Outside the apartment, the elevator made a faint mechanical hum as it moved.
Bai Chunian, sprawled bored across the desk playing with his own tail, immediately perked up his ears.
His hearing was incredibly sharp. He could clearly distinguish Lan Bo’s footsteps and breathing. Before Lan Bo had even inserted the key into the lock, Bai Chunian was already delighted, dragging himself to the cage door in a clatter of chains.
Lan Bo opened the door, changed his shoes at the entrance, took off his cap and hung it on the rack, went to the dining area to pour himself a glass of water, gulped it down, then headed toward the bedroom.
The moment he reached the bedside, Xiaobai pounced into him.
Lan Bo fell heavily backward onto the bed with him in his arms, the mattress creaking noisily under the impact.
Bai Chunian melted the cage door away and, dragging a mess of chains behind him, wrapped himself around Lan Bo. He rubbed his nose against Lan Bo’s neck, breathing in his scent.
“You’re finally back. I was so bored home alone.”
Bai Chunian kissed his cheek, then rolled over to lie beside him, staring up at the ceiling together.
“So? Everything I asked you to do went okay?”
“En.”
Lan Bo lay there blankly, staring upward.
Bai Chunian leaned closer, kissing his earlobe and cheek.
“You brought the stuff back? What’s wrong?”
Lan Bo tilted his gaze toward him and slowly raised a hand to Bai Chunian’s neck, gently stroking it.
Bai Chunian relaxed completely into the touch, purring comfortably without any guard up.
But gradually—
The fingers tightened.
Tighter and tighter.
Until he could barely breathe, his face shifting from pale to flushed red.
“Lan Bo… too tight… cough…”
“What if I kill you right now?”
Propping himself up on one elbow, Lan Bo looked down at him, those sea-blue eyes impossibly deep.
“Then none of this would matter anymore. No matter how much I save you, a hundred years from now, you’ll still leave me. By then, everyone will be gone. You’ll be gone too. Only I’ll remain.”
“One hundred years. One thousand. Ten thousand. A hundred thousand…”
“Only me.”
Lan Bo was incredibly strong.
Instinctively, Bai Chunian’s hands grabbed at the tense, veined hand around his throat as he gasped for air.
The suffocating pain was unbearable.
But in Lan Bo’s eyes, Bai Chunian saw something even more painful—
A tangled grief sinking endlessly into the abyss behind them.
“Sorry… I can’t stay with you…” Bai Chunian forced the distorted words out between clenched teeth. “And I still dragged you into this…”
His hands slowly dropped.
He let Lan Bo decide his fate.
His own existence was a disaster anyway. If he could die whole at Lan Bo’s hands and accompany him into the ocean through those unbearable millions of years, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
At least he wouldn’t trouble anyone anymore.
Lan Bo startled.
He abruptly let go.
Bai Chunian lost support and pitched forward, one hand bracing against the bed while the other clutched his throat as violent coughing wracked him.
Lan Bo stared blankly at his own hand.
Then, as though suddenly waking from a nightmare, he looked at Xiaobai—the Xiaobai he had nearly killed.
Finally coming back to himself, he wordlessly kicked off his slippers and clothes. His legs merged into a translucent fish tail, and he curled himself into a tight fish-ball before rolling right off the bed and into the glass fish tank beside it with a loud splash.
By the time Bai Chunian caught his breath, he rubbed at the red marks on his neck and looked toward the tank.
Lan Bo had already sunk to the bottom in a tight little ball, completely motionless.
He looked—
Pitiful.
“What’s with you?” Bai Chunian climbed onto the bed and leaned over the fish tank, reaching in to fish Lan Bo out. “You’ve been acting weird since you got back. Somebody bully you outside?”
The fish-ball rolled all the way to the farthest corner of the tank, refusing to acknowledge him.
So Bai Chunian rolled up his sleeves and stirred the water with his arm.
A whirlpool formed.
The fish-ball floated helplessly into the current, spinning in circles until it eventually drifted to the surface—
Where Bai Chunian immediately scooped him up.
Holding the fish-ball, Bai Chunian grabbed a clean towel and dried him off before sitting on the carpet. He secured the fish-ball between his legs and gently scratched the tip of the tail poking out.
Only then did Lan Bo slowly soften.
He uncurling himself and sat between the alpha’s legs, sulking.
Bai Chunian wrapped his arms around him and rested his forehead against Lan Bo’s cheek.
“You smell like ocean wind. Went to the beach?”
“The payment notifications popped up on your phone—looks like you got off midway.”
“There are only three stops on Line 3 near the ocean. If you’d gone to the shopping district, you’d smell like that bakery by the exit. If you’d gone to Rongyin Temple, it’s too far—you couldn’t have gotten back this fast.”
“So…”
“You went to church?”
“Did Satan say something you didn’t want to hear?”
Lan Bo froze.
Then nodded slowly.
“En.”
Bai Chunian hugged him tighter.
If Lan Bo didn’t want to talk, he’d piece it together himself.
“You went to church right after leaving the Alliance. You wouldn’t think of going there on your own—Crawler or Domino probably told you to, right?”
“You went to Satan to predict luck and misfortune?”
Lan Bo’s eyes slowly welled with trembling moisture.
He nodded miserably.
“En.”
Bai Chunian kissed away the mist gathering in his eyes.
“What did he make you do?”
“He told me to draw cards.” Lan Bo lowered his head. “He said I could draw angels. I kept drawing and drawing, but I never got one. I got so angry.”
The more he spoke, the angrier he became. His tail glowed redder and redder, shining like a warning light.
“Oh, okay, okay…” Bai Chunian soothed softly. “Don’t be upset. It’s just cards. If he barely put any angel cards in there, not drawing one is his fault.”
He lifted Lan Bo onto his lap, rubbing his back comfortingly.
“How could that little goat-faced bastard bully my wife like that?”
“Did he say something bad about you too?”
“En.”
Lan Bo lowered his head again, murmuring dejectedly:
“He said I’m not fair. That’s why I have to go through all this.”
“He blamed me for favoring you.”
“But…”
“I still favor you.”
The moment Bai Chunian heard that, he basically understood what had happened.
He scooped Lan Bo up and started pacing around the bedroom with him in his arms, while the tip of Lan Bo’s tail curled lightly around his ankle.
“He’s just holding a grudge against you,” Bai Chunian said softly. “Trying to upset you on purpose.”
“Don’t listen to him.”
Lan Bo unusually let himself be held obediently, resting his head in the alpha’s shoulder hollow. Just remembering it now still made waves of anger surge through him, his fish tail flashing blue and red.
“I know my wife didn’t do anything wrong.” Bai Chunian lowered his head from time to time to kiss the top of his hair. “You never used to care what people thought of you. You just did whatever you wanted. Weren’t you happier like that?”
Lan Bo pressed his lips tightly together and said nothing.
Suddenly, he began imagining the day he stepped down from his throne.
Falling alone into the deepest trench of the ocean.
An immortal body sinking forever into soundless darkness.
The best outcome would be sinking while holding Xiaobai’s skull in his arms.
But Xiaobai would no longer hug him or kiss him.
A few years later, even the skull he clung to would dissolve and disappear, leaving behind not the slightest trace that he had ever existed.
Thinking about it, Lan Bo suddenly couldn’t hold it in anymore.
His eyelashes trembled.
Black pearls came clattering down in rapid succession, scattering across the floor.
Bai Chunian accidentally stepped on one and went flying.
Finally, both man and fish tumbled onto the carpet.
Bai Chunian cushioned Lan Bo beneath him, gathering him tightly into his arms. His hands wrapped around him, his legs hooked around too. The lion tail and the tip of the mermaid tail tangled together, his whole body wrapping around Lan Bo like a spring roll skin around fish filling.
Lan Bo burst into laughter through tears.
A tiny snot bubble accidentally slipped out—
And turned into a pearl too.
“Holy shit, it can do that? Hahaha—HAHAHAHA!”
Bai Chunian picked up the oddly shaped pearl and examined it carefully.
“I get it now. I finally know how baroque pearls are made.”
“Hurry up and throw it away!”
Lan Bo raised a hand to smack him.
Dodging away, Bai Chunian laughed.
“We’re an old married couple already. What embarrassing thing haven’t I seen from you? You’ve chewed on faucets and delivery boxes, soaked in washing machines—what’s one little snot pearl?”
“Tomorrow I’m donating this to a museum exhibit.”
“nalaeimo!”
Embarrassed and amused at the same time, Lan Bo couldn’t help laughing, completely forgetting the sadness he’d brought back from church.
Bai Chunian released him, injected himself with a dissociation agent, and returned to the drafting table in the hidden armory.
Lan Bo took the blueprints and annotations he brought back from Crawler and Domino out of his bag and spread them across the drafting table.
“Domino really is amazing at planning routes,” Bai Chunian said while flipping through the files. “No wonder he still had enough energy to leave us clues back at the Pyramid Cabin.”
“He’s right. Even Ellen herself probably couldn’t find an eleventh viable infiltration route.”
“I divined the first nine routes.” Lan Bo pulled one document from the pile. “Dead ends. All of them.”
“There’s only this one left.”
This file detailed a route that infiltrated through the institute’s testing room, reached the drug storage chamber, and finally escaped the research facility.
Bai Chunian took it and skimmed through.
“I thought so too. Entering through the testing room has better odds. The surveillance system there isn’t linked with the rest of the building.”
“Give me the map. I’ll study Domino’s route and annotations.”
The headquarters of the 109 Research Institute was universally acknowledged among agents as the hardest building in existence to infiltrate—Top 1.
Breaking into it was considered ten times harder than infiltrating PBB headquarters.
Bai Chunian had to stay absolutely focused.
No mistakes.
The horizontal desk lamp illuminated the drafting table.
Lan Bo sat beside him on a stool, propping up his chin as he quietly watched Bai Chunian’s profile.
The alpha bit down on the cap of his pen, fully focused, carefully planning responses and escape routes for every possible point where they might be discovered.
The light reflected off his slightly pale face.
But his eyes reflected only the tangled complexity of the blueprints.
He really wanted to live.
Lan Bo vaguely read that desire from him.
And in that moment, Lan Bo thought—
Even if a god’s favoritism brought punishment upon himself, he was willing to pay the price if it meant Bai Chunian could live.
Punishment was nothing.
He could atone with the loneliness of ten thousand future years.
Come to think of it, when he went to Aphid Island, he hadn’t only met the Formless Infiltrator.
He had also gone to see the instructors.
Because Bai Chunian’s operation had no written approval from IOA, no other departments could help.
The only people who could assist them were the retired agents still living on Aphid Island.
Instructor K had built them a password decoder specifically designed to crack the institute’s cutting-edge anti-breach systems.
Instructor Red Crab brought out the tactical infiltration plans he had spent years developing against the 109 Research Institute.
The instructors simply saw that Lan Bo had come carrying Xiaobai’s request—
And asked no further questions.
Before leaving, Lan Bo struggled painfully to squeeze out two words.
“Tha…”
He had so rarely expressed gratitude to humans.
Truthfully, in the past, he had disdained thanking anyone at all.
Maybe these years spent among humans had changed him.
Or maybe it was because now—
He had something to ask of them.
Red Crab noticed his awkwardness and smoothly saved him.
“No need to thank me, darling.” He grinned. “After the mission’s over, will you go on a date with me behind Bai Chunian’s back?”
Lan Bo finally relaxed enough to smile.
“No. But I can gather the most beautiful crab omegas from within a million miles of ocean territory and set you up on blind dates.”
For the first time, Lan Bo didn’t feel humiliated by humans speaking to him as equals.
Instead—
It felt unbelievably comfortable.
Like a whale breaching the surface to kiss the sky separated from it by the sea.
Several more pages were torn from the calendar.
Bai Chunian and Lan Bo began checking firearms, ammunition, and close-body gear components.
They couldn’t carry much.
Only the lightest and most useful equipment could come.
“Bring extra communicators,” Bai Chunian said. “We got screwed over at the Greyhound Estate last time. These things break too easily in high temperatures.”
“En. Got them.”
After packing their gear, Bai Chunian lowered his head to adjust his watch.
“Sync the time.”
“En.”
“Wife, you know how to read a watch, right? What time is this?”
“Three twenty-four in the afternoon.” Lan Bo frowned. “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”
“Okay.”
Outside the door came the sound of the elevator rising.
Bai Chunian perked up his ears and listened.
Then casually removed the watch, tossing it—and the rest of the gear—into the hidden armory before sealing the bedroom wall.
Sure enough—
The elevator stopped on their floor.
Several people stepped out and rang the doorbell.
Bai Chunian sauntered over and opened the door.
“Surprise!”
Confetti burst into the air with a pop, drifting down onto Bai Chunian’s head.
Lu Yan blew a tiny party horn streamer, repeatedly thumping Bai Chunian in the chest.
Bai Chunian blinked.
“What?”
Without a word, Xiao Xun raised a whipped cream spray can—
And squirted a little puff of snowy cream right into Bai Chunian’s face.
Bai Chunian sat there with a fluffy mound of whipped cream on his face like Santa Claus’s beard.
“……”
Bi Lanxing walked in carrying a cake and set it on the table.
“Lu Yan said today’s Brother Chu’s birthday.”
Lan Bo sat down beside Bai Chunian and licked the cream clean off his face before licking his fingers.
“What does ‘birthday’ mean?”
Sitting on the sofa, Bai Chunian remembered the birthdays he used to celebrate at the President’s and Uncle Jin’s home.
He didn’t know the exact day he was born, so his birthday had been set as the day Uncle Jin brought him home.
Today happened to be the fifth anniversary.
In between, he had always been too busy, running missions all over the place. The last time he had properly celebrated a birthday was five years ago.
Though Bai Chunian didn’t explain, Lan Bo could tell from his expression—
He liked this day.
Lan Bo quietly glanced at the date.
August 14th.
Silently, he memorized it.
Then scratched it into his arm with his fingernail so he wouldn’t forget.
“One, two, three… nineteen, twenty. Hey, perfect.”
Lu Yan stuck candles onto the cake, then suddenly realized he hadn’t brought a lighter. His rabbit ears twitched awkwardly.
“Couldn’t you just buy number candles? The whole thing’s full already.” Bai Chunian laughed helplessly and pulled a lighter from his pocket to light them.
The candles flickered to life.
Lu Yan hurried him to make a wish.
Bai Chunian took his time pulling out his phone and opening the selfie camera.
“Hold on, hold on. Gotta take a picture for Moments first.”
He snapped several group photos, muttering to himself:
“You should’ve told me sooner. If we were doing this, I’d have called Han-ge, Duan Yang, Old He, and the others…”
“Forget it. We’ll celebrate today first. Next time, if there’s a chance…”
“If there’s a chance, I’ll gather everyone.”
Lu Yan urged him again to make a wish.
After thinking for a moment, Bai Chunian said:
“I hope I get to celebrate my next birthday too.”
Lu Yan blurted out instinctively:
“Hey! If you say it out loud, it won’t come true—”
Only to immediately get grabbed by the rabbit ears.
“Do you even know how to talk? What do you mean won’t come true?!”
The group spent the whole afternoon noisily fooling around.
The cake disappeared.
Lu Yan eventually got sleepy and dozed off on Xiao Xun’s lap.
Bi Lanxing went to the bathroom.
When he came back out, he happened to bump into Bai Chunian leaning against the hallway wall.
“Looking for something?” Bai Chunian asked.
Bi Lanxing casually shook his head.
“What do you mean?”
Hands in his pockets, Bai Chunian stepped closer and lowered his voice.
“Homework check.”
“There are two things in this apartment that don’t make sense.”
“Did you find them?”
Bi Lanxing glanced toward the watch on Lan Bo’s wrist.
Lan Bo almost never wore a watch.
Not even during six-person squad missions.
And—
The faint trace of gunpowder caught in the floorboards.
“Good.”
Bai Chunian straightened up.
“This is the second-to-last analytical skill I’m teaching you.”
Bi Lanxing froze.
“Then the last one is…”
“When you’re focused on observing clues,” Bai Chunian said, raising a hand, “be careful whether someone else is observing you.”
A button rested in his palm.
He released it.
Instantly, hypnotic gas began spraying from the four corners of the room.
Bi Lanxing didn’t even have time to respond before slowly collapsing.
Bai Chunian retrieved the gear from the hidden armory and tossed Lan Bo’s pack over.
Lan Bo caught it and slung it over his shoulder, the gills by his cheeks fluttering.
Bai Chunian dragged Bi Lanxing over beside the two sleeping figures on the couch.
He crouched down, scooped a little leftover frosting from the cake box, and dabbed a tiny smear onto each of their cheeks.
Then he gently rubbed the little rabbit’s ears.
Lan Bo sat at the table silently watching him say goodbye.
“We’re going.”
Bai Chunian gestured to Lan Bo and strode out in a gust of motion.
The apartment door shut behind them.
An empty injector once filled with Promotive Compound dropped to the floor with a soft clink.
—
After they left, the room fell silent enough to hear a pin drop.
Lu Yan slept face-down in Xiao Xun’s arms, dead to the world.
But Bi Lanxing—
Lying on the floor—
Suddenly opened his eyes soundlessly.
“Yes.”
“You taught me that.”
“It’s written in my notebook.”
“Page forty-nine, line three.”