On the pebble beach that had once experienced war, bloodstains were washed clean by surging sea waves. Gu Wei sat on a reef along the western coastline, staring at the dim sea under the night sky, waiting for two hours in the salty wind.
After a while, Gu Wei rolled up his trouser legs and retrieved a person from beneath the rocks. Aside from a useless J1 evolutionary ability, the husky alpha also had another equally useless companion ability—“search.”
His compassion was limited; it was only enough for his own use. For Lu Shangjin, he could at least leave an intact corpse.
The alpha’s entire body was soaked through by seawater, cold and stiff, turned pale white. The gland at the back of his neck had been completely destroyed by a powerful Magnum bullet.
When he was brought ashore, Lu Shangjin’s bloodless lips were still trembling slightly, weakly calling out the name “Yan Yan.” With injuries like this, there was no hope of survival for anyone else, yet he stubbornly clung to a final breath.
Gu Wei’s calm gaze suddenly rippled. The ring hanging from his neck lightly tapped against his chest; the faint metallic sound of the chain also resembled a weak call of a name.
Perhaps all powerful alphas were fundamentally similar—on him, one could see the shadow of Gu Wen.
Gu Wei gave a faint sneer, comparing them stubbornly in his mind. If Gu Wen were still alive, Lu Shangjin would never have been the so-called hero.
Before Lu Lin was taken away, he had left Lu Shangjin’s gland stem cells in the control room. Gu Wei brought the frozen stem cells along with the half-dead Lu Shangjin back to the PBB Pacific Headquarters.
Top-tier gland specialists from around the world were summoned under secret PBB orders. They rushed in to attempt rescue, but the alpha’s gland was not only completely destroyed—his injuries were so severe that he was already in critical condition and could not wait for the stem cells to be cultured into a functional gland.
Under unavoidable circumstances, Gu Wei, as commander, issued a classified request for assistance from Anphia Hospital.
Dr. Zhong signed a confidentiality agreement and brought a frozen infant corpse to the Pacific Headquarters, stating it was Lu Shangjin’s biological younger brother. Upon arrival, all indicators had already been examined; the gland type was peregrine falcon alpha, evolutionary potential A3, pheromone type: Christmas rose.
Lu Shangjin had once blamed Ye Wan for not loving him, for leaving so decisively and refusing to leave him anything behind. But Ye Wan had left him a second life—giving him the son he loved most.
The surgery went smoothly, but repeated rejection reactions caused Lu Shangjin to lose more than ten jin in weight. Day and night, he writhed and roared in pain in the ward. Gu Wei had nurses restrain him to the bed with handcuffs and even gag him.
Occasionally, Lu Shangjin would fall silent and stare blankly, his body bound in layers of iron chains, red-eyed as he remembered an omega he could no longer recall clearly.
The alpha had regressed into a juvenile state. Children could not endure such bone-deep pain. When he became too noisy, Gu Wei would hold a syringe in front of him and casually ask, “Do you want euthanasia if you can’t take it anymore?”
Lu Shangjin shook his head and silently continued longing for the omega’s gentle comfort, wanting to see him, wanting him to touch his head. He was still waiting to go home.
After a full year and a half of recovery, the gland finally grew to the appropriate size, yet there were still no signs of differentiation.
During a remote meeting between Gu Wei and Yan Yi, Lu Shangjin stood in the blind spot of the camera, quietly watching Yan Yi’s holographic projection on the sofa, secretly reaching out to hold his hand.
Whenever Gu Wei considered directly telling Yan Yi the truth, Lu Shangjin would lean back on the sofa helplessly and smile bitterly.
It was hard to go from luxury back to hardship. For a top-tier alpha who had been completely rebuilt into a useless state, it was too cruel. He could not protect his wife and child, nor had the face to stand beside them.
Someone like him—even if he returned to Yan Yi’s side—would only make them feel ashamed.
He once made a phone call home on impulse, simply because he wanted to hear Yan Yi’s voice.
But it was not Yan Yi who answered. Not even the housekeeper.
Only a baby’s voice hummed on the other end, happily babbling “Daddy… Daddy…”
The alpha’s eyes instantly blurred with tears. On the other end of the line, he repeatedly answered and coaxed softly, saying Daddy misses you very much.
The baby voice continued to mimic him: “miss you.”
Lu Shangjin covered his eyes, leaning against the wall as he choked out, “Daddy will be home soon. Can you wait for Daddy?”
After hanging up, however, he did not keep his promise. Instead, he entered the differentiation induction chamber.
Gu Wei scoffed at this. To him, everything Lu Shangjin feared was nothing but vanity. Keeping family together was already rare—who had time to worry about meaningless things?
He was afraid Lu Shangjin would die inside. Every morning, he went to check, counting how many cubic centimeters of blood had soaked into the chamber floor, and how many bones the alpha had broken that day.
Lu Shangjin’s third-stage evolution was forcibly accelerated at the cost of his own life. No one knew what belief sustained him through half a year of brutal induction. When the alpha finally walked out, dragging a pair of disordered wings, he was already covered in wounds.
Before leaving, he handed Gu Wei a chip containing classified PBB intelligence controlled by Lu Lin over the years, as repayment for Gu Wei’s help.
Gu Wei was holding a guitar, composing a new song.
In truth, he always did more than he said. The ones who truly owed him gratitude were never Lu Shangjin.
For example, he ordered all water lilies around Yan Yi’s home to be replaced with Christmas roses. For example, he dragged Lu Shangjin out every time he collapsed in the induction chamber. For example, he casually took a piece of clothing from Yan Yi’s resting room, still carrying faint candy-like pheromones, and tossed it to the silently longing alpha.
He knew that when someone could no longer endure, the acceptance from family was the rope that pulled them back from the edge of the cliff.
Lu Shangjin was gone. The cold, quiet home was missing one violent, brooding man, but it did not feel especially lonely. It was only that there was one less set of dishes on the table, one less person to mock during meals.
Gu Wei took out an old videotape he had treasured for years and watched it from time to time. Sometimes, listening to a family voice was enough.
The tape flickered with age, playing intermittently.
A middle-aged alpha appeared on the screen—Gu Yuanzhi—with a calm, confident posture, hands resting on the table.
“When you see this tape, Father may already be dead, or about to face death. But do not be surprised, and do not grieve.”
…
“PBB will be left to you two. Do not disappoint Father.”
“Gu Wen, Gu Wei.”
“You are Father’s pride.”
The recording cut off abruptly, frozen on the final frame.
Gu Wei stared at it for a long time, then put on his military uniform, fastened the highest commander’s shoulder insignia of PBB, and locked away the guitar engraved with the letters “GW.”