The glossy leather shoes descended step by step, slowly and gently, the monotonous sound squeezing the breath out of them like a death knell.
With every step the butler took, Xiao Zhou took one back—until he retreated behind the other man and finally stopped. The unknown fear made him swallow hard. The atmosphere was unreadable and tense. The other spoke first. “Young masters, this attire is hardly proper.” As Shi Yuxing had suspected, the butler indeed knew about the existence of the three Gu Lingzhous.
The well-dressed man stood upright, stopping at the last step without advancing further. Da Ling pulled down his mask, his eyes fixed on the other. “Steward Sun.”
The figure paused for a moment, then smiled. “After all this time, you still remember my surname is Sun.”
“No,” Da Ling slowly shook his head, but his eyes never left him. “I suddenly figured something out. About why we’re here—including you, including me, including him.” The young alpha outside his field of vision paused, turning to him, not understanding what he meant.
The alpha’s brows furrowed as he continued: “You’re not the Steward Sun of this time.” His tone was full of certainty. Xiao Zhou was even more confused, repeatedly asking what he meant. Steward Sun removed his monocle. “Young master, I am Steward Sun.” The eye behind that lens now glowed with an unusual light, tinged with excitement.
“You are Steward Sun, but you’re also Dr. Sun from the Science and Technology Research Institute,” the alpha exposed coldly, his gaze falling on that lifeless eye. “Your eye was pierced by a Zerg during that battle, so the blinking frequency of your two eyes is slightly different—because your right eye is prosthetic. Am I right? You didn’t die in that war—you just changed your identity.”
Steward Sun—or Dr. Sun—lowered his head slightly, pondered for a moment, then let out a breath: “When did you figure it out, young master?”
“Last time you let us go. I had suspicions even earlier.”
Steward Sun smiled: “Looks like my disguise was pretty successful. I knew it was you the first time you appeared.” As if pleased with his own advantage, he took two steps closer.
Xiao Zhou looked at him, then at his future self, finally speaking up: “What do you mean? Is he the butler or a doctor?”
“He’s a future person like me.” Da Ling didn’t look at him. After dropping that statement for Xiao Zhou to process on his own, he turned toward Steward Sun. “What about the original butler? What did you do to him?”
Steward Sun answered: “We swapped lives. He’s in the future now.”
An overwhelming sense of absurdity. Da Ling looked at him, his eyes churning with astonishment. How did this man manage to send them to this world and swap bodies across two timelines? After Shi Yuxing died, he’d heard that someone was attempting to develop a time-space shuttle, so he’d sent people to investigate. The head of the project—Dr. Sun—had been cautious and secretive, so much so that Da Ling’s multiple attempts to track him down had all ended in failure. He never expected that person was his former butler.
How exactly did they end up in this timeline? He only remembered lying in an empty bed, closing his eyes—and when he opened them again, he saw familiar faces, and threw himself toward them without hesitation.
“Will we stay here forever?” The man’s voice was hoarse; it was clear he didn’t want to return to that cold future world. Steward Sun took a step forward, closer to them. “You don’t have to go back.”
Hearing this answer, the worried creases at the corners of the alpha’s eyes smoothed out as he let out a breath of relief.
“This technology was actually a mistake,” Steward Sun said, picking up a bottle on the table and speaking slowly. “I originally wanted to travel to his world. The goal was simple—to save your father.” He looked up, his gaze falling on the young Gu Lingzhou. Xiao Zhou’s back stiffened, staring blankly at him. The butler withdrew his gaze. “But there was an error, and he was accidentally brought to the future. To send him back would cost another hundred million in funding. We didn’t have enough money, so I could only bring all of you to this timeline with me. As for the me of this timeline—he went back and continued my research. At least that wasn’t a waste—he got to fulfill his original dream.”
Xiao Zhou blurted out unexpectedly: “Doesn’t that mean you’re really old! No wonder I thought you looked so much older—it’s only been six years by calculation.”
“Hehe, young master, you really are adorable at this age.” Steward Sun laughed out loud and put down the bottle. At this moment, Da Ling was like a frog at the bottom of a well who had just glimpsed a wider sky—clinging desperately to the rope dropped from above, seeing more of the world the higher he climbed. He observed the composed Steward Sun over there. “What’s the deal with this lab?”
The butler’s hand swept across the cylindrical glass—bodies the size of infants, of seven- or eight-year-olds, of fifteen- or sixteen-year-olds… passing through the gaps between his fingers one by one, fading away one by one.
“I’m guessing you’ve already looked into the matter between Chu Ke, Chu Mushan, and your grandparents.”
The air grew stagnant. The bone-piercing cold wore away at the alphas’ patience. Though the handsome face remained calm on the surface, inside, his resolve was quietly crumbling. How much truth was in this man’s words? Was he friend or foe?
“After hearing so many stories, would you mind listening to one more?” Steward Sun walked around the table. The two didn’t speak. “The young lady of a wealthy family fell in love with her nanny’s son, who was two years younger than her. The nanny’s son was exceptional—he got into the same school as the young lady, and without any restraints, the two quickly fell in love. Their love was too dazzling, and soon attracted the attention of the young lady’s family. They demanded that the boy leave their daughter.”
Both Gu Lingzhous immediately realized whose story this was and looked at him with even more wariness.
“The two refused to break up, so the family came up with an idea—give the boy a sum of money, and either he leaves, or he builds a career worthy of the young lady. The boy chose to take the money and start a company. But this was all a sham from the start—there was no way the young lady’s family would let her marry the nanny’s son. They had already arranged a marriage for her behind her back. As for the overconfident boy, their plan was to give him a taste of success, then push him into hell. This was the rich’s favorite game—and the rich included the chosen heir of the Gu family.”
The butler stopped in front of the door behind them. “Your grandfather and the Ke family together wove a grand dream for this child. They found loopholes in the contract to make the boy bear a massive debt. When Miss Ke found out, she unexpectedly chose to go through with the arranged marriage. But your grandparents’ marriage was never happy—Miss Ke had an affair, and soon after, Chu Ke was born.”
Xiao Zhou spoke up: “That’s pretty similar to the version we heard, but the part about Chu Mushan is a bit different.”
“What kind of difference?”
“In the version we heard, Chu Mushan ruined the company himself through drinking and gambling.”
Steward Sun let out a light scoff and shook his head. “That was all a facade. If he hadn’t done that, the Ke family wouldn’t have let him go.” Before he finished, Da Ling interrupted: “What about Chu Ke?”
“You’re asking about Chu Ke’s illness?” Steward Sun turned his head, meeting those equally ink-black eyes.
“Beep beep—” The butler pressed his finger onto the collection device, then extended something like a camera lens and scanned his facial information and iris again.
A mechanical electronic voice sounded: “Identification successful. Welcome in.”
·
The sound of trickling water seeped out from the bathroom. A handprint appeared on the frosted glass, the impression deepening and fading. “Thud—mmph!” The glass shuddered violently, followed by an even larger shadow pressing against it.
The feeling of an injection was never pleasant—especially when the thick needle went in quick and hard, nearly killing him with pain. Shi Yuxing leaned against the cool, damp, smooth shower partition, his neck craned back as he bit his lower lip, swallowing all his sounds.
He held Gu Lingzhou’s head tightly. At this moment, Dr. Shi never imagined he’d be in such a state, trembling with fear as his feet dangled. Gu Lingzhou carefully supported his hips, whispering soothingly by his ear: “Bite me if it hurts—you can bite my gland. Mark me.”
Someone who had lived as a beta for over twenty years knew that only alphas marked omegas—there was no such thing as an omega biting an alpha.
He covered his mouth, stammering through the scalding water: “Om…ega… doesn’t bite.” Then he punched Gu Lingzhou twice. The alpha’s muscles were solid—good-looking and functional. Shi Yuxing had little strength left to begin with, and having just woken up, his punches landed on the other like mere tickling, only making Gu Lingzhou hold him even tighter.
“But I think you bite very well.” The alpha laughed lowly. The damp, scalding water poured over them, and Shi Yuxing’s ears had long turned red. As Gu Lingzhou wished, amid the turbulent sound of the shower, Shi Yuxing couldn’t help but leave teeth marks on the side of his neck.
“Marking you.” Shi Yuxing looked at the teeth marks he’d left, his chin resting on Gu Lingzhou’s shoulder. The necklace around Gu Lingzhou’s neck had been pushed to the back, and Shi Yuxing happened to touch it. He picked it up and looked at it—it was the same as the one he’d hidden away. Gu Lingzhou noticed he wasn’t moving and thought he’d fainted again, about to turn off the showerhead when Shi Yuxing spoke: “Why don’t you wear the ring on your hand?”
Gu Lingzhou paused, then after a moment, said: “When my parents were still alive, they told me that your beloved should be kept closest to your heart. Back then, I thought—since you weren’t by my side, I’d keep this ring in the place closest to my heart.”
It was clearly a confession, but Shi Yuxing’s mind wandered to something funny. He couldn’t help but shake with laughter, his chest trembling. Gu Lingzhou didn’t know what he was laughing about and poked him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, hahaha…” Shi Yuxing couldn’t hold it in, laughing a couple times before being jolted back to reality. “It’s just—thinking about the ring hanging over your left nipple is hilarious… hah… ha… stop!” His laughter changed tone, and he bit Gu Lingzhou again. The alpha froze completely.
After a long moment, Shi Yuxing patted his back twice. “Keep going.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
His flushed face buried itself in Gu Lingzhou’s neck as he shifted. “I want you to keep talking. Wasn’t that a confession just now?”
Gu Lingzhou knew he was being stubborn, so he whispered what he wanted to hear right by his ear: “I love baby so much. Love Yuxing so much. Love baby the most—so sweet and soft. If only I could smell your pheromones.”
Chest against chest, their fierce heartbeats crashed through his entire body. Through his thin chest, the pounding was faintly visible. His gland was rubbed raw. Gu Lingzhou’s lips grazed the side of his face, calling his name over and over, professing his love. The moment before his consciousness faded, a fir-scented liquid was injected. Instantly, the cramped space was flooded with a rich, sweet fragrance. The alpha’s eyes lit up as he reached out to touch the protruding bone at his neck.
That restless, dangling ring was slipped onto Shi Yuxing’s finger—this was something Gu Lingzhou discovered when he laid him back on the bed.
“Passed out again.” Gu Lingzhou gazed at the beautifully nourished person on the bed and sighed, his gaze shifting to the finger dangling before him—a size too big, loosely fitted. Gu Lingzhou took his hand and pressed it against his own wildly pounding heart. He leaned down and kissed the omega’s chapped lips, whispering softly—
Good night, my beloved.
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