Ticking time bomb

Another day of filming had come to an end. The atmosphere on the set was quite lively today, not only because the afternoon's shoot had progressed remarkably well, even wrapping up twenty minutes ahead of schedule, but also because of Elliot's unexpected appearance. "50/50" had unexpectedly gained a free publicity opportunity. For an independent film crew, this was truly precious.

After Jonathan announced the end of work for the day, everyone buzzed with discussions about going to a bar for a drink and relaxation. Many responded positively to the idea.

However, Renly wasn't part of the excitement.

He felt a sense of weariness permeating his entire body. While it was true that the afternoon's shoot had gone smoothly and his performance remained exceptional, without any recurrence of vomiting, there was a lingering fatigue that made it difficult to summon energy. His head, which throbbed faintly, was of no assistance either. He needed to return early to rest.

After exchanging greetings with Seth, Jonathan, and others, Renly left with Nathan.

On the way back from the hospital to the residence, Nathan kept observing Renly through the rearview mirror with a cautious look. It was evident to perceptive eyes that Renly's physical condition wasn't good. He even looked unwell on camera, without needing any makeup. His pale complexion carried a tiredness and sickness, and he seemed to have lost weight, causing genuine concern.

Nathan wanted to help, but he didn't know how to approach it. He tightly shut his mouth to maintain silence in the car, allowing Renly a moment of tranquility.

The drive of about thirty minutes wasn't as long as imagined. Nathan parked the car by the roadside, and before he could say anything, he saw Renly open the car door and head straight for the apartment's entrance.

His weary steps seemed somewhat heavy. The bleak cold wind outlined the feeble contours of his shoulders, and his deep blue jacket seemed incapable of shielding him from Seattle's chill. The overcast gray skies appeared ready to devour that lonely figure at any moment, leaving a bitter taste on Nathan's tongue.

"50/50" wasn't a comedy? Then why did Renly's filming seem so arduous, as if he were burning his life force to complete his work each day?

Nathan turned off the engine and hurried to catch up with Renly's steps. His eyes were filled with worry. Approaching him, Nathan took out his keys and unlocked the main door. He pushed the door open and saw Andy Rogers sitting in the living room. Without greeting, Nathan just nodded slightly in acknowledgment and stepped aside, allowing Renly to enter.

Renly walked into the living room and immediately spotted Andy. He tightened his jaw briefly, but didn't say much. He went straight toward the direction of the couch, slowly sat down, propped up his legs, stretched out on the couch, closed his eyes, and began to rest.

His movements were delicate, cautious as if he feared disturbing the floating dust in the air. Methodical and precise, no excessive force, no exaggerated motion, no audible sound. It was as if he was performing a silent play, the subtle undercurrent of desolation leaking through his every gesture.

Andy's lips twitched slightly, a moment of hesitation in his eyes. He looked up at Nathan, questioning with his gaze. Nathan gently shook his head, the worry between his brows clearly conveyed his concern.

Andy's heart sank, realizing the situation was even worse than he had imagined.

Recently, Renly's physical condition had been less than ideal. Nathan had been promptly reporting his condition, and it was genuinely worrying. This was the reason Andy had made a special trip to Seattle. Otherwise, with the Oscar race underway, the busiest time of the year, Andy wouldn't have been able to spare any time.

But now, it seemed that Andy understood that words were too feeble to describe Renly's condition.

"Renly, are you okay?" Andy looked at Renly, carefully considering his tone, and asked with concern.

Renly didn't open his eyes, yet a slight lift at the corner of his mouth was visible. "Someone asked me the same question this afternoon," Renly said, referring to the content of "50/50", Adam and Katherine's psychological consultations. "I'd love to give an affirmative answer, but I'm afraid that might be quite difficult."

Laced with self-deprecating humor, it was the typical Renly style. But after the brief jest, his smile slightly faded. "I have a headache now. Could you let me rest for a while, if possible?"

Polite and gentlemanly words carried an underlying, unyielding tone that was impossible to refuse. His fatigue and impatience could be faintly sensed.

This version of Renly was both familiar and unfamiliar. Andy raised his head again, glancing at Nathan, who just shrugged as if he had become accustomed to this.

Andy hesitated for a moment, then said with concern, "Renly, what's going on? Are you feeling unwell? Do you need some time off to rest, or perhaps a comprehensive examination?"

Renly's lips pursed slightly. "Yes, I need rest, but you're still talking." His sharp words were softer, lacking the usual banter and sarcasm. But while they sounded milder, they were uncomfortable to hear, creating an awkward atmosphere.

Andy adjusted his sitting posture, showing hesitation. Under normal circumstances, he would have turned and left, allowing Renly to rest. Because usually, Renly wouldn't make unreasonable requests. But the current situation was highly unusual. This version of Renly was truly puzzling, leaving Andy deeply concerned.

"Renly, you understand what I mean," Andy's smile persisted, but his expression turned sincere. "I mean, I could talk to the crew and arrange for you to take some time off. Your health is more important than any filming."

"Hmm." A faint smile tugged at the corners of Renly's mouth. It wasn't one of joy or jubilation, but rather, one of mockery and disdain. "This isn't like you, Andy. For a manager, the artist is important, but what's even more crucial is profit. Suddenly becoming so friendly and compassionate, it seems the demeanor of a manager has vanished into thin air."

Andy's expression stiffened briefly, but he didn't explode. Years of self-control enabled him to remain sufficiently composed and collected. Besides, he knew Renly's current condition was truly dire; he was firing on all cylinders. On the contrary, a hint of bitterness flashed in Andy's eyes. It seemed he was going to experience what reporters often went through under the firestorm of questions.

"Renly, we're just concerned about you," Nathan's decorum wasn't quite up to par. He sounded urgent.

"Are you concerned about my condition, or are you concerned that my condition is so bad that I won't be able to attend the Oscar ceremony?" Renly's acerbic words delivered a heavy blow to Nathan, leaving him rooted in place. Even Andy wore an astonished expression for a moment.

This Version of Renly wasn't just unfamiliar; he was almost unrecognizable.

In ordinary times, Renly was always a gentleman, not just in his behavior and manners, but also in his style of speech. However, the Renly before them now carried an uncontrollable anger beneath his calm exterior. You could clearly feel the roaring flames of his fury within his chest.

It even seemed a bit cynical and world-weary.

This wasn't the Renly that Andy knew, yet it was the first time Andy had seen Renly lose control. Could this be Renly's true face? The thought hadn't fully formed when Andy shook his head in denial; there had to be other reasons. And then, Andy's suspicions were confirmed.

"I'm sorry," Renly's voice came through, his words tinged with frustration, radiating throughout his body.

Renly rubbed his temples, where a faint throbbing pain pulsed. It was as if the twitching veins were tugging at every nerve in his body, leaving him taut and tense. There was an unnamed fire deep within him, unruly and uncontrollable. Even Renly himself felt somewhat unaccustomed to this state.

In his previous life, after truly realizing he was paralyzed, he went through a period like this. An inexplicable anger dominated his mind. Anything, anyone, even the tiniest detail or movement could easily infuriate him. He directed his anger at everyone, without considering others' good intentions and kindness, viewing them merely as pity.

But that sense of loss of control had become distant. He hadn't expected to experience this uncontrollable emotion again.

He knew that this time, he wasn't acting as Chu Jiashu, but as Adam. Finally, he was truly feeling the effects of cancer. The side effects of chemotherapy were one thing, but his body starting to lose control was another. Fear and restlessness were gradually disrupting his normal routine, as well as his emotional balance.

"I'm sorry." He reiterated, "I shouldn't have said that. My earlier words were really uncalled for. Please forgive my lack of control." He lightly massaged his temples, but the sharp, burning pain wouldn't dissipate. It was as if his entire body was roasting over flames.

Andy and Nathan exchanged glances, both ordinary people. Neither was a doctor or a therapist, and they had no idea how to handle the situation.

Finally, Andy hesitantly spoke up, "What happened? You seem deeply troubled. What's going on? Could it be related to emotions?" Although Renly had never mentioned it, he was currently in a relationship. This was Andy's most plausible guess. "Renly, talk to me. Tell me. Only when I know can I help. If you keep silent, the problem won't be resolved."

"I need rest. That's the root of the problem," Renly's tone grew impatient once more. "You came all the way to Seattle, not for my personal issues, right? So, if there's something, just say it directly. There's no need to beat around the bush. If it's about the Oscar ceremony, I can tell you that I don't intend to attend."

"What?" Andy was utterly shocked, completely unprepared for the turn of events. Even with his seasoned experience, he felt a bit lost at the moment.