Lu Yan first checked all the VIP lounges and confirmed that the alpha named Ru Cheng was not there. Then he slipped into the security room.
He needed to steal an access card for Bai Chunian.
Within the main hall were several restricted rooms and sections. The organizers had prepared access cards for certain high-profile guests, allowing them to enter otherwise restricted areas. Ru Cheng’s father, the chairman of Ruo Fangcheng Group, possessed such a card—and since Ru Cheng was attending in his place, it was likely the card had been given to him.
The real Prince Shahiwei had not attended due to health reasons, but his access card had already been issued. After the event, all cards would automatically deactivate.
To prevent accidents, backup cards were stored in the safe.
The safe was locked, and a security guard sat nearby watching television.
Lu Yan held his breath, listening carefully at the door. He pulled out a phone he had stolen earlier, placed it by the door, and knocked.
He had taken the phone from a guest using his ability—creating a small spatial hole over the target’s pocket so the phone simply fell out, which he caught.
Hearing the knock, the guard opened the door. Seeing the phone on the ground, he assumed a guest had dropped it. Standing at the doorway, he called the lost-and-found desk to have someone retrieve it.
In that brief moment, Lu Yan had already slipped through a portal to the floor below, then opened another passage through the ceiling into the safe. He retrieved the access card and left without a sound.
Clutching the card, he leaned against the wall, breathing hard. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his palms were damp with sweat. It was his first time doing something like this—both thrilling and nerve-wracking.
—
Guests began gathering toward the main hall. Bai Chunian pushed Lan Bo slowly along the soft carpet.
Passing a full-length mirror, Bai Chunian slowed slightly, glancing sideways to admire the reflection of the beautifully adorned merman.
Lan Bo’s lower body was covered with a camel-colored satin blanket, his entire form draped in extravagant jewelry. The weight made his neck ache. Irritated, he tilted his head back. “When can I take this off? Why do I always have to play a cripple? Just because I don’t have legs?”
Bai Chunian bent down slightly, narrowing his eyes with a faint smile. “What was that, Your Highness?” The silver chain on his chest pocket swayed gently.
Lan Bo grabbed his collar and pulled him closer, repeating in a low voice, “I said… my tail is drying out under this stupid blanket.”
“My apologies, Your Highness. My oversight.” Bai Chunian guided him behind a carved pillar, then knelt in front of the wheelchair. He lifted a corner of the blanket and poured bottled water over Lan Bo’s tail.
Lan Bo rested his chin on his hand, pupils narrowing into a thin line as he looked down at him. His tail flicked, knocking the bottle over. “I don’t want to protect Yan Yi. What do I get out of it?”
“What do you want?” Bai Chunian asked calmly, wiping the spilled water with a handkerchief. Though his tone was gentle, his grip firmly held the restless tail in place.
“I came back this time to negotiate.” Lan Bo leaned forward slightly. “I want Yan Yi to give you to me. I’ll take you back to South America.”
Bai Chunian lowered his head, carefully smoothing the upturned scales on the tail with his gloved fingers. “I still have things I need to finish.”
Lan Bo raised a brow in disdain. “How do you know Yan Yi isn’t using you? Worried about leaving the alliance? You’ve seen it yourself—in the Caribbean, I can keep you safe. You don’t need their protection that much.”
During the coaster’s dive, Ye Qingyang instinctively tightened his grip on Lu Jingcheng, feeling gravity pull his body downward.
The wind roared past. He listened happily to the screams around him, then turned with a grin—only to find Lu Jingcheng already looking at him.
“Happy birthday,” Lu Jingcheng said.
Ye Qingyang deliberately teased him. “What did you say?”
Lu Jingcheng had no choice but to raise his voice and repeat it, “Happy birthday!”
“You too—be happy.”
“Mm.”
They smiled at each other, and when the ride came to a stop, they got off together.
Ye Qingyang hadn’t been to an amusement park in a long time, and this time, being there with Lu Jingcheng, he made sure to enjoy it to the fullest.
On the way back, they took a car. Ye Qingyang grew a little sleepy and leaned against Lu Jingcheng.
Lu Jingcheng wrapped an arm around him and asked softly, “Did you have fun?”
Ye Qingyang nodded.
“Do you still want anything else?”
“A cake,” Ye Qingyang said. “It’s a birthday—how can there be no cake?”
Lu Jingcheng had already ordered one. When they passed a bakery, he got out to pick it up.
Back at the dorm, Ye Qingyang eagerly opened the box.
Inside was a chocolate fruit cake. In the center stood a little deer, head lowered as if nibbling on leaves.
Ye Qingyang couldn’t help laughing.
Lu Jingcheng looked pleased. “I designed it. Fits perfectly, right? The little deer eats leaves—and I eat you.”
Ye Qingyang pointed at the deer, pretending to complain. “Hey, whose birthday is it? The deer’s so big—people might think it’s yours.”
Lu Jingcheng lifted the deer and held it to his mouth. “Here, you eat it then. The deer eats leaves, you eat the deer. Fair?”
Ye Qingyang took a bite. Chocolate.
“Not bad.”
“Of course. Would I give you something that isn’t good?”
Satisfied, Ye Qingyang took the deer and bit its head off in one go.
Lu Jingcheng: …
“Want some?” Ye Qingyang offered it back.
Lu Jingcheng looked at the bite mark, then leaned in and took a slow bite.
Sweet.
He placed candles on the cake. “Make a wish.”
Ye Qingyang, still chewing his chocolate deer, said casually:
“I hope Lu Jingcheng improves his grades. I hope Lu Jingcheng and I get into the same university. And I hope both of us stay happy and healthy.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s three wishes. Enough.”
Lu Jingcheng sighed. “You’re not even serious. You’re still eating.”
Ye Qingyang smiled. “Because I know you’ll help me make them come true.”
Whether fate would grant them or not didn’t matter—Lu Jingcheng would.
“You will, right?” he asked.
Lu Jingcheng looked at his certainty and could only nod.
They finished the cake together, washed up, and lay down.
Before sleep, Lu Jingcheng said, “Next year, spend your birthday with me too.”
Ye Qingyang nodded against his chest. “You too.”
Lu Jingcheng’s birthday had already passed before Ye Qingyang arrived in this world.
A little regret lingered.
Lu Jingcheng kissed his cheek gently. “Happy birthday, Yangyang.”
The next moment—
The warmth shattered.
“Don’t give me that nonsense,” Wang Yue snapped coldly. “Either you get your friend to return our sixty-six thousand, or you pay it yourself.”
Ye Qingyang let out a quiet laugh, his expression instantly changing.
“Sure,” he said calmly. “Then return the fifty thousand my parents left me… and all of my mother’s clothes, jewelry, and cosmetics.”
“My dad said you could live in the house. He never said you could take the money. And he definitely never said you could abuse me, bully me—”
“—or force me to sleep on the balcony in my own home.”
Wang Yue froze. “What did you say?”
Ye Qingyang smiled, eyes cold.
“I said, Uncle… you’ve lived here long enough.”
“It’s time for you to get out.”
Han Xingqian stared at the surveillance feed and urged in a low voice, “Rou Tu, hurry up.”
The alpha outside the door was already growing impatient. He knocked hard and loudly asked if anyone was inside, whether the door was locked.
“This color is really hard to match…” Lu Yan’s hands kept trembling as he repeatedly compared the mixed pigment with the two bottles of sunflower catalyst. After confirming the color could pass as the real thing, he swapped the glass bottle into the tea canister, then lay on the floor and wiped away the powder traces with a tissue.
When the cleaning alpha outside tried to swipe his card again, Bi Lanxing had no choice but to release the vine that had been wedged against the lock. The alpha pushed the door open—the room inside was silent and empty.
He lowered the brim of his cap, carried his bucket, and pretended to clean. Then he took out the tea canister, removed the glass bottle, unscrewed the cap to glance inside, and quickly poured it into the sticky bombs portioned inside the bucket.
The surveillance camera couldn’t see inside the Maple Leaf Tea Room. Han Xingqian could only estimate the man’s actions by timing.
Bai Chunian kept his eyes on Ru Cheng as he left. Ru Cheng looked hurried and showed no intention of staying at the venue—he seemed to be heading out.
“Xiao Xun, don’t let Ru Cheng leave.”
“Yes.”
Xiao Xun lay motionless atop a tower outside Danli Sai Palace. A Phantom car slowly entered his scope.
“The president has arrived,” Xiao Xun said, temporarily shifting his protection target to Yan Yi. “No abnormalities.”
A faint, almost undetectable scent spread through the air. Xiao Xun’s sense of smell was sharp, but when he tried to pinpoint it, the scent vanished.
The hunting instinct of his lynx gland heightened his alertness. “There’s something nearby. Can’t confirm—stay cautious.”
Bai Chunian replied, “Could be Ru Cheng’s accomplice. I can’t sense anything. You’re closer—be careful.”
“Lan Bo, keep an eye on the venue. I’ll go see the president.”
“En.” Lan Bo responded lazily, flicking the tip of his bow-shaped tail.
Lan Bo climbed out of the wheelchair, shook off the jewelry ornaments on his body, and used electromagnetic adhesion to crawl along the ceiling toward the main hall.
Bai Chunian flipped out through the window.
Yan Yi had just taken off his coat in the lounge when Bai Chunian climbed in through the window. Yan Yi turned to look at him, slowly hung up his coat, and poured two cups of hot tea.
Standing straight, Bai Chunian reported softly, “Boss, I received intel that the Red-Throat Bird will launch a terrorist attack on Danli Sai Palace tonight. I brought the team here in advance as a precaution.”
Yan Yi handed him a cup of tea and sat down on the sofa, pressing his temples in fatigue. “I know. I got the news when I landed.”
“Ah… did I act on my own without permission?”
“No.”
“…Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” Yan Yi’s voice was hoarse, likely from lack of sleep. There were faint dark circles under his eyes, making him look a bit worn.
“At the international conference, I proposed several motions. They should have passed without issue, but the usually neutral International Prison and International Police suddenly opposed them.”
“Oh.” Bai Chunian didn’t feel much about it. He had never expected much—granting experimental subjects independent personhood was clearly unrealistic.
“We’ll take it step by step.” Yan Yi sighed softly.
A gentle scent of brandy slowly spread through the room, easing some of his fatigue.
Bai Chunian straightened his back and stood at a proper distance, releasing calming pheromones without any hint of intimacy.
“When I first came, you taught me nothing is achieved overnight. I know you’ve done your best. Leave the rest to us.”
Yan Yi’s tense nerves relaxed slightly. He nodded. “This time, Red-Throat Bird brought a special explosive catalyst that can increase the power of ordinary bombs tenfold. But their real goal isn’t just to shake my authority—they want to use the chaos to transport a batch of contraband.”
“We’ve already secured the sunflower explosive catalyst. The cargo refers to…?”
“I’m not sure exactly what it is, but it’s definitely related to the new drug developed by Research Institute 109. The shipment will depart from M Port. Intercept it.”
“Understood.”
At that moment, Lu Yan had two bottles of the sunflower explosive catalyst in his pocket, hurrying to deliver them to Han Xingqian. Carrying a tray of drinks, he passed quietly through the main hall.
Lu Shangjin stood in front of a custom jewelry display case made for Yan Yi, holding a wine glass and admiring the design. A short waiter passed by, and Lu Shangjin lightly raised his glass, signaling for it to be taken away.
Lu Yan lifted his head—and their eyes met.
…
Lu Shangjin’s lips twitched slightly.
Before Lu Yan could explain, Han Xingqian’s warning suddenly came through the earpiece: “They’ve arrived. About forty of them. Masked, wearing red bulletproof vests, armed with shotguns and submachine guns. Target: the main hall.”
Bai Chunian responded, “Minimize casualties. For freedom.”
“For freedom.” Voices echoed through the comms.
(“For freedom” is the meaning behind the IOA Alliance Freedom Bird Medal—a standard phrase before operations. Here, it simply means “operation begins.”)
Han Xingqian’s calm voice came through the surveillance speakers in every corner of the main hall, instructing all guests to immediately take cover and stay low, not to run. After repeating it once in Chinese, he switched to several common languages.
Lu Shangjin had already been informed by Yan Yi about the incoming attack and had called in a bomb disposal team, but they would take time to arrive—and the situation couldn’t be made public yet.
What he hadn’t expected was to run into Lu Yan here.
Suddenly, several dull thuds echoed against the glass. Sticky bombs had attached themselves to the bulletproof floor-to-ceiling windows of Danli Sai Palace. After a brief musical tone, they detonated with a deafening blast, shattering the glass. Fragments exploded outward, scattering in all directions.
The shards of glass, propelled by the blast wave, flew like bullets. Panicked guests screamed and ran through the hall, some struck in the face by the exploding glass, their flesh torn apart, dead instantly.
Even without the real sunflower catalyst, the bombs were already devastating. If the blast had been amplified tenfold, the entire Danli Sai Palace would likely have been reduced to rubble.
Lu Shangjin’s only thought was to shield Lu Yan completely under his body, protecting the little rabbit with his back, and reach for the handgun hidden under the display case.
But Lu Yan didn’t cower in his arms like before. Instead, he wriggled free, snatched the gun from his hand, and shot an incoming sticky bomb to pieces. At the same time, a shard of glass cut across his pale cheek, leaving a streak of blood.
The bombs roared, ears ringing. Lu Shangjin watched as Lu Yan dove out of his embrace, ran toward the firelight, and dragged an omega, whose calf had been struck by glass, behind an overturned table.
Shards struck Lu Yan’s back. Though he wore a bulletproof vest under his vest, the force staggered him two steps. He didn’t retreat. Turning back, he said to Lu Shangjin, “Dad… your jewelry show ended up like this. I thought we could do better.”
A pitch-black vine swung in through the floor-to-ceiling window. Lu Yan leapt, catching the two Uzi submachine guns Bi Lanxing threw him. Holding one in each hand, he jumped out into the burning window.
Yan Yi’s call came through just in time. “Lu Shangjin, how’s your side?”
Lu Shangjin stood, dusting off his suit, and, staring at the window where Lu Yan’s figure disappeared, said hoarsely, “He’s exactly like you.”
“Mm.”
“I’ll go check.” Lu Shangjin picked up the handgun from the floor, loaded it with practiced ease, his normally gentle gaze now sharpened with cold resolve.
“Xiao Bai’s there too. Don’t worry. Meet me first.”
On the rooftop of the highest floor of Danli Sai Palace, Bai Chunian crouched along the white stone railing, surveying the chaos below.
“Lan Bo, where’s Ru Cheng?”
Lan Bo replied coldly, “He’s running around. I’ll drive him to the courtyard. Should I kill him?”
“Don’t.” Bai Chunian’s gaze fixed on Ru Cheng’s luxury car parked outside the courtyard. “I want to see where he’s headed.”
“Han, find a chance to retreat. Lu Yan and Lanxing, exit from the side and meet near the distant signal tower.”
“Xiao Xun, monitor long-range security.”
“Phase two mission received: intercept the contraband shipment from M Port. We’ll evacuate once the bomb squad arrives.”
“Understood.”
Han Xingqian watched through the surveillance feed as the masked, red-armored Red-Throat Bird operatives stormed the palace. He took the opportunity to leave; staying would risk being trapped.
Xiao Xun had been stationed atop the high tower for over four hours, maintaining absolute vigilance without moving, blending perfectly into the night, almost invisible. Without Bai Chunian’s order, even if he could snipe a target, he didn’t. Expressionless, he stared through his high-powered scope.
Then, on another signal tower about 800 meters away, a white figure flashed in his scope. Xiao Xun frowned slightly, adjusted the rifle, and aimed at the unknown object on the tower.
It was a person—or, more precisely, someone masked, wearing red armor. Clearly a member of the Red-Throat Bird terrorist organization.
But something was odd. The figure was tall and slender, not muscular—likely an omega. Most baffling was the strange object on their back: wrapped tightly in white threads like a mummy, a humanoid cocoon, motionless, standing atop the signal tower, holding a rifle.
“Dangerous target spotted,” Xiao Xun reported quietly, giving coordinates and stats:
“Life data overall: 100%
Stamina remaining: 100%
Gland energy remaining: 100%
Emotional breakdown: melancholy 50%, sadness 40%, boredom 10%.”
Suddenly, his voice paused.
Once again, he saw the mysterious number on this figure:
Food intake: 99.97%