After being injected with the dissociative agent, Bai Chunian returned to normal. Aside from appearing somewhat listless, he showed no other unusual symptoms. Professors from the Medical Association arrived in a van loaded with diagnostic equipment. Dr. Zhong entered the bedroom, placed a hand on Xiaobai’s forehead, and offered him a few words of comfort.
The esteemed professors gathered in the reception room on the first floor. Han Xingqian served them black tea and the printed blood test reports, lowered the projection screen, and used the projector to play the video he had recorded.
“He didn’t show any aggressive tendencies after transforming into a lion; instead, he only became violent after reverting to human form. I’m certain that transforming into a lion helps him burn off excess energy.”
Bai Chunian lay listlessly on the railing of the second-floor balcony, watching as Dr. Han projected footage of him in both his giant lion and cub forms onto the large screen—publicly exposing himself as he parkoured around the room, sprawled on the floor with his belly exposed, and stood on one hind leg to groom his fur.
“Bro Han…”
Han Xingqian looked up toward the second floor at the sound of his voice. Bai Chunian was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his hands gripping the railing, his face squeezed into the gap between two bars, staring up at him with a sullen expression.
“Oh, sorry, everyone, please hold on a moment.” Dr. Han quickly applied a small pixelated blur to the white lion’s private parts in the video.
Bai Chunian’s face darkened even further.
The doctors’ discussion remained focused on the union-promoting factor. Given the high compatibility between the glands of Lan Bo and Bai Chunian, which exhibited a driving connection, the union-promoting factor could enable Lan Bo to share his ability to reset cell division with Bai Chunian. This was similar to how the research institute had utilized the remaining portion of Lan Bo’s genes within Pearl to share this ability with the immortal undead, thereby curbing uncontrolled cell proliferation. Lan Bo’s own inhibitory capacity was at least as strong as Pearl’s.
A doctor suggested replicating the pro-fusion hormone, but proceeding would still require a sample. The elite researchers hired by the institute were all world-renowned experts in their fields; the pro-fusion hormone they had developed through years of collaborative research could not possibly be replicated by the IOA Medical Association within a matter of days without a sample.
Lan Bo stood beside Bai Chunian, his elbow resting on the wooden railing. He held a thin chain made of Dead Sea Heartstone, which extended from the front of the collar around Bai Chunian’s neck, keeping a firm grip on it to maintain control at all times and prevent any mishaps.
After a heated discussion, the doctors insisted on going upstairs to perform a comprehensive examination on Bai Chunian. Han Xingqian gestured for the senior physicians to stop: “Professor Zhong, you and I will go upstairs for the examination. The rest of you, please outline your key concerns, and I’ll take notes.”
Dr. Zhong nodded in agreement: “The boy is a bit shy.”
They took Bai Chunian back to the bedroom and closed the door. The other professors remained in the reception room, still reviewing documents, while Lan Bo waited outside the bedroom door.
The bedroom door wasn’t very soundproof, and Lan Bo heard Dr. Han say, “Take off all your clothes, lie down on the bed, and don’t move.” Xiao Bai was very cooperative; after a moment’s hesitation, he did as he was told.
But these words actually sounded very familiar; back at the breeding facility, they had often heard researchers say this to him. Lan Bo never wore clothes in the ocean, and his intelligence during the breeding phase wasn’t developed enough to give him any sense of shame. But Xiaobai was different; having his body displayed and being observed by a crowd made him very uncomfortable, so he would become agitated. From time to time, he would bite the researchers nearby, only to be locked in a narrow, lightless isolation cell to suppress his violent resistance. There was no light in the isolation cell, and the cramped space was too small to turn around in; he could only crouch, his legs going numb from lack of circulation. But no matter how the test subjects thrashed and screamed inside, the researchers paid them no mind. They were only released after ten hours had passed. Generally, test subjects who had been confined there became unusually docile, but Bai Chunian never submitted.
Every time he was brought back from the isolation chamber, though unharmed, he would be depressed for quite a while, lying listlessly in bed. Once he said that a researcher had thrown a rat into his isolation chamber; Lan Bo had eaten that whole box of lab rats to vent his anger for Xiao Bai. But he also vaguely knew that what frightened Xiao Bai wasn’t just the darkness—or the rats.
After the examination, Bai Chunian stretched and walked the two doctors to the door, saying casually, “I’ll try my best not to lose my mind. If it comes to that, my wife will keep me in line. Don’t worry about me. You guys should get some rest too. Uncle Zhong, your eye bags are hanging down—you’ve been working too hard.”
Dr. Zhong patted him on the shoulder. “Alright, we’re off. If you’ve got nothing else to do, go for a run or hit the gym—burn off that excess energy. That way, you’re less likely to lose control.”
“Got it.” Bai Chunian grabbed Han Xingqian. “Bro Han, grab me some of those self-heating mini hot pots. I’ll eat them while watching TV tonight.”
“You’re such a handful. I already brought you food—go check the fridge. There’s enough to last a week.” Han Xingqian grumbled, but he still reluctantly called someone to go buy the hot pots.
The doctors picked up the latest test results, confirmed everything was fine, and got up to leave. Bai Chunian stood by the door, watching the Medical Association’s car pull away, then slowly closed the door.
As soon as he turned around, Lan Bo was standing right behind him, nearly bumping noses with him.
Lan Bo pretended it was an accident and asked, “Are you okay?”
“What could possibly be wrong with me?” Bai Chunian took his hand, tugged him over to the fridge, pulled two bottles of room-temperature beer from a box next to it for Lan Bo to hold, then dug out a box of soy-glazed duck tongues that Han Ge had just put in. He dragged Lan Bo along as they jogged up to the balcony of the second-floor bedroom.
He’d thought he might still catch the sunset, but to his surprise, it was already completely dark. The sky was dim, and he couldn’t make out a single star.
Lan Bo sat on the balcony railing. His legs vanished, replaced by a translucent, blue-glowing fishtail. He gave the tip a gentle flick, and the dark clouds dispersed, revealing a sky studded with twinkling stars against the clear night.
Bai Chunian effortlessly popped the cap off the beer bottle with his bone-hardened thumb, dipped the tip of Lan Bo’s tail into the bottle to stir it a bit, took a sip, and then handed Lan Bo a bottle of beer with frost on the outside.
Lan Bo took the bottle, said nothing, tilted his head back, and took a huge gulp. He savored it, then studied the beer inside through the bottle’s opening before concluding, “A fermented grain blend.”
Bai Chunian sat in a rocking chair, his long legs dangling on the floor as he gently rocked back and forth, gazing out at the tranquil garden beyond the balcony.
“Honey, next time I lose control, just beat me up and tie me up. Don’t let me cause trouble for others.”
“You’re not scary when you’re going crazy. I was just wondering—if I hugged you and kissed you, would that help you snap out of it?”
Bai Chunian laughed. “Maybe. But I’m afraid I’d hurt you. Did I hurt you just now?”
Lan Bo touched the wound on his face, which had already healed completely, and shook his head. “No.”
“That’s good.” Bai Chunian swirled the beer bottle, watching the foam rise and then gradually disappear, before suddenly adopting a melancholy expression.
“When it reaches the advanced stage, I’ll be like a specter, bringing disaster to the whole world.”
“No, you won’t.” Lan Bo reached out and ruffled Bai Chunian’s shaggy black hair. “I promise.”
His voice was low and gentle, but Bai Chunian found no comfort in it.
No, a fully transformed White Lion would be even more terrifying than a wraith. It would take him only a few minutes to destroy a city, yet even so, Lan Bo still clung to a sliver of hope.
Bai Chunian lifted his head; the night sky, studded with stars, reflected in his eyes, his pupils shining brightly. “Lan Bo, kill me now and take me back to the Caribbean. I’m willing to be embedded in your ribs and your throne—I really am.”
Lan Bo felt a pang of sorrow as he looked into those bright, clear eyes. He lifted Bai Chunian’s chin with the mouth of an ice-cold beer bottle and said, his eyes downcast, “You have every right to feel it’s unfair. If I were the one about to die, I’d drag you down with me without hesitation, sinking into the deepest, darkest ocean trench. I’d watch coldly as you suffocated in my arms, convulsed, and finally drowned. If you run away, I can’t wish you happiness; I hope you live a life of loneliness and pain, forever remembering me.”
Bai Chunian paused, propping his head up as he thought for a moment: “ “You can do that if you want. I can’t—dragging you down with me would be a terrible sin. It’s not even certain if Earth would survive.”
“Whatever you want is fine.” Bai Chunian stood up, moved close to Lan Bo, rested his hands on the railing, pulled Lan Bo into his embrace, and pressed his cheek gently against his ear: “Just don’t forget me. I beg you.”
Those words struck a raw nerve in Lan Bo. He grabbed the collar around Bai Chunian’s neck, spun around, and glared down at him with icy eyes. Lan Bo tightened his grip, and the collar tightened with it. Bai Chunian was forced to tilt his head back, but he smiled, revealing two sharp white fangs on either side of his mouth: “Oh? Are you mad?”
Lan Bo’s voice was low and hoarse, laced with menace. “Enough. If you die, I’ll stack your bones into the steps beneath my throne. I’ll stomp on you every day as I climb up to sit there and fuck every Sea Clan Alpha.”
“…You don’t have to get this angry… Oh my, are you crying? Don’t, waah, this pearl is so big and round it could be embedded in the bathroom tiles. Honey, you’ve already covered an entire wall of our bathroom with them.” A pair of snow-white lion ears poked out from Bai Chunian’s hair, drooping against his head as he looked sheepish. He hurriedly wiped Lan Bo’s eyes with the back of his hand. “I won’t say anything else. Just trying to cheer up my wife.” ”
Lan Bo’s fishtail vanished, and he kicked Bai Chunian twice.
The wine was finished, the snacks were gone, and Bai Chunian went to take a shower. Wearing boxer shorts, he climbed into bed, lazily draping half his body over Lan Bo, pressing his head into the crook of his neck: “Smell me—do I smell good?”
Lan Bo hooked his finger through the sash of Bai Chunian’s robe and glanced downward. “You do.”
“You haven’t even tasted me yet. How can you tell I smell good?” Bai Chunian propped his head up, lying on his side, the corners of his lips turned up as he spoke, his two fangs flashing in and out of view.
Lan Bo reached out and pinched his cheek, shaking it gently as he chuckled softly, “Little kitten. Close the curtains.”
Bai Chunian sprang up from the bed, humming a tune as he went to close the curtains. On his way back, he opened a drawer—and sure enough, there was a pack inside. The six-pack box was open, with only one left.
“Whoa, holy crap.” Bai Chunian whistled, grabbing the last one. “Holy crap, holy crap.”
Just as he was about to reach for the light switch, the phone by his pillow suddenly rang—it was a video call from Bi Lanxing.
“Ugh.” Bai Chunian flopped onto the bed, pressed the answer button, and tilted his head, tapping Bi Lanxing’s face with his index finger. “You better have something serious to say, kid.”
Judging by the room’s background, Bi Lanxing was sitting in the Chief of the Search Division’s office. The desk was piled high with files, and Bi Lanxing’s expression was somewhat serious: “ “The Inspection Division’s Oversight Section has been following up on the Red Fox No. 1 High School fall incident. The police department has already investigated the parents of the student responsible for kidnapping Jin Xi. They sent the student to study in the UK, and upon hearing that we’re investigating, they seem intent on bringing the child back overnight. Brother Chu, I’ve already requested to contact an investigator from the IOA’s Paris branch, but I need your permission.”
“Overseas… that’s a bit of a hassle…” Bai Chunian rubbed the bridge of his nose, then suddenly snapped to attention. “The UK? Westminster—the Chairman and Uncle Jin are still there.”
Lan Bo lay on his side on the bed, his index finger gently twirling a strand of his golden hair: “The Eternal Spirit came to seek revenge on me because I ordered aquatic creatures to hunt him down. He must be trying to cross the ocean to exact his vengeance.”
Bai Chunian rubbed his face: “Lan Xing, go straight to the team leader’s office to request a cross-border search warrant. I’ll notify the boss right now so he can prepare in advance.”