Chapter 77: Anna’s Illness
When Angie opened the door, Chenyang’s eyes immediately fell on Anna, who was tied to a wooden sofa.
Though the two sisters were identical twins, their figures and dispositions were completely different.
Angie was tall and her figure was slightly more curvaceous.
She possessed the mature charm of a young woman, yet also had the pure, approachable air of the girl next door.
Anna, on the other hand, was the slender and petite type.
She was half a head shorter than Angie.
She had short, ear-length hair.
She was wearing a spaghetti-strap tank top and a very short pleated skirt.
The legs she had on display were just as shapely, but they were a bit more slender and shorter than Angie’s.
Perhaps it was her outfit, but she gave off a petite and adorable vibe.
Of course, "petite" only referred to her frame and overall impression; the proud peaks of her chest, however, were nearly as impressive as Angie’s.
"Anna, are you okay?"
Angie paid Chenyang no mind. Tossing the keys aside, she hurried over to her sister, her face etched with concern.
Anna looked dazed. "He... he doesn’t want me anymore. I... I don’t want to live."
"Even if he doesn’t want you, I still want you! You can’t die."
"I want him... I love him so much..."
"You—" THUD!
Angie was about to say more, but Anna suddenly went berserk. With a violent lunge, she knocked Angie to the floor and then charged headfirst toward the corner of the coffee table.
She was clearly trying to bash her own brains out.
In a flash, Chenyang darted forward, grabbed Anna’s arm, and yanked her back onto the sofa.
Seeing this, the frantic Angie breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
"Thank you."
Chenyang shook his head, his gaze grave as he looked at Anna. "Based on what you told me on the way here, I had a rough idea of your sister’s condition, but I never expected it to have progressed this far."
"You already know what’s wrong with my sister?"
"More or less. But I’ll need to examine her further before I can be certain."
"Aunt Qin was able to name the illness just by listening to my description."
"Oh? And what did she say was wrong with your sister?"
Angie’s red lips twitched slightly. "Shouldn’t you be the one to tell me?"
Chenyang grinned. "What? Are you testing me?"
"I’m not trying to test you, it’s a matter of safety. My sister’s condition is very serious. A previous misdiagnosis from an incompetent doctor put her through hell. If you can’t even name her illness now, I can’t—and won’t—dare to let you treat her."
"Fair enough. This is about your sister’s health, after all. There’s no harm in being cautious."
Chenyang shrugged. "Based on my current assessment, your sister is suffering from two conditions: one neurological, one psychological. The neurological illness, in Western medicine terms—the kind of diagnosis a doctor like Aunt Qin would give—is likely called Moetz’s Neurologic and Somatic Organopathic Disorder Syndrome. As for the psychological one, it’s a type of stress-related deficit disorder, though I’ve forgotten the specific name. But you understand the gist, right?"
Angie first nodded, then quickly shook her head.
"What? Was I wrong?"
"I’m not sure anymore. The name of the illness you mentioned is mostly the same as what Aunt Qin and the other doctors said, but their diagnosis was missing a word compared to yours. They called it Moetz’s Neurologic and Somatic Disorder Syndrome. It didn’t include the word ’Organopathic.’"
"They didn’t include that word?"
Angie thought for a moment. "No. More than one doctor told me that name. At first, I couldn’t remember it, but eventually, I knew it by heart. What’s the matter? Does adding that one word mean it’s a different illness?"
"It’s the same illness, but the addition of that word signifies a different level of severity. The version they described is a remitting disorder syndrome. But once you add ’Organopathic,’ it becomes a non-remitting syndrome."
"I don’t really understand."
"To put it simply, the illness they described can basically be cured with a few courses of medication. Afterward, you just have to manage her emotional state, and it’s unlikely to relapse. But the one I’m describing is different. Medication can only offer basic control, not a cure. The relapse rate will get progressively higher, and the symptoms will be more severe each time it returns."
"Ah?" Angie was stunned. "So you’re saying... they misdiagnosed her?"
Chenyang asked pointedly, "You should trust Aunt Qin and the other doctors more than you trust me. So why are you now saying they were wrong, instead of me?"
"Because Aunt Qin and the others were puzzled by it too. According to them, my sister’s illness should have been curable with a few courses of medication and some psychological counseling, with little to no chance of relapse. But that’s not what happened. Not only does she have frequent episodes, but it’s just as you said—each relapse is more severe than the last."
As she spoke, Angie moved closer, her movements slightly frantic.
Her faint, feminine scent wafted into Chenyang’s nostrils.
Beneath her damp clothes, the faint outline of her full chest pressed tightly against his arm.
The soft, supple feeling sent a ripple through him.
But before he could savor the sensation, Angie’s urgent voice cut in. "Since you can explain it so thoroughly, that means you understand my sister’s illness better than they do. So you have a way to cure her completely, right?"