Chapter 67 - Still the same?

Chapter 67: Chapter 67 - Still the same?

Morning arrived quietly.

Jua Gu woke to the faint hum of the air conditioner and a low voice somewhere beside his bed.

For several seconds, he remained still, caught between sleep and consciousness. His body felt impossibly heavy against the mattress, every limb sluggish after so many years of immobility. Even opening his eyes took more effort than it should have.

Then the voice became clearer.

"No. I already told you what to do."

Jua Gu’s eyelids slowly lifted.

Mao Mao stood near the window with his back partly turned toward the bed, a phone pressed against his ear.

Jua Gu stared at him.

The voice was unmistakably Mao Mao’s, but the tone was so unfamiliar that for one confused moment, he wondered whether he was still half asleep.

"Then find another way."

There was no cheerfulness in his voice. No softness. Every word was clipped and cold.

Whoever was speaking on the other end apparently tried to explain something, because Mao Mao’s expression darkened.

"I don’t care about your excuses. Handle it before I get there."

Jua Gu blinked.

Was that really Mao Mao?

He had never heard the kid speak to anyone like that.

Actually, had he ever even seen Mao Mao genuinely scowl before?

The Mao Mao he remembered had always been expressive. He pouted when unhappy, sulked when ignored and complained shamelessly whenever Jua Gu refused to indulge him. But anger like this was different.

There was something almost unnervingly sharp about the young man standing by the window.

Mao Mao suddenly glanced toward the bed.

Their eyes met.

The change was instantaneous.

The coldness disappeared from his face so completely that Jua Gu almost questioned whether he had imagined it.

Mao Mao’s eyes lit up.

"Jua-ge!"

He ended the call and hurried toward the bed, a dazzling smile spreading across his face.

"You’re awake. How are you feeling?"

Before Jua Gu could answer, Mao Mao carefully slipped an arm behind his shoulders and helped him sit upright. He grabbed the fluffy pillow from the chair and tucked it behind Jua Gu’s back, adjusting it until he was satisfied.

Jua Gu watched him the entire time.

The difference was almost absurd.

A moment ago, Mao Mao had sounded as though he wanted to tear someone apart over the phone. Now he was fussing over the angle of a pillow.

"Who were you talking to?"

Mao Mao’s hands paused briefly.

"Someone from work. He messed something up."

"You sounded angry."

"I was a little annoyed."

A little?

Jua Gu studied his face, but Mao Mao had already reached for the cup of juice on the bedside table and handed it to him.

Perhaps he was thinking too much.

The Mao Mao in his memories was still a kid. Of course the person standing before him would be different now. Mao Mao had grown up without him. He had built an entire life during the twenty years Jua Gu had been unconscious. He had probably worked, fought with people, made friends and enemies and experienced things Jua Gu knew nothing about.

It would be ridiculous to expect him to remain exactly the same.

"Drink this first. I bought breakfast earlier, but it’s cold now. I’ll heat it up."

Mao Mao crossed the room and began fussing with the container of porridge he had left on the counter.

Jua Gu watched him for a while.

The strange phone call slowly faded from his thoughts.

Look at him.

Mao Mao was standing in front of a microwave staring through the glass as though reheating porridge required his complete concentration.

Still the same kid.

When the microwave beeped, Mao Mao hurried back with the bowl and sat beside him. He stirred the porridge, scooped up a spoonful and carefully blew on it before holding it toward Jua Gu.

"I can feed myself."

"I know."

The spoon remained exactly where it was.

Jua Gu looked at him.

Mao Mao smiled.

Jua Gu sighed and opened his mouth.

The instant he accepted the first spoonful, Mao Mao visibly brightened. He happily began telling Jua Gu about the shop he had found that morning, explaining that he had gone farther than necessary because this particular place supposedly made better porridge.

Jua Gu listened without interrupting.

Something warm settled in his chest.

Twenty years.

For him, everything still felt impossibly close. Yet Mao Mao had lived through all those years.

And somehow, after all that time, he was still sitting beside him, carefully blowing on his porridge.

Jua Gu quietly accepted another spoonful.

A short while later, the doctors arrived for his morning examination.

Mao Mao moved aside, although he remained close enough to watch everything they did.

The examination took longer than Jua Gu expected. They checked his reflexes, muscle response, coordination and sensation in his limbs. By the end, simply raising his arms several times had left him exhausted.

Jua Gu looked down at his hands.

They were weak.

Far too weak.

He curled his fingers slowly. Even that small movement felt strange, the muscles reluctant to obey him.

The doctor finished making notes before turning toward him.

"Considering how long you were unconscious, your condition is remarkable. But your muscles have suffered severe deconditioning from prolonged immobility. Physical rehabilitation will be necessary."

Jua Gu frowned. "I have to learn how to walk again."

"Essentially, yes. We’ll begin with assisted movement and strengthening exercises before progressing to standing and walking. Recovery will need to be gradual."

Mao Mao’s expression tightened.

"Will it hurt?"

"There will likely be some discomfort, especially initially. We’ll manage it as carefully as possible."

Jua Gu barely heard the rest.

He slowly raised one hand in front of himself.

His arm trembled from the effort.

This body was too weak.

Worse, it was painfully sensitive.

He had already noticed it yesterday. Even minor pressure seemed magnified, and the dull ache in muscles he had barely used could quickly become unbearable.

Twenty years of lying motionless had left this body practically useless.

But rehabilitation wasn’t his only option.

Jua Gu lowered his hand.

"I need demonic energy."

The doctor looked confused.

Mao Mao did not.

That immediately caught Jua Gu’s attention.

He turned toward him.

Mao Mao had gone completely still.

"Demonic energy?" he repeated.

"Yes. This body is too sensitive to pain right now. If I can absorb enough demonic energy, I should be able to strengthen it from the inside."

Jua Gu watched him carefully.

Mao Mao understood what he meant.

Apparently, the kid had learned considerably more during those twenty years than Jua Gu had initially assumed.

"Where are you going to find it?" Mao Mao asked.

"The cemetery."

Silence fell across the room.

Mao Mao stared at him.

"No. No, you are not dead, why go there... it’s not a good place. You are still alive."

Jua Gu frowned. "Mao Mao."

"You woke up yesterday, Jua-ge. You can barely sit up by yourself."

"Which is precisely why I need it. I need demonic energy too strengthen me.. are you okay mao mao?"

Mao Mao’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Jua Gu could tell immediately that arguing would get them nowhere.

He reached out and caught Mao Mao’s wrist.

His grip was embarrassingly weak, yet Mao Mao froze as though Jua Gu had seized him with all his former strength.

"I know what I’m doing."

Mao Mao looked down at the hand around his wrist.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then his own hand came over Jua Gu’s, enveloping it carefully.

"You really need to go?"

"Yes."

Mao Mao remained silent for a long moment before finally sighing.

"Fine. But I’m staying with you the entire time."

Jua Gu gave him a strange look.

"I was asking you to take me there."

Mao Mao’s fingers tightened around his hand.

"Then don’t leave my sight."

The sudden seriousness in his voice made Jua Gu pause.

There was something in Mao Mao’s eyes that he couldn’t quite understand.

Fear.

Not ordinary concern.

Something deeper.

For one fleeting moment, Jua Gu remembered the cold voice he had heard when he woke that morning.

Then Mao Mao smiled.

Bright. Sweet. Familiar.

"Promise?"

Jua Gu stared at him before sighing.

"I promise."

Mao Mao’s entire expression softened.

He lifted Jua Gu’s weak hand and pressed his cheek affectionately against the back of it.

Jua Gu shook his head.

Still a clingy brat.

At least some things hadn’t changed.

He looked toward the doctors, already thinking about how quickly they could leave for the cemetery.

Because of that, he didn’t notice the way Mao Mao’s smile faded.

Mao Mao lowered Jua Gu’s hand but did not release it. His fingers remained wrapped around it, gentle enough not to hurt him, yet strangely reluctant to let go.

His gaze lingered on Jua Gu’s face.

Twenty years.

He had waited twenty years to see those eyes open again.

Whatever Jua Gu wanted, Mao Mao would give him.

Whatever he needed, Mao Mao would find it.

But losing him again?

That was the one thing Mao Mao would never allow.