The West Wing lay there quietly. Wild branches poked against the windowpanes, moss creeping along the corners of the walls—like a forgotten elderly caretaker, taking root and sprouting, watching in silence.
The unkempt windows let in rounded light, like the eyes of leaves. Dust motes in the air intertwined with the light beams, as if in a light drizzle.
Gu Lingzhou dodged the cameras, hugging the wall as he slowly pressed down on the security room door handle. Inside was empty. A blast of cold air hit him—the air conditioning was running full force. Aside from a few large monitoring screens and a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, everything else was spotless.
Facing the dense array of screens, Gu Lingzhou took a deep breath, gently closed the door, and locked it for good measure. It was his first time doing something so sneaky, and he didn’t even know where to start. There were many surveillance cables. He fumbled around, shutting down all the cameras in the West Wing, then plugged and unplugged several power sources until the screens finally went dark.
The building was eerily quiet. His footsteps echoed. He opened a few rooms that had been left unlocked—empty, nothing inside. It wasn’t until he used his lock-picking tools to open the second door that the familiar scene made him suddenly remember—this seemed to be his grandfather’s room.
Dust covered the floor, each step leaving a footprint. There was very little inside—just a bare bed frame and a nightstand.
On the wall were large darker patches, with steel nails driven in. He remembered that this spot used to hold his grandparents’ wedding photo. So much time had passed—his grandfather had fallen in battle, his grandmother had moved away, and the wedding photo had long been taken down, leaving only the rusted nails embedded in the wall.
When had his grandfather died?
Gu Lingzhou remembered it was a sunny afternoon. He’d been carrying his schoolbag, waving goodbye to his classmates, when the car window rolled down, revealing his father’s dazed eyes—a rare expression for him.
He couldn’t remember what his father had said that day. In the blink of an eye, his grandfather had become a small box draped in the Imperial flag. He looked down at the photo he was holding—his grandfather’s figure blurred, leaving only the long shadow of his grandmother wiping her tears.
Gu Lingzhou pulled open the nightstand drawer. Inside was still empty, but he’d used too much force and yanked the whole drawer out.
“Clatter—” Something fell at his feet.
…
Shi Yuxing looked at the tea set down before him by the butler and nodded politely, but didn’t drink.
“You’re dressed so formally today—is there some banquet?” Gu Lingzhou asked. Kolia set down her cup. “There is an interview, but it’s not urgent. Let’s sit a while longer.”
The butler pushed the cup closer to him. Shi Yuxing finally picked it up from the coffee table and held it in his palm. The temperature matched his brain right now—hot. He wondered how Xiao Zhou was doing.
The ceramic teacup clinked against the table, the surface rippling, reflecting Shi Yuxing’s striking face. He wanted to speak but held back—would it be too obvious to urge Grandmother to leave now?
“You’ve worked hard. We came in a rush and didn’t prepare a gift for you.” The alpha beside him spoke politely, as if an unfathomable chasm lay between grandmother and grandson.
Grandmother narrowed her eyes. “No need. Have you been too tired lately? I can see the weariness at the corners of your eyes. I have some face masks here—use them before bed. Xingxing can use them too. But the most important thing is to rest early—that way your children will be healthy too.”
Shi Yuxing took a deep breath. When had he ever said he was trying to conceive?
“Madam, the car has arrived.” The butler bent down and murmured by her ear.
Kolia reached out, and the butler helped her up. The woman looked down at them, exuding the pressure of one in power. “Stay a while longer. You can spend the night here if you like—I’ll have someone prepare a room.”
“No need to trouble yourself, Grandmother. Yuxing and I have plans for some alone time.”
Shi Yuxing looked at the man beside him in surprise. Gu Lingzhou pressed his wrist and continued: “Have a safe trip.”
Kolia looked them over with satisfaction. “Mm. That’s more like it.”
Once she was gone, Shi Yuxing pinched him, leaving a crescent mark on his muscular arm. He stood up. “Are you crazy? What were you implying?” He frowned.
Gu Lingzhou stood and put his arm around his shoulder. “Going along with her makes her leave faster. Ask that guy if he found anything.”
Remembering the real purpose, Shi Yuxing lowered his hand from pinching his nose and pulled out his phone. Almost the instant he sent the message, a reply came back—the contents made his pupils tremble. Without a second thought, he grabbed the alpha beside him and ran.
Well-defined fingers slid across the pages aged by time. At that moment, a gust of wind blew in through the wide-open window, rustling and flipping back several pages he’d already read.
The handwriting on the pages belonged to the previous Imperial Commander of the Gu family—Gu Yuanshan, Gu Lingzhou’s grandfather.
Before his marriage, Gu Lingzhou’s grandfather already knew Grandmother’s name. She was famous—daughter of a business magnate, clever and shrewd, young yet already capable of managing most of the Ke family’s enterprises, no less capable than any man or alpha.
At the same time, this exceptional Miss Ke had a long-term partner. Gu Yuanshan had secretly investigated this person—his name was Chu Mushan, a name that shared the character “Mountain” with his own.
Gu Lingzhou’s great-grandfather and the elders of the Ke family had together arranged the marriage between the two families. It didn’t take a guess to know that this had caused Kolia to be separated from this alpha.
Gu Yuanshan had known from the very beginning that Kolia’s feelings toward him were blank—and would always remain blank. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have proposed external fertilization on their wedding night. Gu Yuanshan knew his family had wronged her, so he acquiesced to her request, allowed her to later bear Chu Mushan’s child, and even helped her keep it a secret.
This journal was Gu Yuanshan’s confession—and the secret he had carried to his grave. He may not have realized it, but he loved his wife far more than he’d ever imagined.
“This…” Shi Yuxing couldn’t help but gasp in disbelief. This was the ultimate doormat. She’d had an affair within marriage and bore her ex-lover’s child, and he still helped cover it up.
The two alphas on either side fell completely silent. The three of them felt like they were back in that haunted house—that tiny pigpen had imprisoned the body of a kidnapped girl, while now, this journal locked away the lonely soul of Gu Yuanshan.
Shi Yuxing looked up. “So, Chu Ke is Grandmother’s illegitimate child with that Chu Mushan.” He snapped the journal shut, pushing the dust in the air aside. “Xiao Zhou, where did you find this journal?”
The silent young alpha pointed at the nightstand. “It was taped to the bottom of the drawer. When I accidentally pulled it out, the tape must have come loose.”
Shi Yuxing patted his head, then, as if remembering there was another dejected puppy on the other side, turned and ruffled the older alpha’s hair too.
“We’ll stop here for today. Let’s go back.”
The two alphas followed behind him. Before leaving, they had to restore the surveillance.
While the two fumbled with the wiring, Shi Yuxing’s gaze lingered on the conspicuous bookcase in the security room.
Psychology, anatomy, psychiatry, and some novels.
“Are you stupid? Can’t remember where this plugs in?” “Old man, yelling at me now won’t help…” Their bickering faded into background noise.
He scanned row by row. A layer of black dust sat on top of all the books—clearly just for show. The edges of the shelves also looked untouched for a long time… Wait. His eyes moved back to where they’d been. These few books, though dusty on top, had significantly cleaner edges compared to the other spots.
His pale fingers tried to pull out the books at that spot—unexpectedly, they were terrifyingly light. Hollow shells.
His heartbeat pounded against his eardrums like war drums.
Behind the books, Shi Yuxing spotted an inconspicuous round button. Almost instinctively, he pressed it. The bookcase suddenly began to rotate with the wall, drawing the attention of the two alphas. Eventually, the bookcase formed a thirty-degree angle with the wall—revealing a hidden door behind it.
“A secret room?” Da Ling walked over, touching the side of the bookcase, his gaze heavy as he looked into the depths—a spiraling staircase descending, the unknown end glowing with an eerie blue light.
Just as Shi Yuxing was about to ask if they should go down, Xiao Zhou stepped forward first. Shi Yuxing exchanged a glance with the alpha beside him and followed.
His phone provided light. The air grew colder than even the security room. His shoulder was held as they drew closer and closer to the blue glow at the bottom. After a long while, they stepped onto solid ground. Xiao Zhou stopped in his tracks. Shi Yuxing was about to pat his shoulder when he was frozen by the sight before him.
On both sides, rows of cylindrical glass containers—filled with unknown solutions—held people! More precisely, naked bodies of all ages, from infants to adults his age, neatly lined up on both sides.
Blue light washed over their bodies, pale and eerie.
In an instant, the air froze, the temperature dropping even further. Shi Yuxing took a step back, unnerved, and bumped into a solid chest. A dense current of electricity crawled from his heart to his limbs, rising from his throat, assaulting his optic nerves.
“Yuxing, relax.” A steady voice held him. “Slow your breathing. It’s too cold down here—we need to hurry back.”
Xiao Zhou’s body began to move. Only then did Shi Yuxing notice the long table in the center—covered with things that made one’s hair stand on end.
He knew them all too well as a doctor—things you’d find on cadavers, things you’d see on patients on the operating table. Those were glands. Complete glands, still with traces of blood, veins clearly visible. On that entire table, he couldn’t count how many such gland samples were piled up.
“Xiao Zhou, come back.” Shi Yuxing’s voice was unsteady as he grabbed the hand on his shoulder, seeking warmth.
Xiao Zhou, who had been scouting ahead, returned. “There’s a door over there. I looked—it seems to need a fingerprint lock.”
Shi Yuxing nodded. The three turned and quickened their pace back to the security room.
After restoring everything, just as they opened the door to leave, a sharp eye peered in through the gap.
“Young Masters, what are you doing in here?”
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