Chapter 298

Chapter 298

Half an hour later, the entire VIP ward on the hospital's top floor was cleared.

A team composed of cardiology, neurology, and immunology experts stood on standby under the personal leadership of the hospital director, as if facing a formidable enemy.

They didn't know who they were about to receive—only that Rupert himself was sitting in the conference room, watching them with an expressionless face.

Diana was brought from the lab to the hospital by Rupert, half-coerced.

She didn't resist violently, just looked paler than usual.

She leaned against the hospital bed, watching the various monitoring devices connected to her wrist, her eyes carrying an almost indifferent calm.

She knew her condition, of course.

This wasn't a sudden situation, but a physical warning that had persisted for some time, forcibly suppressed by her willpower and medication.

She had more important things to do. No time to 'be sick.'

When Rupert pushed the door open, he held a preliminary examination report that had just come out.

He pulled over a chair and sat down beside her bed, not opening with accusations about why she'd hidden this.

"The doctors recommend hospitalization for rest and treatment." He stated the facts.

"Not necessary." Diana looked out the window. "It's just an immune system disorder caused by overwork. My own lab has more advanced equipment."

"Can that equipment make you stop and rest?" Rupert asked in return.

Diana fell silent.

"From now on, your lab is temporarily closed. Julian will transfer Athena's access privileges to the terminal here."

Rupert's tone brooked no argument. "You need to do only one thing: rest."

Diana's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

She didn't like this feeling of being arranged, of having control taken away, even in the name of "for her own good."

"Rupert, my body—I know it best."

"You know, so you chose to hide it from me and continue consuming yourself."

He looked at her, his gaze deep. "Diana, with me, you don't have that option."

The next day, the expert team entered the ward that had been converted into a temporary office, carrying detailed consultation plans.

They'd anticipated facing a picky, demanding, but ultimately amateur head of a financial conglomerate.

However, when they began their report, they discovered it was nothing like that at all.

"...Based on blood sample analysis, we recommend using low-dose beta-blockers to stabilize heart rate, combined with..."

"Why not use third-generation calcium channel antagonists?"

Rupert interrupted the attending physician. "Their targeting is stronger, with fewer side effects on the central nervous system. Athena's simulation data shows that given her genetic sequence, the latter has a more stable metabolic cycle."

The room full of experts froze.

The lead professor adjusted his glasses, looking at Rupert before him.

His questions were precise and incisive, each hitting the mark.

"...Regarding neurogenic tremors, we've preliminarily determined it's a neurotransmitter imbalance, planning to adopt supplementary therapy..."

"Which neurotransmitter? Dopamine or acetylcholine? Did you do a cerebrospinal fluid puncture? The tremor frequency and amplitude data suggest it's more like GABA receptor dysfunction. What's the dosage formula for auxiliary medications? Have you considered the half-life conflicts between different drugs?"

The conference room fell into dead silence.

These questions had exceeded what a 'patient's family member' could possibly understand.

Rupert paid no attention to their shock.

He simply projected an in-depth body data analysis report generated by Athena, spanning dozens of pages, onto the screen.

"This is her complete data model. Your treatment plan needs to be based on this."

Looking at that report, the experts felt their decades of medical experience being subjected to a dimensional reduction strike by some incomprehensible technological force.

From that day on, Rupert's life was redefined.

He moved into the ward next to Diana's, which had been converted into his temporary office.

But most of the time, he wasn't in the office—he was in a sterile drug preparation room specially prepared for him.

He wore a white coat, mask, and gloves, learning under the guidance of professional pharmacists how to operate those precision instruments.

Learning how to extract prescribed doses of medication from ampules, not a single microliter off.

Learning how to fine-tune the mixing ratios of different medications based on her vital signs feedback every hour.

Learning how to control the infusion pump's flow rate, precise to 0.01 milliliters per minute.

The pharmacist watched from the side, heart pounding with nervousness.

He'd never seen such a 'student'—learning faster than medical students, asking deeper questions than chief physicians.

What he couldn't understand even more was that with Rupert's status, he could easily entrust these tasks to the world's top nursing team, but he didn't.

He chose to do it himself.

Diana lay in the hospital bed, able to see through the one-way glass the focused figure in the preparation room next door.

She watched him skillfully perform those complex operations, every step meticulous.

She knew that artwork was her body.

In the evening, Rupert entered the ward carrying the prepared medication.

He didn't let the nurses do it, but personally knelt down, skillfully connecting the needle to the intravenous catheter on the back of her hand.

The cold medication began slowly entering her body.

Diana didn't look at her hand, her gaze remaining on his face the entire time.

"Is it interesting?" she suddenly asked, her voice carrying a barely perceptible hoarseness.

"What?" Rupert adjusted the flow rate and looked up.

"Learning all this."

Rupert looked at her, reaching out to gently touch her slightly cool cheek with his fingertips.

"Greyharbor City's autumn is very short," he said. "By the time you're better, the ginkgo trees at Cradle Project should be turning yellow. There are three hundred more trees there than in the garden."

He didn't need to discuss whether this was interesting or not.

Because for him, the answer had always been simple.

As long as she could see the next autumn, everything he did was meaningful.

Diana's body was like a precision instrument forced to reboot. After initial rejection and calibration, under Rupert's nearly obsessive care, it gradually returned to stability.

Those warning signs representing abnormalities extinguished one by one on Athena's monitoring interface.

The day Diana was discharged, autumn in Greyharbor City had already deepened considerably.

Diana changed back into her own clothes, the sense of weakness brought by hospital gowns swept away.

She stood by the window, watching fallen leaves being swept up by the wind in the garden below, saying nothing.

Rupert walked in, holding her coat.

"The doctors said for the next three months, no high-intensity mental work whatsoever."

"My brain can't be prohibited," Diana turned around. "It only decides for itself when to think."

"Then let it decide to think about lighter things."

Rupert handed her the coat, his tone flat but uncompromising. "Like what to have for lunch today?"

Diana didn't take the coat, her gaze settling on his face.

These past two weeks, he'd barely left her side.

The group's affairs were handled through encrypted lines, but most of his energy had been consumed by her condition and treatment plans.

He'd grown thinner, his jawline even sharper, but those eyes were calmer than they'd ever been.

"Rupert," she began, her voice very soft. "You don't need to go this far."

...

The Cradle Project progress meeting was held in Rupert's villa garden.

A massive holographic projection hovered over the lawn, with Oscar and several project managers sitting across from it.

Their expressions were solemn.

Meanwhile, the meeting's two main participants sat under the swing set not far away.

Rupert was reading documents.

Diana was reading a leisure book about medieval botanical illustrations.

Oscar cleared his throat and began his report.

He felt like a storyteller performing for the emperor and imperial consort in the royal garden.

"Mr. Russell, Ms. York. According to the latest construction progress, infrastructure in Areas C and D is ninety percent complete. Mr. Remy Haas's team sent an email yesterday inquiring about the final plan for the central lake ecosystem..."

As Oscar spoke, he carefully observed Diana's reaction.

Rupert's meaning was clear—this meeting was nominally to report to him, but actually to let Diana 'review' things.

Diana's gaze didn't leave her book.

Oscar steeled himself to continue: "We have three alternative plans. Plan A introduces various tropical aquatic plants from rainforests, creating a highly diverse ecological landscape. Plan B simulates Crimson Crystal Lake, constructing an alkaliphilic biological system in extreme environments with significant research value. Plan C..."

"Too noisy."