The intricate monitoring equipment in the guardianship room emitted a faint hum in the otherwise silent space.
When visiting hours arrived, Lu Shangjin’s assistant stepped in quietly. Someone was already there.
A butterfly-type Omega sat in the soft chair by the bedside, using a damp towel to wipe the palms of Yan Yi’s hands.
Two slender antennae extended from Tan Mengfa’s hair, the tips gently touching the center of Yan Yi’s brow.
“Mm.” It seemed Tan Mengfa had read something in Yan Yi’s mind and bent down to jot a note in his notebook.
The assistant froze for a moment, then quickly opened Weibo and compared the photo inside.
“Is… this Teacher Tan Mengfa?” he murmured, unable to believe his eyes. He had several sets of Tan Mengfa’s novels on his bookshelf at home—this rising contemporary military fiction author. He had once queued for a signed edition, only to have his dream dashed by a single phone call from Lu Shangjin.
Tan Mengfa raised a finger, shushing him.
“I’m listening to him tell me a story.” He moved his antennae back into his hair. “I came to hear a sad story, but some people… I can only remember the beautiful moments of their past.”
He was surprised.
Yan Yi’s memories during sleep weren’t bloody or painful—they circled through his teenage years.
Through Yan Yi’s eyes, he saw twenty-year-old Lu Shangjin, a man entirely unlike the cold-faced CEO of his impression; his smiles were warm and frequent.
“Are you here to visit him on Lu Shangjin’s behalf? Then I won’t disturb.”
Tan Mengfa packed away his notebook. Under the assistant’s eager gaze, he signed a page, tore it out, and handed it to him, eyes sparkling: “Thank you for liking my work.”
Today’s material had been unexpectedly rich—perhaps a story about a sweet battlefield romance could be written.
He heard the assistant reading aloud the first note left by Lu Shangjin, and then slowly closed the door.
“Yan Yan, if you can see or hear this note, I should have successfully infiltrated inside. If you wake up, you must know: even if you give up on yourself, I won’t. So wait for me to come back.”
The handwriting was hurried but earnest.
The assistant read each word steadily—his only task these past few days was to watch over Yan Yi in the guardianship room, practically a rare holiday.
Since taking over the group, the boss had always given off an impression of decisiveness, coldness, and rigor. No one had expected him to go so crazy over an Omega.
The boss had knelt outside the rescue room, crying heartbreakingly. Over these days, his formerly indulgent and flirtatious heart had transformed into a deep pool of tenderness. He had no childhood; the heart he had once masked as a composed bad boy was only now slowly maturing.
Some affections are destined—either perfectly fitting or painfully profound.
The latter always comes with twists.
The assistant neatly folded the note and placed it under Yan Yi’s hand.
“Madam, the carrot brooch before was indeed bought by me for the boss, but I saw him staring at that style for a long time. I bought it on my own, and he scolded me afterward.”
“The boss must know what you like. Heh, it feels a little insincere to speak in his favor, but… you’ll make it through, or none of us following Lu will have good days either.” The assistant rubbed his hands nervously, muttering humbly.
He tucked the blanket around Yan Yi and quietly slipped out.
Yan Yi’s breathing was weak but steady, fingertips brushing the corner of the note sticking out by the pillow.
The note carried a faint scent of daffodil pheromones, a subtle calming fragrance Yan Yi clutched in his palm, reminiscent of the year he was seventeen, lifted by the waist and gathering fireflies.
Thousands of miles away, in a submarine basement, Lu Shangjin’s heart clenched.
He held the small gray rabbit with his left hand, weaving through endless test tubes, checking each one.
Xia Jingtian followed the inner wall, searching for an exit. The door he came through had been locked from outside; the walls were smooth, with no circuits Lu Shangjin could unlock.
This lab was vast; cooling, fresh air, and return air systems all needed ducts. Calmly thinking, he considered where he would have placed these systems.
The ceiling diffusers were evenly distributed to keep the lab air clean. Xia Jingtian gazed upward, deducing that climbing there could reach the control room.
Snapping back to reality, he looked toward Lu Shangjin—he was gone.
“Hey?” Xia Jingtian tensed, re-lifting his M16 and backing into a corner, moving silently along the wall.
He tapped his earpiece: “Where are you? You need to get out now.”
Static hissed through the earpiece—Lu Shangjin didn’t respond.
“….”
Xia Jingtian didn’t doubt for a second that the man would leave him behind.
He crept further into the lab, alert to the faintest sounds.
Ahead, something shifted. Xia Jingtian crouched and angled his rifle forward.
A sample tube suddenly toppled on the test bench, rolling across the surface.
His chest heaved violently; he suppressed his breathing, cold sweat soaking through his gloves.
Frankly, facing a dozen bio-mechanical dogs alone would be impossible.
Thinking of Lu Shangjin’s battle skills and keen observation, honed over years with Yan Yi, his chest ached with longing.
He cursed his own untimely birth, missing the brilliance of that man’s prime.
Holding his breath, Xia Jingtian listened closely. Heavy breathing came near and then receded; there seemed to be another presence in the room.
He flipped open the recording on his wristwatch, leaving a quiet message.
“I’m in the PBB underground cryo lab. Lu Shangjin isn’t here—he might be dead. Something in here is breathing; I can hear it but don’t know where.”
The lab was dark; Xia Jingtian crawled forward, flashlight in sleeve scanning among the test benches.
Crack.
A glass shattered sharply in the silent lab. Xia Jingtian rolled back and fired a shot toward the sound.
A horrifying roar answered—a sound neither human nor canine could make.
Cold sweat drenched him. He stood, flashlight beam cutting toward the roar: a massive scaled lizard had Lu Shangjin in its mouth, blood streaming like water.
“Stand there and do nothing? Move!” Lu Shangjin roared, wrenching the lizard’s jaws with both hands, teeth biting deep into his back and abdomen, the nearby flesh darkening.
As he finished, Xia Jingtian rolled out of the way; a whip-like tail carved a deep trench in the spot he’d just stood.
He backed a few steps, aiming at the lizard’s jaw, firing two gravity rounds.
The lizard thrashed violently, jaw pinned by the rounds.
The gray rabbit hid under the table, crying silently. Xia Jingtian scooped it up, shielding its eyes.
Lu Shangjin seized the moment, activating his companion ability to snatch Xia Jingtian like a shadow diving from above, leaping ten meters.
Xia Jingtian fell into the test benches, glass tubes shattering over him; he instinctively protected the rabbit’s head.
Lu Shangjin rose, covered in dozens of bites, blackened blood forming pools underfoot.
Gasping, he staggered to the wall, flipping on the main lights.
Finally, the monster’s full form was revealed:
A six-meter Komodo-like dragon, its neck encased in a tempered glass growth chamber, glands pulsing powerfully, fueling the beast.
Xia Jingtian cleared shattered tubes: “Stop letting it bite! Shoot the glands!”
Lu Shangjin braced himself with the AWM, trembling as he aimed at the lizard’s neck gland, fingers white on the trigger.
The Komodo dragon merged with the Chameleon A3 gland—capable of collective invisibility via the M2 chameleon ability, including Lu Shangjin.
He whispered, voice barely audible, straining his throat:
“That’s my dad.”
The scaled tail swept past; Xia Jingtian held the rabbit, retreating as Lu Shangjin leapt across benches, knives ready, impaling one of the dragon’s toes to the floor.
He collected Yan Yi’s stem cell sample into a thermos-safe case, holding it tight.
The dragon, gaining 360-degree observation from the chameleon J1 ability, slashed at Lu Shangjin’s shoulder.
A deep gash tore across his shoulder; the silver thermos case was smeared with blood but he refused to let go, clutching it like a miser with diamonds.
Xia Jingtian aimed at the dragon’s eyes; sniper rifles were useless beyond falcons, gravity rounds unable to penetrate from this distance.
The phone in his belt vibrated silently.
Xia Jingtian fired a few shots to distract the dragon, covering Lu Shangjin’s retreat, and grabbed the phone mid-dodge. Video call displayed.
“Boss Gu?” Xia Jingtian froze, dodging debris, glancing at the screen. “How is there a signal under the sea?”
Gu Wei’s nose filled the screen, propped on the desk: “I’m contacting you with PBB top-level access. The cryo lab vents are open—exit within three minutes, follow my instructions.”
“What the hell do you mean top-level access?” Xia Jingtian muttered, tucking the rabbit under his arm, climbing the vent, prying the diffuser open.
Lu Shangjin landed, catching the rabbit and tossing it to Xia Jingtian, along with the thermos case:
“Take them.” He pressed on his bleeding shoulder, face pale.
Xia Jingtian glanced back, biting his lip, following into the vent.
As he retracted his foot, the dragon bit through half the steel ceiling.
Ten seconds later, a hand reached out.
Lu Shangjin leapt, grabbing Xia Jingtian’s wrist, climbing into the vent.
Xia Jingtian passed the rabbit and thermos to him, regretting the right hand he’d extended earlier.
Lu Shangjin crawled out, leaving a thick pool of blood. Xia Jingtian estimated the loss, brow tightening.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Lu Shangjin replied coldly, without looking back.