A thunderous crash echoed as black smoke rose from orange-red flames. Starships parked along the roadside emitted rhythmic beeping sounds from the collisions, quickly silenced by the shattering of glass. A giant scythe Zerg, nearly as tall as a one-story building, brandished its two sickle-like jaws and pierced through the roof of a starship.
It had just pulled out its mouth when, the next second, a flash of cold light arrived. Before the giant scythe Zerg could react, with a “shing,” blood sprayed out. Its two sickle jaws and massive body crashed to the ground one after the other. The blood splattered across half of the display screen in front of Gu Lingzhou, but was quickly wiped clean by the wipers.
The Zerg’s eyes dimmed, reflecting the shape of the mech. The mech Gu Lingzhou was piloting was a technological product from recent years, standing about four to five meters tall, resembling a headless Gundam-like robot in appearance.
At this moment, Gu Lingzhou was positioned in the mech’s abdomen area, with all four limbs strapped to specific sensors. Whatever movement he made, the mech would replicate. The slash just now came from him switching the mech’s hand form and swinging down. Few people could control mechs as flexibly as he could. Mechs were a recent development—costly and few in number. Even the affluent Imperial Military Academy students had to set alarms every morning to fight for reservation slots. Moreover, piloting a mech required immense mental strength and a long adjustment period, making true man-machine unity rare.
“General, we’ve found some ruins with people inside. The entrance is blocked by giant rocks. Please come over.”
The communicator at Gu Lingzhou’s side crackled to life. He replied: “I’m on my way.”
The mech’s footsteps vibrated the broken stones on the ground. Zerg carcasses lay across the road. Gu Lingzhou kicked one aside; the flies swarming the corpse scattered, then regrouped to convene on the body.
“General, over here—we need you to move the large rocks above.” A Lieutenant General with a metal badge directed. The boulder blocking the exit was lifted by Gu Lingzhou and tossed aside.
The few people huddled inside widened their eyes in terror. Apart from one person whose arm was bound with medical bandages, the others were uninjured. Rescue workers pulled them out and shone a flashlight inside. “Anyone else?”
“No,” said a young man with glasses, his cheeks smudged with black ash, turning his face gray. “Just the few of us from this building.”
“Brother.” A young man with a similar face grabbed his arm. “They said they’re taking us to a shelter.”
“Lin Anran?” Gu Lingzhou recognized the face and murmured, belatedly realizing why this road had felt familiar—he’d been here before.
The person called by name looked up at the mech that towered even higher than the Zerg, somewhat surprised: “General Gu?”
Gu Lingzhou forgot that the mech’s internal voice transmission would amplify his voice—even a faint sound would be magnified several times. Lin Anran immediately recognized Gu Lingzhou’s voice. “Is Dr. Shi okay?” When he’d escaped, he’d grabbed a roll of paper and his phone, only to realize in the basement that he’d taken a roll of bandages and an air conditioner remote—he had no idea how anyone else was doing.
Gu Lingzhou nodded. “He’s at home. He’s fine.”
Lin Anran let out a breath of relief. Looking around, his former home had become ruins. Gloom hung overhead, stretching beyond sight. Black smoke rose in the distance like hellish demons. Collapsed walls had crumbled to dust. The air was thick with the pungent smell of gasoline and blood, even the drizzle carrying the same scent.
“Brother, let’s go.” Lin Wuyang gripped his arm tightly.
Lin Anran’s lip line was drawn taut. No one knew what was going through his dark eyes. After a long moment, he spoke: “Do you need doctors?” Lin Wuyang reacted first, his grip on Lin Anran’s sleeve creating several tight creases. “Don’t be ridiculous—”
But Lin Anran seemed not to hear him, speaking seriously: “I know some first aid. I can see you don’t have any medics here. I can stay and help with rescue.” In that sealed basement, if he hadn’t had bandages and his medical skills, one fewer person might have made it out.
The Lieutenant General handling the wounded saw the two hadn’t come and walked over to check. After his subordinate whispered a few words, the Lieutenant General’s gaze fell on the two similar faces.
“Don’t joke around. Come to the shelter—they’ll definitely have doctors there.” Seeing Lin Anran still standing motionless, Lin Wuyang gritted his teeth in fury: “Lin Anran! Did you hear what I said?!”
Lin Anran flinched at his shout. His wrist was firmly clamped by a powerful grip. Lin Wuyang’s hand tightened more and more, terrified that Lin Anran would actually stay. His voice softened, almost pleading: “Brother, I can’t lose you. Have you forgotten?”
The drizzly rain fell—not as bleak as winter rain, nor as lingering as spring rain. It didn’t hurt on the skin, but the stench at the tip of his nose was impossible to ignore. Lin Anran clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. His glasses were quickly covered with mist and droplets. It seemed like it had been a similar kind of weather when he’d grabbed Lin Wuyang’s hand and told him to come back.
“Lin Wuyang, come back with me!” Young Lin Anran, wearing worn-out, ill-fitting clothes, called out to him. His sudden appearance made Lin Wuyang freeze.
“What are you doing here?” Lin Wuyang’s pupils reflected Lin Anran’s furious eyes. The next second, Lin Anran stepped forward and grabbed his hand. Lin Wuyang glanced back at the two adults who were frowning and urging him.
His voice choked with tears. Lin Anran clutched his clothes tightly, biting his lower lip as he demanded: “…Every time you come back, your arms are covered in needle marks. I followed you today and found out you weren’t going to the city at all. You said you were going to work—what are you really doing here?”
Lin Wuyang lowered his eyes and pried his fingers off one by one. With the lie exposed, he stopped pretending. “I am working here. Just wait—once I come out, we’ll have enough for one-way tickets to Imperial Planet. You’ve always wanted to go, haven’t you…”
Before he could finish, Lin Anran suddenly exploded, tears spilling over. He was the older brother, yet he was the one who cried the most. “You’re lying! Lin Wuyang, you’re lying!” He’d followed him all the way and discovered that his younger brother wasn’t tutoring anyone—instead, he’d been led by those two strange men into a small clinic. In that instant, he understood everything.
The two adults urged them impatiently. Lin Wuyang let out a breath. “Brother, go back and pack first. Once I get the money, we can go to Imperial Planet.” Due to the planet’s underdeveloped economic conditions, the orphanage only raised children until age fourteen, then kicked them out to fend for themselves. These twins had already been allowed to stay an extra month past the limit. If they couldn’t find a way to make a living, even the director couldn’t protect them.
Imperial Planet was the destination they’d chosen for themselves. But the tickets were exorbitantly expensive. The two kids had saved for half a year and still hadn’t even reached a fraction of the cost. Lin Anran was anxious—he didn’t want to put the kind director in a difficult position, but he wanted even less for his brother to throw his life away for money.
“No. You’re coming back with me right now.” Lin Anran cried even harder, his fingers locked tightly around him. “I don’t want you earning this deadly money. Come back with me.” He tugged at Lin Wuyang’s thin arm, pulling him to leave.
“Let go!” Lin Wuyang was stubborn—once he’d decided on something, he wouldn’t give up.
Seeing his brother wouldn’t listen, Lin Anran sobbed and shouted: “I won’t let go!… Don’t think I don’t know you’re testing drugs! I’m not as smart as you, but I’m not stupid enough not to know this is life-threatening! If you take one more step toward that place, I won’t have you as a brother anymore!” His voice attracted the attention of passersby. The two adults at the clinic entrance hurried over to shoo them away. “If you’re not coming in, leave! Stop spouting nonsense!”
The two kids bickered and tugged all the way back to the orphanage. Lin Anran didn’t speak to Lin Wuyang for days because of this. Finally, Lin Wuyang handed him half a piece of gum that had gone soft and warm from being kept in his pocket, conceding: “Brother, I was wrong. I can’t live without you.”
This was their unspoken way of apologizing. Gum was expensive—only when volunteers visited the orphanage did each child get one piece. Everyone treasured theirs, only tearing off a tiny bit to suck on at a time. That half-piece of gum was something Lin Wuyang had saved up for a long time.
The drizzle showed signs of getting heavier. Someone broke the silence: “The shelter needs doctors. You two go ahead.”
·
Both sides of the dim corridor were packed with people. The shelter was more crowded than ever before.
“Dr. Shi, over here!” The front desk nurse from Imperial Hospital waved at him. Amidst the misfortune, they were fortunate enough to meet at the shelter. Shi Yuxing had just finished changing the dressing on a wounded patient’s head wound and hurried over to the nurse. “What’s wrong?”
The nurse said: “This omega’s heat has started.”
An omega with a flushed face and scrapes on her arms leaned against the wall, faint pheromones wafting from her. Shi Yuxing leaned in closer and could smell the peach scent on her. He frowned. “What’s her temperature?”
“Low-grade fever—38.1°C. I didn’t give her any medication, just a suppressant shot.” The nurse showed him the empty syringe. Shi Yuxing glanced at it. “Good work. You’ve got the potential to be a head nurse.”
The nurse’s face flushed at the compliment. “What should we do next?”
“Don’t give her any anti-inflammatory drugs. Bandage her wounds and send her to the isolation room. Ask if she has a partner—a temporary mark would help a lot.” Shi Yuxing’s peripheral vision caught several alphas staring fixedly in their direction—clearly the peach scent had spread. The average citizen of Imperial Planet had high standards, but assaults still happened every year—delinquents were just fewer here than on other planets, not nonexistent.
The nurse hoisted the peach-scented omega’s arm over her shoulder. “Okay.”
He watched the nurse help the omega away. The next second, a weight landed on his shoulder. He turned and met Lin Anran’s delighted gaze. “It really is you! What are you doing here? Gu Lingzhou said you were at home—I thought I was seeing things.”
Shi Yuxing noticed Lin Wuyang beside him, who didn’t look too happy, but appeared uninjured. “You ran into Gu Lingzhou? How is he? Is he hurt?”
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