Weaving through the narrow corridor, he turned and pushed open the glass door. Instantly, the sour stench of half-finished instant noodles mixed with lingering cigarette smoke hit him straight in the face. A scattered piece of paper drifted to his feet. A female officer bent down and looked up—her sallow face marked with heavy dark circles. Seeing him, she tremblingly managed a weak smile.
“General… Gu? Am I seeing things?”
Gu Lingzhou scanned the large office. Several half-dead officers were either slumped in their chairs or collapsed on their desks catching up on sleep, not even bothering with the flies hovering above their heads.
“Is your captain in his office?” he asked, looking down at the female officer. She slowly moved her head and raised a finger. “Seems… yeah, in that office.” With that, she slowly turned back to him, flashing an eerie, pale smile. “Heh… heheh…”
“Are you alright?” Gu Lingzhou frowned. “Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
The female officer waved her hand. “Just pulled a few all-nighters.”
Gu Lingzhou helped her gather the scattered documents. Only after confirming she was fine did he stride quickly to the office door. After a moment’s hesitation, he knocked and pressed down the handle.
An Bao sat upright, fingers flying across the keyboard. At the same time, he held his phone between his ear and shoulder. “Yes, Chief, yes… right away, I’m handling it… You’re absolutely right, I’ll have someone deal with Ck07 later. Yes, yes, that group’s been taking advantage of the distance from headquarters to pocket quite a bit—I’ll report it all accurately. Yes, yes, okay.”
As the call ended, An Bao finally looked up from his typing. “Have a seat. Pour yourself some tea.”
Gu Lingzhou looked around, wondering when An Bao had changed offices. He found the sofa and sat down, making no move to pour tea. “If you’re busy, I can wait.”
Officer An glanced up for a split second amidst his busy work. “You think I’m this busy for who? It’s all because of you.” Another round of furious clicking followed. His sharp eyes reflected the screen’s glow. An Bao said: “Tell me—what have you been hiding from me? Confess now, and you might get a lighter sentence.” He quickly glanced up at the yellowed, water-stained clock on the wall. “If you’d been five minutes later, I’d have suspected you were fleeing justice and sent someone to arrest you.”
The man on the sofa sat ramrod straight, his brows never relaxing. “Please be more specific. I’ll cooperate.”
“Your grandmother, Kolia—did you know she’s one of the leaders of a black-market organization?” The clatter of the keyboard stopped. An Bao stood up and stretched, working out his stiff joints. Though he sounded casual, his eyes were fixed firmly on Gu Lingzhou’s face, not missing a single expression. “Hmm? Brother, care to explain?” With that, he placed his hands on his hips and closed in step by step.
Gu Lingzhou nodded and told An Bao everything he knew. An Bao raised an eyebrow. “Good. You and that butler aren’t lying.”
Gu Lingzhou: “?”
“While you were busy making your wife lose her voice, we’d already interrogated Sun Youliang—that’s your Gu family butler. Hey, you all can come out now—you heard my brother, he’s innocent.” The other side of the sofa sank down. An Bao draped his arm over the backrest, stretching it out straight. Gu Lingzhou’s sharp gaze shifted to the only possible hiding spot in the office—the small partition door.
The next second, the door let out a creak and swung open. Gu Lingzhou wasn’t very familiar with the police department personnel, but he could tell these weren’t small-timers—at least two or three division-level cadres emerged from inside, wearing sheepish smiles.
Gu Lingzhou stood up and gave them a polite bow.
“General Gu, don’t be so formal. Please, sit.”
Only then did An Bao explain why he’d been called over. “Kolia got wind of things on the fourth day of your rut and fled. She’s still at large. We’ve captured most of the organization’s members—aside from Kolia, we’ve already apprehended the other leaders.”
“Oh! You haven’t been here the past couple days so you wouldn’t know—Jiang Chusheng was taken away by the police. The charge is ‘involvement with organized crime,’ but the hospital staff all know they were arrested for illegal organ trafficking.” Lin Anran’s voice chattered on the phone, feeding him intel. “And get this—the hospital director and that Director Jiang who’s always hovering around got arrested too! Oh, and Director Jiang is Jiang Chusheng’s son—holy shit!”
Shi Yuxing’s eyes froze. He opened his mouth, then finally typed in the chat: “Now I know.”
“How could Teacher Jiang be like that? A wolf in sheep’s clothing, tsk tsk tsk. Good thing he never set his sights on—” The word caught in his throat. Lin Anran nearly forgot he was talking to Jiang Chusheng’s own protégé. He quickly changed the subject: “Ahaha—good thing he never set his sights on my gland, haha.”
You’re a beta—you don’t have a gland. Shi Yuxing’s message popped up.
“Oh yeah, what a coincidence. Good thing we’re betas—betas have their advantages too…” Listening to Lin Anran’s chewing sounds on the other end, Shi Yuxing silently laughed to himself. His long, crow-wing-like lashes lowered. Not so coincidentally—only you’re a beta.
“Yuxing, you still there?” Shi Yuxing hummed in response. Lin Anran’s sly voice came through: “Hehe, let me ask you something… so, these seven days—you were actually helping General Gu through his rut, right?”
Shi Yuxing: “…………”
“Don’t be shy, it’s nothing. The books say an alpha’s rut usually lasts about a week—and yours was exactly seven days. Plus, you didn’t reply to any messages for seven days. Anyone would think something happened to you, not that you were on vacation.”
Lin Anran: “Your guy must be pretty intense, right? Are S-class alphas’ ruts more aggressive? How did it feel?”
Shi Yuxing answered in his head: I’ve never tried any other class of alpha…
…
The cadres all wore serious expressions. The small office had never held so many leaders before. Hearing that higher-ups were present, the officers outside stopped trying to catch up on sleep and started working groggily with their panda eyes and corpse-pale complexions.
“That demon—she’s killed so many people. We can’t let her get away.” An Bao’s chest heaved. He stood up, grabbed a glass of water from the coffee table, and gulped it down.
Gu Lingzhou looked at the electronic tracking display An Bao had shown him. The line marking the tracked object’s trajectory ended in empty space, with no planets nearby where it could have stopped. His brows nearly pressed down over his eyes.
“There are no planets to dock at around the disappearance point—could it have been sucked into a black hole?” Some cadre offered an absurd theory.
“Not necessarily.” Gu Lingzhou’s defined fingers pulled up all the speed data from the tracked vehicle’s flight path and tapped on a planet’s coordinates. “If it’s a modified starship, it’s likely equipped with an ejectable escape capsule in the rear. For example, when passing this planet, the main ship’s speed increased significantly—so I deduce that the ejected capsule’s destination is nearby.”
His words stunned everyone in the room. After a moment of mental processing, An Bao slapped his thigh. “You son of a bitch—you’re a genius! I’m sending people to Bz217 planet right now.”
·
Night fell. The neon glow of the city poured through the windows, spreading to every corner of the dark room.
Amid shallow breathing, half of the person lying on the bed was illuminated, the other half hidden in the night. Perhaps the sounds of the bustling city had traveled for miles. Shi Yuxing’s lashes fluttered, and then he slowly opened his eyes.
“What time is it…” His throat was terribly dry, the breathy voice carrying a crackling sound—like a broken old television. The long, steady sleep had left his head throbbing dully. He fumbled for his phone by the pillow.
The screen’s light hit his eyes—he’d actually slept for eight hours, nearly nine at night. He unlocked the phone and sent a message. Before long, chaotic footsteps thundered down the stairs—and it sounded like more than one person.
The room’s light was still off. Against the backlight, two silhouettes appeared.
“Wife, you’re awake!”
The room lit up. Shi Yuxing finally saw who it was and struggled to prop himself up. Gu Lingzhou was the first to step forward and help him sit up. Half a beat behind, Xiao Zhou’s lips twitched, his gaze shifting to the water glass on the nightstand. “Wife, are you hungry? Want some water first?”
Shi Yuxing drank through the straw. The parched desert was nourished by the sweet dew, and he felt much better.
The aroma of food filled the entire living room. Gu Lingzhou settled him onto a soft stool that had been prepared in advance, padded with cotton. Da Ling reheated the light, warm dishes and brought them out. His long-empty stomach had been growling for a while. The moment he picked up his chopsticks, he scooped up a piece of steamed pork rib.
Tender, soft, juicy—the scallions and ginger stimulated his taste buds. Gu Lingzhou reminded him: “Eat slowly.” The steamed egg custard was topped with scallions and minced meat. Shi Yuxing dug out a big spoonful of the egg with meat in the middle, mixed it heartily with rice, and wolfed it down without sparing a single glance at the three alphas.
After clearing his plate, he put down his chopsticks and let out a small burp. Looking down, he silently pulled the waistband of his pants down a bit, freeing the pinched skin and leaving a mark behind.
Gu Lingzhou noticed his movement, a smile in his eyes. “Want to move to the sofa?”
Shi Yuxing nodded, habitually reaching out for him to carry him. After being relocated by Gu Lingzhou, the two leaned together on the sofa. The alpha rubbed his stomach to help with digestion. Shi Yuxing turned his head—the other two had just sat down to eat. He looked back at Gu Lingzhou, pointed at him, waved his hand, then made a bowl-holding gesture with one hand and a scissors motion with the other, swiftly bringing it to his mouth.
Gu Lingzhou smiled. “I ate at the police station.”
Ate jail food? Shi Yuxing tilted his head. Gu Lingzhou didn’t catch the meaning in his eyes and tilted his head back in imitation. Suddenly, Shi Yuxing’s mind finally cleared of food thoughts. He brushed aside Gu Lingzhou’s hand, crossed his arms, and his dry, raspy voice squeezed out two words so soft they were barely audible: “Explain.”
Watching the pouting man scoot back a little, Gu Lingzhou’s gaze softened. He patted his head. “You were worried about Grandmother’s affairs implicating us, weren’t you? I can bear it alone—you just need to hide.” Gu Lingzhou lowered his hands, shifted positions, and knelt on the carpet with one knee. From below, he gazed up tenderly at Shi Yuxing, taking both his hands in his own, solemnly—
“I deeply recognize my mistake. On our wedding day, I left without discussing it with you. This time, I wanted to make things clear, but I expressed it the wrong way and made you sad. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. We… will never divorce.” Gu Lingzhou had originally wanted to say that between them there was only widowhood, not divorce—but remembering what the other had said, to avoid making it come true, he changed his phrasing.
A surge of emotion swelled in his chest. Shi Yuxing’s eyes grew wet, the hurt rushing back. Gu Lingzhou withdrew one hand, reached into his pocket, and when that familiar red velvet box reappeared, the omega’s heart gave a heavy thump. It was like striking a temple bell—the sound carried far and wide, shaking the shadowy woods into rustling whispers, sending birds scattering into the distance.
“Shi Yuxing,” Gu Lingzhou called his name, opening the box he’d hidden away. The ring lay quietly inside. The alpha swallowed nervously. “Are you willing to marry me again?… Please don’t say no, okay?” His pitch-black pupils shimmered with hope, the scorching gaze making Shi Yuxing’s face burn.
Those gentle, heart-fluttering moments flashed rapidly through Shi Yuxing’s mind. He had to admit—the desperate screaming in the starship was because he cared about Gu Lingzhou. He cared whether Gu Lingzhou wanted to divorce him. He cared about his place in Gu Lingzhou’s heart… He cared whether he truly loved him.
That care came from his hopes for this marriage—after all, this was his first relationship.
The beautiful person looked at him through a thin veil of moisture, sniffled, neither nodding nor shaking his head, and said in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum: “If you ever run off alone again, I’ll stab you to death.”
The alpha’s eyes lit up completely. Shi Yuxing had never seen Gu Lingzhou like this—a bright, radiant smile. No, he had seen it before. In that photo hidden behind Gu Lingzhou’s mother’s note, he’d smiled just as brilliantly.
Gu Lingzhou lunged forward, the sofa sliding back a few centimeters. Shi Yuxing dodged his saliva, patted his shoulder, and murmured: “The ring, the ring.”
In the silent air, Gu Lingzhou joyfully and carefully slid the wedding ring onto the base of Shi Yuxing’s ring finger. The shimmering silver finally saw the light of day for real. Gu Lingzhou’s kiss landed firmly on his lips.
In the distance, the young alpha clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He looked down at his bowl of rice, only a thin layer scraped off the surface, and said in a low voice: “Lucky bastard… Old man, is this what you call being content?”
The sweet, fishy stench mingled with the unforgettable smell of disinfectant. Under the bright light, two identical faces sat facing each other, equally dark, thick pupils staring at one another—like looking in a mirror.
“Steward Sun said they’re going through his rut,” Xiao Zhou ground his teeth. “Damn it—he definitely did it on purpose, knowing it was coming. When we get out, I’m not letting him off easy!”
The other man was much calmer. Listening to the commotion, he closed his eyes. After a long while, the air quieted, and he said flatly: “I told you—don’t interfere with this world. Yuxing here doesn’t belong to either of us.”
“But Gu Lingzhou treats him nowhere near as well as we do. Wife deserves the best—”
“That’s what you think,” the mature alpha interrupted him. The overhead fluorescent light flickered for a moment, dimming for a few seconds. “I can feel it—our presence has disrupted the magnetic field of this timeline. Disaster could strike at any moment. It’s best to return to the original path.” He didn’t know if he was saying this for the other’s sake or for his own.
The young alpha looked up, sweeping his gaze across the walls they’d stared at hundreds of times. He casually picked up a package of instant food the butler had sent—enough to last them a week—and tossed it into the air. The bread flew a short distance. “Are you content?” He knew that in the other timeline, the twenty-three-year-old Shi Yuxing had died a heroic death, his body never found.
Are you content that your future will never again have such a vibrant person in it? Are you content… that the one standing by his side isn’t you?
“As long as he’s happy, I’m content.”
The man gripped his chopsticks, the food in his bowl untouched. The first joint of his middle finger turned white—and then with a crack, a wooden chopstick snapped in half.
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