Chapter 59: A Hospital Awakening and the Angel’s Secret

Wang Tianming had not anticipated that his deep slumber would be interrupted so abruptly, only to be roused by the doctor.

After enduring a grueling seven-day gaming adventure, each day feeling like a relentless twenty-five hours, Wang Tianming had fully expected to sleep soundly until the following month. However, the unforgiving reality of a hospital meant daily rounds from doctors and nurses, leaving him no choice but to awaken.

“How are you feeling, the young man? Are you experiencing any pain or discomfort?” Dr. Zhao, a kind and amiable middle-aged man with a neat buzz cut, asked with a smile, his hand gently patting Wang Tianming’s shoulder. “Don’t hesitate to ask me if you have any questions. Should you notice anything amiss or find yourself confused, please inform me immediately, understood?”

“I’m alright,” Wang Tianming replied after a moment’s thought. “My lower back aches a little, and my right leg still feels numb. Also, my neck… wait, it seems I can move my neck slightly more than before. It was completely immobile just a while ago.”

Wang Tianming had been on the verge of inquiring whether his immobile neck indicated a head injury or cervical spine damage, but before the words could escape his lips, he discovered he could now gently turn his neck from side to side.

“Ah, there’s nothing to worry about on that front for now,” Dr. Zhao reassured him, gently palpating Wang Tianming’s neck. “We’ve already taken X-rays, and it’s simply a muscle strain, which is why movement was restricted. Your lower back is similar; in fact, you have varying degrees of muscle strain throughout your entire body. These injuries require extensive bed rest, supplemented by plenty of nourishing food. I’ve prescribed medication, and the intravenous drips you’ll receive from now on are specifically for treating these conditions.”

“What? More IV drips?” Wang Tianming’s voice betrayed a sudden jolt of apprehension. “How many days will I need them?” Hearing the mention of intravenous therapy, an inexplicable dread seized him—though, in truth, it was far from inexplicable. While Wang Tianming wasn’t particularly afraid of the needle’s sting, he had endured the torment of IV drips throughout his childhood.

Having inherited his mother’s delicate veins, Wang Tianming invariably faced the risk of multiple needle sticks, or even ruptured blood vessels, whenever he received an IV. This was particularly true in his early childhood, when his veins were even finer and more elusive. On one memorable occasion, a single illness required seven attempts, from head to toe, before a successful insertion could be made.

Though he never suffered from severe ailments, minor illnesses plagued him constantly, leading Wang Tianming to undergo countless IV treatments in his younger years. It wasn’t until he reached adulthood and his constitution improved that his hospital visits for infusions became less frequent. Now, the mere mention of another IV drip felt like a resurgence of his childhood trauma. “Dr. Zhao,” he pressed, his voice urgent, “how many days will this last?”

“You’ll need daily infusions until your discharge,” Dr. Zhao stated definitively, then added reassuringly, “However, we will observe your condition every day. If you make a swift recovery, we might discontinue the medication sooner, so there’s no need to worry.”

“Every—every day?! I…” Wang Tianming stammered, visibly startled by Dr. Zhao’s reply. A new thought then struck him, and he hastily pressed on, “Then, how long will I be hospitalized? Just a week, perhaps?”

“Around three months, depending on your progress,” Dr. Zhao mused, patting Wang Tianming’s shoulder. “If your recovery is swift, you might be discharged in about two months. For now, if you need anything, simply press the button by your bedside. We’ll be in the office.”

Of course, these instructions were primarily directed at Wang Tianming’s father, for Wang Tianming himself, being bedridden and unable to move, could hardly act upon them.

“Th-three months?!” Wang Tianming gaped at the ceiling, a creeping sense of despair beginning to settle over him. He had so many things to accomplish; what did three months of bed rest even mean? “Three months? My arms will be pincushions!”

As it turned out, Wang Tianming’s worries were unfounded. Modern hospitals, prioritizing both convenience and patient comfort for those requiring prolonged intravenous therapy, now employed indwelling catheters. These soft, flexible needles remained in the vein, causing no issues unless one engaged in overly strenuous movement. Thus, despite the prospect of three months of infusions, he would likely endure no more than a dozen needle punctures, each spaced several days apart, ensuring his arms would remain far from resembling a pincushion.

After all, as one matured, their veins typically became less delicate. While the younger nurses of today were certainly better trained than their predecessors, experience often trumped raw skill in the art of venipuncture. Therefore, after a quick assessment of Wang Tianming’s veins, the newer nurses wisely decided to entrust this ‘glorious task’ to the Head Nurse.

Once the needle was successfully inserted, a sense of calm finally settled over Wang Tianming. Since he was immobile anyway, he might as well continue sleeping. As for the ‘Destiny Game’ (TL Note: A virtual reality game that Wang Tianming has been playing, which has led to his current hospitalization.), he resolved to dismiss it from his mind. ‘That accursed thing kills people! Best to avoid it entirely if possible!’

Despite his internal vilification of the ‘Destiny Game’, Wang Tianming found himself unable to escape the ‘True Fragrance Law’ (TL Note: A Chinese internet slang term referring to the phenomenon of initially disliking or rejecting something, only to later embrace or enjoy it, often with enthusiasm.). Late that night, as silence descended and everyone around him slept, he stealthily retrieved the ‘Angel’s Seed’ and began his transformation.

Naturally, Wang Tianming’s transformation into an angel was not driven by any ‘shameful’ intentions. His sole thought was whether repeated transformations might heal his body, or if, once in angelic form, he could employ some sort of ‘healing spell’ or similar magic to mend his physical ailments.

Intriguingly, this seemed to have a tangible effect. While in his angelic form, he could indeed utilize a ‘healing spell’; however, as it was the angelic body itself, the spell held no direct efficacy over his original, human form. Yet, with each transformation, a series of warm currents coursed through him, feeling remarkably like a therapeutic process. Upon reverting to his human state, he consistently felt his body had improved considerably.

Furthermore, the transformation appeared to have no adverse effect on the indwelling catheter. Each time he transformed, the catheter vanished, only to reappear in its original vein once he reverted, much like a change of clothing.