CHAPTER 45: CHAPTER 26: THAT PROLONGED ’AHHH’ SOUND AT THE END

"Do you think the whole world’s brains are dangling from your scrawny head?" A heavenly voice weighing three hundred and forty pounds shattered all of The Pouting Siren’s plans.

Sean Lowell had a conditioned reflex to this voice.

Like a high school senior who missed his morning alarm, the master was almost frightened into sitting up in bed.

Then he suddenly noticed the "evidence" of a drip attached to his hand.

Instinctively, he wanted to hide his hand under the quilt.

In his rush, he moved too quickly, nearly pulling out the needle.

The whole set of actions took merely two seconds, yet somehow this patient turned it into a bit of a "comedy."

Gordon Sterling walked to Sean Lowell’s bedside.

He remained silent.

He began flipping through the admission records hanging from the doctor’s headboard.

"40 degrees? Do you think you’re a three-year-old? How have you managed to get yourself to 40 degrees?"

His pleasant voice, combined with his agitated tone, seemed a bit off.

Especially since Dr. William Walsh noted in black and white that Sean Lowell had a high fever for over 24 hours when he woke up inquired about the medical history.

What does this indicate?

This indicates he had a fever last night, and as his "manager," I was completely unaware.

Gordo was genuinely furious, but he didn’t lash out at anyone.

Because the person he was most angry with was himself.

Initially wanting to say more, he refrained because there were others in the hospital room, not just him and Sean Lowell.

"Why are you here now? Wasn’t there a live broadcast? I was thinking, once this bottle is done, I’d head back to the club to wait for you to pick me up." Even at this time, if Sean Lowell came up with any excuse, he wouldn’t deserve the title of "brother."

"The restaurant I arranged for you, do you imagine with a snap of your fingers, would be my guy or yours?" Gordo found it hard to "ya," but it came naturally when needed.

If not for The Jilted’s daily "cultivation" outside, he would have hired at least three bodyguards for Sean Lowell.

In fact, after the incident of being splashed by Artie Vaughn, Gordon Sterling had contacted several security companies in the last couple of days.

From now on, as long as Sean Lowell attends an event, even if it’s in a soundproof glass room, bodyguards must accompany him.

Gordon Sterling was still shaken.

Though Artie Vaughn was "rash," she’d not been considered strong enough to truss a chicken.

If someone like her can casually approach Sean Lowell, if someone with malicious intent were to come, the consequences would be unimaginable.

The opportunity to be splashed with water implies an opportunity to be splashed with other things.

This was in a "private venue" that only invited 100 winery representatives.

Just think about a presentation for Lowe-Fairmont Tipples; the scale would be 100 times larger.

The thought alone was terrifying.

He constantly brags about being The Jilted’s manager, yet he hadn’t done much of what a real manager should do.

Gordon Sterling felt intensely conflicted.

The last time he had an extremely masculine confrontation with Artie Vaughn, it was also to vent his dissatisfaction with himself.

Gordon Sterling would never permit "The Divine Palate" to be splashed with water, allowing such an event to occur the moment he let his guard down.

So until he selected a security company, Gordon Sterling didn’t want Sean Lowell meeting up with The Vaughn Siblings for a meal.

But today’s dinner involved a long-time shadow of Sean Lowell’s dreams, making Gordon feel it was pointless to stop him.

After much consideration, Gordon arranged for Sean Lowell the most private club and personally escorted him there two hours in advance.

Only after confirming again and again that there were no issues did he rush to today’s scheduled live broadcast at the winery.

Leo Vaughn could call Gordon, so could the club manager.

However, since Leo Vaughn called after the manager, Gordon returned Leo’s call first.

In the very next call, Gordon learned that Sean Lowell had been taken by ambulance.

Gordo immediately ended the latter half of the broadcast and told the driver to drive him straight to the hospital.

Gordon refrained from calling Leo Vaughn to question him on the way, fearing those at the hospital might alter the records or cover up Sean Lowell’s condition, knowing he was on his way.

Gordon was filled with guilt for not being with his own "artist" during such a critical time.

His way of expressing guilt was to find out what was wrong with The Jilted’s brain.

Now that the manager was here, Master Sean Lowell didn’t need to "watch the clock" to get discharged.

The girl who came to the rescue felt there was no space for her to perform in such a large hospital room.

So: "Ah brother, Summer Fairmont just got off the plane, hasn’t eaten, or taken a bath, let Artie take Summer home first. You three can discuss the press conference properly, uh... no... you can rest a bit, uh... no... is to let Master Sean Lowell rest properly..."

The Pouting Siren felt inexplicably lacking in confidence when seeing Gordo.

Wasn’t I just thinking of exposing this broadcaster whose height equals his weight the day before?

Today, for some reason, just looking at Gordo’s round figure made me lose my courage.

Inexplicably, Sean Lowell felt guilty, Artie Vaughn felt even guiltier than Sean Lowell.

"Well, Mr. Sterling, please sit for a while, I’ll call the doctor, and you can talk with Dr. Walsh to see what further examinations are appropriate. I’ll send these two ladies to the car and then come back immediately to admit my mistakes." Leo Vaughn also wished to avoid any more tensions.

Gordon Sterling didn’t reply, choosing to ignore everyone in the room except Sean Lowell.

Gordon Sterling noticed Sean Lowell’s attempt to hide his hand just now.

Gordo picked up Sean Lowell’s hand with the IV drip to inspect it.

He just couldn’t understand why someone as gentle as himself seemed to instill fear in one and all.

"The IV is using a venous catheter, it’s not that easy to have issues," Sean Lowell explained somewhat unconfidently.

"Catheter, you actually dared to mention the catheter! Since the needle needs to stay, it means you also need to stay. The nurse gives you this kind of needle and already knows it will take more than a day to sort out your illness, right?"

"I’m really fine, just didn’t rest well, and have a slight fever."

"Fine, and you’d still end up on an ambulance?!" Gordo’s extremely charismatic voice and explosive personality would make him an ideal target for The Wellness Punk Association.

"Wasn’t it due to your... influence on them?" Sean Lowell originally wanted to say it was making a mountain out of a molehill, but upon reflection, thought it inappropriate and swallowed his words.

"Why’d you swallow it back if you wanted to say handsome me was making a mountain out of a molehill? Overthinking, eh? ’Look up at the moon, hang your head and wail’. I’m praying day and night, hoping for your demise so I can inherit your paltry 19.8 million followers." Gordon Sterling would never admit how much he cares about Sean Lowell’s health.

"Aren’t they all with you now?" Sean Lowell was amused by Gordon Sterling.

Though it wasn’t an obvious smile, it was enough to reveal his mood at the moment.

His roommate, his best partner, always had a quirky way of showing concern.

"Not the same! You’re not dead, so I have to continuously see those clueless people flooding the livestream chat with [Our broadcaster is a coward, but talks a lot]. When did I ever talk too much?"

"Hmm, you have such a quiet demeanor." Sean Lowell’s tone was somewhat sincere.

"It’s one thing to say I talk too much, but they constantly clamor to watch videos of The Jilted. Isn’t my ’godlike Marshal of the Heavenly Canopy countenance’ enough for them? Isn’t it infuriating, what say you? If you don’t die, I’ll be infuriated to death."

"..."

"..."

"I’m fine, you don’t have to specifically say funny things to cheer me up, I’m used to disappointment. Moreover, this feeling of disappointment is quite good, it reminds me that I always carry hope."

Between brothers, some things actually don’t need to be said aloud.

From Gordon Sterling’s perspective, it’s easy to link Sean Lowell’s fainting with two events.

The first, of course, is Artie Vaughn spilling two pots of tea over Sean Lowell.

The second is upon seeing Summer Fairmont, only to realize it’s not the Summer Lowell he missed dearly.

"Not even my sea-view house on The Inmon Plains got swept away by waves, what could be wrong with you?" The top humorist stepped up.

"Mine in Tibet didn’t even get hit by a typhoon." Sean Lowell rarely played along.

"Even the one atop the Himalayas is fine, what could be wrong with you?" Not to be outdone, Gordon Sterling, in terms of cracking jokes, has never conceded defeat.

"Mine in The Sahara Desert is fine too." Sean Lowell continued to cooperate.

"Even the one on Mars is fine, what could be wrong with you?"

"..."

Beyond the Earth, Gordon Sterling claimed victory.

On the way back after dropping off Artie Vaughn and Summer Fairmont, Leo Vaughn additionally brought in Dr. William Walsh, who was still trembling from Artie’s coyness.

"Currently we haven’t found any issues with the patient, mainly administering antipyretic and nutrient injections to boost resistance. I’m not an ENT specialist, specifically, if you still want a consultation, I’ll arrange it for tomorrow."

Without Artie present, Dr. Walsh could comfortably continue sharing his opinions and suggestions:

"It’s past business hours today, and it’s inappropriate to summon big experts at night. Shall we schedule the consultation for tomorrow afternoon?"

Dr. William Walsh was indeed frightened by The Devilish Lolita.

To the extent that he wouldn’t dare enter unless The Pouting Siren left.

Some people often have goosebumps, frequently shaking them off.

Some have enough once it’s been shed once.

.........

"The Universe’s Most Beautiful Ms. Talia Tate, Cupid’s Earth General Agent has whisked your daughter-in-law home~~" A first-rate agent with tear-inducing prowess, if it’s not a hit-or-miss phrase, it’s walking towards one.

In a twenty-four-room, five-story mansion, the trailing ’ahhhh’ after the la sound reverberated...