Reality Programming Association

Chapter 96: Chapter 40: Carnival of Anti-Intellectualism

Yu Xian gently closed the door and placed the plastic bag of food and daily necessities on the cabinet by the entrance.

”Senior Sister?”

The room was quiet. He called out tentatively, but there was no response.

Yu Xian’s heart sank. He hurried into the bedroom. By the faint light filtering in from the living room, he saw a dark lump huddled on the bed.

Yang Yiyi was wrapped in a thick comforter, curled into a ball, her body shivering uncontrollably.

Yu Xian rushed over and flipped the switch on the wall.

The sudden incandescent light made the person on the bed stir, letting out a low, pained groan.

”Senior Sister!”

Yu Xian drew closer. Yang Yiyi’s face was a frightening shade of red. The unnatural flush spread all the way to her neck, and her forehead was beaded with sweat, a few strands of hair plastered damply against it.

Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving violently, and her body was still shivering uncontrollably.

”So cold...” Yang Yiyi murmured unconsciously.

Panicked, Yu Xian quickly dug the mercury thermometer he had just bought out of the plastic bag, shook it a few times, and handed it to her.

Yang Yiyi dazedly complied. She was completely limp, without a shred of strength, her eyes hazy and vacant.

Five minutes felt like an eternity.

Taking out the thermometer, Yu Xian angled it toward the light, trying to read the mercury column.

39.8 degrees.

A fever of nearly 40 degrees Celsius was approaching the limits of what the human body could withstand.

He scrambled to find the first-aid kit, then dumped all the medicine from the plastic bag onto the table.

There was only the cold remedy powder he’d just bought and a leftover box of anti-inflammatories.

Yu Xian’s heart sank. The clerk at the pharmacy by the West Gate had said they were sold out of fever reducers. He never expected his senior sister’s fever to be this severe.

This kind of traditional Chinese medicine might work against a low-grade fever, but against a high fever of 40 degrees, it was woefully inadequate.

’The hospital... I have to get her to the hospital...’

Yu Xian pulled out his phone, intending to call a car. But then he remembered the raging storm outside—the floodwaters were already past his knees, and ride-hailing apps had all but shut down. Driving was out of the question; one would be lucky just to avoid being submerged.

Even if he carried Yang Yiyi on his back, in this weather, he’d probably collapse from exhaustion before they even reached the hospital.

’What should I do...’

Yu Xian looked at the pained, haggard Senior Sister Yiyi on the bed, and the verdict of the ”Celestial Killer Lone Star” echoed in his mind once more.

”Danger to those who draw near, harm to those who love.”

’Is it because of me?’

’If she hadn’t helped me investigate that audio file, if I hadn’t asked her that night to help me look into the industrial fund, if I hadn’t dragged her into this...’

’She’d probably still be in her warm dorm room right now, playing on her phone, eating snacks, and chatting with friends.’

’How could she have ended up in this state?’

’No... now isn’t the time for self-blame.’

Yu Xian forced himself to calm down. This was an apartment building with plenty of residents. He remembered joining a tenants’ group chat before.

Though they didn’t interact much and he usually kept the group chat muted, right now, it might be the only way to get some fever medicine.

He typed out a message and sent it. In this kind of weather, the residents in the group were all in the same boat, and someone quickly replied, saying they had ibuprofen and acetaminophen at home.

When Yu Xian saw that line of text, his heart warmed. He replied, ”You’re a lifesaver,” shoved his phone into his pocket, and rushed out the door in his slippers.

In less than three minutes, he came running back, taking the steps two at a time, clutching the precious blister pack of capsules.

Back in the bedroom, he first unwrapped the two containers of fish-fragrant pork over rice that he’d kept warm in a towel, then helped Yang Yiyi sit up.

”Senior Sister, eat something. Take the fever reducer, then go back to sleep.”

Yang Yiyi managed to open her eyes. They were unfocused as she looked at Yu Xian, seemingly barely conscious.

The ”Brother Yi” who was always in control and always looked out for her juniors was now like a porcelain doll—fragile, helpless, and easily broken.

Yu Xian scooped up a little rice mixed with shredded pork on a spoon and carefully fed it into her mouth.

Yang Yiyi forced her mouth open and, as if swallowing bitter medicine, took three or four bites before turning her head away, unable to eat any more.

Yu Xian then twisted open a bottle of electrolyte water and helped her drink a few sips. Only then did he pour some warm water and feed her the red capsule.

After helping his senior sister lie back down and tucking her in, Yu Xian went to the bathroom, soaked a towel in warm water, folded it, and placed it on her forehead.

Yang Yiyi’s tightly furrowed brow relaxed slightly, and her breathing became a little calmer. Only then did Yu Xian let out a long sigh of relief.

He turned off the light, left the bedroom, and sat on the sofa. He didn’t dare to leave.

He was afraid his senior sister’s temperature would rise again, afraid she would have a seizure in the middle of the night, and even more afraid that... the curse would come true again.

The light from the wall lamp was dim. Yu Xian mechanically shoveled the remaining container of fish-fragrant pork over rice into his mouth.

The food had gone a bit cold, and the red oil had congealed on the rice. He had no appetite, but he still forced himself to swallow big mouthfuls.

Senior Sister Yiyi had fallen ill. At a time like this, he had to keep his own body, this machine, running properly.

After finishing his meal, he picked up his phone and sent a message to his cousin:

”Bro, the rain’s too heavy, so I’m not gonna bother coming back. Staying at my rental tonight. You stay safe too.”

He waited a while but received no reply. It made sense. The Jiangcheng Flood Control Headquarters was probably as busy as a wartime command center by now.