“I’m heading out.” Shi Yuxing changed his shoes at the entrance, then sprayed himself down with blocker. The pheromone concentration inside was too high—his whole body reeked of that potent fir scent.
The young alpha called out to him. “Wife, here—take this.”
His hand, already on the doorknob, paused. Something was pressed into his palm. Shi Yuxing looked down and saw a folded note. He smoothed it open to reveal wobbly, childish handwriting—legible, but genuinely ugly. Xiao Zhou suddenly stepped forward and hugged him, whining like a puppy: “I was really mad yesterday, but I reflected on it last night. If I ever get angry again, you can use this note to make up with me.”
Shi Yuxing found it amusing. He’d banished both of them to the guest room last night. “And what if I’m the one who gets angry?” He reached out and pinched the young alpha’s cheek—full of collagen. The 1.9-meter-tall man rested his chin on his shoulder. Shi Yuxing could barely handle the weight but still teased him: “Well? What if I’m mad? Are you just going to brush it off?”
“If you take my note, you’re not allowed to be mad at me.” His voice was muffled, his scheming clear as day. So accepting the note meant he couldn’t be angry with him—Shi Yuxing made a mental note. “Gu Lingzhou, do you even know what you look like right now?”
“Anyway—” He tightened his grip around Shi Yuxing’s waist. “You can’t be mad at me. The other two, you can be as mad at as you want. I’m the youngest—can’t you cut me some slack?”
Shi Yuxing reached around to pat his back. Where had he learned this trick? It was indeed hard to resist.
The head on his shoulder mumbled: “My mom and dad used to do this too. If you like it, I can make you more ‘reconciliation cards.’ I can even make you ‘intimacy cards’ if you want.” His voice grew quieter—Shi Yuxing could feel that this kid might actually be running a fever.
A soft laugh escaped Shi Yuxing’s nose. Thinking of the young man’s deceased parents, he ruffled his hair again.
They lingered at the door for quite a while, only letting go when Shi Yuxing realized he was about to be late. He poked Gu Lingzhou’s tomato-red cheek. “You’re cuter when you’re young. When you grow up, you’re all serious.”
“So do you like me better now, or the future me?” The alpha’s face was still glowing red as he stared at him. Shi Yuxing put his hand back on the doorknob, glanced at him, and with a pleased smile, teased: “All in…”
·
At the hospital office.
Shi Yuxing looked at the crookedly written note. So Gu Lingzhou’s handwriting was this ugly? It looked like a few caterpillars crawling across the page. Legible—but that was about the only compliment he could give.
He leaned back in his office chair. The morning patients had been few, so his lunch break stretched longer than usual.
Suddenly, the door creaked.
Lin Anran slowly opened it a crack. Seeing only Shi Yuxing inside, he pushed it wide open. “Let’s go eat! Rare to get off this early.”
Shi Yuxing folded the note and tucked it into his chest pocket. “Mm, let’s go.”
“Hey—didn’t you ask me for that thesis on glandular diseases?” Lin Anran leaned closer. “To be honest, that paper of mine is a real mess. If you really want it, I’ve got it on a USB drive. You can read it, but fair warning.”
He stopped walking, his expression turning serious. “I know you’re a genius and I’m just a nobody. No matter how bad the paper is, how ridiculous the content, how off the grammar, or how imprecise the wording—you’re not allowed to critique it, and you’re definitely not allowed to laugh at me.”
“Huh?” Shi Yuxing saw Lin Anran falling behind, turned on his heel, and stopped. “Got it. I won’t laugh.”
“Alright, here’s the drive.” With that, a silver arc flew through the air. Shi Yuxing caught the tiny USB drive cleanly.
They ducked into the cafeteria—they were the first ones there; some dishes weren’t even out yet.
“Are you planning to publish a journal article on glandular diseases?” Lin Anran set his tray down and took a seat nearby. Shi Yuxing followed and sat across from him.
Shi Yuxing sipped his soup in silence. His long, thick lashes veiled those amber eyes, his thin lips parting, his Adam’s apple moving—every gesture as elegant as a noble gentleman, making one forget to eat.
Noticing his gaze, Shi Yuxing looked up, confusion in his eyes.
Lin Anran laughed awkwardly and buried his face in his meal.
Damn it—how could someone be this good-looking? High IQ, expert specialist, and the General’s wife to boot. Wonder if things have heated up with General Gu since that time. Though, if I had a wife this beautiful, I’d never let her work as a doctor—what if she ran off with another patient?
Lost in thought, Lin Anran chewed and lifted his head. His attention was immediately snagged by Shi Yuxing’s neck. Maybe it was too warm—he’d loosened his tie, and the collar couldn’t quite cover that spot. Two symmetrical red marks sat plainly on his collarbone.
“Smack—”
The chopsticks clattered against the tray with a sharp ring, then rolled onto the floor.
Shi Yuxing looked up, thoughtful. Lin Anran immediately bent down to pick up the fallen chopsticks, then went to grab a new pair.
Holy shit! Holy shit shit shit?! Those are—hickeys?!!! Right? They have to be—there’s no way you could suck those out yourself in that spot.
Lin Anran had been worried about the couple’s relationship before, but this wasn’t just a “warming up”—this was practically baby-making territory. His mind was still wandering when his phone buzzed violently in his pocket, coinciding with hurried footsteps at the cafeteria entrance.
“Dr. Shi!”
Lin Anran answered the call. “Hello? Dr. Lin, where are you and Dr. Shi? The hospital just received word of an emergency patient with severe glandular damage—get here ASAP!”
Shi Yuxing stood up with his phone, looking at the breathless doctor at the door. Leaving most of his food behind, he gave a quick word to the cafeteria staff and took off at a sprint.
“Hey, Shi Yuxing—wait for me!”
His tousled bangs brushed against his lashes as he burst through the conference room door in one breath.
“You’re here—come in, quick.” The hospital director, along with doctors from the glandular department and other specialties, had already gathered. The patient’s condition was displayed on the projection screen.
No sooner had he sat down than someone began briefing: “Chu Xiaoyun, omega, 16 years old, a student at Baiyun Middle School on planet Bz119. She was attacked after school yesterday evening. Converting the time, at 8:11 AM this morning, the patient’s gland was pierced by a sharp object. The report from Bz119 First People’s Hospital has been printed and is on the table. The patient is already en route…”
Shi Yuxing scanned the papers on the table, his frown deepening. Lin Anran beside him looked equally grim, cursing under his breath: “The more remote the planet, the more twisted the crimes. Dr. Shi, look at the data on the back of her neck—several nerves are severed.”
Shi Yuxing nodded in agreement. Someone stood up to speak: “The surgery must be scheduled immediately. Since the tests have already been done over there, I think we can skip that step here and move straight to surgical prep.”
“I disagree,” another doctor stood to counter. “Bz119 is a remote planet with relatively underdeveloped medical facilities and standards. We all know that. If there’s any mistake, the consequences would be unthinkable.”
“Should we video-call them again to confirm?”
Amidst the cacophony of opinions, only Shi Yuxing and Lin Anran sat silently in the corner. Shi Yuxing flipped through the report repeatedly, then tapped something on his phone.
A familiar voice cut through: “Everyone, quiet down. Let’s hear what Dr. Shi thinks. He’s already looking at his phone—I’m sure he has a strategy ready.” In tandem, another voice chimed in: “Exactly. Let’s hear from our expert, Dr. Shi.”
Shi Yuxing looked up, his cold gaze fixed on the two clueless men. He stood. “The doctor who examined Chu Xiaoyun is my mentor, Professor Jiang. I trust him.”
With that one sentence, the room fell silent.
The rustle of paper filled the conference room.
“It’s Professor Jiang.”
“How did none of us notice it was Jiang Chusheng who did the exam? Then the data should be fine.”
His phone vibrated. At the top of the chat window were the words “Professor Jiang.” Shi Yuxing zoomed in on the lengthy data and messages his former mentor had sent.
“So what if it’s Professor Jiang? We’re talking about equipment and medical standards. Just because a big name is supporting a remote planet doesn’t mean—” Before he could finish, a single look from Shi Yuxing silenced him.
“Director, they’re requesting a video conference.”
The minute hand on the wall clock circled round after round.
At the entrance of the Imperial Hospital, Gu Lingzhou, in civilian clothes, held a cup of peach oolong fruit tea. Even without his uniform, his unmistakable face drew stares everywhere he went.
Stepping into the elevator, the nurse pushing a cart beside him clenched her teeth in excitement. She watched him press the floor button, swallowed, and tried to stay composed.
“Dr. Shi is very busy today. He should be in surgery right now—you might not be able to see him…” She trailed off as she met Gu Lingzhou’s sharp, indifferent gaze, her voice shrinking.
Gu Lingzhou looked down. “About when will he be done?”
The nurse hadn’t expected him to respond—getting to speak with the Empire’s Supreme Commander was something she’d never dared to dream of. “Um, I’m not sure. A patient with severe glandular damage came in this afternoon. The director, Dr. Shi, and other doctors held an emergency meeting at noon. Dr. Shi is the lead surgeon—it’s been four or five hours already.”
The floor number display flickered above. On the other side, the doors to the operating room still glowed with three red characters: “IN SURGERY.”
“Wipe sweat.”
A hand reached out to dab the fine beads of sweat from Shi Yuxing’s forehead. He kept his eyes fixed on the severed nerves, his professional fine-tipped forceps working with precision—steady hands, absolute focus. He couldn’t afford even a moment’s distraction.
Finally, the light above the operating room door went out.
Everything was settled. Outside the window, the magnolia tree had begun to bud—fuzzy little tips glowing under the sunlight like tiny light bulbs.
The patient’s parents, faces streaked with tears, thanked him profusely and started to kneel. Shi Yuxing moved to help them up when suddenly a sharp pain shot through his thigh. His vision blurred, an inexplicable dizziness washing over him. His feet felt like they were treading on cotton, unsteady. He seemed to brace himself against the wall—or maybe he grasped nothing at all.
The next second, the world tilted, and everything went dark.
Footsteps, screams, and… calling his name…
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