Now, Tao Fengche was genuinely confused.

If it wasn’t azoospermia, could it be some other physical illness?

He felt as if his thoughts had entered a dead end, unable to find a way out. After racking his brain for a long time, he still couldn’t figure out the answer, which only made his thoughts more jumbled.

“We’ve come this far, so stop beating around the bush,” Tao Fengche sighed with a bitter smile. “What exactly is going on?”

Despite his words, he was already mentally prepared for Dr. Wu to go off on a tangent before revealing the answer. He even took a sip of water, preparing himself for a lengthy back-and-forth.

But this time, Dr. Wu answered quickly, as if during that unusual silence earlier, he had crossed a mental barrier and was now ready to open up.

“Mr. Zhao had a vasectomy many years ago.”

“!”

As soon as Dr. Wu finished speaking, Tao Fengche’s eyes widened, and even Sui Yuesheng, who had remained calm all along, showed a crack in his perfect facade.

Dr. Wu stopped there, but everyone present was smart enough to grasp the meaning instantly.

A vasectomy is not a permanent solution—there are two types of vasectomy for men: cutting the vas deferens or using medication to cause the tubes to seal shut. But in extremely rare cases, the vas deferens can reconnect, allowing the patient to regain fertility.

Coupled with the fact that condoms do not guarantee 100% prevention, this led to the established fact of Jie Yushu’s pregnancy.

Once Tao Fengche figured this out, he was both amused and at a loss—no wonder neither he nor Sui Yuesheng had considered this answer before. The odds of something so unlikely, like a comet striking the earth, happening to Zhao Jiayang and Jie Yushu were just too absurd.

But… why?

Why would Zhao Jiayang choose to have a vasectomy?

Reproduction is an animal instinct, and at the end of the day, humans are just higher-order mammals. How could an alpha voluntarily undergo a vasectomy and give up the possibility of having children?

It didn’t seem like something Zhao Jiayang would do.

Tao Fengche vaguely felt this might be related to Chu Yin, but he couldn’t be sure. It was like he had climbed to the peak of a mountain, but the truth was on the top of the neighboring one—seemingly within reach but actually far away.

His mind was in chaos, and he couldn’t help but mutter, “…Why?”

Though his voice was soft, the advanced communication equipment transmitted it to the other end, and Dr. Wu caught it.

“If you’re asking me that, I really don’t know,” Dr. Wu said with a bitter smile.

Tao Fengche snapped back to reality, realizing he had misspoken. He quickly interrupted, “It’s fine, you don’t need to answer that.”

He took a deep breath, organized his thoughts for a moment, and then continued down the line of questioning: “You mentioned ‘many years ago’ just now. Specifically, when was that?”

“It’s been so long that I can’t recall the exact date. I’m not at the clinic right now, so I can’t look at the medical records. If you’re asking for an exact time, I really can’t say,” Dr. Wu replied after a moment of thought. “But… It’s been at least twenty years.”

In that case, their earlier speculations were more or less on target.

Tao Fengche’s mind raced, but he maintained a calm expression. “So the medical report you delivered that day…”

“Since the vasectomy, Mr. Zhao’s medical records have listed him as having azoospermia, and this hasn’t changed. I was just delivering his routine physical exam report that day.”

Tao Fengche nodded, feeling like he was on the verge of uncovering the truth—

After his vasectomy, Zhao Jiayang had a check-up, and he and Dr. Wu conspired to change the diagnosis of “obstructive azoospermia” caused by the surgery to “non-obstructive azoospermia,” recording it in the medical system.

Dr. Wu leaving the hospital to open a private practice might also be related to this matter.

But that report… who exactly was it meant to deceive back then? Tao Fengche narrowed his eyes slightly, mentally noting this detail.

“Thank you for today. I’ll keep this matter confidential, and I ask that you do the same, as if this conversation never happened. Consider this a favor. If you ever need help from the Tao family, feel free to call this number,” Tao Fengche said, preparing to hang up.

“Wait!” Dr. Wu suddenly stopped him.

“Is there something else?”

“Did you go through all the trouble of finding me because you also haven’t been able to contact Mr. Zhao?”

“?!”

Did Dr. Wu really know something, or was he just fishing for information?

Tao Fengche’s face changed drastically, and he instinctively turned to meet Sui Yuesheng’s gaze. The latter shook his head slightly, signaling him to stay calm.

“Don’t worry, you don’t need to be nervous; I don’t mean anything else. I’m just genuinely concerned about Mr. Zhao’s health. As long as you keep your promise, I certainly won’t disclose this matter,” Dr. Wu said, composed and calm.

Tao Fengche had initially been calculating who leaked information to a private doctor who had left years ago. However, after hearing the second half of Dr. Wu’s sentence, he felt an inexplicable sense of confusion.

He half-jokingly asked, “Hasn’t my uncle always been in good health? He isn’t even fifty yet; just recently, he went out to sea with Uncle Wang and the others. Dr. Wu, are you overly tired today? I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

Dr. Wu only smiled. “Young master Tao, you know what I do for a living. You can brush this off with others, but not me, Zhao’s former private doctor. Let me cut to the chase: what stage has Mr. Zhao’s tumor reached?”

Tumor?!

What’s this now?

Tao Fengche froze, thinking he had misheard, and instinctively repeated, “What tumor?”

“You don’t know?” Dr. Wu sounded surprised.

A chill ran down Tao Fengche’s spine, sensing that something was slipping out of his control.

He swallowed hard, decided to play along, and said, “I don’t know. But it’s true I haven’t been able to reach him.”

“About a week ago, my uncle left me a message saying he was going away for a while, to a place with poor signal, so I shouldn’t worry. A few days ago, I had something I wanted to ask him, but I couldn’t get through. I didn’t think much of it, though. He was just on a trip to the Western Continent last month, where he was photographed dating an omega supermodel. The tabloids said they were having a great time,” Tao Fengche said with a wry smile. “I just assumed he’d taken his new flame to some remote island to avoid the paparazzi.”

Dr. Wu was silent.

Tao Fengche was nearly overwhelmed by his growing anxiety, forcing himself to stay calm and wait patiently for Dr. Wu’s response.

The clock ticked, and the sound, usually so faint it could be ignored, now seemed as loud as thunder before a storm, each tick sending a shiver down his spine.

“You really don’t know?” After a long pause, Dr. Wu sighed heavily, the sound hitting Tao Fengche like a drumbeat.

“No.”

“Well, at this point, I won’t hide it from you anymore. Every year, Mr. Zhao has a physical exam, and two years ago, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. This type of cancer is hard to detect early, impossible to cure in its late stages, and progresses very quickly. At the time of his diagnosis, it had already advanced to the middle stage. When he got the report, I immediately advised him to undergo surgery to remove the tumor. He asked if the cancer wouldn’t spread if the tumor was removed, and I told him it wasn’t guaranteed. Then he refused the surgery and didn’t want to be hospitalized. He only agreed to targeted drug treatment.”

“This year, his physical exam showed that his condition had worsened significantly. I advised him to get chemotherapy, which, while not a cure, would extend his life by a few years.” Dr. Wu’s voice carried a sense of helplessness. “But he only agreed to take the targeted drugs and painkillers. By the late stage… it’s just a drop in the ocean.”

“If you manage to find him, spend more time with him. He doesn’t have much time left.”

Tao Fengche lowered his eyes in silence, suddenly noticing the cup in his hand trembling. At first, he thought it was an earthquake and wondered why there hadn’t been an alert. The next second, he realized it was his own hand shaking.

He placed the cup back on the table, avoiding eye contact with Sui Yuesheng, and slowly asked, “You said this illness progresses quickly—what exactly does that mean?”

“Let me put it this way: pancreatic cancer is called the ‘king of cancers.’ The one-year survival rate is only 5%, and the five-year survival rate is less than 1%. It’s the most fatal type of malignant tumor.”

Tao Fengche froze completely, as if his ability to think and understand had vanished. It was like stepping off a cliff and falling into the ocean. The feeling of weightlessness and suffocation hit him simultaneously, his bloodstream filled with icy shards, leaving him freezing and in piercing pain.

“When exactly was my uncle diagnosed…?”

Tao Fengche’s voice was raspy and dry, as if iron was being ground against sandpaper.

“April two years ago,” Dr. Wu quickly replied. “More specifically, mid-April.”

…Mid-April.

Chu Yin left in February, which means… This was shortly after Chu Yin’s death.

At this moment, Zhao Jiayang’s madness and paranoia seemed to have found their answers; he knew his time was limited, so he desperately wanted to resolve this matter.

And on Zhao Jiayang’s wrist were countless needle marks, resembling a sky full of stars…

Since Chu Yin’s condition worsened, Zhao Jiayang had begun injecting alpha stimulants. This drug could stimulate the alpha central nervous system, keeping a person alert and awake, but it also had a high potential for addiction. In addition to causing organ damage to some extent, severe cases could lead to mental health issues.

Tao Fengche took a deep breath, feeling as if his heart was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand.

He forced himself to remain calm, politely thanked Dr. Wu, and promised that he would find Zhao Jiayang and accompany him through the last phase of his life. The elderly doctor, concerned about his patient, reiterated a long list of precautions before reluctantly ending the call.

But in reality, Tao Fengche was merely responding instinctively. It felt as if his soul had left his body; his mind was thickly coated with glue, making his thoughts stick together, and he couldn’t remember anything.

—Except for what happened during the Mid-Autumn Festival.

It was as if he were watching a movie in slow motion; the scenes from those days were replaying frame by frame in his mind—

Zhao Jiayang’s inexplicably trembling hand.

The fleeting blood on the pure white handkerchief.

The hidden intent of death in his words.

And that line, “You little brat don’t know a thing.”

…

Everything seemed to have an answer.

He hadn’t paid much attention at the time, but now that he thought about it, one corner of that pure white handkerchief seemed to have a pattern, faintly resembling the shape of a plum blossom.

…That was the scent of the pheromones produced after Chu Yin injected artificial pheromones.