“Wennan.” The Omega gave Xia Wennan a gentle smile and approached the window with the bouquet, setting the flowers down on the window sill with care.

The flowers were beautiful; a bundle of gorgeous, warm-coloured blossoms, simple and elegant.
It occupied more than half the window sill all at once. 

Soon after, the Omega made his way over to Xia Wennan’s bed, head lowered as he looked at Xia Wennan.
There was a subtle pheromone scent on his body that smelled of fresh and clean vegetation that Xia Wennan could only shallowly register once he’d gotten close, nothing hostile about it in the least. 

“How are you feeling?” the Omega asked. 

Xia Wennan glanced at him before turning his eyes to Ming Luchuan, who was standing next to him.
“Decent,” he responded. 

The Omega studied Xia Wennan’s expression.
A moment later, he asked, puzzled, “What’s the matter? Are you hurting anywhere?”

Ming Luchuan cut in, “He has amnesia.”

“Amnesia?” the Omega’s eyes flew wide open with shock. 

Xia Wennan found that his eyes faintly resembled Ming Luchuan’s. 

The look of shock was frozen onto the Omega’s face.
“How did that happen? Was it the car accident?”

“Head trauma.” Ming Luchuan’s answering voice was serene.  

“So you don’t know who I am?” said the Omega.
“I’m Ming Siyan.”

Xia Wennan slowly shook his head.
He had just woken up, and he couldn’t help clearing his throat with a light cough.
He reached out to locate the button on the side of the bed, wanting to sit up. 

That Omega—Ming Siyan—reached out to stop him.
“Don’t get up, you should be lying down.”

Xia Wennan’s fingers groped the metal edge of the bed, yet he gave up once he failed to find the button.
“I don’t remember anyone,” he said, but upon realising that his words could be misunderstood, he added, “I don’t remember anything after my second year of university.”

Ming Siyan appeared stumped.
He stared at Xia Wennan for a while, then turned his head to Ming Luchuan and asked, “Da-ge, what did the doctors say?”

Ming Luchuan said in a deep voice, “They said that we need to determine the state of his brain injury first, and once he’s recovered from the injury, recovering the rest of his memory is a long-term process.”

A look of worry graced Ming Siyan’s features.
He cautiously inquired, “Is it possible that he’ll never regain his memories?”

Ming Luchuan paused for a moment before saying, “That can’t be ruled out.”

Ming Siyan sighed as he looked at Xia Wennan. 

Xia Wennan, on the other hand, was perplexed.
Lin Shuqiu’s outlook had been relatively positive when he’d told Xia Wennan about his current state—the young doctor believed that Xia Wennan would be able to recover his memories through medication and rehabilitation.
This was the first time he’d heard that his memories might not come back.

In that instant, Xia Wennan’s urgent desire to regain his memories diminished.
His memories stopped in his second year of university.
One’s twenties were perhaps the most wonderful times of anyone’s youth, yet Xia Wennan had no idea what he’d experienced in his first six years, why he’d gotten married so early—why he’d gotten married to an Alpha.
Something like this happening to him in his twenties was not only unimaginable, but also terrifying to face. 

But this wasn’t something that he could just not face so long as he didn’t think about it.
Life is a one-way street—once you’ve gone down one path, there’s no turning back.
It was impossible for him to continue his studies, and his grandpa was no longer by his side, so however unwilling he might be, he had to face and shoulder whatever life would throw at him next.

He was just… lost and overwhelmed.
He didn’t know what would happen were he to recover his memories, nor how he would continue living if he somehow never did. 

Perched at his bedside, Ming Siyan exchanged a few perfunctory words with him. 

He gave absent responses.
Once he came back to his senses, he had no idea what Ming Siyan had been saying. 

Ming Siyan’s delicate brows were slightly knitted.
While he possessed a pair of eyes that were similar to Ming Luchuan’s, the shape of his face and his facial features were clearly those of an Omega’s exquisite beauty, like glazed glossy porcelain.

He stood there for a while, then said, “Wennan needs rest.
I’d better be off.”

Ming Luchuan stood at his side without speaking. 

Ming Siyan turned towards Ming Luchuan and said, “Dad wanted to visit, but he caught a cold last night and was worried it’d be inappropriate to come to the hospital.”

Ming Luchuan’s lashes were a tad hooded as he nodded. 

Ming Siyan then addressed Xia Wennan, “Rest well, Wennan.
Dad will come to see you in a few days.”

This ‘dad’ he spoke of was a complete stranger to Xia Wennan; Xia Wennan’s own dad had died over twenty years ago, so there was no way the ‘dad’ Ming Siyan mentioned referred to his dad, but rather Ming Luchuan’s.
His emotions were a chaotic mess and he was in no mood to respond to Ming Siyan, so he only nodded.
Ming Siyan then turned and left the room. 

The moment he turned around, Xia Wennan noticed a tattoo on his nape: a multi-coloured butterfly, located right over his glands.

Ming Luchuan went to open the door for him.
Ming Siyan stopped at the doorway and said a few words to Ming Luchuan before leaving. 

Xia Wennan lay on the bed, hands fumbling about quietly until he finally found the bed adjustment button, pressing it so that his bed rose partway.
His body now propped up, he gazed to the side, eyes trained on Ming Luchuan. 

Ming Luchuan returned to his bedside and reached out to lift the blanket. 

Startled, Xia Wennan grabbed Ming Luchuan’s hand and asked, “What are you doing?”

Ming Luchuan’s tone carried a hint of impatience.
“Aren’t you getting up?”

“I can get up by myself,” Xia Wennan hurriedly said. 

Ming Luchuan shook off Xia Wennan’s hold.
“As you like.”

That morning, Xia Wennan had two more medical examinations.
Ming Luchuan didn’t leave and accompanied him the whole time. 

After the medical examination, Xia Wennan went to the doctor’s office with Ming Luchuan.
There, he saw the middle-aged doctor who had examined him when he’d come out of his coma the other day.

The doctor fetched Xia Wennan’s X-ray results and medical records and gave them an explanation of his current condition.
Xia Wennan’s car accident had resulted in him suffering from blunt head trauma.
He’d been hospitalised with a minor hemorrhage, but it’d healed up nicely within a few days of treatment as was presently recovering well.
However, his memory impairment was considered a symptom of post-concussion syndrome, which required a lengthy recovery process. 

Xia Wennan found staying in the hospital really uncomfortable.
He asked the doctor, “When can I be discharged?”

“You’re recovering well,” the doctor responded.
“In fact, you can go home at any time.”

Xia Wennan subconsciously cast a glance at Ming Luchuan. 

Ming Luchuan’s slightly leaned back on his chair, his face somewhat dour as he said, “But he can’t remember a thing.”

The doctor folded his hands atop the table and exhaled a soft sigh.
He said, “Mr.
Ming, even if Mr.
Xia were kept here for treatment, we have no way of guaranteeing that he’ll recover his memories.”

“What if he never gets them back?”

“The process takes longer than a few days,” the doctor said.
“If things progress nicely, he might be able to recover his memories in three months.”

No one asked what would happen if things didn’t go well. 

Ming Luchuan complexion was rather unsightly. 

Right then, Xia Wennan spoke, “I want to leave.”

The doctor turned to Xia Wennan.
“Mr Xia, even when you’re discharged, you’d still have to come back here periodically for re-examinations.
You’ll need to take medicine and undergo rehabilitative treatment.” 

Xia Wennan nodded.

The doctor said, “Well in that case, I’ll get them to arrange things for you today and you can leave tomorrow.” With that, he looked towards Ming Luchuan, waiting for his opinion. 

The corners of Ming Luchuan’s mouth were drawn tight.
After a moment, he raised his gaze and said, “Fine.”

That night, Ming Luchuan spent another night in the hospital. 

He didn’t know whether it was because he’d be discharged tomorrow, but Xia Wennan couldn’t sleep, his excitement keeping him up.
He tossed and turned on the bed, wide awake till late into the night, when he finally tore away his blanket and quietly got out of bed. 

Just as he slipped his feet into his slippers and walked away from the bed, he heard Ming Luchuan’s deep timbre resound through the quiet room.
“Where are you going?”

Startled, Xia Wennan froze and turned his head.
“I couldn’t sleep.
I’m going to get some air.” He wanted to go out for a walk.
At this hour, the corridor outside was still brightly lit, and the nurses’ station was attended by nurses who were on night duty. 

In the dark, Ming Luchuan’s silhouette was perched on the desk, seemingly watching him.
“Where?”

“Just the corridors,” Xia Wennan said. 

Ming Luchuan rose to his feet and approached him.
“Let’s go.”

Even squinting, Xia Wennan still couldn’t make out the expression on his face.
He could only ask, “You’re coming?” 

Ming Luchuan didn’t respond.
He stood beside him and waited, as if his meaning was clear. 

Xia Wennan immediately changed his mind.
“Forget it, I’ll just walk around the room.”

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