jiang You and stood up from the floor.
Seeing Jiang You sitting on the ground, Zhao Linsheng’s expression tightened. He quickly walked to Jiang You’s side, scooped him up by the waist, and placed him on the bed.
He turned to look at Fu Jing, his tone accusatory. “Were you two arguing?”
Jiang You spoke first. “No, I just fell accidentally.”
“Be more careful when no one’s around.” Zhao Linsheng pulled the blanket over his legs.
Fu Jing watched the two of them—they looked nothing like a boss and his assistant. He let out an almost imperceptible snort from his nose.
Then he turned and left.
As he was closing the hospital room door, he heard Zhao Linsheng say to Jiang You: “Eat the cake after lunch, or you won’t have an appetite for proper food.”
The door closed before Fu Jing could hear Jiang You’s response.
Jiang You hadn’t touched cake in a long time—no one knew why he’d suddenly developed a craving for such sweet, rich stuff.
Once outside, Liang Chen asked Fu Jing, “President Fu, what’s the arrangement now?”
“Return to the country.”
Liang Chen glanced down at the sunflower Fu Jing had earlier tossed into his arms. “And this flower…”
“Throw it away.”
Several days later.
Jiang You appeared at the entrance of Jiang Corporation, dressed in a black suit paired with a knee-length black cashmere overcoat, looking spirited and alert.
Reporters who had been staking out the location immediately swarmed forward, but Jiang You was shielded in Zhao Linsheng’s protective embrace.
“Mr. Jiang, what do you have to say about the widespread rumors of your critical illness circulating online recently?”
“Director Jiang, we’ve heard you’ve been quietly preparing to shoot a new film. Could you share what genre it is?”
“Mr. Jiang, there are rumors of marital discord between you and your husband Fu Jing. Do you have any comments on that?”
Jiang You’s expression was resolute and icy, a stark contrast to the submissive and gentle demeanor he had shown when with Fu Jing days before.
Escorted by Zhao Linsheng and several bodyguards, Jiang You walked silently into Jiang Building.
Perhaps because he considered himself unattractive, Jiang You detested camera flashes intensely.
He couldn’t understand why, after directing just one film, he had remained in the spotlight for so long.
Although his film had won a Best Director award, it was at best a third-tier honor, hardly a testament to exceptional talent.
As for his personal appeal, that was even less likely.
He was plain-looking, the type who would blend into a crowd unnoticed.
His physique was the complete opposite of the domineering CEO archetype portrayed in TV dramas—those characters with broad shoulders, chiseled abs, and long legs.
Even with elevated insoles in his shoes, he barely reached 178 cm.
As for abs, he had none to speak of; what he did have were visible ribs.
Thus, Jiang You couldn’t fathom why the media remained so fixated on him.
His return this time was unannounced, a surprise to everyone. The employees at the company reacted as if rabbits spotting a fox.
Jiang You swore he had never intimidated any staff member and had no idea why they seemed so afraid of him.
Upon reaching his office, Jiang You instructed Zhao Linsheng to convene an emergency meeting with the senior executives.
In the conference room.
As the executives gradually took their seats, Jiang You tucked his compact powder into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
When he looked up, his palm-sized face revealed porcelain-pale skin and full, rosy lips that gave him a healthy glow. At first glance, he appeared to be a handsome, clear-featured young man.
But upon closer inspection, his single eyelids, modest nose bridge, and soft facial contours lacked any sharp, masculine definition.
He couldn’t be considered good-looking.
When Fu Jing entered, their eyes happened to meet briefly, but neither showed any particular expression.
Fu Jing walked over and took the seat closest to Jiang You’s right.
Out of the corner of his eye, Fu Jing could see Jiang You watching him.
Once everyone was present, the meeting began, with each person taking turns to report on recent work developments.
Jiang You leaned back in his chair, a faint trace of weariness evident between his brows.
He rested one hand on his notebook, occasionally scribbling doodle-like notes when key points were mentioned.
Compared to how Fu Jing had seen him a few days prior, Jiang You seemed significantly more alert and put-together, his hair neatly styled.
He looked every bit the polished professional.
At the end of the meeting, Jiang You provided guidance and feedback on everyone’s work.
Throughout the process, he addressed many colleagues by name and made eye contact while speaking—everyone except Fu Jing.
Fu Jing’s expression darkened, his gaze fixed on Jiang You with palpable tension.
That evening, Jiang You visited Fu Jing’s parents’ home.
Fu Jing’s parents had been deeply worried by the rumors of his illness recently, so Jiang You felt it necessary to show up and reassure the elderly couple.
Though his relationship with Fu Jing was indeed strained, Jiang You got along quite well with Fu Jing’s parents.
They treated Jiang You like their own son – always asking if he’d eaten, whether work was busy, why he’d lost weight again. Every time they met, these were their constant concerns.
Their warmth made Jiang You’s heart feel cherished.
Fu Jing’s parents embodied Jiang You’s ideal image of what parents should be. Thanks to Fu Jing, Jiang You had gotten to taste this sweetness.
It was very late when Jiang You returned to the villa he shared with Fu Jing.
Fu Jing already knew he had visited his family.
The moment Jiang You left, Fu Jing’s parents had called to say Jiang You had visited them.
They asked why Fu Jing hadn’t come with him, urging him to care more about Jiang You and treat him better.
Fu Jing wondered if Jiang You had said something again. The more his parents favored Jiang You, the more it irritated him.
After entering, Jiang You took off his overcoat and suit jacket, loosening his tie while looking at Fu Jing. “Have you eaten?”
Fu Jing held his coffee, his gaze cold. “No, I’ll wait until tomorrow morning.”
Jiang You: “…”
Jiang You threw his tie on the sofa and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.
He brought a small cake box to Fu Jing and handed it to him. “Your favorite matcha flavor.”
The anger from their daytime meeting had been simmering until now, making Fu Jing feel like a storm was brewing.
Compounded by Jiang You’s apparent attempt to undermine him with his parents, Fu Jing was like a ticking time bomb.
Ready to explode even without a spark.
Fu Jing looked up coldly. “Why did you visit my parents? To complain about me?”