As the final second of the eighth hour ticked by, the sky was just beginning to lighten. A thin line of dawn glowed softly where the horizon met the earth, spilling into the hospital room as gently as a sunset.
The anesthetist, who had been waiting patiently, entered and swiftly administered a higher dose of anesthesia into the omega’s body. Medical personnel followed right behind, changing out the soaked bedsheets and beginning a professional massage on the omega’s limbs to prevent muscle necrosis from prolonged immobility.
After hours of being soaked in ice, the omega’s skin had become extraordinarily delicate, smooth to the touch like a block of chilled jade. It had lost the natural bounce of human flesh and the healthy flush of color. The subcutaneous capillaries were frozen a dark purple, like twisted, writhing little snakes lurking beneath the surface.
The Alpha must have pressed the ice against himself all night long, or else the omega’s skin and muscles would have suffered frostbite from the cold.
The Alpha emerged silently from the bathroom and moved to the outer room.
Ever since Liang Wangyou had witnessed Wen Yan coughing up blood with his own eyes, he had become very quiet. He used to beg to sleep alongside Wen Yan, but now he didn’t even dare mention it. Liang Shijing only let him enter when he deemed it safe, fearing the boy might clumsily bump the wound on Wen Yan’s nape or that seeing Wen Yan in such agony would scar his young heart. But Liang Wangyou had been very good, going to the next room at bedtime each night without fail and rising early each morning. He hadn’t wet the bed again, and he spoke very little.
At six years old, he had matured overnight.
Yet the cruelest compliment for a child was “he’s so mature.” Children shouldn’t have to be mature; at that innocent, playful age, they ought to have all the little flaws unique to kids. By the calendar, he should have been a proud little first-grader by now, dressed in his school uniform, playing and learning with classmates. After regular classes, he’d join his favorite extracurriculars, and on weekends, he’d take his Little Pony Pearl to competitions around the world—instead of standing so carefully on the carpet now, afraid to make a single sound.
“Come here,” Liang Shijing said hoarsely.
“Wait a sec,” Liang Wangyou whispered. He climbed onto his special spot all by himself. Too short to see through the glass window to Wen Yan, his one request these past few days had been for a stool. He clambered up, pressed his face to the glass as if trying to burrow through it, his nose squished into little piggy nostrils… Inside, the anestist was recording Wen Yan’s vital signs while Wen Yan slept soundly. Wen Yan wasn’t suffering, so Little Alpha could relax. After watching for a bit, he climbed down and went to Liang Shijing’s side, still peering up at him with wide eyes.
“What time did you go to sleep last night?” Liang Shijing asked.
“Right after my milk,” Liang Wangyou replied.
“Did you hear anything?”
Liang Wangyou blinked. “Hear what?”
“Nothing.” Liang Shijing leaned wearily into the sofa and closed his eyes.
“Dad, why did Wen Yan spit up blood? Is he really sick?”
“No.”
“Then when can the three of us go home?”
“In a little while.”
“Is Wen Yan really okay?”
“He’s fine.”
Liang Wangyou broke into a happy grin. He knew his father never lied, so his voice took on a cheerful lilt. “Consul Ji said they’ve dug a huge, huge pit on the North Side. Excavators are working there every day. I’ve never seen one, and Wen Yan probably hasn’t either. I want to take him to see it.” Little Alpha had no idea about the low success rate of the live gland transplant surgery. He didn’t know that one day soon, he might lose both his parents at once. His life of luxury wouldn’t change, but he’d be alone forever.
Liang Shijing’s eyes snapped open, thin red veins threading through the whites. He looked even sicker than Wen Yan…
“Are you sick too, Dad?” Liang Wangyou thought it strange—why was his father staring at him like that?
“Did Lin Yichu come by yesterday?”
“Yeah.” Liang Wangyou nodded. “Wen Yan was sleeping, so he said he’d come back another time.”
At that, Liang Shijing stepped out the door. Once away from Liang Wangyou, he quietly slipped into the inner room through the hospital door, propping his cheek in his hand as he sat by the bed, waiting for Wen Yan to wake.
The increased anesthesia dose worked powerfully. This time, Wen Yan slept deeply, and when he finally stirred, the drugs hadn’t fully worn off. The first thing he saw was Liang Wangyou swinging his little legs from the stool, humming a familiar nursery rhyme under his breath.
“Wen Yan, you’re awake!” Liang Wangyou’s eyes lit up.
Wen Yan’s vision was still blurry, but he reached out weakly. Liang Wangyou leaped from the stool and rushed to his side. “Wen Yan, let me tell you—there are so many excavators on the North Side now, and huge trucks too. They haul out dirt every day. Do you know how deep that pit is?”
“It’s over ten meters! As tall as the second floor at Oak Bay!” Liang Wangyou gestured wildly. “The engineers say they’ll need millions of tons of seawater to fill it. They’re putting little fish in too, but I haven’t picked the sea otters yet. Wen Yan, when you get better, we’ll go pick them together, okay? I’ll buy you a super-duper huge yacht, fill it with all your favorite fruits, paint your name on the sails, and let your ship set sail first.”
“Wen Yan, are you happy?”
“Wen Yan, am I talking too much?”
“Wen Yan, I’ve been holding in so many words to tell you.”
Wen Yan’s lips curved up faintly. “I’m very happy.”
Ecstatic at the affirmation, Liang Wangyou stomped his feet in joy, wedging his eyes and nose between the bed rails. His chubby cheeks puffed out, and his dark eyes sparkled as they darted about. When he smiled like that, his eyes were just like Liang Shijing’s…
The person he hated most had raised the person he loved most. What a tragic thing…
“Wen Yan, are you hungry?” Liang Wangyou asked.
“Are you?” Wen Yan replied softly, his voice frail.
“I just had milk this morning, so I’m a little hungry now.” Liang Wangyou patted his belly.
“Then let’s eat together, okay? Keep me company while I have a bit.” Wen Yan smiled pallidly.
The omega’s willingness to eat was momentous news. Within two minutes, it had spread to every medical team, sending them into a frenzy of excitement. If the omega was willing to eat, it meant his will to live had reignited. If he ate just a little more, if his body recovered even a tiny bit more, it would greatly boost the odds of a successful surgery.
Various nutritious meals were delivered to the ward—different flavors and styles, tailored to whatever the omega wanted. They provided it immediately. Over a dozen nutritionists on the team devised all sorts of creative dishes for him to sample, meticulously noting which ones piqued his interest. They served the food into his bowl, and Little Alpha fed it to him bite by bite. Even a sip of water required painstaking effort: selecting the freshest fruits and blending them in precise ratios of acidity and sweetness.
No advanced nutrient solution could match the body’s own absorption of nutrients. No cutting-edge drug could rival building natural immunity.
Liang Wangyou ate quite a bit during the meal too. After helping Wen Yan rinse his mouth, he then secretly checked if Liang Shijing was outside. He poked his head out and spotted a crowd of strangers in bespoke suits lining the corridor.
“Who are they?” Liang Wangyou tugged at Cheng Zhu’s sleeve and asked.
“Personnel from the Family Office,” Cheng Zhu replied respectfully.
The Family Office typically managed the family’s finances and daily affairs, with a primary focus on finances. This encompassed lawyers, trust companies, cash management, stocks, funds, and more. However, not everyone could adopt such a centralized model. Even the super-rich tycoons in the Capital could only establish branch offices. Few families qualified to set up a full Family Office—like the Liang Family and the Wen Family.
“What are they doing here?” Liang Wangyou asked. “Does Father need money from the family funds?”
The so-called “family funds” referred to vast sums that required an extraordinarily rigorous approval process, with individual withdrawals no less than hundreds of millions of yuan. Smaller amounts could be accessed freely.
Cheng Zhu didn’t answer. He silently patted the back of Liang Wangyou’s head.
“And Father?” Liang Wangyou pressed.
“He’s in a meeting with Foreign Minister Lin.”
“Got it.” Liang Wangyou returned to the ward cheerfully. It was a relief that Liang Shijing wasn’t there; otherwise, he’d get an earful for climbing into Wen Yan’s bed.
He tiptoed off his shoes, clambered onto the bed, and stealthily lifted the corner of the blanket to burrow into Wen Yan’s embrace. Wen Yan smelled wonderful—a faint medicinal scent, his body warm and comforting.
“Wen Yan, are you asleep?” Liang Wangyou whispered.
In the waning moments before the anesthesia fully wore off, Wen Yan endured the pain in silence. He was awake, hearing Liang Wangyou murmur all sorts of endearing things right by his ear. The agony sharpened gradually, and in the final instant, he caught Liang Wangyou’s somewhat humble question: “Wen Yan, do you like me today?”
After that, Wen Yan blacked out. When awareness returned, Liang Shijing was already at his side, holding him just as he had the night before, seeing him through those eight endless hours.
They clung to each other in shared torment, drawing solace from one another’s warmth.
Wen Yan couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They poured out, coursing over his body teetering on the edge of collapse—from muffled whimpers to wrenching sobs. He gripped Liang Shijing like a desperate little beast clutching a lifeline. At times, his fingers surged with startling strength, nails digging deep into Liang Shijing’s arm. Blood trickled down their forearms to their wrists, smearing into crimson patches amid their embrace. But more often, Wen Yan was utterly spent, his half-lidded eyes unfocused, breaths coming in shallow, halting gasps that sometimes broke off entirely…
No remedy existed. When the pain grew truly unbearable, Liang Shijing carried him to a bathtub packed with ice, the chill numbing his skin to dull the torment.
Wen Yan shuddered nonstop in the tub—a instinctive muscular reaction to the cold. Strands of jet-black hair clung to his forehead; his cheeks were deathly pale, his neck pale, his body pale, though his lips burned a deep, bruised purple. However long Wen Yan soaked, Liang Shijing remained behind him as a human cushion, enduring the same. Beyond tending to him, Liang Shijing stayed busy: checking his temperature every two minutes, massaging his muscles, feeding him high-energy nutrient shakes.
Tears spilled from the omega’s eyes, dripping onto the alpha’s knuckles with a faint, scalding warmth.
As his body chilled further, Wen Yan slumped in Liang Shijing’s arms, staring vacantly at the bright chandelier on the distant ceiling. The fixture reminded him of one of Liang Wangyou’s toys. He recalled it from their time at Oak Bay—the period when the omega had sought the alpha’s help, only to be rebuffed, leaving him heartbroken and shut away in his room.
One evening, Liang Wangyou had knocked on Wen Yan’s door, clutching that glowing little gadget. He stood on the threshold, tilting his face upward to press the light from below, sticking out his tongue and rolling his eyes.
“Wen Yan, do I look like a ghost?”
He did, indeed. Wen Yan pinched his cheek. “Like a cute ghost.”
“Hee hee, Wen Yan, are you happy now?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Wen Yan, we have to be happy every day, okay? If you’re not, I’ll make you happy. I’ll always, always, always be with you~”
In a stinging flash, those tender memories shattered, the innocent words dissolving from his ears…
After a moment, Wen Yan’s lips parted in a tremble, ragged wisps of white breath escaping. “Liang Shijing…”
“I’m here,” Liang Shijing murmured softly.
He longed to speak, but his spasming throat refused. Shivering, Wen Yan lifted his frozen, reddened fingers. Liang Shijing clasped their tips, and Wen Yan scrawled crookedly across his palm: “I want to live… I want to live…”
