Wen Yan slowly opened his eyes. His blurry vision didn’t reveal Liang Wangyou anywhere. So that crying he’d heard earlier must have been his imagination…
But it was strange—the hospital room was completely empty.
Wen Yan slowly sat up, his head hanging in confusion. Though he could control his body, he felt no sensations at all. For instance, his sleeve sliding down to his elbow and his palm pressing against the bedsheet both felt utterly numb. He turned his head toward the window, where the pitch-black night sky was blocked by the white gauze curtains.
He sat there in silence for a while, then got out of bed. His feet sank into the soft carpet as he walked around the room. The cloakroom, bathroom—nowhere held any sign of people… Finally, he opened the door to see a patch of warm, dim yellow light. Off to the side of the light source sat a vague silhouette. No doubt about it: Liang Shijing.
“You’re awake,” Liang Shijing said.
Wen Yan stood frozen in place without moving or speaking. When Liang Shijing came over to help him, he sidestepped the man’s hand and groped his way to the other sofa, sitting down.
“Where’s Little You?”
“He’s asleep.” Liang Shijing waited a few seconds before replying.
“Was he crying just now?”
“No.”
The conversation ended, and silence fell between them.
“Don’t look at me,” Wen Yan said, turning his face away.
He didn’t even know why he didn’t want Liang Shijing staring at him. He just didn’t. After he spoke, he heard Liang Shijing hum in acknowledgment, and he vaguely sensed the man’s gaze dropping.
“You have surgery in the morning,” Liang Shijing said.
“Oh.” Wen Yan tilted his head, instinctively trying to locate the source of the voice. “What kind of surgery?”
“An omega suffering from blood cancer is voluntarily donating his gland.”
“What about him?”
“He’s dying soon.”
Wen Yan asked, “You didn’t force him?”
There was no hesitation in the omega’s questioning tone. After all, an alpha could hold a gun to his own son’s head or use extreme measures to coerce someone into “volunteering.” The illness was just a polite cover. Wen Yan didn’t want to live bearing the weight of another life—not even if the donor changed his mind, endured agonizing pain, or harbored second thoughts…
“You can ask Hu Li,” Liang Shijing replied with certainty.
“Doctor Hu is your man.”
“He’s not my man. No one is.”
With that, Wen Yan pondered how to verify the truth. Donation papers could be faked, and a sick omega could be fabricated too. As he mulled it over, Liang Shijing spoke up. “The surgery has a very low success rate. Do you have…?”
Wen Yan perked up his ears.
After a long pause, Liang Shijing finally got the words out. “Do you have anything to say to me?”
Now Wen Yan believed that Liang Shijing truly hadn’t coerced anyone, because the man preferred things clear-cut. He disliked vague adverbs like “very,” “maybe,” or “seemingly” muddying the facts. If he said the success rate was very low, it was practically nonexistent. And yes, there were things he wanted to say.
“Have you made up with Little You?” Wen Yan asked.
He was still stuck on the image of Liang Shijing pressing a gun to Liang Wangyou’s nape. Little You had been terrified and crying then. He hadn’t seen the two of them in the room together since, either. Before, Little You would chatter on about Liang Shijing’s faults; lately, not a word.
“We’ve made up,” Liang Shijing said.
“That’s good.” Wen Yan felt a slight relief. “I’d like to see Uncle Lin. I have something to tell him.”
Though they hadn’t discussed it beforehand, both the alpha and the omega had independently chosen Lin Yichu. They both tacitly agreed to entrust Liang Wangyou to him.
“He’s not here. He’s away on a business trip,” Liang Shijing replied.
Wen Yan paused for a moment, then said calmly after a few seconds, “I know you don’t like hearing it, but I still want to say I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry for everything that happened before.”
“Thank you for taking care of me all this time. I don’t have much to give in return. I left some pheromones in the safe room at Oak Bay. You can hand them over to Hu Li for research. Maybe one day, they can fully cure your illness.”
When he finished speaking, Liang Shijing took a long time before responding. “Okay,” he said.
Wen Yan went on. “Little You mentioned yesterday that he wants to go to the North Side to see the big trucks. If you have time, please take him. I hear the pits there are deep—make sure to keep him safe.”
Liang Shijing took another long pause before saying, “Okay.”
“What day is it today?” Wen Yan asked softly.
Liang Shijing suddenly looked up at him and replied slowly, “August 30th.”
“Oh.” Wen Yan nodded. “Alliance Primary School should have started by now, right? Little You won’t have as much time to play anymore. I wonder if Jin Shu is still in the same class as him. If it won’t bother anyone, could you arrange for them to stay together? Little You’s a sensitive kid. I’m worried he won’t adjust to a new environment. Having a friend would help.”
Liang Shijing hummed in acknowledgment.
“Why do you always wait a bit before answering?” Wen Yan asked curiously.
This time, too, Liang Shijing paused for about three seconds before saying, “No reason.”
“Please take care of the little spotted deer and Cream for me,” Wen Yan said. “Don’t forget to feed the little squirrels. It’s getting colder at the border—they never store enough food for winter.”
“Okay,” Liang Shijing said.
“They love hazelnuts and chestnuts the most. When you dismantle the little cabin, check under the cabinet for any left.”
If there were none, it meant the little squirrels had already carried the hazelnuts back to their burrow. They hadn’t gone hungry while Wen Yan was away.
“I didn’t dismantle it,” Liang Shijing said hoarsely. “That was a lie. There’s nothing in the cabinet either.”
The little cabin held traces of the omega’s five years of life, full of his personal belongings—the bedsheets neatly folded, bookshelves lined with labeled volumes he hadn’t finished. How could the alpha bear to tear it down when he craved every scrap of the omega’s private possessions?
He’d only said it in the heat of the moment, both of them lashing out with cruel words to hurt each other. Now that it was out in the open, the wounds were already inflicted, the scabs picked clean…
“Thank you,” Wen Yan said.
He thought carefully. He’d covered everything he needed to say. He even wanted to ask where Wen Zecheng was buried, but he decided against it. If he could leave peacefully like this, it would grant Liang Shijing some peace too. He groped for the armrest to stand, at which point Liang Shijing asked, “Are you done?”
Wen Yan furrowed his brows. At first, those words sounded like Liang Shijing was provoking him, but Liang Shijing wasn’t. He had simply asked the question in a straightforward way. After a moment of silence, Wen Yan suddenly realized that every time he spoke, Liang Shijing seemed to wait a long time.
Was Liang Shijing waiting for him to finish his sentences?
Why would he wait?
“Do you have anything else?” he asked.
“If you survive, will you forgive me?” Liang Shijing said.
“No, I won’t forgive you,” Wen Yan replied. “After tomorrow, all the grievances between us will completely vanish… I hope you take good care of yourself. Little You will only have you to rely on from now on. Please treat him well, Liang Shijing. Thank you so much.”
“What if I say no?” Liang Shijing asked.
Wen Yan knew the alpha was saying this deliberately. He blinked slowly. “Actually, you’re good to Little You—I know that. I can tell you love him deeply. I was at fault in that incident too; I pushed you to that point, and I get it. But let’s not talk about it anymore. Can we leave it at that?”
“Don’t be so absolute.” Wen Yan caught a fleeting urgency in Liang Shijing’s voice before it steadied again. “When you’re better, come back to Oak Bay. It’s your home too. I won’t be there often anymore.”
“No, I don’t want to live with you.” Besides, he wouldn’t survive anyway.
After that, neither of them had anything left to say. Wen Yan stood and reached out, groping through the air toward the inner room. Midway, he tripped over something and staggered forward. A pair of warm, strong hands caught his arm. This time, Wen Yan didn’t pull away from Liang Shijing’s grasp. He let Liang Shijing help him to the bed.
Faint moonlight spilled across the carpet, resembling a thin layer of frost to eyes with poor vision.
Wen Yan sat quietly in the glow, Liang Shijing standing before him. Their overlapping shadows stretched long across the wall, entwined like lovers nuzzling necks. After some time, the anesthetist entered carrying his case. He took one look at the pair—one standing, one sitting—and backed out immediately. Tonight was the final test of the anesthetic dosage; they couldn’t afford delays. Moments later, the alpha stepped away on his own. The omega lay down on the bed, his lips twitching faintly as he silently mouthed those four words.
The milky-white drug slid into his arm, and Wen Yan blacked out instantly. He became a marionette once more. Liang Shijing, who had just departed, doubled back to the bedside and bent over to gaze at him for a long while.
“Are you sleepy?”
“Not sleepy.”
“Do you want to go for a walk?”
“Okay.”
Liang Shijing helped Wen Yan sit up. He dressed him in a warm jacket, slightly thicker pants, socks, and a knit hat. Wen Yan looked adorably dazed like this—small face, big eyes, pointed chin, thin lips. He lifted his hand when told to, closed his eyes on command. Liang Shijing brushed his bangs aside to his temples and tucked them under the hat’s brim. He buttoned the jacket, then half-knelt to slip on his shoes. With everything in place, they clasped hands and left the ward.
The doctors, who had been run ragged for so long, could finally rest tonight. No more debating tricky real-world cases or heated arguments with colleagues. They sipped fragrant milk now, bedding down early to prepare for tomorrow’s surgery. Though only four lead surgeons and eight assistants had been chosen from the five hundred-plus participants, Liang Shijing had agreed to let them all observe the full procedure tomorrow on synchronized big screens as thanks for traveling so far. It was a rare chance. As they packed up to leave the office, they caught sight of the alpha gently leading the omega past at a leisurely pace.
The hospital lay unusually quiet that night. Only the footsteps of the alpha and omega echoed down the corridor.
“We’re almost at the elevator,” Liang Shijing said.
“Mm,” Wen Yan answered blankly.
Hand in hand, they passed door after door. The hospital grew even quieter. Liang Shijing mostly reminded Wen Yan to watch his step along the way; Wen Yan would echo him belatedly at times or lapse into prolonged silence.
“Entering the elevator now,” Liang Shijing said.
“You can sit,” he added.
Late August in the Capital had plunged into deep autumn. Dry gusts of cold wind swept intermittently across the green gardens. Tin lampposts glowed softly along the paths, their light edging yellowing patches of lawn.
After a short walk, Liang Shijing touched Wen Yan’s cheek and asked if he was cold. Wen Yan started to shake his head, but Liang Shijing cupped his palm over the motion at once. Shaking his head would aggravate the gland pain, even if the omega couldn’t feel it…
A small lake sat at the park’s heart, ringed by hidden ground lights. The view from here was breathtakingly beautiful.
“Tired?” Liang Shijing asked. “Want to rest?”
“Okay.” Wen Yan’s gaze stayed vacant, his voice devoid of inflection.
They settled on a bench by the lake, leaning into each other, hands linked as they gazed out at the vast sky and endless horizon.
In the past, they had done every intimate thing lovers could, but never the simple, everyday acts of ordinary couples—like strolling hand in hand or sharing a view. There’s an old saying: what seemed commonplace at the time. Yet they hadn’t even savored the commonplace before reaching the end…
“Are you happy?” Liang Shijing asked, his voice hoarse.
“Happy.” In truth, Wen Yan was oblivious to everything.
“Want some cake?” Liang Shijing pressed.
“Yes.”
Moments later, Cheng Zhu arrived with a beautifully packaged little cake. Untying the satin ribbon required both hands, so Liang Shijing finally released Wen Yan’s. He unpacked the cake, stuck in candles, lit them, and set it before Wen Yan. The tiny orange flame flickered and danced in the breeze. Molten wax trickled down the candle, hardening into teardrop after teardrop on the cream’s surface.
“The last cake we ate was five years ago today,” Liang Shijing said, eyes on the flame. “You made it for me yourself—loaded with cream and sugar. Delicious.”
“Do you remember?” he asked.
Wen Yan stared blankly at him.
“Blow them out,” Liang Shijing murmured. “I’ve made a wish for you.”
Wen Yan obediently puffed out the candles and went still. Liang Shijing offered him a slice. Wen Yan chewed it deliberately. It was a tart strawberry cake—one the omega clearly enjoyed, since he looked right back at the alpha’s hand after the first bite.
“Is it good?” Liang Shijing asked.
“It’s delicious,” Wen Yan replied slowly.
The little cake was still quite large for the two of them, and only this one small slice was divided and polished off between them. Wen Yan had eaten until the corners of his mouth were tinged faintly red, and Liang Shijing gently wiped it away with the pad of his finger.
As night deepened and the wind rose, Liang Shijing led him back to the hospital. The return trip took even longer this time. He shrugged off his coat and draped it over Wen Yan’s shoulders, their clasped hands hidden away in the roomy sleeves—like a pair of secret lovers…
Once they were back in the ward, Liang Shijing helped Wen Yan settle properly on the edge of the bed. He went to the bathroom, wrung out a towel, and returned to wipe Wen Yan’s face and hands. When he crouched down to remove Wen Yan’s shoes, he suddenly froze. The shoelace had come undone at some point, the thin cord dangling by his foot. The aglet was filthy from being stepped on, and it had probably swung around during their walk, smearing dirt onto Wen Yan’s ankle as well.
“Sorry,” Liang Shijing said suddenly, after gazing downward for a moment.
It was truly just a tiny thing, but two teardrops fell in quick succession onto the top of Wen Yan’s foot.
Liang Shijing’s fingers trembled as he reached to wipe them away, but the tears had already soaked into the fabric of the shoe, leaving only faint damp spots behind. His efforts only tangled the shoelace further. At last, he slowly buried his face against Wen Yan’s instep, his shoulders heaving with violent sobs.
“Sorry…”
“I couldn’t give you a stable life…”
