The night was deep. Three identical faces sat opposing one another. If Shi Yuxing were present, he would surely have commented: “Three legs of a tripod—what conspiracy are you cooking up?”
Xiao Zhou spoke first, still fuming about what those two old men had done in the bedroom just now—absolutely perverted. “Sneaking kisses while the wife was asleep—do you have no shame at all?”
“You didn’t kiss him?” Da Ling shot him a bland glance, instantly choking off his words. Xiao Zhou’s mouth flattened. He knew he was in the wrong, but he couldn’t lose face. “That was only because you two kissed him first! If I didn’t kiss him, wouldn’t I be losing out?” He’d only kissed the nose—everywhere else had already been contaminated by those two’s saliva. Damn it. Tomorrow, he would definitely tattle to his wife, act cute, and get him to let him kiss him back.
Gu Lingzhou slammed the table, the “I am Shi Yuxing’s legal husband” badge practically glowing above his head, and said coldly: “I’ll say it again—he is my wife. Once we find a way to send you two back, get lost and go find your own wives.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Da Ling’s face went dark. Compared to the enthusiastic young Xiao Zhou, Gu Lingzhou was more wary of this older future traveler. In terms of scheming, he sometimes really couldn’t compete—after all, the drugging technique had been learned from him.
Xiao Zhou crossed his arms over his chest. “Hmph. When I go back, I’m finding my wife immediately. No way am I waiting until marriage to be together. I’m definitely having a campus romance with my wife—just to piss you off.” His proud tone made Gu Lingzhou close his eyes and take a deep breath to calm down, then look at the silent figure on the other side. “I didn’t call you here to be a mute. I want to know what you know.” His tone carried the authority of a superior.
The pupils, identical to his own, were clouded with exhaustion as they looked straight at him. Gu Lingzhou had sharp eyesight—he could even observe the muscle changes around the other’s eyes. This man’s eyes imprisoned a trapped beast, its scarred claws worn raw, oozing blood. But as if it couldn’t feel the pain, it still clawed at the indestructible iron cage, hoarsely roaring.
Gu Lingzhou pulled his thoughts back. His eyes were dark and clear. “What is Yuxing’s pheromone scent?”
The cold fir scent closed in on the man across from him. Da Ling turned his head, looking at the empty vase on the desk. “There’s a vase just like this on the dining table too.” Feeling toyed with, Gu Lingzhou coldly spat: “You don’t know at all, do you? Then don’t waste my time.” He stood up, his anger at being mocked seeping into the air.
“The flowers on the dining table—that’s the scent of his pheromones.” Gu Lingzhou’s hand had just touched the doorknob when, hearing this, he immediately pulled it back and looked at the man still sitting there. “Magnolia?”
Xiao Zhou cut in, eyes bright: “It’s actually a magnolia-scented pheromone? Just as fragrant as wifey.”
Gu Lingzhou ignored his quirk and didn’t correct him either—at this moment, he had more important things to attend to. His gaze fell on the man with his head bowed. Sensing his stare, the man looked up. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes held sorrow, and the look in his eyes made Gu Lingzhou’s expression freeze. That expression—he’d seen it before. It was the look of someone in extreme pain, numbly and powerlessly sobbing.
Every military academy student was told from the first day to brace for the cruel training ahead. Gu Lingzhou was no exception. Days of high-intensity drills and midnight surprise exercises had nearly driven him mad.
At the Imperial Military Academy, even the most privileged family scions, once they stepped through the gates, were no different from the commoners who entered alongside them—there was no hierarchy of status, no parental support. The instructors wouldn’t go easy on you because of your background. In fact, for those aristocratic brats trying to coast into a military post through connections, the standards were even stricter.
And Gu Lingzhou’s instructor, as luck would have it, had once been one of his grandfather’s subordinates. His demands were so exacting—as if he couldn’t tolerate even a speck of dust on the ground—that even the other instructors felt it was too much.
Under such a demonic instructor’s training, Gu Lingzhou had considered giving up multiple times, but he didn’t want to disappoint his parents. Forward meant hardship but honor; backward meant safety but mediocrity. He didn’t want to be mocked, nor did he want to be ordinary—but life here was truly too brutal. Finally, when the instructor made him run nine kilometers as punishment because his folded blanket was at a ninety-one-degree angle, he couldn’t take it anymore. Dragging his aching legs, he found someone to keep watch and secretly called his mother.
After all, he was just an eighteen-year-old kid who’d just come of age. Hearing his mother’s gentle voice made his eyes well up, and the urge to retreat grew stronger. He knew that if he just said the word, even if his father objected, his mother would force them to take him home.
As a child of the Gu family, if he truly didn’t want to strive, the accumulated wealth would be enough to last him a lifetime. His mother comforted him, saying she’d come visit him once her trip was over.
Just as Gu Lingzhou was eagerly anticipating seeing his parents, the tragic news came. After that day, the instructor didn’t punish him for poorly folded blankets anymore. But Gu Lingzhou, like a puppet on strings, ran nine kilometers, then another nine, then another—until the instructor finally grabbed him and helped his trembling legs back to the dormitory.
The Gu Lingzhou in the mirror had shed his youthful spirit. His hollow eyes welled up with mist, yet he stubbornly tilted his head back, refusing to let it fall.
After that, Gu Lingzhou became a completely different person. His blankets were folded to perfection. He was the first to arrive at night drills. In physical training, marksmanship, teamwork—he achieved enviable results. After years of hardship, he finally became the General Gu of today.
Their gazes collided across time and space. After pondering for a long time, Gu Lingzhou seemed to understand something. Did his future self lose… Shi Yuxing… just as he had lost his parents?
Those eyes were identical to the one in the mirror from years ago—because they were the same person.
“His pheromone is magnolia. Rank: triple S.” The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes moved as the 32-year-old Gu Lingzhou let out a deep sigh. “I mentioned before that pheromones can affect the Zerg—more precisely, they affect the unique sound waves the Zerg use to communicate. The higher the pheromone rank, the wider the range of Zerg sound waves one can influence, and the greater the effect. With Yuxing’s rank, he could control more than one Zerg Queen. Control the Queen, and you control the entire Zerg race.”
Xiao Zhou was confused: “Isn’t that great? Wifey’s so amazing—what were you two being so melancholy about just now?” This young alpha hadn’t experienced anything yet. He only saw two old men staring at each other from across the room, and the one by the door had been watching so long that his eyes had become contaminated with the same expression.
Da Ling didn’t answer him. He continued to gaze at Gu Lingzhou, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Logically speaking, by this time, the Zerg should already be showing signs of activity. But in this world, something seems to have changed—the Zerg that should have appeared haven’t shown up yet.” He pressed a hand to his stomach. The inconspicuous gesture went unnoticed by Gu Lingzhou.
No wonder this guy had been so subdued and quiet lately. Gu Lingzhou walked back to his seat and sat down. “You mentioned this before. So when exactly does this battle take place?”
“Next month—no, according to my timeline, the end of this month.”
“The end of this month? That’s only a few days away. More than half the month is already gone.” Xiao Zhou jumped up from his seat, astonished.
Da Ling glanced at him. “Don’t worry. The fact that I came back means I can save everything.”
Those words reached Gu Lingzhou’s ears. His expression sharpened. “Let me ask you—how many people died in this battle specifically?” There were always casualties in battles, but whether the number was high or low depended on the specifics.
His grandfather’s battle—the one called “catastrophic”—had left practically no survivors except for a few well-hidden subordinates. That planet had been devoured by the Zerg, drained dry, reduced to a barren wasteland.
The man across from him tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Let me put it this way: the lives devoured in this battle include your superiors, colleagues, subordinates, strangers you’ve only seen once on the street, and faces you know best online. The death toll—seven hundred million.” He held up seven fingers. His words were brutal yet laced with dark humor. In the end, he let out a bitter laugh—this catastrophe wrought by the Zerg, leaving the world scarred and bleeding, was ultimately reduced to a mere number among the survivors.
The total dead and missing from that battle amounted to half of the Imperial Planet’s population.
Even the battle-hardened General Gu hadn’t expected such a number. The Imperial Planet ranked among the top three in the galaxy by population. This kind of apocalyptic meat-grinder battle rivaled the one his grandfather had commanded.
The blood in his heart ran ice-cold, freezing his fingertips in an instant, his breath seizing up.
Xiao Zhou was also terrified by the number, his words stumbling: “Th-then… what about wifey?” That was also what Gu Lingzhou wanted to ask.
The air stalled. No answer came. The turbulence in the man’s eyes was undeniable. Gu Lingzhou had a feeling—if this room had no lights, this person would melt into the darkness, and no one would notice.
The night was so quiet and cold. The wind that snuck in through the window cracks dropped Gu Lingzhou’s body temperature another degree.
He knew. It was the answer he least wanted to hear.
Gu Lingzhou pressed down on the doorknob. Behind him, the slightly hoarse voice said: “This time, I will save all of you.”
…
The master bedroom was just as they’d left it. The beta-turned-omega was gently holding the edge of the blanket, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips—as if he were having a beautiful dream.
Gu Lingzhou lowered himself onto the bed as quietly as possible, pulling back the blanket to avoid waking him. The second he slipped under the covers, a soft pair of arms wrapped around his waist. His spine stiffened. He looked down—thankfully, he was still dreaming.
Shi Yuxing’s foot unconsciously hooked over his calf, as if treating him like a human body pillow.
Warm, soft jade was actively holding him—Gu Lingzhou felt a great sense of relief. His hand covered the smooth forehead, brushing aside the stray hairs. His face was so small—one hand could cover two-thirds of it.
Shi Yuxing was scalded by the warmth of his palm, letting out a soft “Mm” as he pulled him even closer.
Gu Lingzhou lowered his head, then traced his fingertips down his smooth forearm, then to his wrist. His skin felt the pulse beating—a living, breathing life.
Warm breath landed on his wrist bone, the faint scent of body wash mingling with fir—no magnolia yet.
Gu Lingzhou kissed his skin, pale as moonlight, his lips rubbing against it, the darkness in his eyes deepening. He slipped under the covers, facing Shi Yuxing’s slightly parted lips. His hand slid beneath the hem of his clothes, pressing against the soft flesh of his waist. As the person in his arms lay completely defenseless, he offered his lips once more.
He would never allow Shi Yuxing to leave him. Even if it meant death—he would die by his side.
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