Chapter 49

In the evening, at the Capital Special Hospital located in the Military District.

Large contingents of soldiers surrounded the entire hospital. Alert lines stretched from the Sanatorium Building all the way to the main gate, sealing off and controlling the area. Yet vehicles continued to stream in after rigorous checks, disgorging batch after batch of medical experts specializing in Omega glands. Most of them were elderly, supported as they hurried with faltering steps toward the brightly lit building—even though the entire structure was dedicated to just one patient.

On the eleventh floor, Hu Li emerged from the laboratory with a look of acute anxiety, clutching the freshly printed report as he strode purposefully down the corridor toward a certain room in the middle. This night promised sleeplessness for many. Soldiers responsible for security patrolled the halls back and forth, while doctors murmured in low voices about the patient’s condition in the conference room. Cheng Zhu was usually the busiest person at the Chief’s Mansion, but now he did nothing at all, simply standing guard quietly outside the ward.

“Is the debridement finished?” Hu Li asked softly as he approached him.

Cheng Zhu shook his head in silence. “The Little Young Master just went in.”

Even through the soundproof door, faint cries could be heard. Hu Li sighed and pushed the door open.

The room resembled a laboratory, divided into an outer chamber and an inner one by a massive rectangular one-way glass panel. The Omega lay on his side in the inner bed, facing away, with the blanket covering his waist and abdomen. Several state-of-the-art medical robotic arms stood beside the bed, methodically performing debridement surgery on his Omega gland. They extracted one segment of black suture thread after another from the gland. It must have hurt terribly, but the Omega showed no reaction whatsoever.

The Alpha stood before the glass, with Little Alpha clinging to his leg and sobbing loudly.

Hu Li approached, his heart heavy with regret, self-reproach, and guilt. He stood beside them, peering into the room. Suddenly, something tugged at his finger. He looked down to see Liang Wangyou’s tear-streaked face tilted up toward him, gasping for breath amid his cries. “Hug me,” the boy said.

Being too short to see into the inner room, Little Alpha knew nothing of the Omega’s situation. Of course, he had been terrified. On the way back to Oak Bay, they had made an emergency detour to the hospital. Just a few hours earlier, Wen Yan had still had the energy to argue loudly with Liang Shijing. Then he had gone limp in Liang Shijing’s arms, his face paler than paper, his entire neck stained a vivid red with blood.

Now he was frightened again by his father. Liang Shijing stood motionless behind the glass like a statue. Little Alpha didn’t know what had happened, but the frozen expression on Liang Shijing’s face made it easy to guess that Wen Yan was in bad shape. Liang Shijing himself was covered in it too—his shirtfront stained with large patches of dried crimson blood.

The wristband on his arm kept flashing a red light, warning of extreme emotional volatility and severe physical instability. Normally, that would have alerted the National Security Department, but Cheng Zhu had blocked them at the door hours ago…

Hu Li tried to pick up Liang Wangyou. The boy pressed his little hands flat against the glass, staring into the room with eyes identical to Liang Shijing’s.

Visibly, more and more black threads were being removed from the Omega gland, turning the disinfectant solution a faint red. Only when all the sutures had been extracted did the Beta Nurse emerge carrying a metal tray and hand it to Liang Shijing.

It was as if Liang Shijing had come back to life. He took the tray, and as he moved, his joints cracked with several sharp pops—the result of holding a rigid, unweighted pose for far too long. He slowly sank onto the sofa, dipping his fingers into the disinfectant to retrieve the longest suture thread. His voice wavered uncertainly.

“How long have these things been there?”

Hu Li turned at the question. First, he dragged a single armchair over to the glass wall and set Liang Wangyou on it so the boy could stand and see for himself. Then he approached Liang Shijing, his forearm trembling as he flipped open the first page of the report. He had realized his own negligence the moment Wen Yan had arrived at the hospital in Liang Shijing’s arms and undergone a preliminary exam. This detailed report, issued just three minutes later, was practically a death sentence for him as a doctor.

He had already apologized profusely, tears streaming down his aged face.

“Five years,” Hu Li said, forcing the words out. “There are signs of twelve separate suturing procedures. These threads were supposed to be absorbed by the body, but because Little Yan’s health deteriorated afterward, they remained embedded in the tissue…”

“Twelve times,” Liang Shijing repeated softly. “Someone sutured him twelve times…”

The AO glands were the most sensitive part of the body. Even a light touch normally caused pain, let alone repeated needling through the flesh.

A month ago, when the Omega had a cold and got painful mouth sores, the Alpha had refused him food and given him nutrient injections instead. Yet five years earlier, before leaving home, the Omega had endured his gland being sutured twelve times. After returning, he had stayed right under the Alpha’s nose day after day, and the Alpha had noticed nothing… Even during their state visit abroad, when they had shared a bed multiple times, it was understandable that the medical team hadn’t detected it. But for the Alpha himself to remain oblivious? It was absurdly laughable.

The Alpha, who prided himself on having everything under control, had been slapped with twelve resounding blows. But assigning blame for who had hurt the Omega would have to wait. There were more pressing matters now.

Hu Li wiped his tears and said, “And the neck ring.”

Liang Shijing looked over at him.

“Because Little Yan’s gland was sutured, it… it actually couldn’t release pheromones at all…” Hu Li explained.

Liang Shijing’s brows furrowed tightly. He lowered his head, lost in thought for a long, long time before asking hoarsely, “So every time he wore the neck ring, he was in agony, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.” Hu Li wiped his tears again. “The gland degeneration was also accelerated by the prolonged use of the neck ring…”

“So only six months,” Liang Shijing summed up.

Once an Omega stayed with an Alpha, it meant removing the neck ring. Removing the neck ring meant pain. The device was meant first to address the Omega’s periodic pheromone release issues and second to ease the Alpha’s addiction symptoms. But for the Omega, it brought no benefit—only suffering. For half a year after his return, he had endured pain no ordinary person could bear. Not a single word of complaint. Not a single cry of hurt.

But it hurt so much. So very much… And all along, the Alpha had bound him with talk of “repaying a debt,” leaving him too afraid to miss even once.

He’d even been caught secretly taking painkillers once. In those early stages, if the Alpha had paid a little more attention back then, he could have ended the Omega’s suffering much sooner and gotten him treatment right away.

A knock came at the door. Cheng Zhu entered carrying a box. “This was found in Mr. Wen’s safe room.”

The box held neatly arranged syringes filled with blood carrying high concentrations of pheromones. There were twenty-five vials in total, each holding eighteen milliliters. Hu Li rushed over in disbelief, snatched one up, and let out nonstop exclamations. Then he carefully placed it back in position, covered his face, and broke into sobs.

Liang Shijing bowed his head.

Cheng Zhu intended to carry Liang Wangyou out. Next, Hu Li would have to discuss even harsher facts about Wen Yan’s physical condition—details unsuitable for a child to hear. They would leave a shadow on his young mind…

But Liang Wangyou put up a fierce fight. He refused to let anyone pick him up. He wanted to cry but held it back, afraid to make too much noise. He wasn’t sure if the glass wall was soundproof, if it might wake Wen Yan. He tugged at Liang Shijing’s hand and kept insisting he wouldn’t leave. Liang Shijing gazed at him, his eyes rimmed red. With one hand, Liang Shijing covered the boy’s face—that face identical to the Omega’s in every contour except the eyes.

“There’s one more thing.” Hu Li let out a heavy breath and opened the report, reciting its contents in a mechanical tone. “Due to the gland damage compressing his nerves, we detected that Little Yan has lost his sense of smell and taste. His blood contains large amounts of painkillers, indicating long-term use. Also, the gastric scan shows he hasn’t eaten a thing in the past three days.”

“It was because I kept chasing him. That’s why he didn’t dare eat.” Liang Shijing said.

Half a year earlier, the two had reunited in the sealed-off street district. Back then, the Alpha had asked why the Omega never went to a restaurant. Half a year ago, the Omega had said he didn’t dare. And now, he still didn’t. He’d been fleeing down icy roads, too terrified to stop even for a moment’s rest. A person who normally spoke and acted with deliberate slowness had traveled without pause, day and night, because of the Alpha’s pursuit. They’d found plenty of items in his car: instant bread, chilled water in the storage case, painkillers. Just those three things had sustained him alone for over a thousand kilometers…

“Give me the report,” Liang Shijing said, his voice barely a whisper.

When the Omega had been rushed to the hospital, his gland had already become an open wound. Hu Li and the others had extracted samples of Wen Yan’s glandular tissue straight from the Alpha’s fingers—because during transport, the Alpha had pressed down on the wound for so long that his fingers were covered in the Omega’s degenerated glandular pulp. Now the Omega’s vital signs had plummeted to the bare minimum for a normal person. He couldn’t breathe on his own and showed no signs of consciousness. Without the advanced medical equipment propping up his fragile life, he would have died long ago…

The report laid it all out in detail: the gland degeneration from its onset, its progression, the pain levels, the extent of the damage, the life cycle measured week by week—and, most crucially, the entire medical team had no idea how to treat it.

The Alpha turned page after page. His fingers trembled ever so slightly with each one.

When he finished, he set the report down on the desk in silence. Liang Wangyou had been waiting far too long. He needed to know what it said. He shoved at Liang Shijing over and over, demanding to know what was wrong with Wen Yan, why no one would speak up. As he kept asking, he burst into tears again. He was usually such a reasonable little boy, but now he was throwing a full tantrum—kicking and hitting Liang Shijing, soiling his pants, driving him to the edge. Remorse washed away the Alpha’s former arrogance. The unvarnished truth became a torment to his heart.

After a moment, Liang Shijing rose in a daze and walked to the glass wall.

“Issue a joint alert to the Seven-Nation Alliance…” He pressed his fingers to his temple. Tremors soon overtook him, words failing him entirely.

“Yes, we’ll send assistance requests to the other countries right away,” Cheng Zhu said at once.

Every capable medical team in the world would learn that their nation had a patient whose gland degeneration had reached its final, life-ending stage. Doctors from across the globe would be called upon to offer ideas. The world was vast, full of patients and experts—surely someone would come up with a solution?

Ten minutes later, the email went out. Sent in Liang Shijing’s own name, it was a personal plea for help saving the Omega. It immediately set off a storm across the alliance nations. Everyone wondered: When had the Chief of the Alliance’s largest country ever had an Omega lover? Before the speculation could run wild, sighs of regret swept through. Gland degeneration this advanced—what hope was there?

And so, when the Seven-Nation Alliance dispatched their finest doctors, the Chief Secretariat sprang into action. They drafted condolence letters and rearranged the host country’s Chief’s schedule. They might soon be attending a funeral. It wasn’t callous neglect; it was the required protocol between nations.

In this way, the Alpha’s two wishes came true at last.

The Omega lay comatose on his hospital bed, unable to run any longer. He would remain by the Alpha’s side forever. Now everyone—from the Chiefs of the seven nations to ordinary citizens—knew about their bond.

But with the Alpha’s birthday wish fulfilled ahead of time, why did no one offer congratulations?