Meta 10: Can We Get Serious

Lin Zhu really wanted to talk to Vera, to persuade him to keep the medical team.

For the past two months, they had lived in the lab, combing through the Federation’s medical archives in search of a way to treat Rhine. They’d lost a good bit of hair in the process—true, they hadn’t found a solution, but their attitude had been right. Their ability was limited, not their dedication.

Besides, once they left, who would take over Rhine’s care? Who would dare touch such a hot potato? But when the words reached her lips, she swallowed them back down.

When Lin Zhu went to find Vera, his first words came out with a bitter smile.

He said, “Now, every time I close my eyes, I see the first time I met Rhine. He was only eight then, in a postwar shelter. While the other children waited for relief rations, he crouched in a corner, dismantling a scrap of an energy gun with his bare hands.” As he recalled the past, his eyes were full of admiration, regret, and sorrow. “With those little hands, he took apart pieces that even adults needed tools for, laying them neatly at his feet.”

Great men always favored gifted children.

No wonder Rhine had been protected by Vera all the way, raised to be a god of war—protected so well he’d never lost that untainted, almost naïve quality.

He went on, “I asked him what he wanted to do when he grew up. He said, ‘Go to war. Kill insectoid…’” He stopped, his eyes reddening, unable to go on.

Better to wait.

Wait until he’d recovered a bit before bringing it up again. Maybe then, he’d be able to listen.

Lin Zhu let out a long sigh. On the way back, she started her livestream. She had to admit, she was really bored—so bored she’d counted Rhine’s eyelashes over and over. One hundred twenty-three on the left, one hundred seventeen on the right. Asymmetrical, a difference of six.

…Maybe she should pluck six from the left?

As soon as the stream started, the barrage flooded in. In short, the message was:

[You suddenly went offline again—streamer, are you trying to die!!!]

Lin Zhu forced a smile, “Sorry, sorry, it’s just… well, things aren’t looking good.”

[When have things ever looked good for you?]

[The streamer’s always “good”—it’s just her brain that’s not up to the task, always misjudging, hahaha]

[Exactly, exactly…]

[Last time she said “ok,” then got thrown in jail.]

[The time before that she said “ok,” then got sent for a psychic test.]

[The time before that she said “ok,” and her man took her place in the execution chamber.]

Lin Zhu: “……” She decided to defend herself. “I don’t say ‘ok’ every time.”

[Enough, stop arguing. What’s happened this time?]

[Don’t tell me your man’s really crippled now?]

[Even if he is, it’s fine—wheelchair imprisonment play, even more exciting.]

[Can you people show some humanity? He’s dying and you’re still shipping the CP.]

[So what if he’s dying? Even dead, he’s still our Admiral Rhine—the cold-faced, killer-handsome hunk.]

Lin Zhu closed her eyes and skipped over the CP shippers. In a few words, she told them about Rhine’s condition these days, but her limited description wasn’t enough to satisfy the viewers. After listening for a while, they distilled three key points: lying down, not moving, handsome. They got anxious.

[Go back! Now! Immediately! We want to see for ourselves!]

With Cohen escorting her, Lin Zhu returned. The high-tech hospital room made the viewers gasp in awe. The CP shippers, sharp-eyed as ever, confirmed that only Lin Zhu was ever in the room with Rhine and immediately started feeding her all sorts of scenarios—bed scenes, comatose beauty, wheelchair hunk… She was embarrassed. Not streaming was boring, but streaming didn’t seem to make things any better…

Still, the familiar presence of living people made her feel alive, so she didn’t turn off the stream. She sat down in a chair and let her soul drift for a while.

A teal message floated by:

[Spinal nerve burns, severed neural connections—sounds like paralysis to me.]

Others chimed in:

[Paralysis isn’t easy to cure. My grandma’s been paralyzed for years and never got out of bed.]

[Maybe you just didn’t take good care of her, didn’t get her proper treatment.]

[Bullshit, I didn’t take care of her? You’re the one who didn’t take care of yours…]

[Bullshit yourself. You’re the one who didn’t take care of her, you’re unfilial, your whole family’s unfilial…]

Why were they arguing? She tried to click them away.

As soon as her thought flickered, the two arguing messages vanished. She let out a weary sigh, wanting to lie down for a bit. But seeing the steady stream of teal messages, she sat up straight again.

[Paralysis is hard to treat, but it depends on the case.]

[Streamer, you could try acupuncture. A friend’s wife recovered from lower limb paralysis with acupuncture.]

For once, someone wasn’t being wicked—Lin Zhu almost teared up. But then:

[If he dies from it, don’t blame me.]

……

……

……

Lin Zhu looked at Rhine again. If you ignored his bloodless face, he looked just like he was sleeping—obedient, handsome, not even a sound of breathing. For a light sleeper like her, it was ideal.

Maybe… desperate times called for desperate measures?

Once the idea took root, it grew like bamboo after rain. But if she really killed him with the needles…

She thought of Sutherland’s face, the way he looked like he wanted to eat her alive, thought of how they all saw her as a mutated insectoid, how keeping her with Rhine was just a way of imprisoning her…

Stifling!

So fucking stifling!!

The more she thought about it, the more suffocating it felt!

She was a proper funeral director back on Earth—never had to clock in and could go anywhere she pleased on her little e-scooter. Now? She’d been locked up for two months—two months!

Lin Zhu made up her mind. She’d needle him.

If he died, at least she’d be free. If he lived… well, they’d see. She looked at the screen with tragic resolve. “I’ll do it. But you all have to help me come up with a reliable plan.”

The viewers were (wickedly) passionate as ever. The teal message piped up:

[Streamer, get closer, from above, let me take a good look at him.]

Lin Zhu was standing by the bed, the screen in front of her, a little diagonally toward Rhine. Hearing someone finally get down to business, she quickly turned the camera to face Rhine.

The barrage said it wasn’t clear, told her to get closer, so she bent down. Still not clear, they said, so she bent a bit more. Every time they said a little more, she bent a little more…

Then, teal guy got impatient.

[Are you squeezing toothpaste or what?]

Lin Zhu had bent several times, but there was still more than twenty centimeters between her and Rhine. That impatience set her own temper flaring, but she held it in.

She gritted her teeth, braced her hands on either side of Rhine’s pillow, and suddenly lowered her face—now she was just inches from his.

Rhine’s stunning face filled the screen—those lashes, that nose, those lips… The CP shippers went wild, screenshots flying everywhere, all over the world, screens cleared for that face-to-face moment…

Lin Zhu, slow on the uptake, stared at Rhine.

She’d gotten close before, when shaving him, but never this close… She could smell the faint, cold scent on him, and that unique aura of an S-class psychic male.

Her heart thudded traitorously. That teal message told her to move lower, and she found herself moving as if controlled… But when she saw Rhine’s belt, the awkwardness of the posture hit her—she realized… she’d definitely been played by these wicked viewers.

Teal guy must be a CP shipper, just trying to get them to… do something on camera… Lin Zhu straightened up at once, flicked her hair. “Wow, you’ll do anything for your ship, huh? I actually believed you wanted to help me treat him.”

Teal guy replied, teal as ever, [I’m serious, I was studying! Why’d you stop?] [Who’s shipping? I’m from a family of traditional Chinese medicine, blah blah blah…]

Lin Zhu couldn’t be bothered to argue. “Anyway, I’ve had enough. If he doesn’t wake up soon, I’ll just go die. Then you can watch your livestream and your CP in the next life.”

Seeing she was really angry, the barrage got serious. Teal guy continued, [Streamer, go get your man’s medical records, let me take a look.] [I really am from a TCM family. If I’m lying, may Sutherland’s whole family drop dead.]

Lin Zhu couldn’t help but laugh. Looked like Sutherland had truly earned everyone’s wrath. She calmed herself and decided to be sincere. “If Rhine gets better, we’ll get to see more of the wonders of the stars, right? So you all have to help me—really, sincerely help me.”

The barrage scrolled with okokokok.

Only then did Lin Zhu decide to fetch Rhine’s medical records.

Before the medical team was dismissed, they’d handed Rhine’s records to Vera. Lin Zhu didn’t want to go to him—she couldn’t stand the look on that old man’s face—so she contacted Cohen, asking him to pass on her request to see Rhine’s records, nothing more.

That afternoon, Cohen delivered the chip containing Rhine’s records and told her, “Press the blue light on the edge for three seconds to switch to the common language.”

The chip had its own projection function. When Rhine’s records appeared on the screen, Lin Zhu switched it to the common tongue and let her “advisors” take a look. There were over a dozen pages; just reading them took most of the day. Finally, two messages floated by:

[L1-L5 injury—that’s a severed Du meridian.]

[Spinal cord injury. In TCM, it’s called ‘body inertia.’ The old medical texts have records.]

The barrage filled with “+1.” Lin Zhu asked, “So, how do I treat it?”

[Acupuncture.]

[Streamer, buy a set of needles. We’ll teach you live.]

Lin Zhu blinked. “Acupuncture?” Instinctively, she contacted Cohen.

Cohen was on his way back. When his wrist communicator signaled, he answered, and after hearing Lin Zhu’s request, frowned. “Acupuncture? What’s that?”

Lin Zhu, “Um…”

Acupuncture was ancient wisdom. Even people from other countries on Earth might not recognize it at first, let alone someone from a distant galaxy who’d never even heard of Earth. After several explanations, he was still at a loss. Lin Zhu just said “bye” and hung up.

The viewers heard her conversation and told her to go buy some needles.

She was speechless—six dots of ellipsis. “Where am I supposed to buy them? Even the Marshal’s chief secretary doesn’t know what acupuncture is, and you expect this planet to have it?”

[If you can’t buy needles, use a chopstick. As long as you don’t kill him, just stab away.]

[If you mess it up, blame Cohen. If you get it right, it’s your credit. Can’t lose.]

[Exactly. Just say it’s alien acupuncture, the first in the galaxy. Livestream it, sell the kit.]

[Yeah, just use anything. Be bold. It’s not like he can get up and hit you.]

Lin Zhu: “………………” She blinked. “Can we be a little more serious?”