“Honey, Dr. Zhong didn’t tell you to take my handcuffs off.”
“No. I need to bandage you up later.”
“What about the blindfold? Can’t you at least take that off? I can’t see a thing.”
“No rush.”
Lan Bo lowered his head and peeled away, one by one, the glass-like crusts that had formed on the back of his hand from the overflow of the Obliteration. As the crusts lifted, they pulled away a layer of raw, crimson flesh. Lan Bo merely furrowed his brow slightly, saying nothing.
Bai Chunian noticed that Lan Bo had fallen silent, so he asked cautiously, “Did my pheromones leak? Did the Obliteration leak? Did I hurt you again?”
“No, don’t worry. It’s fine if you relax a little more.” I’m not the kind of fragile omega who gets hurt by a mere pinch of pain. Lan Bo thought this to himself but didn’t say it out loud. He brushed the blood off his hand, licked the wound and his blood-soaked fingertips. The wound was healing rapidly; aside from the pain, it wouldn’t cause any serious harm.
If it weren’t for the Dead Sea Heartstone Collar keeping him in check, the young nurse who’d be applying medicine to Bai Chunian’s wounds today probably wouldn’t be getting off with just a bruised arm.
Bai Chunian was blindfolded and handcuffed to a single hospital bed; unable to see Lan Bo’s movements, he felt a vague sense of unease. Suddenly, a cool hand rested on his thigh, its fingertips tracing gentle circles.
Caught off guard, Bai Chunian let out a muffled groan. But the hand wasn’t merely brushing against him by accident; instead, it grew bolder, caressing his thigh through his pants and slowly moving upward.
“Damn it, stop! There are security cameras in here… Mmm!”
Something was gripped by the other person, and Bai Chunian’s whole body trembled violently; the words he was about to say died in his throat.
“Hmm? Are you afraid of being seen, Alpha?” Lan Bo looked up and spotted the surveillance camera on the ceiling. Golden patterns flickered in his deep blue pupils as he activated his symbiotic ability, Koi Blessing.
The surveillance feed suddenly went dark. Dr. Zhong, standing outside the sealed observation room, froze for a moment. He tapped the monitor—not only was the video gone, but the audio had cut out as well.
“I’m warning you not to take advantage of me while I’m vulnerable. Seriously, seriously, don’t. Let’s go home and do this. If you do this to me here, how am I supposed to face the world afterward? The young nurses are all watching. Good wife, spare me.”
“I’m going to make sure everyone sees this. What are you going to do about it?” Lan Bo tightened his grip, forcing Bai Chunian to grit his teeth and tilt his head back. He held his breath, the veins in his neck bulging as he struggled to suppress a sound. He knew the cameras in here weren’t just equipped with night vision—they could also transmit audio in real time to the outside.
Lan Bo finished the Alpha off with his hand. Bai Chunian went limp, his head tilted back as he gasped for breath.
“Say something nice.” Lan Bo leaned down close to his face, observing him through the layer of the blindfold.
Bai Chunian’s voice was hoarse; the last syllable dragged out as he whispered, “Daddy.”
This phrase, laced with both petulance and eroticism, delighted Lan Bo immensely. His desire reignited, and he took him again.
Bai Chunian was completely spent.
“I’m… done. Done. I can’t take it anymore. This is so annoying. Everyone saw us. If those little brats find out, who knows what they’ll say about me. Oh my… Wait until they come in to change my hospital gown—how am I supposed to explain these pants, huh?” Bai Chunian lay back on the bed like a spoiled child, curling up into a ball.
“Take them off. I’ll wash them for you.” Lan Bo leaned down, propping himself up on his elbows beside Bai Chunian, and gently traced the bite marks on the Alpha’s lips with his fingertips.
“Fuck.” Bai Chunian bumped his head against Lan Bo. “I’m done for.”
Lan Bo chuckled softly.
He draped an arm over the Alpha’s warm chest, pressing half his body against him—the most intimate, comforting pose between lovers.
“Open your mouth.”
“What for? You’re trying to mess with me again. I’m not doing it.”
“Open up.”
Bai Chunian obediently opened his mouth. Some powder was poured in and melted quickly, tasting sour and sweet.
“What is this?”
“Sour.” Lan Bo licked the remaining powder off the packet. “A rare and brilliant invention of humanity.”
After a long while, Bai Chunian turned his head and nuzzled Lan Bo’s cheek with the tip of his nose. He had something he wanted to say, but didn’t know how to bring it up.
Lan Bo, of course, knew exactly what he was thinking. His expression grew slightly somber as he whispered an explanation into Bai Chunian’s ear: “Randi. There are some things you don’t understand. Even if he were truly alive today, I would still have to eliminate him.”
“Why?” Bai Chunian bit his lip.
“The Sea Clan has only one leader. Unlike on land, where every nation has many leaders and a wrong decision at most leads to the downfall of a single country, the Sea Clan is different. I rule over seven-tenths of the world; the slightest misstep could bring about the destruction of the entire ocean. He bears the scales of a siren, yet is not acknowledged by the sea—this is a tragedy.”
Lan Bo stroked Alpha’s cheek and sighed softly. “Just because you love him doesn’t mean you can prevent this tragedy—it’s something even I cannot do. You must understand that as long as you live, not everything will go your way. And I’ve told you before: in the ocean, no one ever truly dies.”
“I understand.”
“So if next time I ask you to send him back to the ocean to rest in peace…”
“I’ll do it.” Bai Chunian replied hoarsely.
All of Bai Chunian’s mental and physical energy had been drained by Lan Bo in this stimulating environment; a wave of fatigue washed over him, and his breathing steadied considerably.
Only after the Alpha had fallen asleep under his soothing words did Lan Bo get up and walk out.
As he stepped out of the sealed observation room, Dr. Zhong immediately hurried over, peering inside: “Did you break the surveillance camera? How’s Xiao Bai?”
“He’s asleep. You can go in and bandage him up.” ” Lan Bo pulled a jade ring from his suit jacket pocket and placed it in Dr. Zhong’s hand, offering it as compensation for the surveillance equipment repairs.
Dr. Zhong looked down at the imperial purple ring in his palm. It appeared to be quite old, bearing traces of seawater erosion and engraved with a dragon pattern; he wondered which emperor had once worn it. “An artifact like this would fetch over a hundred million at auction,” Dr. Zhong thought, his face turning pale with shock. He hurriedly stuffed the ring back into Lan Bo’s pocket.
The nurses bandaged Bai Chunian’s wounds. The deepest injury was a through-and-through wound on his lower abdomen caused by the water-hardened steel blade, along with four or five smaller puncture wounds on his back from fragments of Dead Sea Heart Rock.
Once Bai Chunian fell asleep, the nurses’ work proceeded much more smoothly. They methodically drew blood and conducted examinations, completing all procedures within half an hour before packaging the data and blood samples to send to the laboratory.
Half an hour later, the laboratory returned the bound test reports to the Medical Association, where they were handed back to Dr. Zhong.
During this time, Lan Bo sat on a waiting chair outside the Medical Association’s corridor, draped in a white blazer, arms crossed, head tilted back, leaning against the wall and staring blankly at the ceiling.
Doctors and nurses passing by couldn’t help but glance at this handsome, aloof man out of the corner of their eyes, then hurry around the corner to whisper a few words to each other. This was Bai Chunian, the head of the Search Division’s, partner.
Dr. Zhong walked out holding the lab report and sat down next to Lan Bo.
Lan Bo opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him.
“The situation isn’t too bad right now,” Dr. Zhong said. “His tolerance is stronger than that of the average test subject. Once his emotions stabilize, he generally won’t go on a rampage for no reason. However, he can’t use his differentiation ability for the time being and will need to stay in the hospital for observation. We’re working hard to find a way to prevent the condition from worsening. I’ll let you know as soon as there’s any new progress.”
Upon hearing this, Ranpo tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “If I can’t do it, how can you?”
Dr. Zhong stacked the test reports and tapped them against his knee. “Since the dawn of humanity, we haven’t survived by relying on gods. We aren’t completely useless. You have your abilities, and we have our wisdom. That wisdom sometimes brings disaster, but more often than not, it brings hope.”
Lan Bo snorted lightly. “I’ll be waiting.”
Once Bai Chunian’s condition stabilized, he was transferred to a standard private room.
Lan Bo sat by the bedside, using a water-hardened steel knife to peel an apple for Bai Chunian.
Bai Chunian leaned back in the hospital bed, wearing a blue-and-white striped hospital gown. He watched as Lan Bo peeled off a two-centimeter-thick layer of apple skin, ate the peel himself, and then handed him the core.
“Forget it, honey, I’ll just eat it with the peel…”
Lan Bo wasn’t ready to give up. He picked up another apple and continued practicing; there were only two left in the bag.
Someone knocked on the door and pushed it open. The two looked up to see Lu Yan and Xiao Xun, with Jin Luchong trailing behind, carrying the mummy on his back.
“Hey!” Lu Yan, clutching his backpack furtively, leaned close to Bai Chunian’s pillow, opened the bag, and pulled out a game console: “Here, to keep you entertained.”
Bai Chunian picked up the game console and fiddled with it: “Look at my good little brother—all that pampering wasn’t for nothing.”
“Huh? You get all smug just because I called you ‘brother’? Pfft.” Lu Yan shot him a look, then ran over to Lan Bo, turned his backpack upside down, and dumped a pile of snacks out for him.
Lan Bo gave the little rabbit’s fluffy tail a satisfied squeeze.
Xiao Xun said, “Brother Han heard you were injured and is rushing back from Aphid Sea. He’ll probably be here tomorrow.”
Bai Chunian waved his hand. “I’m fine. Why’s he coming back? Didn’t he go with the Mad Shark Unit to clean up the submarine lab?”
“He’s really worried.”
Lu Yan pulled up a chair, slumped over the backrest, and sighed, “Just focus on getting better. The Star-Gathering Gang is helping him write the reports—they’re working until midnight every day. I’d like to help him too, but I don’t know how to write them.”
Bai Chunian took a sip of water. “Don’t bother helping. Eight out of every ten sentences you write have typos.”
Lu Yan was so angry his ears nearly popped.
Jinluchong still wasn’t used to crowded places. He sat quietly on a small stool in the corner, using knitting needles to pull spider silk to knit gloves for Bai Chunian, while Mummy crouched across from him, holding a ball of spider silk for him.
“Hey, you, the one knitting—Wenchi.” Bai Chunian called out to him. Jinluchong looked up dazedly, a metallic sheen glinting in his eyes. Mummy followed his movement and looked up at Bai Chunian as well.
“Come here. I have something to tell you.”
Jinluchong obediently stood up, ran to Bai Chunian’s bedside, and stood there properly. The Mummy followed, standing behind Jinluchong.
“Go to the team leader and get a mission order. Tell him I’m sending you to the pier at noon on the last day of this month to take the IOA ferry to the Aphid Island Special Training Base.”
Golden Thread Worm nodded. Behind him, Mummy silently took out a pencil and wrote down the time and location Bai Chunian had specified on the palm of his hand.
“Contact me once you arrive, and I’ll tell you what to do.”
“Okay.” Golden Thread Worm nodded obediently.
After paying their visit, they told Bai Chunian to get some rest and left the hospital room one by one. Lu Yan had already walked out, but suddenly turned back, leaned mysteriously over Bai Chunian’s bedside, and asked him in a low voice with a particularly serious expression: “Hey, there’s an assassination mission coming up where Lan Xing and I have to team up. We have to pretend to be a couple and even stay in the same room.”
Bai Chunian stroked his chin. “Oh? What’s the matter? Assassination missions are pretty simple for you guys. With Lan Xing there, nothing’s going to go wrong.”
Lu Yan’s face flushed red as he dropped a strong hint to Bai Chunian: “Do I need to prepare anything?”
Bai Chunian finally caught Lu Yan’s hint. The kid was just starting to get romantic and was worried something might happen if he shared a room with Lan Xing.
He grinned mischievously. “What’s the point of asking me? Ask him.” Bai Chunian nodded toward Lan Bo. “Ask whoever’s down there.”
“Huh?” Lu Yan pricked up his ears in confusion. “That’s not what they’re saying on the IOA gossip forum. They say you’re the one on the bottom.”
“Who the hell’s spreading rumors about me? Everyone knows I’m the top beast in IOA…” Bai Chunian’s mouth twitched as he turned to look at Lan Bo.
Lan Bo immediately turned his back to him and began carving apples in elaborate patterns.
He snorted.
“Great. So the mole is actually my wife.” Bai Chunian leaned over and crawled next to Lan Bo, wrapping his arms around her neck from behind and pulling the omega into the blankets. Then he turned to Lu Yan and said, “Comrade, you should head out first. The spy has been successfully apprehended, and I’m about to begin the interrogation.”
Lu Yan, his rabbit ears covering his flushed face, bolted out the door.