Chapter 51: An Unexpected Guest at the Lockdown Zone

“I’m a friend of the Young Master! I even used to work in his house!”

“Colonel, please! I’m not lying at all. Here’s my medical qualification certificate and work ID!”

“Please leave immediately!” an armed officer declared sternly.

Li Li had been pacing back and forth at the entrance to the Lockdown Zone for half the day. If he hadn’t accurately named Wen Yan and provided flawless documentation, his relentless pestering would have gotten him shot on the spot long ago.

A straight line of blue-and-white warning tape blocked the way ahead. From there, he could only catch a distant glimpse of the Hospital Building’s pointed spire. A few days earlier, when Li Li first saw the news reports, he’d assumed it involved someone else. But on second thought, something didn’t add up. Piecing together Wen Yan’s odd behavior after returning to the Capital, along with that letter Liang Shijing had made public, it started to make sense. And then there was the Eight-Nation Medical Exchange Conference, where he’d aggressively networked with some major figures and pried a few vague scraps of information from their tight-lipped mouths. It had taken him four full days to track down this location.

The area had always been a restricted zone, but now everything within dozens of kilometers was under total lockdown. No matter how parched his throat grew from pleading, the guards on duty refused to let him take even half a step inside. Just as he was racking his brain for a way forward, a tall, burly alpha stepped out of a distant camouflage jeep.

Li Li’s eyes lit up. He rushed straight toward the man.

The Alpha Officer signaled his subordinates to hold their fire.

Gasping for breath, Li Li skidded to a halt in front of him and swallowed hard. “Do you… remember me?”

“Doctor Li, long time no see.” The Alpha Officer pulled out a cigarette.

“I need a favor!” Li Li blurted out.

With the cigarette dangling from his lips, the alpha motioned for Li Li to step aside. They moved to the vehicle, where Li Li cut straight to the chase. “Is my Young Master sick?”

“Classified at the highest level.” The alpha exhaled a thick plume of smoke. “No comment.”

Li Li pressed on. “I graduated top of my class from Capital Medical University, specializing in human gland research. Right now, I’m working at Frontier Medical Company—”

“No need to introduce yourself.” The Alpha Officer cut him off. “I know who you are.”

“What I’m saying is, I don’t just want to check on the Young Master’s health. I might actually be able to help.” Li Li explained. “I understand your protocols. But I used to work on the team of the previous Chief, Wen Zecheng. Could you please just pass along a message for me?”

The Alpha Officer gave this bespectacled beta doctor a cold once-over. The man, with his gold-rimmed glasses and usual air of refined politeness, now wore naked desperation on his face. He was still under observation—and for obvious reasons. Up ahead, the Hospital Building was a madhouse of activity. Four nights ago, in the dead of night, his superior had ordered them to lock the place down tight. Word of the omega’s dire straits had spread too far, and the Chief’s schedule was now fixed here. A soldier’s prime duty was to defend the nation, which in this case meant safeguarding the Chief at all costs.

As for this doctor… he seemed genuine enough. And utterly fearless…

“Everyone inside the hospital is swamped right now,” the alpha hinted. “No one’s got time for visitors.”

“You’re not worried I might not make it back out?”

In a military lockdown zone, they could track a discarded trash bag, let alone a living person trying to slip inside.

“I saw that email.” Li Li adjusted his glasses. “It didn’t spell out the gland problem exactly, but whatever it is, it’s bad. I’m an expert in this exact field. Just make a call for me—I’ll make it worth your while. Doctors don’t go back on their word.”

The Alpha Officer let out a dry, incredulous chuckle.

Over the past few days, he’d encountered far more credentialed doctors than this beta. The man didn’t even qualify to set foot in the building. Still, fearlessness like his deserved some recognition…

“I can’t put in an official report. My clearance isn’t high enough,” the Alpha Officer said, grinding out his cigarette.

“Your clearance isn’t high enough?” Li Li gaped. “Then who should I be talking to?”

“Low clearance doesn’t mean no way in.” The alpha seized his arm and yanked him forward with practiced efficiency. “No report doesn’t mean no entry.”

Tears of gratitude welled in Li Li’s eyes.

From there, he trailed the alpha—who flashed a green access card at every checkpoint—all the way to two blocks shy of the hospital. That was as far as the card would take them. The Alpha Officer negotiated for ages before the Guard Team reluctantly agreed to escalate the matter. Beneath the blistering autumn sun, Li Li waited with him in the shade as the request crawled up the chain of command and trickled back down.

He couldn’t help but recall how effortless it had once been to visit Oak Bay: chauffeured right to the door, no reports required, no gauntlet of security screenings, welcomed like an honored guest of the Chief himself. Consul Ji had been so gracious, serving tea, offering souvenirs, and later came Liang Shijing’s personally signed invitation…

Only now did Li Li grasp just how impossible it was to get a single glimpse of Liang Shijing.

The man might never even learn of his visit. The endless layers of security alone were enough to stop anyone cold…

Li Li mused quietly that his Young Master must hold immense weight in Liang Shijing’s heart. Why else would Liang Shijing race to the Capital without pause, arriving just half an hour after Wen Yan returned? Li Li had always assumed an unbridgeable chasm of hatred separated omegas and alphas. But it was starting to look like that wasn’t the case at all…

A tense half hour dragged by. The answer, by then, was plain enough.

The alpha lit another cigarette. “Head home for today. I’ll let you know if anything opens up.”

Li Li wasn’t deflated; he just hated imposing on the alpha any further and didn’t push his luck.

“Thank you. Really, thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it,” the alpha replied flatly.

They walked in silence along the quiet asphalt road. Moments later, a black sedan sped up behind them. It braked hard, and the rear door swung open from within.

It was Cheng Zhu.

The Secretary-General—who spoke on behalf of the Alliance of Eight Nations—looked utterly worn down. His clothes were impeccable, but to a doctor’s trained eye, it was clear he hadn’t slept properly in ages.

“I hear you’ve got a solution?” Cheng Zhu rasped.

Li Li froze. Where had that come from? Only a nudge from the alpha’s elbow snapped him back to reality. He stammered, “I don’t even know what’s wrong with the Young Master’s gland yet…”

The sense of oppression didn’t just stem from ABO gender dynamics—it also came from Cheng Zhu’s probing, scrutinizing gaze. He betrayed no particular emotion as he loomed over Li Li, his shadow blotting out the sunlight above. He had only asked this simple question, yet Li Li felt as if a poor answer would leave him with no way out but death.

Cheng Zhu had no desire to say more. He turned and boarded the car.

“Wait!” Li Li hurriedly exchanged a glance of farewell with the Alpha Officer and dashed up to Cheng Zhu. “Maybe I can help! But could I see the Young Master first?”

“Get in the car,” Cheng Zhu said, unwilling to waste even a second.

Bewildered, Li Li followed him all the way to the hospital. Since he had entered the vehicle after Cheng Zhu, he ended up sitting on the right side. When they arrived, the driver naturally opened the door for him to exit first. The soldiers at the entrance shot him strange looks as they raised their guns. Trembling, Li Li stepped out, and only after Cheng Zhu emerged did they lower their weapons.

Various staff members along the way greeted them one after another. Li Li felt almost as if he were the Secretary-General himself… But Cheng Zhu moved quickly. He entered the elevator and jabbed the close-door button twice in quick succession. In the faint weightlessness of ascent, Cheng Zhu spoke up. “There are some things I need to make clear to you first.”

Li Li didn’t know the specifics of Cheng Zhu’s warning, but he nodded anyway.

The elevator doors slid open to the sound of boisterous discussions spilling from a large conference room on the right side of the corridor. As they turned left, the voices grew even more heated… This place hardly felt like a hospital; the clamor rivaled a bustling wet market full of haggling aunties. God only knew how many heads these elite surgeons—frequent fixtures in top-tier operations—had scratched bloody, how much hair they’d yanked out in the past few days quarreling over their opinions.

But the moment they stepped into the ward, all noise vanished. Li Li sank onto the sofa, and moments later, a doctor with disheveled hair entered. Hu Li laid out the patient’s condition in full detail and asked what solution Li Li had.

After a long silence, Li Li finally understood the massive commotion from the Alliance of Eight Nations these past days. He pored over the diagnosis sheet—black words on white paper declaring “Gland Degeneration 100%”—again and again before letting his hands drop limply. “There’s no way.”

“Why did it suddenly get like this?” He couldn’t fathom it. Wen Yan had returned to the Capital in good shape, weary in appearance but with healthy color in his cheeks. How had the illness advanced so rapidly in just half a year?

“It’s our failing,” Hu Li said, his voice thick with discomfort.

“Can I see him?” Li Li asked.

“Wen Yan, it’s lunchtime,” Liang Wangyou said obediently from the bedside in the inner room, cradling a bowl of porridge.

“Baby, can we eat later? I want to sleep a little more…” Wen Yan murmured softly. The painkillers had numbed any pain for now, but his strength was fading fast. Sometimes he had to strain with all his might just to pry his eyes open wide enough to glimpse Liang Wangyou clearly for an instant before the world dissolved into prolonged haze. The gland degeneration was compressing his nerves; the Omega had already lost his senses of smell and taste, and now his sight was failing too…

At least his hearing remained. He could still make out the sound of the door opening.

“Uncle Li Li?” Liang Wangyou called in surprise.

Wen Yan froze for a moment, then allowed the “Medical Personnel” to gently help him sit up. He wore thin hospital garb, and with his growing emaciation, the sleeves had been meticulously folded back, accentuating his gaunt arms. Yet the “Medical Personnel” cared for him impeccably: his hair fluffed just as always, soft socks hugging his feet for comfort, cheeks pale but clean, nails trimmed neatly and round. Absent the open wound at the nape of his neck, the Omega might have seemed utterly pampered, attended by S-Grade Alphas and little Alphas alike.

Unable to pinpoint the visitor’s exact position, though, the Omega tilted his head slightly. Those beautiful eyes stared vacantly, devoid of focus or aim, fixed on empty air without so much as a blink for ages.

“Li Li, is that you?” Wen Yan asked in a frail voice.

Li Li halted at the doorway. Swallowing his discomfort, he bowed deeply to the “Medical Personnel” before approaching the bed with feigned casualness. In an even lighter tone, he said, “It’s me! I’m heartbroken—you don’t recognize me after just a month?”

Wen Yan smiled. “I just woke up and couldn’t see clearly.”

“Yes, Wen Yan just woke up!” Liang Wangyou chimed in emphatically.

“Little You, it’s been ages.” Li Li leaned down to shake hands with Liang Wangyou. As their eyes met, Liang Wangyou shot him a look of anxiety; Li Li signaled reassurance and picked up the thread from Wen Yan. “Totally normal not to see straight right after waking. If I took off my glasses, I couldn’t tell an A from an O five meters away.”

Wen Yan’s smile lingered, but he said nothing.

“I heard you’ll be discharged after the surgery?” Li Li knew better—there was no surgery. The Omega’s body couldn’t even survive anesthesia in its current state.

“Yeah.” Wen Yan groped for the bedrail at the edge. Just then, a cool hand sheathed in a medical rubber glove steadied him.

“Could you pour my friend a glass of water?” Wen Yan asked the Medical Personnel.

The Medical Personnel remained utterly silent from start to finish. He helped the Omega recline, tucked in the blanket, and only then departed. Seconds later, Wen Yan heard Li Li’s profuse thanks. Soon after, he sensed the Medical Personnel return to his bedside, standing quietly at the ready.

“Have you eaten?” Wen Yan asked.

“I have, don’t worry,” Li Li replied.

“Wen Yan, but it’s time for you to eat,” Liang Wangyou reminded him, clearly displeased.

At that, the Medical Personnel promptly raised the head of the bed with smooth precision. The soft clink of bowl and spoon followed, and a spoonful of warm porridge appeared at the Omega’s lips. Wen Yan ate sluggishly, chatting idly with Li Li between bites. The Medical Personnel waited with endless patience, dabbing gently at his mouth after each spoonful. With his senses of taste and smell gone, though, every bite was like chewing wax—and it triggered dry heaves all too easily.

The Omega retched into the Medical Personnel’s hand once more, but as always, the man first tended to him—wiping his mouth, his hands—before cleaning himself. Li Li excused himself on some pretext before any clothes needed changing, and Liang Wangyou stepped out as well.

“I want to use the bathroom,” Wen Yan said slowly. “Could you take me, please?”

Ever dutiful, the Medical Personnel seized his forearm without a superfluous word and guided him toward the bathroom. Li Li tactfully kept his distance to avoid impropriety, not even grasping the Omega’s hand when it flailed for the wall and missed.

Two beeps signaled the toilet seat lifting automatically. Wen Yan lowered his gaze and said, “Thanks, you can go now. I can handle it myself.”

The medical personnel closed the door, then returned after about a dozen seconds. He wiped the omega’s fingers through a steaming hot towel before leading him back to the bed. He fed the omega some porridge, helped him rinse his mouth, lie down, take his medicine, and watched over him as he fell asleep.

Time slipped by slowly, from noon to dusk, and then from dusk into the night. The omega slept deeply for a long while but showed no signs of waking… By the time when everyone ought to have been asleep, Liang Wangyou slipped in on tiptoe, wearing his pajamas. He completely ignored the medical personnel, climbed straight onto the bed, burrowed into Wen Yan’s arms, and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

With that, there was no longer any need for the medical personnel’s care. Occasionally at night, the omega’s vision would improve briefly, so the medical personnel had no choice but to leave…

The Hospital Building stood ablaze with lights amid the darkness, its windows arrayed densely across the vast concrete expanse. Behind each one, anxious figures moved restlessly—some conducting experiments, others scribbling furiously, poring over documents, or holding hurried discussions.

~~~

Bang! The door flew open.

Little Alpha burst out barefoot in a panic, sobbing loudly. “Father, Wen Yan is vomiting blood…”