After An Bao said those two words and said goodbye to Tu An, Shi Yuxing stood frozen in place, fragments of memory flashing rapidly through his mind.
“The Zerg are evolving—we’ve already discovered giant burrowing worms…”
“In the near future, the Zerg will breach Imperial Planet’s defense systems. Radar won’t detect them. Their evolution speed is faster than ever before. Only decapitation can truly kill them. Pheromones can disrupt their communication—the higher the grade, the greater the effect.”
His tea-colored pupils suddenly contracted, his brows twitching. From his petite, straight nose bridge to his chin, the smooth contours resembled layered mountain peaks—captivating.
Gu Lingzhou’s fingertip touched his lips, gently pressing down, wiping away that glistening sheen that made one want to kiss them.
“From the moment I walked in until now—seven minutes and twenty-one seconds—you’ve been completely distracted. You only looked at the flowers I brought for thirteen seconds before putting them down. You chewed your food 1.7 times more than usual. What are you thinking about? Or—while I was away, did someone hit on you and seduce you?” The General’s talent for screenwriting was exceptional; he was equally impressive as a stopwatch.
Shi Yuxing swallowed his food, the corner of his mouth twitching as he looked at Gu Lingzhou with astonishment. So this was the terrifying capability of a General? Able to calculate down to the second. He blinked and explained: “No, it’s just that I just heard from An Bao that—” He stumbled, unsure if he should continue. Gu Lingzhou had probably already heard it from An Bao anyway. It was clear Gu Lingzhou just wanted to spend more time with him. Would bringing this up now make him feel like it was “wasting data”?
Wait—what was wrong with him lately? Why was his mind wandering all over the place?
Shi Yuxing pinched the bridge of his nose, his crow-wing lashes lowering. “Nothing. Aren’t you going to eat? You didn’t eat at the military base, did you?” From base to home, then to the hospital, then back to the base—even though Gu Lingzhou didn’t have time to cook himself, factoring in all the time waiting for him to eat, Gu Lingzhou had barely any time to rest, let alone fill his stomach. Gu Lingzhou had no idea his wife was thinking so much. He smiled with crinkled eyes, shifting his gaze from Shi Yuxing’s face to the chopsticks in his hand: “But there’s only one pair of chopsticks… unless baby feeds me.”
“…”
Seeing his silence, Gu Lingzhou’s face immediately fell, his eyes fixed on him: “You don’t want to? Or are you disgusted by my saliva? We’ve already kissed… So someone really did hit on you.”
Shi Yuxing had indeed been reluctant, but Gu Lingzhou’s second sentence blocked his affirmation. Could he say it? If he did, both their mouths would probably be sealed shut.
“Of course not.” Shi Yuxing rubbed his nose fiercely. Then, a mischievous idea to tease the other surfaced in his mind. He silently turned the chopsticks around, picked up a piece of braised eggplant, and offered it. “Here, hubby, eat up.”
His tea-colored eyes looked at him sincerely. Gu Lingzhou’s expression shifted from dark to bright and back to dark again, but he still opened his mouth and swallowed that limp eggplant. Dr. Shi couldn’t hold it in and laughed out loud. Only then did Gu Lingzhou realize he’d been set up. Taking advantage of Shi Yuxing’s moment of glee, he suddenly grabbed his wrist and turned the chopsticks around—the end that had been in Shi Yuxing’s mouth now facing him. Gu Lingzhou bit down.
Shi Yuxing froze on the spot. The wooden chopstick end was held in the alpha’s mouth, his tongue licking it again and again. Once the saliva was evenly coated, Gu Lingzhou leaned close to his ear and said: “Don’t wipe it off, or I’ll get angry.”
Shi Yuxing didn’t care whether Gu Lingzhou got angry or not. He pouted and slowly pulled out a tissue, deliberately—slowly and meticulously—wiping those two chopsticks right in front of Gu Lingzhou. Shi Yuxing squinted with a seductive smile, like a feline deliberately knocking over something its owner had strictly forbidden, then prancing around in front of them afterward. “Then get angry.”
The General choked. After a few seconds, he let out a breath through his teeth, the muscles around his eyes tightening. Shi Yuxing held the chopsticks, leaning his head back against the chair, the tip of his nose touching Gu Lingzhou’s. A pair of ink-black eyes stared at him. The other leaned in closer. Shi Yuxing pursed his lips and looked away. “Get off.”
Gu Lingzhou didn’t say yes or no—just stared at his guilty eyes.
“What are you doing…” Shi Yuxing pushed him, found he couldn’t budge him, and glanced at the heavily veined arms on both armrests. Uh-oh—was this guy actually angry? Shi Yuxing curved his lips and looked back into Gu Lingzhou’s eyes. “Hubby, do you want to lick them back?”
A timely surrender could save his butt.
Shi Yuxing’s Adam’s apple bobbed painfully. Hot breath hit his tense lip line, and the narrow space between them suddenly grew warm. Just as Shi Yuxing was about to lean in and kiss him to make amends, Gu Lingzhou pulled back and sat down, lowering his eyes.
“?” Shi Yuxing’s gaze followed him, wondering if he was up to something. But even after all the food was gone, Gu Lingzhou hadn’t moved a muscle. Besides that, he didn’t say a single word—sitting like a statue with his hands folded, lips pressed together, not even looking at him. Well, maybe he did look—because Shi Yuxing caught him sneaking glances twice. When discovered, the man would shift his eyes away, pretending nothing had happened.
Watching him continue to fake it, Shi Yuxing stacked the lunch containers himself and shoved them into his arms. “Let’s go.” There’s no way he could keep pretending after this.
As expected, seeing that Shi Yuxing wasn’t going to coax him, the Empire’s youngest commander couldn’t sit still anymore. He set the lunch containers back on the table and glared at him with a look that could burn. Shi Yuxing felt his face scorched by that gaze. He turned his head away and licked his lips. “General, I need to get back to work.” With that, Shi Yuxing opened his drawer and pretended to be busy, shuffling through papers that had long been organized.
After a long moment, seeing him flip through those papers over and over, Gu Lingzhou pitifully said: “You’ve spent more time looking at those papers than at me.”
Shi Yuxing turned his head and teased: “Didn’t you stop looking at me first?”
“I didn’t.”
“So you admit you were sneaking glances at me?” Shi Yuxing saw he’d taken the bait and laughed, those two agate-like eyes watching his flustered expression. Gu Lingzhou’s ears turned red. “Baby, you can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?”
“I’m angry right now.” Gu Lingzhou’s tone grew a bit more serious, but his eyes shimmered with expectation—he hoped Shi Yuxing would coax him, preferably by kissing him first, and then he’d magnanimously forgive him and kiss back.
Shi Yuxing raised an eyebrow, pushed the drawer back, and pulled a note from his sleeve, handing it to him. “I’m ordering you not to be angry with me right now.”
Now it was Gu Lingzhou’s turn to have question marks over his head. He silently took the note and saw a few crookedly written large characters on it: “Reconciliation Note.” The handwriting looked like his own, but Gu Lingzhou had no recollection of writing it.
“What is this?” Gu Lingzhou looked up.
Shi Yuxing lifted his chin. “It’s a reconciliation note you wrote.” Seeing the confusion in Gu Lingzhou’s eyes, he explained: “It means that as long as I use this note, you can’t be angry with me. Oh, and this was written by Xiao Zhou—it applies to you, the 24-year-old General, too.”
At this, the General exploded, his voice incredulous: “You’re using something he wrote on me?”
“So are you still going to be angry with me? If not, give the note back.” Shi Yuxing reached out as if to take it. Gu Lingzhou quickly hid the note, grinding his teeth: “No—you used it. This note is mine now.”
Shi Yuxing nodded, then opened his arms. “We’ve made up, so how about a hug?” Gu Lingzhou’s simmering eyes gradually calmed. He bent down and held Shi Yuxing tight, saying in a low voice: “I’ll let you off this time.” Shi Yuxing thought the matter was over—but the next second, his cheek was gently nibbled, leaving a shallow teeth mark.
“Gu Lingzhou!” Shi Yuxing covered the spot, glaring at him. Gu Lingzhou acknowledged him and kissed the back of his hand. “What is it, Baby Doctor?”
“Now I’m the one who’s angry!”
…
A thin crack appeared in the door panel. Inside the bright study, rows of bookshelves gave off the musty smell of aged wood. A few people gathered in the center. A tall, strikingly handsome alpha stepped back from the group and walked around the bookshelves—all literary works, occasionally touching on psychology or criminal psychology, but they looked completely new, with old dust layered over fresh dust.
“Teacher Lu, we need you to recall last night’s situation again.” An Bao carefully studied the man before him.
According to the investigation, Lu Lu was a Chinese teacher at Imperial Planet’s Thirteenth Middle School. Last night, unable to sleep from the frustration of grading student assignments, he’d gone night fishing at a reservoir with his fishing buddy Ren Jia in the middle of the night. At this moment, Teacher Lu had dark circles under his eyes—not just from lack of sleep, but also from the shock of having forgotten to go to school that morning, resulting in three months’ salary docked by the school administration. That was the real pain of a working person. When An Bao and his team arrived, he was being verbally beaten over the phone, his expression nearly broken.
Lu Lu nodded, lowering his lashes as he spoke: “I left home around 2:40 or so, and met up with Ren Jia around 3:00. My phone was dead, so I left it in the car to charge. At that time, the water was calm, the insects were chirping harmoniously. I was wearing thick clothes and felt warm enough, so I dozed off for a bit. About half an hour later, Ren Jia spoke to me, and I saw his rod sink—I signaled that he had something on the line. We thought it was a big catch—I saw the rod bend almost to ninety degrees—but in less than a minute it surfaced. Actually, thinking back now, it was very abnormal, but we were too excited about catching a fish to pay attention. Then what we saw was that hand. Ren Jia was so scared he flung it right onto the shore. I ran back to the car to call the police. As soon as I got through, I heard Ren Jia scream. I looked up and… he was being devoured by some terrifying thing…” At this point, Teacher Lu shuddered. “That monster’s eyes were as big as basketballs. It stared right at me as it sank into the water. So terrifying, so terrifying!”
“What exactly did Ren Jia say to you?” An Bao asked.
Teacher Lu looked up, blinked, and bared his teeth, somewhat awkwardly glancing at Gu Lingzhou, who was examining his bookshelves.
“Speak.” This case required first eliminating Lu Lu’s murder suspect status—after all, there was no surveillance footage of the two alone fishing together.
Lu Lu said: “It was about today’s court case. Ren Jia asked me whether I thought… whether I thought General Gu was guilty…” His voice grew smaller and smaller. Gu Lingzhou’s steps paused, and he turned his head to look over. An Bao found it interesting and glanced at Gu Lingzhou. “Ah, so do you think the General is guilty?”
“No, of course not.” Lu Lu wasn’t stupid—even if he thought so, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to say it to their faces. “General Gu is the most upright person I’ve ever met.”
An Bao stared into his eyes. Lu Lu’s periorbital muscles showed tension, yet he looked back at him firmly, with no abnormality in his pupils. An Bao had been observing his facial expressions throughout. “Ren Jia was your childhood friend. Did you have any conflicts before?”
Lu Lu shook his head. “No. We had a great relationship—otherwise I wouldn’t have felt safe going night fishing with him in the middle of the night.” As he finished, An Bao nodded slightly—it matched what Ren Jia’s parents had said. Lu Lu was their son’s childhood friend, with a good relationship and no conflicts. Plus, Ren Jia’s wound matched the tearing pattern of the severed hand—neither cut by a controlled weapon nor bearing the bite marks of a carnivore—so Lu Lu could be ruled out as the perpetrator.
The officers filed in and out in force.
An Bao glanced at Gu Lingzhou in the passenger seat—he hadn’t said a single word the entire time. “Brother, what do you think?” Gu Lingzhou said nothing. He stared at the leaden gray clouds gathering in the distance, the surging rumbles of thunder. Soon, mist rose from the ground, and the damp moisture seemed to seep into the cockpit, clumping in his chest and blocking his throat.
In the end, only the splashes sent flying by the wheels and the howling wind carried his thoughts away.
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