Exclusive Rights to An Online Voice Actor

Chapter 24

Thank yous to Cloud88 for recharging me with coffee loll <3

Editor: Whiteflare

Jade Butterfly seemed to be a strong believer that “sleeping early helps maintain the condition of your skin”. Normally, 11 PM was already her limit. Her heart ached dreadfully when she saw that it was approaching 11:30 PM. She hurriedly took her leave, going offline amidst the clatter of her putting away her skincare products.

Qi Jing habitually glanced at the timer. Taking out the time she spent applying her face mask and moisturising, the time they actually spent on having a proper talk only amounted to ten minutes.

Right now, most of the residents of the buildings across the street had already turned off their lights and gone to bed. In the pitch-black darkness outside, there were a few bokeh of lights beyond his window, flickering in the raindrops.

Qi Jing yawned, feeling a wave of sleepiness wash over him.

Just as he was about to close the QQ app and read a few more blog posts before going to sleep, a notification popped up at the bottom right corner of the screen: there was a new email in his QQ mailbox.

At first, he thought it was from a producer who was sending him a script at this time, but who knew that in the sender’s box sat three striking words: Geese Fly North.

He got the shock of his life. Could it be that there was some delay in QQ’s notification system?

In an instant, any form of sleepiness vanished without a trace as he quickly opened the email titled “I hope this helps”. He checked that the email was indeed delivered just thirty seconds ago. Qi Jing didn’t even look at the contents of the email, but instead, went to open his friends list. That person’s avatar had lit up again at some point.

Qi Jing hastily sent him a message.

Don’t ask for my return date: (Surprised) I thought you’d already be in bed.

Geese Fly North: That was my initial intention, but I suddenly got a call from my friend after going offline. I wanted to send you his advice as soon as possible, so I went back online to email you.

Only then, did Qi Jing notice that the content of the email was all related to treating patients with ulnar and radius fractures: how to adjust their diet, how to carry out rehabilitation, and so on. Qi Jing’s heart was instantly warmed by the gesture; he couldn’t help but hurriedly put back on the headphones he had already placed aside for fear of the other party exiting the program in the next second.

This was the first time he took the initiative to send the request for a call.

He didn’t think that—without waiting for tomorrow to come—he would be able to hear that voice a second time before the day ended.

However, would it affect the other party’s rest? After all, it was already pretty late.

The moment “reasoning” returned to him, Qi Jing slightly regretted sending out that request on an impulse. As he hesitated, he unwittingly moved his cursor onto the “Cancel” button—hoping he could cut it off before it was too late.

However, right as he was about to click on the “Cancel” button, it disappeared, and the audio chat control panel took its place.

The other party had already accepted his request for an audio call.

Qi Jing sucked in a breath, feeling guilty. Just as he was going to apologise, Geese Fly North spoke first, “I’m sorry. I didn’t check who was online when I logged in and went straight to my mailbox to craft the email. I thought that… you had already gone to bed.”

Well, generally speaking, one should indeed go to bed immediately saying good night.

Qi Jing smiled apologetically and said, “I have a habit of scrolling through other people’s blogs before sleeping. Then, I also happened to exchange a few words with the producer for a drama and before I realised, it had already gotten this late.”

Right now, the night was quiet, so Geese Fly North’s sigh sounded even clearer and closer to Qi Jing’s ear as he spoke, “You’re a patient; you need to rest in order to recover.”

“Tomorrow is still a workday, yet you aren’t resting properly either,” Qi Jing said to him in turn.

Even though he wanted to smile—concealing the mess that was the turmoil in his heart—he just couldn’t seem to find the strength to lift the corners of his mouth. Geese Fly North’s words had sapped any resistance of his, landing directly into his heart.

“Yesterday, I left a message for a friend of mine; he specialises in orthopaedic trauma and often works the night shift. He didn’t have time to return my call during the day and only called me an hour ago. I noted down what he said, so you can read it when you wake up tomorrow.” Geese Fly North slowly explained his reasons to Qi Jing in a serious tone.

“So just now… you’ve been writing this up this whole time?” Qi Jing asked, slightly stunned.

“Un, I was scared I might miss some details if I left it until tomorrow, so I quickly wrote it all down while it was still fresh in my mind.”

Qi Jing was at a loss for words.

He redirected his gaze back to his inbox. The email was packed with words, sectioned into paragraphs, each going into detail while being easy to understand. It wasn’t the type of information that was copied off the internet; it was all typed out, word by word, by Geese Fly North himself.

Sensing Qi Jing’s silence, Geese Fly North seemed to slightly lower his voice. “W-Was that too much?”

Qi Jing denied his thought three times in one breath. “No. It isn’t. You wouldn’t.”

After saying that, he fell back into silence again.

Time slipped away in the quiet—one second, one minute, at a time. Even though it was clear that they should go offline soon to rest, neither of them made a move.

Not speaking was Geese Fly North’s usual reaction.

However, Qi Jing didn’t speak either, as if he had been infected with the illness known as selective mutism. At that moment, he found it incredibly difficult to gather the words in his brain to form a response.

“That’s not the case.” Finally, he said no for the fourth time, his voice a little hoarse.

There was no response from Geese Fly North’s side, but Qi Jing knew he was listening. And that he had to be frank to clear up any misunderstanding this long silence might have caused.

Qi Jing started by laughing—the embarrassed kind of laugh—before clarifying himself, “I don’t think that you were overstepping. It’s just… Hahaha… I’m sorry, my attitude might suggest otherwise, but I’m actually really happy.”

Once he finally managed to get the first words out, he paused for a bit before continuing, “It’s just that… it’s been so long since someone showed such concern for me that I’m probably not used to it, and… a little shy or something.”

Then, he laughed at himself.

At this time, Geese Fly North suddenly said, “Then, how can I get you used to it?”

Qi Jing was completely frozen in front of his computer; never in his wildest imaginations would he have thought that this would be the response from the other party.

While he still had the smile on his face, Qi Jing tried to get through the topic in a joking manner. “What’s good about getting used to that? Developing unnecessary dependence will only slowly make one unable to bear hardship.”

Geese Fly North replied, his voice just as firm as ever, without a hint of amusement for Qi Jing’s words, “I don’t think that’s unnecessary dependence.”

This time, he couldn’t even play it off anymore.

Qi Jing stiffened in his seat and did not reply.

While Geese Fly North continued, “Don’t be embarrassed to accept others’ concern. Especially since you are still injured, this is something you deserve and you can learn to get used to it. There’s no need to be shy… or anything like that.”

The little pause at the end of his statement elicited a chuckle from Qi Jing. It felt like the person who said it was a better reflection of the word than the person listening.

“I really can’t win against you. Alright, I try to get used to it.” Qi Jing compromised as he shook his head with a smile.

How could he win against that when his heart was already filled to the brim—overflowing, even—with warmth from a single email. There was no need to go out of his way to deny it. And it was precisely because he knew that person’s kindness was genuine that it was impossible for him to selfishly deny it.

“I’ll be sure to carefully read through your email.” I won’t even wait till tomorrow; I’ll finish reading it tonight even if I have to stay up late.

“Mhm.” Geese Fly North’s voice sounded slightly relieved.

“I will also be sure to properly follow everything as stated.”

“Mhm.”

“Well then, please continue taking care of this little ol’ injured person—chatting and exchanging emails and such,” Qi Jing said half-seriously and half-jokingly.

Unexpectedly, Geese Fly North fell silent for a while.

He was quiet for such a long time that Qi Jing even wondered if either one of them had gone offline and repeatedly looked up to check the QQ chat window.

“If…”

When he spoke up again, his voice was so soft it was barely audible.

“If I went to visit you, would you find it… strange?”

Qi Jing was momentarily stunned.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to react, but what the other party said made it hard for him to give an immediate reaction.

When he finally came back to his senses a bit, his first reaction was to laugh—it was the kind where he was laughing in the understanding that the other party was deliberately teasing him.

Hence, he teased back in turn without backing away, “The National Day holiday has already ended; just how will you find the time to come over to visit? How many days will it take by train? Or are you planning on parachuting down? It might actually be faster that way.”

From his teasing tone, it was obvious that Qi Jing didn’t take the person’s words seriously.

For a long while, no sound came from his headphones except for the occasional hissing sound of the electric current captured by the microphone.

“You’re right.” When Geese Fly North opened his mouth again, he spoke in a rather hoarse whisper that Qi Jing seldom heard from him. “It was indeed quite impractical.”

“Don’t mind it, it’s the thought that counts,” Qi Jing said with a smile, “Thank you.”

“Mhm… You really should go to bed now.” Geese Fly North softly reminded him of the time.

Qi Jing glanced to the side and saw that it had already passed twelve midnight.

“You too. This time, I’ll really be turning off my computer,” Qi Jing threw out a little white lie.

He had planned on studying the relevant information Geese Fly North had specially compiled for him after closing QQ as his own way of thanking the man.

“Good night.” That man’s second goodnight of the day sounded much more natural.

“Keke,” Qi Jing teased him one last time with a chuckle, “That’s not right, it should be ‘good morning’ now.”

This time, Geese Fly North laughed softly as well.

“Sleep.”

As the sound of the storm outside the window grew louder, it made that word sound like a whisper.

“Patients suffering from bone fracture should avoid consuming caffeinated beverages, such as coffee itself.”

The moment he read that line, Qi Jing silently stared at the emptied cup of coffee by his hand and knitted his brows together—troubled.

“In the early stages, the fracture patient should adopt a light diet. Avoid greasy, fried, and spicy food. Even the bone broth that’s widely popular should not be consumed.”

…Well great, the food he had been eating these few days, which he bought from the restaurants around his neighbourhood, were all part of this list of foods to be avoided.

Qi Jing did know that the food sold outside wasn’t that clean. Eating those foods for long periods of time also wasn’t good for his stomach. And since for the restaurants, it was all about the colour, aroma, and flavour of the dishes, there was no way they could be light-handed with the oil, salt, sauce, and vinegar. Moreover, where he was staying, the local cuisine tended towards relatively stronger flavours, so mildly flavoured foods were often hard to find.

But just drinking clear soup wouldn’t be able to replenish his body with the nutrients it needed.

In the email Geese Fly North sent Qi Jing, he also provided a list of what he should eat and what he should eat less of. It made it a lot easier for Qi Jing; he just needed to buy groceries according to the list.

Qi Jing decided to stop getting takeaways and start cooking for himself.

The next day, his fridge that had been empty for the longest time was finally filled with stuff. He had specially picked up fruits that didn’t require peeling; bought two portions of milk for both Big and Little Return Date; some vegetables to be blanched; and a few eggs for protein.

He wasn’t sure if it was the cat’s special body clock doing its thing, but Little Return Date had been sleepy for the whole day, just lying in the blanket, not causing any ruckus. Qi Jing was more than happy to use that window of time to do his grocery shopping while it was napping.

However, when he actually got to the act of cooking, it turned out to be ten times harder than he had imagined. Among other things, just cracking an egg was a tricky task. Most people were accustomed to cracking an egg with both hands. They would open the egg from the cracks, allowing the yolk to flow into the bowl with the egg white.

With his right hand, he knocked the egg against a surface as one normally would, but was stumped when it came to the next step of properly cracking open the egg. He tried to forcefully break the shell by shoving his thumb inside and, in the end, something did come out, just at the cost of crushing the entire egg in his palm. Pieces of the shell fell into the bowl and he could only slowly pick them out one by one.

Another example would be the green veggies.

He could afford to be a little sloppy with washing them, but it wasn’t like he could just throw the entire thing into the pot and cook it whole. Tearing the vegetables? He couldn’t do it with one hand and it would be far too unsightly to do it with both his hand and feet.

In the end, he had to chop it up with a knife.

As the vegetable was rather round in shape, it kept rolling around the chopping board. After fighting with it for what felt like half a day, he finally managed to cut it into bit-sized pieces. Just that this entire process took him ten minutes. He was already in such a mess just making a simple dish; he really couldn’t imagine what he would do when it came to dishes that were slightly more complicated.

“It’s ok. It’s fine, at least it’s healthy.”

Qi Jing consoled himself with that and his mood improved as he finished his meal.

After lunch, there still wasn’t any movement from Little Return Date who was temporarily living in a cardboard box.

Qi Jing had no experience with cats and thought it was just sleeping very well. He didn’t notice anything strange either when he checked on it the first few times. It was only until the afternoon when he heard Little Return Date sneeze very weakly while he was working did he realise that something was wrong.

Little Return Date had woken up by then, but couldn’t fully open its eyes. Its eyes were barely half-open—like two slits—and it looked like it didn’t even have the energy to keep them open. Because it was too dark inside the box, Qi Jing picked up the little guy to carefully observe it under the light. However, the little fella started squirming at the sight of the light and hid under the blanket, refusing to come out.

Qi Jing had his heart in his mouth as he gently stroked it, worried that it had eaten something bad and was unwell. However, the kitty still ate a little and didn’t show any signs of vomiting. It was just that it completely went limp after that.

The temperature of the place his fingers touched seemed rather high, and it wasn’t just the fur, the paw pads felt very warm as well. But he couldn’t tell if it was in the normal range or not.

When Little Return Date started shedding tear-like secretions; its nose wet, as if it had come into contact with water; and its eyes turned bloodshot; Qi Jing was virtually scared silly.

Little Return Date was definitely ill. Qi Jing’s mind was in a mess as he cradled the little guy in his arms, trying to give it as much comfort as he could.

“Meow.”

The little guy would actually occasionally open and look at Qi Jing with its misty eyes. It reached out a trembling paw and patted his chest, as if to comfort him.

The hospital. We have to go to the hospital.

At the same time this thought flashed through Qi Jing’s mind, a person’s name also came up. Because of that name, he stopped dead in his tracks when he was rushing out the door with the kitten in his arms.

“No,” he mumbled to himself, “I just need to find a vet clinic nearby.”

When he realised that he didn’t have to go to that particular hospital, his ragged breathing was finally able to return to normal—slow and steady.

Taking ten thousand steps back, it was illogical and didn’t make any sense for him to go there.

Where he lived was really far from the north of the city; it would probably take far too much time for him to travel there. He didn’t know just what kind of illness Little Return Date had come down with and whether or not it could afford to wait.

Hence, he had to find a clinic nearby.

Thinking of that, Qi Jing went back inside and looked up online for places that provided pet medical services in the neighbourhood. The nearest one was about a fifteen-minute walk away, so it wasn’t too far.

He checked the clock on the wall before he left the house.

Although the journey wasn’t very long, he had no idea how long the check-up would take. There was a chance that he wouldn’t be back in time for the call arranged with Geese Fly North this evening.

A/N: I feel like… I can imagine Dr. Shen’s face as he sits in front of the computer screen aaaaah… _(:з」∠)_

Lilies: poor meow meow :<

Whiteflare: QAQ not used to accepting care and concern!! Poor Qi Jing… Little Return Date, pull through!!