Meanwhile, Zhang Youcheng’s spine-chilling laughter still reverberated through the cave. After the shadow guards subdued him, they immediately untied Ma Qingyu and contacted the medical team via satellite phone.
Che Xiayun slowly closed her eyes and collapsed like a broken kite. Ma Qingyu rushed forward to catch her, pleading tearfully, “Don’t fall asleep, Xiayun, don’t sleep, please!”
The omega frantically pressed her palms against Che Xiayun’s bleeding wounds. Che Xiayun leaned almost all her weight on Ma Qingyu, forcing her eyes open to look at her and struggling to curl her lips into a faint smile.
She wanted to joke casually as she usually did, “It’s fine, this young master’s life is tough,” but she had no strength left to open her mouth or even keep her eyes open.
So tired! Can I finally rest now?
Well, at least I won’t have to change into a patient gown.
＊
Three days later.
In the hospital conference room, renowned gland specialists from the capital had gathered, engaging in a heated debate over a medical case, each holding their own opinion.
A square-faced male doctor in his forties or fifties, wearing round black-framed glasses, spoke with fervent agitation, “The patient’s gland was almost completely pierced. It’s already a miracle we managed to save it without resorting to removal! And now the family expects a full recovery of physiological functions? That’s simply impossible!”
A female doctor of similar age held a completely opposing view and retorted sharply, “But she’s only sixteen! She just underwent differentiation six months ago this is the prime of her life, and her gland functionality is still highly active. With the right external stimulation, we can facilitate recovery. If successful, it would secure her a bright future, wouldn’t it?”
The male doctor refused to back down, “Yes, she’s sixteen, but what about the risks? Have you considered the damage a second surgery could cause if it fails? How much worse could her quality of life become? Besides, there’s no successful precedent in medical history!”
“But,” the female doctor’s expression darkened slightly, “can’t we at least try? Using conservative treatments combined with traditional Chinese physical therapy, avoiding surgery to reduce risks and stimulate gland recovery, isn’t that even worth attempting?”
The male doctor revealed a mocking smile. “With this level of damage, even if Hua Tuo himself were here to perform acupuncture, recovery would be impossible. Conservative treatment is essentially ineffective it wastes both time and money. It’s better to spare the patient unnecessary suffering and just let it be.”
The female doctor, suddenly provoked, slammed the table and stood up, her expression furious. “Just let it go? You make it sound so easy! But have you ever considered that your words have crushed the only hope of a sixteen-year-old alpha? You’re not even willing to try conservative treatment, how can you be so sure she can’t recover?”
The male doctor also rose to his feet, slamming the table in turn. The two glared at each other angrily. “It’s impossible to recover! Any—”
An elderly, white-haired male doctor at the head of the table rapped his knuckles on the surface, cutting off their argument. His expression was stern. “Enough! Both of you, sit down and speak properly.”
The two fell silent at once, exchanged one last glare, and sat back down, their faces flushed red.
The elder’s gaze swept over them. “You are both my most accomplished students, yet your temperaments could not be more different.”
He looked at the male doctor and sighed. “Xiang Rong, you have exceptional talent. You remain calm and composed in any surgery, but your nature is too detached. You rely excessively on existing data and theories, too conservative, unwilling to break new ground.”
The male doctor hung his head, offering no rebuttal.
The elder then turned to the female doctor, stroking his beard. “Li Hong, you are his exact opposite. I’ve always favored you more, but your indecisiveness causes you to miss the optimal timing for treatment. Remember, nothing in this world can ever be perfect.”
The meeting concluded shortly after, with the final decision to proceed with conservative treatment, to be overseen by Li Hong despite the plan’s success rate being less than one in ten thousand.
In the luxurious hospital room, Che Xiayun, who had just regained consciousness, was swathed in bandages like a stuffed dumpling. Layers of gauze wrapped around her neck, and her hands were so heavily bundled that only the tips of her nails were visible. Her lips were pale, her face haggard.
Since she had woken up, Ma Qingyu had been staring at her with an intensity that could frighten a child, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears. She hadn’t spoken a word, which made Che Xiayun nervous. The younger girl kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling, not even daring to ask for water.
Sigh, this is so hard.
The IV drip on her arm ticked steadily, infusing medication into Che Xiayun’s body. Bored, she counted the drops in her mind, one by one, until she couldn’t hold back a tiny yawn. The movement tugged at her wounds, sending a sharp pain through her and making her grimace finally breaking the eerily silent atmosphere.
Ma Qingyu stared blankly at her pained expression, overwhelmed by the joy of having her back. She would never forget the scene of Che Xiayun slowly closing her eyes in her arms that day, a nightmare that haunted her nights, leaving her tormented and sleepless.
The critical condition notice issued by the doctors had nearly suffocated her. Every time she thought about how Che Xiayun might lose her right to be an alpha, regret twisted her heart into knots. Why? Why does fate never favor this inherently kind child?
Pressing her lips together, she suppressed her sorrow, tucked the blanket more securely around Che Xiayun, and buried her worries deep inside. Softly, she murmured, “Don’t move around.”
Che Xiayun lay still obediently, glanced at her, straightened her expression, and rasped, her throat dry, “I want some water.”
“Okay.”
As if waking from a dream, Ma Qingyu immediately stood to fetch water. She carefully tested the temperature with both hands holding the paper cup, then used a small spoon to feed the water to Che Xiayun, sip by sip.
It’s good to be alive.
After drinking half a cup of water, Che Xiayun felt a bit more comfortable, her expression brightening. Although her wound still ached faintly and her body felt weak, it didn’t dampen her optimistic and carefree mindset. Having a legitimate reason to skip classes was truly great.
Ma Qingyu remembered the doctor’s instructions: for the first week after waking up, she could only consume bland liquid foods, such as thoroughly cooked millet porridge or light, non-greasy soups. She took out her phone and asked, “Are you hungry?”