Bai Chunian awoke with a splitting headache, temples throbbing as if they would crack. In his dream, he had felt the sudden sensation of falling. Jolted awake, he instinctively tried to hold the omega close—but the bed was empty.
“Lan Bo?” Bai Chunian slowly sat up, wiping away dried tears stuck to his eyelashes, dazedly lingering on the edge of the bed for a moment.
The iron bars of the headboard had already melted from the heat generated by the electric current. Only a few nearly lifeless blue-glowing jellyfish remained in the fish tank at the bedside. Lan Bo was nowhere to be found in the bedroom.
Bai Chunian hadn’t removed his clothes before sleeping, his hair still messy and spiky. Slipping into slippers, he wandered through the living room, study, and gym—still no sign of him. The apartment was unnaturally silent.
He began rifling through every drawer, searching for Lan Bo’s receipts and documents. Every drawer was emptied and overturned, carpets and bedsheets lifted, every corner checked.
The room was thick with the anxiety-laden pheromones Lan Bo had released from his glands. Bai Chunian’s eyes were bloodshot; despite the cold air conditioning, a sheen of sweat covered him.
“Did he take them?” Bai Chunian slumped onto the disheveled carpet, distractedly fumbled for his phone, and dialed Lan Bo.
The ringtone cut sharply through the silence. When another phone rang muffled under the messy sheets, Bai Chunian’s eyelids reddened further.
“You’re here… looking for this?”
Lan Bo hung upside down from the ceiling of the balcony, tail coiled around the drying rod, casually flipping through the folder in his hands. Inside were the receipts and documents.
Bai Chunian sat up abruptly, eyes following the sound to the balcony. Lan Bo released his tail and landed gracefully, tailbone supporting him as he stood at the doorway.
The exhausted alpha trudged over, standing before Lan Bo, his gaze weary but intent.
Lan Bo, without a shred of courtesy, flicked the folder in Bai Chunian’s face, sending him stumbling two steps back. Then he sat at the balcony’s coffee table, propping his head with one hand, tail-tip tapping lightly against the floor, watching the alpha’s flustered reaction.
For a moment, even Bai Chunian felt the subtle authority radiating from Lan Bo. He wiped his mouth, checking for blood. “What’s with this? Do you think you’re a king? Should I kneel?”
Before Bai Chunian could react, Lan Bo’s tail curled around his neck and yanked him forward. The alpha was forced to his knees, face pressed against Lan Bo’s abdomen and fins.
Lan Bo had carefully rewrapped the moisturizing bandages that had almost been torn last night, covering all bite marks except those on his neck. His hands rested gently on the alpha’s hair, releasing calming pheromones. A faint purple bruise marked one of his fingers.
Bai Chunian grabbed the fish fins, pulling Lan Bo off the chair and pinning him down. His overwhelming dominance pheromones assaulted Lan Bo’s sensitive glands. In response, Lan Bo dug his sharp nails into the alpha’s back, leaving shallow red scratches.
Yet he continued to release untainted, soothing pheromones, the faint scent of white roses mingling with the sharp tang of alcohol in the room, gently calming the alpha’s trembling back.
“You hit me.” Bai Chunian buried his face in Lan Bo’s neck, voice choked. “I haven’t—from the day I was born, I’ve only ever held you. How can you not get angry at all? To you, breeding is just ordinary. So what are we? Roommates? Colleagues? Friends-with-benefits who can disappear at any moment?”
Lan Bo didn’t understand these words; he only felt that the alpha desperately wanted the folder and was almost going mad last night. But even with little knowledge of human society, he could tell from Bai Chunian’s serious tone that the receipts and documents were tied to his freedom—something entrusted to him personally by the guild president, who had said, “Take care of them yourself. Keep your freedom in your own hands—it’s the most reliable.”
The alpha pressed against him, heart racing. Lan Bo increased the concentration of his calming pheromones, stroking Bai Chunian’s hair. Slowly, the alpha’s dominance pheromones weakened, washed away by Lan Bo’s gentle scent, enveloping him in warmth and comfort.
Bai Chunian nuzzled into the omega’s neck, briefly lost in the tenderness, unable to think or control his glands. Two small, snow-white, furry ears popped from his black hair, twitching helplessly.
Sensitive lion ears brushed by cool fingers, then vanished when Bai Chunian flinched.
Bai Chunian lifted his head, corners of his eyes red, muttering embarrassedly, “You didn’t see anything.”
Lan Bo’s stern, indifferent face finally broke into a giggle, ruffling Bai Chunian’s hair. “nalaei mo.” (Little rascal / little cutie)
Bai Chunian got up, back to the merfolk, surrounded by the mess, scratching his head in frustration.
During their scuffle, the folder had spilled onto the floor. Bai Chunian noticed the receipts drifting near him and picked one up.
“…A copy…?”
Confused, he picked up the documents—they were also copies.
A golden Freedom Bird medal had slipped out of the folder, engraved with Lan Bo’s name.
Like the Red Cross feather of the Alliance Medical Society and the crossed assault rifle of the Alliance Bomb Squad, the Freedom Bird symbolized the Alliance Special Operations team.
Bai Chunian held the medal carefully, eyes wide. “What… does this mean?”
“I’m too lazy to explain.” Lan Bo slipped back into the fish tank, sinking lazily to continue his nap. Last night he hadn’t slept; the little lion was too noisy, shivering and mumbling in his sleep. He’d curled beside him, calming him with pheromones. By midnight, he was so annoyed by the alpha’s heat that he rolled into the fish tank to cool off, then hung on the balcony rod to sleep.
Bai Chunian leaned over the fish tank, stirring the water to retrieve him. “I came back because I was worried you’d be unhappy. Don’t sleep yet—I haven’t had enough of you.”
Lan Bo released two glowing blue jellyfish, brushing him off.
Bai Chunian lingered by the tank a while longer, then pouted and went to the kitchen to cook. To punish the merfolk, he prepared a table of vegetarian dishes—not a single piece of meat.
When he brought the dishes out, Lan Bo was leaning over the edge of the fish tank, chin propped in his hand as he watched him. His fish tail lifted lazily out of the water, swaying back and forth.
“Come out,” Bai Chunian said. “Or are you waiting for me to feed you?”
Lan Bo twirled the damp strands of hair at his neck. “You have grown up. Naturally, you should feed me.”
“I—” Bai Chunian took a deep breath, scooped some food into a bowl, and sat beside the tank. He picked up a bite with his chopsticks and stuffed it into the mouth of the merman who expected to be served hand and foot.
“The traveler pigeon’s child belongs to him and his husband. It has nothing to do with me,” Bai Chunian said quietly.
“I only went to confirm,” Lan Bo replied lazily.
“You really do not care at all?” Bai Chunian asked in disappointment.
“I care,” Lan Bo said. “I granted him appearance, health, talent. He does not have your scent, so I did not give him talent.”
“What are you even talking about?” Bai Chunian still sounded dejected. He lifted another bite of rice and pushed it into Lan Bo’s mouth. “Forget it.”
After coaxing Lan Bo to sleep, Bai Chunian made up an excuse and went back to the Alliance building. He knocked on the president’s office door and asked about Lan Bo’s medal.
Yan Yi was sitting in his swivel chair. He turned around from facing away from the desk and removed his massage eye mask.
“You ran back from the island just to ask about this?”
Bai Chunian glanced aside uncomfortably. “You know how important he is to me.”
Yan Yi still told him the whole story.
The day they handed the invoices and original certificates to Lan Bo, he returned the documents untouched. He also offered to join the Alliance on behalf of the merfolk of the Caribbean Sea. That stack of documents served as his show of sincerity.
After several days of high-level meetings and voting, the Alliance approved his application. When Yan Yi awarded him the Golden Free Bird Medal, he bowed to him.
Bai Chunian could hardly believe it. He braced both hands on the desk. “He is not leaving anymore?”
“At the very least, he is willing to join an organization for someone’s sake.” Yan Yi did not make a definitive statement about Lan Bo. “Not entirely, though. From now on, whenever we enter the Caribbean Sea, the powerful merfolk there will escort us. At the same time, if they come under attack, we must send assistance without reservation. It is a mutually beneficial partnership.”
“How can he represent the entire merfolk clan…” Bai Chunian froze. “Is he really their king?”
Yan Yi said, “He proved his status as their leader to the higher-ups. But the method of proof involves confidential meeting information, so I cannot tell you. You understand, right?”
Alliance meeting rules had always forbidden the disclosure of confidential details to anyone who had not attended. Bai Chunian could not ask any further.
Actually, this was already enough.
Bai Chunian could not describe what he was feeling right now—joy, or relief. It was both.
“You came at the right time,” Yan Yi said, picking up a file folder and handing it to him. “Last night, Enxi City suffered a biochemical attack with heavy casualties. The mayor has asked both us and the military for help. The PBB military has already sent an advance unit to investigate, but there are not enough agents remaining at the Alliance right now. Choose a few capable trainees from the training base and escort the members of the Medical Association with the bomb disposal team to carry out rescue operations.”
Bai Chunian flipped through the documents casually. “Any leads?”
Yan Yi shook his head. “The investigation report sent by the PBB troops only states that the source of the attack was a special operations experimental subject, number 408.”
- According to the experimental subject coding rules they had previously discovered in the triangular cabin:
4 represented a virus-type gland,
0 meant no mimicry ability,
and 8 represented one of the subject’s base abilities—infectious disease.
“Do you need me to go?”
“Not for now. The PBB has already sent the Storm Unit. If I send you now, it might look like we are trying to steal their credit. Let us avoid suspicion first.”
“Tch. So complicated.” Bai Chunian thought for a moment. “There are actually a few pretty good trainees recently. I will notify them when I get back. But we should settle the reward first—once they return, they get promoted to full agents and transferred into my Investigation Division.”
Yan Yi smiled. “Sounds like some very capable kids.”
“If there is nothing else, I am leaving.” Bai Chunian closed the file. “I will go to the school and check on your son. The traveler pigeon said he has been getting bullied lately.”
Yan Yi frowned. “If he runs into trouble, he should learn to solve it himself.”
Bai Chunian waved his hand as he walked out the door. “Generation gap. Generation gap.”
He deliberately did not drive. Instead, he took the subway to Amphia Military Academy. Today was the second day of the promotion examinations. When he arrived, the combat test had just finished, and the examinees were walking out of the exam hall in small groups, bruised and battered.
Because he looked very young, he slipped in among the students going in and out of the gate without anyone noticing. However, he attracted quite a few Omega gazes. They gathered together whispering:
“Which class is that Alpha from?”
“Does he have a partner?”
“Is he one of those who never attends lectures?”
“He is so handsome—how come nobody recognizes him?”
He wandered over to Lu Yan’s exam room. Lu Yan was arguing with an Alpha at the entrance, surrounded by a circle of students who were watching the commotion.
Bai Chunian squeezed through the crowd. The first thing he saw was the electronic scoreboard for the combat exam.
At the very top was Lu Yan’s name—first place, with a score of 329, more than one hundred points ahead of second place. The scores after second place were relatively close to each other.
The perfect score for the exam was only 330. Consecutive victories, time to defeat the opponent, and combat techniques each accounted for 110 points. The only point Lu Yan had lost was in the time category, because in one round it had taken him eleven seconds to knock out his opponent.
Back at the training base, Bai Chunian had once asked Bi Lanxing about his score. Bi Lanxing had said his highest was 248.
A sharp, mocking voice interrupted Bai Chunian’s thoughts. The Alpha arguing with Lu Yan sneered:
“So proud just because you got first place. Did you even pass the sniper exam yesterday?”
Lu Yan could not tolerate that. “Which eye of yours saw me acting proud? I am not good at sniping, I admit it. So what? Did you get first place in sniping? If you got first place, would you not be proud too?”
Bai Chunian could also tell that the Alpha had never intended to convince Lu Yan. He simply wanted to provoke him to death, deliberately stabbing at his sore spots without thinking.
“Look at you. After the entire exam, you do not have a single injury. Everyone knows your father is not someone to mess with, so no one even dares to touch you. With a score like that, how fake can it get? Who knows how many gifts the proctor received from your father.”
Lu Yan’s eyes turned red with anger. Just as he was about to snap back, his view was blocked by the broad triangular back of an Alpha.
Bai Chunian stood there with his hands in his pockets, bending slightly with a deliberately provoking posture.
He said to the Alpha, “His father is famous and respected. Who are you? Who even knows you? Who knows your father? Since you were born into such a lousy family, why do you not hurry up and jump off a rooftop and try reincarnating again?”
“Damn, another one of Lu Yan’s bootlickers,” the Alpha sneered disdainfully.
Bai Chunian said, “Wow. Are you mad because you wanted to lick him but he would not let you?”
“Fuck you—”
Bai Chunian cut him off. “It is just a lousy combat exam and you are already fighting about it. With your level, having no injuries should count as passing, you know that? You think it is normal to finish a combat exam all bruised and swollen? That is just trash. I am not targeting you specifically—I think everyone here is trash.”
The Alpha trembled with rage, and a piece of paper fell out of his pocket.
Bai Chunian picked it up and glanced at it. It was the Alpha’s exam admission slip, with his name, age, and his most recent ATWL exam star rating written on it.
“Twenty-three years old—wow, senior,” Bai Chunian said in surprise. “Held back for two years, and you still dare to mock someone who skipped grades to get here? That is not very appropriate, is it? And you failed the ATWL exam? No way, no way. You could not even pass such a simple test?”
The Alpha snatched the slip back and pointed furiously at Bai Chunian’s nose. “You think you are so amazing? How many stars did you get then?”
Bai Chunian grinned, showing his tiger teeth. “Sorry, I got ten stars. And I do not have a dad.”
He pulled a card out of his pocket and tossed it onto the ground, then picked it back up again.
“Huh? What is this? Oh, it is my ID.”
He held the ID between his fingers and waved it in front of the Alpha’s face. “Oh my God, how tragic. I am actually only nineteen years old!”