Bz217.
A planet once half-devoured by the Zerg, its only usable resources being water and minerals. An Bao’s team locked onto their target within a day, snapping silver handcuffs onto Kolia’s wrists as she stared in shock and disbelief.
The arrogant matriarch of the Gu family quickly recovered her composure, as if she were merely an innocent citizen. “What are you doing?” She wore a simple black dress, all her usual extravagant accessories removed. Her dark hair was pinned up with a hair stick. The slight hollows beneath her eyes didn’t detract from her plump, youthful appearance—she looked nothing like a seventy-year-old woman.
“Ms. Ke, we are formally arresting you on charges of ‘involvement with organized crime’ and ‘intentional homicide.’ Please come back to Imperial Planet with us.” An Bao emerged slowly from behind the officers, his gaze cold and his tone severe. Facing this criminal who had devoured over two hundred lives, he wished he could execute her on the spot—but that would be letting her off too easy.
Kolia’s pupils contracted slightly at the sight of him. “Xiao An, long time no see.” The woman tried to appeal to his sentimentality, glancing left and right. “These are all your subordinates, right? You’ve got the wrong person. I’m here to purchase minerals. I’ve never committed any murder.”
A cruel gleam flashed in An Bao’s eyes. He stepped forward and tightened his grip on the woman’s hand. Kolia held her neck stiff, unmoving, meeting his gaze without fear—the look of a compulsive liar trying to deceive the world. “Harassing an omega like this, Xiao An—people will laugh at you.”
“Hmph, Grandmother of the Gu family!” An Bao barked. “You’re exactly who we’re after. Looking around for someone to pass information to, are you? Don’t worry—thanks to your intel, your grandson is already on his way to capture Chu Ke.” At this, the muscles in Kolia’s arms tensed instantly, every tiny wrinkle on her face straining. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Let go, or I’ll call the police.”
“Call the police? What a coincidence—I’m the one who’d show up.” Officer An cracked a joke, the curve of his lips vanishing instantly as he said to the officers on either side of Kolia: “Take her away.”
“BANG—” Gu Lingzhou kicked open Chu Ke’s hiding place, leading the charge. Dust filled the air, gradually revealing the silhouette of a figure. The Chu Ke they’d been searching for so long was holding a book, gently tracing the rough texture of the pages. Dust swirled around him as he calmly turned another page without looking up.
“Are you Chu Ke?” Gu Lingzhou assessed him sharply—slender build, silver-streaked temples, handsome features. Exactly as his photos suggested: a frail scholar.
Chu Ke didn’t deny his identity, reciting in a slow, drawn-out tone: “A prisoner? No—a reluctant creator.” In just one sentence, he left everyone staring at him in confusion.
Gu Lingzhou studied the man in pure white—a philosopher?
Sunlight illuminated Chu Ke’s face, making it the same color as his clothes. His gentle brows and eyes suddenly shifted; a flash of resentment crossed his gaze before vanishing. Gu Lingzhou almost thought he’d imagined it. Chu Ke stood up, the book clattering to the floor. Several officers raised their weapons and stepped back warily, but Gu Lingzhou pushed down the nearest gun barrel, watching this philosopher who had thrown generations and hundreds of families into chaos.
Chu Ke’s face was identical to his photos—pale lips, gentle eyes. He didn’t seem like the bloodthirsty man Steward Sun had described, nor did his white attire show any trace of the countless lives and names it had stained.
He stood in the light, like a fallen angel—but was in truth the most terrifying demon in the world.
“Please come with us.” Gu Lingzhou stared at him, his gaze shifting downward—and noticed something wrong.
Chu Ke didn’t ask where they were taking him, as if he already knew where he belonged. He nodded slightly. Gu Lingzhou pulled out the cuffs from his waist and reached for his hands—when a flash of cold light appeared. The seemingly frail middle-aged man suddenly lunged forward with a knife. At such close range, General Gu’s lashes fluttered. He turned his body to the side, the sharp blade grazing his cheek. Blood spattered, swiftly sliding down his face, staining a patch of skin.
The thick scent of fir burst forth like a geyser. His facial pores dilated, his dark pupils terrifyingly deep.
In that critical moment, Gu Lingzhou grabbed Chu Ke’s knife-wielding hand with one arm. The officers couldn’t see what his other hand had caught—only that the tall alpha twisted and spun 270 degrees, the dust rising like ceremonial gunfire. With a thunderous crash, Chu Ke lay on his back, hands cuffed neatly behind him, blood-flecked spittle spilling from his lips as he turned his head. Gu Lingzhou’s knee pressed against his back, expressionless as he ground him further into the floor.
“Come hold him down.” Gu Lingzhou looked up, his black-and-white eyes tinged with bloodlust. The officers shuddered, tense muscles fumbling as they holstered their weapons and took over the General’s position. Gu Lingzhou’s gaze swept down to Chu Ke’s gland—a site that had clearly undergone multiple surgeries, crisscrossed with hypertrophic scars. If Wen Lan’s neck scar looked like a centipede, then Chu Ke’s was like the horrifying accumulation of countless wasp stings.
It wasn’t until Chu Ke was secured and loaded onto the starship that Gu Lingzhou let out a soft hiss, wiping the blood from his face with his fingertip. He couldn’t let his wife see this—before leaving, he’d promised he wouldn’t get hurt.
…
An Bao fumed at the wound on Gu Lingzhou’s face. “Oh for fuck’s sake, how did you do this?! I told you not to get involved in this operation! You—” He turned Gu Lingzhou’s face left and right, wincing like he had a toothache. “Fuck me. I send you to arrest one person and you get your face slashed. How the hell am I supposed to explain this to my sister-in-law?” He spun around and barked at the officers assigned to Gu Lingzhou: “Is this how you were supposed to protect the General?!”
The officers trembled, unable to defend themselves. An Bao turned back, pondered for a moment, then teased: “I’ve got a scar under my eye, so you had to get one too—copycat.” Out of nowhere, grief turned to amusement, and the air fell silent.
Gu Lingzhou: “…”
The other officers: “…”
Gu Lingzhou brushed his hand away and pulled out a section of bandage. “It’s not their fault. I’ll keep it from Yuxing.”
“Keep it? Keep your ass! I’ve already taken—” Before he could finish, the family phone call came in. Gu Lingzhou froze for a moment, then raised his phone and brushed his hair aside, angling it just right to cover the mark. An Bao opened his mouth but held back. Gu Lingzhou had already answered the video call.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice was so saccharine that An Bao nearly threw up. The officers nearby stared wide-eyed at each other, looking like they’d seen a ghost, and eventually filed out with their captain, glancing back multiple times.
Shi Yuxing had gone blank the moment he saw the photo An Bao sent—that handsome face was disfigured! Seeing the man trying to hide it by turning his face sideways, his anger grew. He let out a mocking laugh: “What’s wrong? My husband’s gone—what’s wrong…” He could make sounds now, though still with a bit of raspy static.
Gu Lingzhou frowned, not catching his meaning, and puffed out his chest. “Your husband’s right here.”
“My husband’s skin is smooth with no scars. Brush the hair aside on the other side and let me see?” Shi Yuxing teased. Gu Lingzhou choked, his lips flattening. “You know? When? Did An Bao tell you?”
Shi Yuxing ignored his question: “Hurry up and turn around so I can see if you’re disfigured.”
“No.” Seeing he couldn’t hide it anymore, Gu Lingzhou showed his face, facing the camera directly. A two-to-three-centimeter mark ran from below his eye to his cheekbone. Shi Yuxing couldn’t help but quip: “So you got a matching tattoo like Officer An—might as well call you Gu Bao.”
An Bao had said almost the exact same thing minutes ago. Gu Lingzhou drew a breath. “Baby, are you really going to waste interstellar data on that? Can we talk about something else?… Like something caring about me.”
The other end went quiet. If Gu Lingzhou hadn’t seen the shifting light in those beautiful eyes, he might have thought the connection had lagged. “Baby? Aren’t you going to comfort me? It hurts a lot here.” Shi Yuxing offered a couple half-hearted words of comfort. Gu Lingzhou wasn’t satisfied. “But my face still hurts a lot. Now you have to give me a kiss.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Shi Yuxing burrowed back under the blanket, mumbling something. Gu Lingzhou said he couldn’t hear. Shi Yuxing’s cheeks flushed. “Then come back quickly. If you come back quickly, I’ll kiss you. I can’t kiss you from this far away…” He’d been so led along by Gu Lingzhou that he’d completely forgotten he’d called to confront him in the first place.
Once the dam broke, the other started climbing all over him. “Besides kissing, can I touch too? Or maybe go a little deeper?”
“Are you a pervert?!” Shi Yuxing covered his head again, his exposed ears turning crimson. He’d realized—ever since Gu Lingzhou had a taste of meat, his mind was no longer satisfied with vegetables. When Gu Lingzhou didn’t respond, he peeked out again. “There’s no one around you, right?”
Gu Lingzhou let out a low laugh. Talking to Shi Yuxing had lifted his spirits considerably. “I’m only a pervert in front of you.”
·
The blue planet grew closer and closer. Half of Imperial Planet faced the light, the other half submerged in darkness.
Shi Yuxing leaned on the sofa eating fruit platter, the TV playing the latest variety show. Da Ling looked down at the well-behaved person in his arms, and whenever juice got on the corner of his lips, he’d wipe it away with a tissue. Xiao Zhou lay across Shi Yuxing’s lap, laughing along with him at the comedy skits.
After a moment, Shi Yuxing looked up and glanced at the clock on the wall—past nine. Why wasn’t Gu Lingzhou back yet? Only Xiao Zhou’s laughter remained in the air. Da Ling picked up the remaining fruit pieces. “Not eating anymore?” Shi Yuxing shook his head and stuck the fork into one of the pieces.
“Gu Lingzhou probably won’t be back for a while. Want to take a shower first?” Da Ling suddenly asked. Shi Yuxing turned to look at him, surprise in his eyes—as if to say, how did you know what I was thinking?
The wrinkles at the corners of the man’s eyes relaxed. He reached over and took Shi Yuxing’s left wrist, then covered the back of his hand with his palm, forcefully interlacing their fingers. The two rings clinked together—quiet and resonant. The metallic gleam was like two sparks, making Shi Yuxing flinch. Then the fingers pressed in even deeper.
“Don’t pull away. Let me hold it for a while.” The man leaned close and whispered in his ear, a fire burning in his eyes.
His scorching palm pressed against the skin, as if wanting to leave a mark there. In that grasp, the man’s gaze was tender, fixed on the two rings joined together like a treasure recovered after being lost.
Shi Yuxing extended his other hand, tilting his head in invitation.
His tea-colored eyes sparkled. The alpha laughed, rubbing the warmth between their interlaced fingers, and took the other hand. He looked at him, leaned in, and brushed his cheek against Shi Yuxing’s soft face—just a light touch, like a dragonfly skimming the water. He thought, this brief moment was enough. If he could, he wished this moment could stretch into forever.
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