Chapter 72: I’ll only help him if he says yes

The mention of death had frightened the child.

Xu Lin quickly reassured him. “No, that’s not it at all. You’re fine. Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared.” Xiao Zhao sniffled. “I’m not afraid to die. If I die, my father will come get me, and I’ll see him again. I’m just worried that if I die, my mother will be left all alone.” His voice broke. “I’m afraid she’ll be sad.”

Xu Lin’s heart ached at those words. He took a quiet breath, reached out, and gently patted the top of Xiao Zhao’s head. His voice was soft. “Do you trust me?”

Xiao Zhao looked up at him, gazing into his eyes for a long moment, then nodded.

“How could you die? You just have…” Xu Lin chose his words carefully, phrasing it in a way Xiao Zhao would understand. “You just have a little problem, like a cold. If you want to get better, we just need to take some medicine. But if you don’t want to take it, that’s okay too. It won’t affect you much.”

Xiao Zhao was confused. “Really?”

“Really.” Xu Lin looked around, then beckoned him closer. “Let me tell you a secret.”

Curious, Xiao Zhao leaned in. Xu Lin cupped his hand around the boy’s ear and whispered, “I used to have the same condition as you.”

“You… you did?” Xiao Zhao was skeptical.

“Yes.” Xu Lin showed him the muscles in his arm. “But look at me now. I’m perfectly fine.”

Hearing that, Xiao Zhao’s tension eased significantly. He crouched down beside Xu Lin and asked in a similarly hushed voice, “Did you take medicine?”

Xu Lin paused. “At the time, I didn’t. I was healthy and strong the whole time.”

“At the time? So you took some later?”

The question brought back memories of bowl after bowl of bitter medicinal brew, and a familiar bitterness rose on his tongue.

Xu Lin was momentarily speechless.

Noticing his expression, Xiao Zhao asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Xu Lin was surprised by Xiao Zhao’s perceptiveness. He answered the question. “I did take some later. But not because I wanted to.”

Xiao Zhao seemed to understand. He took Xu Lin’s hand and said seriously, “I know. Like my mother. She used to not want to take her medicine because it was bitter. When my father was still around, he would make her take it. He said it was for her own good. When I had a cold, my mother would make me take medicine too. She was doing it for my sake.”

He asked, “Who made you take it? Was it your family? Was it for your own good too?”

For my own good? Xu Lin clenched his jaw, swallowing the bitter laugh that nearly escaped.

He did not dwell on the question with Xiao Zhao. Instead, he changed the subject. “I’ve told you my secret. Can you feel better now?”

Knowing that Xu Lin, a fellow “patient,” was alive and well, Xiao Zhao stopped worrying. Realizing he would not die, his mood lifted immediately. “Yes!”

Xu Lin held out his pinky. “Will you keep my secret? Just between us.”

Xiao Zhao linked his pinky with Xu Lin’s, shook it, and nodded solemnly. “Okay!”

After seeing Xiao Zhao back to his dorm, Xu Lin turned and walked in another direction.

The rain from the night before had left the ground damp. Xu Lin stopped at the entrance of the building, standing where he had stood the night before, and looked back.

The area outside was vast, filled with neatly trimmed shrubs and crisscrossed by paths of grass and gravel. Plants of all sizes dotted the landscape.

He had no idea where the ring had landed when he tossed it into the darkness the night before. Such a small thing was probably already mixed in with the dirt and stones.

Xu Lin turned and entered the building. While waiting for the elevator, he heard voices from nearby.

There was a smoking room around the corner of the elevator lobby. Two staff members were inside. From their attire, they were part of Ji Jinxuan’s team, probably taking a break.

Xu Lin was about to leave when he heard Ji Jinxuan’s name.

“Don’t you think Chief Ji is acting a little strange?”

“Strange how?”

The other lowered his voice, sharing what he had seen that morning. “I came in early this morning and saw him outside. He looked like he was searching for something. His expression was terrifying. He wasn’t even using an umbrella, soaking wet. I went to talk to him and saw blood and mud all over his hands. His face was deathly pale.”

“What was he looking for?”

“No idea. When I asked, he wouldn’t say. I offered to help—two people would be better than one—but he flat out refused. I couldn’t just leave him, could I? So I held an umbrella for him, but he said it was blocking his view and told me to go. Can you believe it?”

“What time was this?”

“About six in the morning.” He shivered at the thought. “He looked like he’d been at it for a while. His hands were ice cold… He couldn’t have been out there all night, could he?”

The other swallowed. “So did you leave?”

“No. I stayed at the entrance to keep an eye on him. He looked so bad I was afraid he’d pass out and no one would find him. I watched for over two hours. He kept searching through the grass. It was like he wouldn’t stop until he found what he was looking for. Then the rain stopped, and he finally found it. It was in some bushes. He was all tense before he went in. But when he came out, he was smiling.”

He recalled, “His hair and clothes were all messy from the branches. He was covered in water, blood, and mud. Honestly, you would never have recognized him as Chief Ji. He just stood there, staring at his palm for the longest time.”

They paused for a moment, finishing their cigarettes. One of them was still curious. “What was it he found?”

“It was small. Hidden in his hand,” the other said. “But he was holding it so tightly I couldn’t see.”

Ding.

The elevator arrived. The doors slid open, but no one boarded, and after a moment, they closed again.

The two in the smoking room chatted for a while longer about other things. When their cigarettes were done, they both left.

Xu Lin stood frozen behind the corner. When time began to move again, he blinked. Stiffly, he moved his feet and stepped back.

He pressed the elevator button again and walked inside. The faint look of distraction on his face was hidden behind the closing doors.

The corridor was quiet.

Xu Lin arrived outside the clinic. There was no sound from inside. He knocked, but there was no answer. He pushed the door open—it was empty.

Everything had been tidied up. There was no trace of the destruction from the night before.

Li Mu and Fang Rong were not here looking for Ji Jinxuan, so where had they gone?

There was a conference room not far away. Xu Lin guessed they might be there. Sure enough, as he approached the door, through the slats of the blinds, he could see several people inside.

Li Mu was speaking with Ji Jinxuan, his expression grim. Fang Rong was also there, along with several others Xu Lin did not recognize—members of Ji Jinxuan’s team.

He did not go in. He leaned against the wall outside and listened.

The conversation had clearly been going on for a while, but so far, no conclusion had been reached.

“The boy is only twelve. He’s lost his father and lives alone with his mother. Life is already hard enough. Now this diagnosis. It’s a blow to all of us. You’re an expert in this field. We’re asking for your help in treating him.” It was Li Mu’s voice.

Ji Jinxuan asked, “Have you told his mother?”

“Not yet,” Fang Rong said. “His mother is in the hospital, about to have surgery. If we tell her now, we’re worried it might affect her health.”

Xu Lin peered inside. The blinds blocked most of his view. He could not see Ji Jinxuan’s face, only his upper body and the hand resting on the table.

That hand wore a white glove. On the ring finger, the fabric bulged slightly.

Xu Lin clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palm.

The ring was on his hand.

Ji Jinxuan flipped through Xiao Zhao’s file. “How do you know his mother would agree?”

Fang Rong protested, “Why wouldn’t she? What parent doesn’t want their child to be healthy?”

Ji Jinxuan said, “Gland atrophy is rare, but without treatment, it doesn’t affect a person’s health. Besides not being able to differentiate, he’s perfectly normal.”

“Being a Beta isn’t good enough!” Fang Rong’s voice grew sharp, thinking Ji Jinxuan was refusing to help.

Ji Jinxuan countered, “Aren’t you a Beta?”

“It’s different!” Fang Rong’s voice rose. Li Mu made a silencing gesture, and Fang Rong forced himself to stop, sat back down, and fell silent.

Li Mu explained, “I knew his parents. When his father was alive, we’d gather for the New Year. We talked about this. They both wanted their child to differentiate, whether Alpha or Omega. Now, if we asked his mother, I think she’d want him to be treated too.”

Xu Lin listened, his vision swimming. He shook his dizzy head, leaning against the wall to support himself as he lowered his head.

The back of his pale neck was exposed to the cool air.

He stared at his own toes. The sturdy military boots shrank into a pair of yellowed old sneakers.

He looked up. Across the corridor, a ten-year-old version of himself sat on a hospital bench, swinging his legs. His small frame was swallowed by loose clothing. His lips were turned up as he waited patiently for his adoptive parents to finish talking to the doctor, so they could take him home happily.

He had no idea that, once the diagnosis of gland atrophy came back, he would no longer be welcome in that home.

“A Beta? A Beta is useless! We adopted him from the orphanage with so much effort, fed and clothed him all this time, and for what? Nothing! Who knew his gland was useless? He can’t differentiate. He’s not an Alpha or an Omega. He’s worthless. Why keep him? Let everyone laugh at us!”

After overhearing his adoptive parents’ conversation, he had found an opportunity to run away. He thought he had forgotten all about it, but it had all come back.

Yes. For those who valued glands above all else, being unable to differentiate was a fatal illness. Betas simply were not in their consideration.

Why did no one realize that for those with gland atrophy—

Being a Beta was still a perfectly viable option.

“I can treat him.” Ji Jinxuan’s voice rang out. “But I think we should first ask the child for his opinion.”

Xu Lin’s pupils contracted sharply.

He stood frozen, half-opening his mouth, turning to look at Ji Jinxuan through the gap. Still, he could not see his face, only his chin.

The room fell silent.

Only his voice remained.

“Even at twelve, he’s an individual. It’s his gland, his body. Whether he differentiates or not should be his own choice. No one else has the right to interfere or decide for him.”

Ji Jinxuan said, “I’ll only help him if he says yes.”