“General, the Zerg have stopped migrating!!!” The soldier tracking the target leaned closer to the screen, zooming in on the Zerg’s coordinates. The overhead rotors roared loudly. He squinted and shouted into the communicator: “Zerg sighted at the foot of Weishan Mountain. Requesting further instructions.”
From a distance, Gu Lingzhou spotted Wen Lan’s mech, stopped in front of a rushing river. He said to the person on the communicator: “After landing, stay at a safe distance and stand by. Report any developments promptly.”
“Yes, sir!!!” The signal cut off. Gu Lingzhou frowned: “Wen Lan, what are you doing stopped here?”
Behind him came the military starships in pursuit. The sound of rushing water was loud—Wen Lan didn’t seem to hear him. The cold, metallic mech showed no signs of life.
He nudged the mech with his own—the other mech’s arm was pushed up and then froze midair. That was the state of an offline pilot.
Wen Lan wasn’t inside the mech.
His tone turned displeased over the communicator: “Can anyone reach Wen Lan? Where did he go?!” Gu Lingzhou’s brows knitted into an unbreakable knot. At this critical juncture, anyone acting alone would face disciplinary action later. He hated it most when people went off on missions without reporting and couldn’t be reached.
“How do you know Wen Lan isn’t inside?” Shi Yuxing leaned over from the passenger seat. An Bao kept both hands on the steering wheel. “Oh—the mech is connected to the pilot’s limbs. When your husband nudged the mech’s arm just now, if someone were inside, the arm would have fallen naturally like a human’s. But it froze midair, which means the connection equipment isn’t on Wen Lan. He’s gone.”
Gu Lingzhou’s voice came through the communicator again: “Forget him. Everyone, keep moving forward.” Shi Yuxing observed the river ahead. “Are we crossing from here? Can starships go underwater?”
“Military starships can basically handle both land and water.”
Shi Yuxing nodded slightly and turned to look out the window.
Did the Zerg cross this river too? As he pondered, the starship drew parallel to Wen Lan’s abandoned mech—three or four seconds later, it entered the water. The starship swayed, pushed to the right by the current. An Bao steadied the wheel and cursed: “Tch—these damn Zerg really know how to pick their spots. Going down a river like this, they’d probably all get washed away.”
Shi Yuxing turned to look at the man in the driver’s seat. “Not necessarily into the water—they might have dug tunnels.”
An Bao nodded in agreement. “Makes sense—Sister-in-law, you’re a doctor and you can analyze the enemy too. The hospital is wasting your talent.”
“Where do you think I should go?” Shi Yuxing raised an eyebrow. An Bao shot him a quick glance from the corner of his eye, curving his lips. “Me? You should be a star—this face is wasted otherwise. Sometimes I think Gu Lingzhou’s just lucky you chose him, since you’re this outstanding.” An Bao’s mouth twitched as if he wanted to say more.
The next second, the starship reached the opposite bank. The engine revved, the rocking stopped. Shi Yuxing rested his elbow on the window frame. The reflection in the glass showed a face just as An Bao had said—very attractive—but the expression was dejected. “Not that outstanding. I didn’t save a single person in this war.”
His voice was very soft, very quiet—but Gu Lingzhou caught it. He stopped walking, frowning at the communicator: “Officer An, when you gossip about people, remember to turn off your communicator.”
Both people in the starship froze. An Bao quickly rubbed his nose and turned off the microphone. “Fuck—good thing I didn’t say anything too bad.” Shi Yuxing looked at him with mild amusement. Then the communicator crackled with Gu Lingzhou’s voice again.
“I can’t save many people either.” Shi Yuxing’s back stiffened as he sat up straight. Gu Lingzhou continued slowly: “At the brink of life and death, pulling the person right in front of you back to the world of the living is already a luxury. But it’s precisely because of the martyrs’ blood that more lives can go on beating. We’re not failing to save them—we’re saving even more people.”
“Soldiers! While the blood of the fallen has not yet cooled—destroy those arrogant, reckless Zerg and take back our planet!”
·
The Zerg gathered at the foot of the mountain, climbing no higher.
The forest was indeed a good hiding place. Though Weishan Mountain was less than ten kilometers from their previous battle site, the Queen’s pheromones could cover such a wide area—which meant she was nothing to scoff at.
The Zerg spotted them. Enraged at being toyed with, they charged at the humans who had delivered themselves to them.
“I’ll go after the Queen. I know what she looks like.” A pistol was loaded. Da Ling’s voice came through the communicator to everyone. “The rest of you, focus on decapitating the other Zerg. Remember—this Queen is much smaller than the ones you know. She might be hiding among the swarm. Be careful of the Zerg around her—they’re likely to go berserk.”
With that, he opened the starship door and charged down before anyone could react. The soldiers, assuming the order had come from Gu Lingzhou himself in the mech’s cockpit, saw someone exit the starship and followed suit.
The first gunshot pierced the sky. Birds’ wings flapped in the air, a flurry of motion—countless leaves were swept away.
Gu Lingzhou blocked a fatal strike from the giant scythe Zerg that hadn’t been dealt with earlier, then flipped his hand—his sharp blade sheath sliced off half the creature’s body. The unbalanced Zerg let out a long, thin wail as it toppled sideways. He gritted his teeth, wishing he could tear apart the one who’d stolen his command.
Shi Yuxing’s pheromones sparkled in the air like fireworks. Standing at a safe distance, he searched for his husband’s figure while enduring the increasingly scorching pain in his inner thigh gland. He bent over, bracing himself against the starship beside him to steady himself.
Beads of sweat rolled slowly down his forehead. His teeth bit into his lower lip. When he closed his eyes, a more violent wave of pheromones erupted like a volcano.
The Queen’s commands in the air were swallowed by the tidal wave—one surge after another, sweeping away all those factors like sand on a beach.
The Zerg grew restless and agitated. In their distraction, they were easily taken down—heads blown off by both conventional and energy weapons.
Gu Lingzhou retracted the blade formed from his arm and turned to check on Shi Yuxing’s position.
Suddenly, his pupils contracted sharply—a smaller scythe Zerg had somehow climbed onto the roof of the starship behind Shi Yuxing. But Shi Yuxing was completely unaware. His face was contorted in pain, as if enduring something terrible. From earlier, Shi Yuxing had felt his pheromones growing heavier and heavier. His breathing quickened, and his gland ached fiercely—but he didn’t dare pull back, afraid the Queen’s emissions would overpower his pheromones.
Two silent forces fought against each other. Shi Yuxing’s knees buckled, nearly touching the ground. Just then, a hair-raising rustling came from above his head. He finally noticed the faint shadow on the soil before him.
He whipped around—a scythe Zerg many times his size loomed over him, its jaws open. Dangling from its neck was a pure white long-winged creature, like a moth.
Gu Lingzhou piloted the mech in terror, helplessly watching the scythe Zerg that had slipped past him strike at his beloved. Soil particles trembled. Gu Lingzhou clenched his back teeth. Inside the cockpit, the pheromone detector hit its critical point, blaring alarms, screaming at him to take a suppressant.
The blade-like jaw came down. Shi Yuxing’s feet felt glued to the ground. He closed his eyes—countless images flashed through his mind. Though he’d vaguely sensed his death and prepared himself for sacrifice, when death actually came, all that preparation turned into a litany of regrets and what-ifs.
Did my parents escape? I should have borrowed someone’s phone to call them. How is Lin Anran? The front desk nurse died—I’ll never hear the latest gossip again. Are those people from the aquarium still alive? I haven’t given that soldier’s key to his family. Xiao Zhou is still missing. I should have looked at Gu Lingzhou’s handsome face a few more times…
Just then, a force like a truck crash knocked him over. His center of gravity shifted; his hip stung. Shi Yuxing opened his wet eyes—and froze.
Gu Lingzhou’s chest was pierced through by the Zerg’s mouth. He crumpled like a rag doll in front of him. The one who fell was not the Gu Lingzhou of this world—because the mech decapitated the scythe Zerg the next second.
The moth dangling from the Zerg’s jaw had its antennae severed at the same time. It went mad, trying to flee. It flapped its wings once—then “BANG”—a bullet pierced through it. The small body hit the ground and was finally crushed underfoot.
Meanwhile, the soldiers trampled through the muddy soil over Zerg corpses, beheading them all as ordered.
Shi Yuxing’s hands trembled. His tea-colored eyes went wide, tears spilling out like pearls from a broken necklace. Da Ling’s mouth and nose were nearly filled with blood. Shi Yuxing cradled his face, crying as he tried to wipe it away—his tears diluted the blood slightly, only for more blood to cover it thicker.
“How could you…” Shi Yuxing’s throat seized up. He couldn’t make a sound, frozen like a rusted gear.
The alpha’s chest was still pierced by the scythe Zerg’s head. Fir pheromones mixed with blood dripped onto Shi Yuxing’s palm, burning hot.
“It’s okay,” the alpha barely curved his lips, his eyes fixed adoringly on Shi Yuxing, who was crying into a mess. “I, cough… was always going to die.”
The blood from his wound soaked the soil darker. Shi Yuxing shook his head. “Don’t—don’t say such unlucky things!”
Gu Lingzhou descended from the mech. He first saw Wen Lan holstering his gun, then looked grimly at the man collapsed in Shi Yuxing’s arms. His expression was terrible, frowning as he shouted something into the communicator. Shi Yuxing couldn’t hear—his ears were ringing. The alpha’s face blurred at the edges, then became clear again, like an illusion fading in and out of reach.
“Cough—” Da Ling spat out a mouthful of blood. He pulled his lips into an ugly smile. “You, earlier… said you hadn’t saved anyone… That’s wrong.” He seemed to want to shake his head, but had no strength left—only his lips could move.
“Cough, cough—the day before I killed myself… I came to you… and you saved me.”
Shi Yuxing pressed his lips together and cried even harder, as if he might weep out all the air in his lungs. The alpha’s trembling lips were pale. “Don’t… cry, cough—” Shi Yuxing hurriedly covered his mouth, blood seeping through his pale fingers. “I’ll save you again. Don’t talk right now.”
He whipped his head around. “Someone! Get someone over here! The blade hasn’t been pulled out yet—he can still be saved!!!”
The alpha’s eyes were also glistening with tears. He looked at Gu Lingzhou—still young at 24, who hadn’t yet lost Shi Yuxing—and moved his lips soundlessly. The other Gu Lingzhou understood what his counterpart meant. His chest heaved as he silently bowed his head. After a long moment, he nodded.
The 32-year-old Gu Lingzhou smiled as if he’d received the most satisfying treasure. His teeth were stained red. Then, he leaned back in Shi Yuxing’s arms and closed his eyes.
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