An Yao’S Observation Diary Chapter 1

Wednesday, March 12th, Heavy Rain

What just happened was so sudden that it wasn’t until close to dawn the next day that I managed to completely organize my thoughts and pick up my pen to record them in my diary.

In the past few days, the flu has been rampant, and the Clinic was packed with patients. Most of them had gastrointestinal colds, which didn’t require surgery but involved the extra hassle of dispensing medicine and giving injections. We were working until late every night before we could go home. Perhaps because the weather warmed up today, there were thankfully fewer patients, and by eight in the evening, the place was deserted. I decided to let Chen Xuanyi and Liang Yue leave early, as it was too dangerous for two female betas to walk home alone late at night.

The two young women were ecstatic upon hearing the news. Before I could even finish speaking, they were already at the door, just waiting for my command to bolt out.

I shook my head, half-amused, half-exasperated. “I swear, you two. Go on, go on, be careful on the way.”

They grinned and waved at me. “We’re off then, Brother Lin. Don’t forget the back door light before you leave!”

“Got it,” I said. “I’m not old enough to be senile yet.”

They burst into laughter and quickly disappeared into the night on their E-bikes.

The Clinic officially closed at 9:30 PM. Seeing that no more patients were coming, I decided to take care of other tasks. I lowered my head and finished organizing the patient records on my desk, then retrieved a stack of Prescription Slips for future use. It seemed to be raining outside; first, there were muffled rumbles of thunder, then a sporadic patter of raindrops, which grew heavier as time passed, the noise so loud it seemed to drown out every other sound in the world.

Looks like no more patients will be coming tonight, I thought. I should head back soon. It would be troublesome if the rain got any heavier.

I glanced at my phone. 8:50 PM. It was about time.

So, without hesitation, I neatly tidied my desk, preparing to go home.

After locking all the doors inside the Clinic, I reached out to pull down the roller shutter, but then suddenly remembered I hadn’t turned off the back door light.

I’m only 32, am I really getting forgetful?

I silently mocked myself and reluctantly turned back. I don’t know who approved the design for the back hall, placing the light switch right next to the back door—they weren’t worried about the door slamming into the switch every time it opened and closed. Worse still, a new batch of medical equipment had recently arrived, and since I’d been too busy to unpack it, the cardboard boxes were haphazardly piled up, almost completely blocking the passageway.

I squeezed sideways through the narrow gap, struggling as if I were Tang Sanzang on his journey to the Western Heaven to retrieve scriptures. After what felt like an arduous trek, I finally reached the switch. Just as I was about to press it, a loud thud suddenly came from outside the iron door.

“Dong!”

The sound was heavy, as if something had slammed against it.

The back of the Clinic leads to a Dead End Alley, where even bicycles can’t enter. Moreover, it was late at night and raining. What on earth could have hit the door?

I didn’t have time to think and quickly opened the door. Unexpectedly, a figure tumbled directly onto the floor with the movement of the door, staining the clean tile floor with water and a thick, pungent smell of blood that rushed toward me.

“Damn it,” I thought.

I quickly turned on my phone’s flashlight. The pale beam shone downward—

It was a living person.

The young man was soaked, his hair plastered to his face, leaving horrifying streaks of rainwater and blood with every tremor. The temperature hadn’t fully warmed up yet, but he was only wearing thin clothing, the collar of which had been ripped beyond recognition.

I moved the flashlight up and was shocked to see that his exposed arms and calves were covered in bruises. He was filthy, looking as if he had just been pulled out of a garbage heap, emitting a suffocating, foul odor.

“Are you alright?” I tried gently patting his face. “Can you hear me?”

He didn’t move, looking as if he were dead.

I quickly checked for his breath. The faint warmth transmitted through my fingertip proved that the person in front of me was still alive.

Seeing this, I immediately took off my outer coat and carefully wrapped him up. The young man was lighter than I expected; I could barely feel any weight when holding him.

At this point, I didn’t care about turning off the light; I picked him up and rushed inside. The white light of the room gradually enveloped the person in my arms, revealing the young man’s true appearance: he looked to be in his early twenties, handsome, with a slender build. Perhaps due to malnutrition, his hair was not the typical raven black but a very light gray.

He was very good-looking, the kind of person you would quickly spot in a crowd. Yet, having run this Clinic for three years, I had no recollection of this face.

What exactly happened to make this young man flee in a panic to this strange place on a rainy night? Was he abused, or was he being chased?

I suppressed the doubts in my heart and carefully placed him on the examination bed. I wanted to take out my phone to call the police, but logic told me to calm down first.

Perhaps the situation was far more complicated than I imagined.

I turned my attention back to the young man. There was too much blood on him, staining the otherwise clean pillow crimson, but there was no blood on the front of his clothes.

It seemed the wounds were all on his back.

I held my breath and gently turned him onto his side. The sight that met my eyes in the next moment stunned me into immobility.

The young man’s back was covered in shocking, severe wounds. The blood and sticky rainwater had almost fused the fabric of his clothes into his flesh. But the most terrifying injury was the one on the back of his neck—gaping and bloody, with flesh turned outward. I leaned closer and found that mud and sand were mixed into the wound, leaving only a small, soft piece of flesh remaining.

He was an omega.

“His Gland was cut…” I murmured. “What on earth happened?”

But connecting this to the young man’s gender, I suddenly felt that these experiences were not surprising.

This is not prejudice. After all, even though Suppressants and Regulatory Drugs have long been invented, laws protecting omega rights have consistently stalled. Most of the so-called protection organizations in the public eye are merely for show.

It’s ironic that in this age of widespread smart products, adult omegas are still required to have a Guardian’s supervision, completely stripped of the rights of a free person.

The sad truth is that in the years I’ve run this Clinic, I’ve seen too many omegas like this.

Beaten black and blue by family members in the name of discipline, or wantonly harmed by partners under the guise of love. They are powerless to resist, unable to struggle, only able to lie on the hospital bed, barely clinging to life, unable to see the present or grasp the future.

I still remember the omega girl whose parents despised her for being unmarried and whose own brother beat her almost to the point of paralysis. She lay in bed, her eyes vacant, staring fixedly at the fluorescent light on the ceiling.

“Doctor Lin, tell me… why are people born?” she asked softly. “Is gender really that important?”

I didn’t know how to answer her. As an Alpha, any comfort I offered at that moment would sound hollow, as if any words coming from my mouth were too self-righteous and condescending.

I opened and closed my mouth silently, ultimately choosing only to record her physical condition on paper in silence.

“I don’t understand,” the girl murmured. “Aren’t we all human? Why are only omegas confined at home to have children? Are omegas inherently inferior? Why?”

I sighed. “I don’t know either.”

This society has been distorted for far too long. Everyone knows change is needed, but who is willing to step forward? Who can ensure that their sacrifice will be valuable, and not just a wisp of smoke that blows away, changing nothing?

“We can only live,” I said. “Only by living is there hope, isn’t there?”

The fluorescent light reflected in her eyes, making them seem to brighten for a moment, though I didn’t know what she was thinking.

A few days later, a piece of news shocked the entire city.

It was reported that an omega, who had long suffered abuse, poured an entire barrel of peanut oil on the floor while her family slept and lit a fire. In the flames, she raised the kitchen knife she usually used and personally severed the head of her Alpha husband.

This horrifying case instantly sparked intense public debate. Some said it was desperation, others called it premeditated murder. The final verdict was quickly delivered, stating that because omegas are inherently physically weak, any act of murder must be actively planned, and thus she was sentenced to death.

Looking at the somewhat familiar face in the news report, I suddenly recalled that a few days prior, an Alpha who had intentionally murdered his omega partner claimed in court that it was merely an “accident” and was ultimately sentenced to only 11 years.

How ironic.

Later, I overheard Chen Xuanyi and Liang Yue chatting, mentioning that the omega’s sentence was changed to life imprisonment during the second trial.

I don’t know if this counts as a stroke of luck, or another form of prolonged despair.

The young man on the bed suddenly let out a muffled groan, instantly pulling my wandering thoughts back to reality. I disregarded any gender boundaries and quickly cut away the blood-soaked clothes, taking up alcohol swabs to meticulously clean the wounds. Perhaps the alcohol was too cold, as the young man trembled unconsciously.

I didn’t dare stop my movements. After a quick cleaning, I hurried to fetch the suture kit and prepared to treat the injuries.

I should have known better than to let those girls leave so early, I thought ruefully. Now I have to do everything myself.

The moment the needle pierced the skin, the young man suddenly sprang up, arching his neck in pain, which squeezed the Gland on the back of his neck, causing more blood to seep out.

“Just bear with it a little longer…” I awkwardly soothed him. “I’m a doctor. I won’t hurt you.”

I don’t know if he heard my words, but after a few whimpers, he quietly lay prone on the bed and stopped moving.

I felt a strange pang of heartache.

The lacerations on his body were quickly dealt with, but the real challenge was the mess on the back of his neck.

For an omega, the Gland is extremely important. It not only senses Pheromones but also controls internal hormones and is the crucial organ for Marking. Consequently, the Gland is also exceptionally fragile; even just applying a barrier patch can cause a suffocating feeling of restricted breathing.

Yet, this omega’s Gland had been brutally sliced open. The flesh was turned outward, bloody and raw, with only a minuscule piece of soft tissue remaining, weakly pulsing in the pool of blood.

I instinctively held my breath.

I did my utmost, using the Clinic’s most precise instruments and medications to try and repair the trauma. But the Gland was mostly destroyed. I could only do my best to Debridement and suture the wound, praying that the remaining tissue could maintain the most basic physiological functions.

If only artificial transplantation were possible, I thought. But even organ transplantation is not 100% successful today, let alone an artificial Gland.

I let out a long sigh, belatedly realizing I was covered in cold sweat.

Looking at the young man on the examination bed, I suddenly realized I seemed to have picked up a huge problem.

What if his family comes looking for him? How should I explain this if others ask? What if he wakes up and is extremely resistant?

My head ached from thinking, but I ultimately decided to take him home first. After all, the Clinic has people coming and going all the time, making it unsuitable for quiet recovery.

I can’t just pick him up and then throw him back out, I thought, trying to find humor in the grim situation. I’ll just take things one step at a time.