Chapter 54 Early Gland Atrophy

Chapter 54: Early-Stage Glandular Atrophy

"Otherwise, if you end up too disfigured from the punishment, it’ll make this place hard to keep clean. Commander Nie’s men will have to deal with the mess, and that’s too troublesome."

Zhu Shinian set the box down on the floor, his gaze shifting away from Xiao Jin’s face as if he had already lost interest, certain that, sooner or later, Xiao Jin would talk.

Xiao Jin wasn’t unaware of what those people were capable of. He had grown up as a little tyrant—whenever someone said something that displeased him, snatched an omega he liked, or even for no reason at all, his followers would handle it for him.

Back in school, his grades were poor. One teacher, an old aristocrat who had always looked down on him, called him a fool as worthless as a pariah, a disgrace to the nobility. Xiao Jin had his goons stuff the man’s head in a sack and beat him savagely with an electrified baton until the teacher bled from the mouth and vomited bile. Afraid they might kill him, they had to call the police.

Blood, incontinence—back when his underlings tortured people, Xiao Jin had been the one who found it disgusting.

Now, those terrifying methods were about to be turned on him.

"...I’ll talk, I’ll talk."

"I’ll tell you everything."

.......

"Uncle, thank you for the medicine you sent. Dad said he feels much better after taking it."

The alpha crouched down, patted the little girl’s head, and pulled a lollipop out of his pocket.

"Thank you, Uncle! ...It’s cola flavor!"

Cola-flavored lollipops—the most popular among children.

The little girl’s eyes lit up with delight.

But instead of unwrapping it right away, she stared at the lollipop reluctantly for a moment before carefully tucking it into her pocket.

"Uncle, could you come see my dad? He wants to thank you in person."

The alpha paused, a hint of hesitation crossing his handsome face—an expression that seemed oddly out of place on him.

"I still have some things to take care of. It might not be convenient." He thought for a moment, then found an excuse to refuse, as if trying to escape.

"Director Jiang, you’re here." The hospital director happened to walk over. "It’s fine—are you worried about the meeting later? If you want to visit these patients, it won’t take long... They’re all grateful to you and want to thank you in person."

Jiang Huaiyan had no more reason to refuse. The little girl tugged at his sleeve and led him into the ward.

"Dad! Uncles! Uncle Jiang is here to see you!"

The ward was thick with the mixed scents of several alphas’ decaying pheromones—some like autumn leaves rotting, others like spoiled, bitter wine.

When someone suffered from glandular conditions like premature gland atrophy, the scent of their pheromones changed too, losing all vitality—like rotten fruit, or wine gone sour.

Jiang Huaiyan stood by the bedside. The little girl’s father was named Chen Jun, a middle-aged alpha so thin he looked emaciated.

He was one of the first soldiers to follow Tao Juan into the Resistance Zone, a C-grade alpha like Jiang Huaiyan, in the late stages of glandular atrophy.

Jiang Huaiyan had read his medical record. It estimated his remaining survival time at two weeks.

"Director... Director Jiang?"

Chen Jun’s eyes lit up. He struggled to sit up, but Jiang Huaiyan quickly reached out and gently pressed his shoulder.

"Just lie down... How do you feel after taking the medicine?" Jiang Huaiyan asked.

"Much better." Chen Jun nodded vigorously, tears almost spilling from his murky eyes. "Really much better..."

Perhaps mindful of his daughter beside him, he turned his face away briefly, quickly wiping away his tears as she looked down at the lollipop Jiang Huaiyan had given her.

"Director Jiang, you don’t know... before this, I was like a madman. Sometimes I couldn’t even recognize my own wife and child. When my temper flared, I just wanted to smash things. I knew that wasn’t what I wanted, but I couldn’t control it..."

"Now, after taking the medicine you gave me, I’m much better. I’m still weak, but my mind is clear. I recognize people. I can talk to them properly. Niuniu is thin—I can still lift her up and give her a piggyback ride."

"My Niuniu is three years old. I’m afraid she won’t remember what her dad looked like when she grows up. But at least... at least she’ll remember that Dad held her, lifted her up, and gave her piggyback rides."

Jiang Huaiyan didn’t respond.

He just lowered his head, eyes fixed on Chen Jun’s hand—trembling slightly—resting on the blanket.

"Director Jiang, thank you." Chen Jun said. "Really, thank you. After taking this medicine, my last days have been so much better. At least... at least I have my sanity. I can spend a little more time with my family. I can die like a human being."

To die like a human being.

Jiang Huaiyan froze for a moment, not lifting his head.

The patient’s gratitude felt like something heavy, pressing down on his shoulders, making it hard for him to straighten his back.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice so low it seemed only he could hear: "...You don’t need to thank me."

"I can’t save you. I’m just making you a little more comfortable." He paused before adding.

He was also a C-grade alpha. He had used more suppressants than anyone, and later, plenty of cheap, harsh suppressants.

He wanted to save these people more than anyone—after all, who wouldn’t want to live longer?

But he also knew that no one could save them.

Unless... it cost more human lives.

Jiang Huaiyan had really touched a nerve. The ward fell silent for a moment, and the patients didn’t know how to respond.

"Director Jiang, please don’t say that. You gave us medicine to make our last days better... How is that not saving us?"

"Yes, Director Jiang, don’t say that."

From the next bed, another alpha who had also taken the experimental drug spoke up.

He looked younger than Chen Jun and could still sit up on his own, but the dark circles under his eyes and sunken cheeks spoke just as clearly of his limited time.

"People like us were just waiting to die." He said. "How many have died from glandular atrophy? They all end up raving mad, not recognizing anyone, smashing their heads against walls in isolation until they die. That we can have a day like this..."

He looked at his own hands and smiled bitterly. "Honestly, I wouldn’t dare to hope for it. To leave with a clear mind, to say a few last words to my family... Director Jiang, that’s better than anything."

"If only the price of benign suppressants could be lowered, or if food, electricity, things like that could be a bit cheaper. Then people wouldn’t have to rely on suppressants every time during their heat cycle. Maybe there wouldn’t be so many cases of glandular atrophy. Our children, the next generation, the one after that—maybe they won’t have to go through this."

The alpha spoke softly, as if talking to himself.

Did he hate it? It was hard not to.

But generation after generation, they had lived like this. Hatred had long been worn down into the sweat of daily toil. Generation after generation, they grew numb and stopped hating.

To be born as a low-grade alpha, to use harsh suppressants, and then to develop glandular atrophy.

Like cancer or a car accident, it could only be blamed on luck or fate. All they could do was resign themselves.

Whatever he was thinking of, the alpha suddenly choked up, his eyes reddening again—but this time, not out of gratitude, but something else.

"It's always those nobles..." the young Alpha beside him cut in, his tone barely containing his anger. "The formula for benign inhibitors has been around for a long time, hasn't it? Capping production, hiking up prices, handing it out only to their own... Guys like us—we fight for the Empire, spend our whole lives fighting, and in the end, we can't even afford to get sick, can't even die quietly..."

He spoke faster and faster, his voice started breaking toward the end.

"Xiao Zhou," Chen Jun said in a low voice, trying to cut him off.

The young Alpha bit his lip, turned his head away, saying nothing more. But his hands gripped the blanket so tight his knuckles went white.

Jiang Huaiyan stood there without saying a word. He looked down and stayed quiet for a long time, so long the air in the room almost felt frozen.

Things won't stay like this. That's what he wanted to say.

One day, the Empire would provide free inhibitors to everyone, keep taxes very low, and offer cheap electricity and food.

All that suffering wouldn't go to waste; they would build a new empire, one that's fair, where labor could earn happiness and wealth.

But he didn't say it. An empire like that—these patients wouldn't live to see it.

"Get some rest," he said.

Without meeting anyone's eyes, he turned and walked out of the ward.

The door clicked softly shut behind him. The corridor was empty; the stench of tainted pheromones was even stronger now.

Jiang Huaiyan stopped, leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes, and didn't move for a long time.

"Mr. Jiang, you feeling okay?" a nurse asked, walking up to him.

The nurse was young, around her early twenties, probably sent by the director to check on Jiang Huaiyan's status. She had a stack of medical records in her arms.

When she noticed Jiang Huaiyan, she sped up—then stopped a few steps short, frowning as she looked at him, as if double-checking something.

"Director Jiang," the nurse started, sounding hesitant, "did you... put on a suppressant patch?"

"Yes."

"But..." She glanced at the side of his neck for a second, where the skin was covered by a very new patch, showing no sign of anything unusual. "Your pheromone levels... seem a little off."

Jiang Huaiyan didn't speak.

The nurse bit her lip, as if weighing her words.

She was clearly more professional than nervous about facing the committee director of the Resistance Allied Forces. Even though her voice was a bit shaky, she still pushed on and insisted he get checked: "...Maybe I'm wrong, but Director Jiang, I still think you should get checked. Just a blood draw—it'll be fast."

"I probably don't need it—I just got tested last week," Jiang Huaiyan said.

But that shouldn't be right...

The nurse started to back off again. No one likes the bearer of bad news, and with someone in a high position, he'd especially hate hearing unlucky things.

"Then..." She took a breath, looked up at him, a determined glint in her eyes. "Director Jiang, please just check again. I... I feel like something's off."

Jiang Huaiyan looked at her. Young and serious, with that raw respect and stubbornness for her job that time hadn't worn down.

She was around twenty—probably just joined the Resistance. Full of passion and not afraid to piss anyone off. The Resistance needed fresh blood like that.

"Then let's do the check."

The nurse clearly didn't expect him to agree so readily. She paused for a moment, then quickly nodded. "Please follow me, this way—"

She turned to lead the way, her steps quick, the hem of her white coat swaying gently in the air.

Jiang Huaiyan followed behind, walking at an unhurried pace, as if going to an appointment where he already knew the outcome.

The blood draw room was small, with just a chair and a machine.

The nurse had him sit down, skillfully disinfected the area, and inserted the needle.

Dark red blood flowed through the tubing into the vial, leaving a warm streak on the clear plastic.

"Results in fifteen minutes," the nurse said. "Will you wait here?"

"Sure," Jiang Huaiyan said politely. "Go take care of your other things."

The nurse left with the blood sample tube. The door shut, and the room went quiet except for the drone of the AC.

Jiang Huaiyan sat in the chair, staring at the white wall across from him.

On the wall was a color anatomical chart, labeling all the body's organs.

The gland's location was marked in red, right at the back of the neck near the spine. Beside it, dense small text described its function, its pathological manifestations, its process of failure.

Jiang Huaiyan glanced at it for a second, then looked away.

Fifteen minutes.

He lowered his head, rolled down his sleeve to cover the needle mark from the blood draw on his wrist.

Then he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

The fifteen minutes were up. The door opened, and the nurse stood at the entrance, holding a freshly printed report.

Her face was pale. Jiang Huaiyan reached out and took the report.

The hand she used to hand it over was trembling slightly. Jiang Huaiyan looked down at the report. It had his name, the test date, and rows of values and reference ranges.

On the last line, the key indicator was followed by a downward-pointing arrow.

The value: 0.3.

The lower limit of the reference range: 3.0.

Diagnosis: early-stage gland atrophy. Recommendation: notify family and admit for hospitalization as soon as possible.

Author's Note: