The ceiling, the floor, and three of the walls in this room each bore the same recessed door outline as the previous room. But the first room had only four doors; this one had five. Judging from the layout, the first room had been a dining room. This one was a bedroom.
“They probably just built it like this on purpose.” Bai Chunian carried Lan Bo over to the bed nailed to the wall and gave it a gentle push. “All this stuff is nailed in.”
“As for this crystal chandelier… it’s probably reinforced with rigid iron wire. It just looks like it’s sticking out from the wall.” Bai Chunian walked to the base of the wall, lifted Lan Bo under the arms with both hands, and easily raised the merman closer to the chandelier. “Feel it. See if I’m right.”
Lan Bo reached out and lightly flicked one of the crystal pendants.
The pendant swayed gently, setting the others in motion. Because the chandelier was mounted parallel to the surface they were standing on, the swaying crystals looked like rippling waves suspended in midair.
At the same time, the wolf alphas discovered a fish tank sitting on the vanity nailed to the wall. Inside swam a vividly red betta fish.
“There’s no way this fish tank is nailed down too,” He Suowei said, reaching in to stir the water. “Why isn’t it spilling?”
The tank sat securely on the vertical tabletop, unmoving. The water’s surface showed no tilt at all. He Suowei scooped up some water with his hand. The droplets traveled horizontally in front of him before falling back into the vertically placed tank.
Nothing in the room felt out of place. The only incongruous elements were the five of them who had barged in, as if they were subject to a completely different direction of gravity from the rest of the room.
Curious, Bai Chunian walked over and stirred the water as well. The brightly colored betta did not panic this time. Instead, it pressed its head against the bottom of the tank and leaned against Bai Chunian’s finger in a docile, submissive posture.
“It’s so friendly,” Bai Chunian said to Lan Bo in his arms. “Can you understand what it’s saying? See if you can get any clues.”
“He forgot,” Lan Bo said, staring expressionlessly at the fish.
Bai Chunian touched the betta’s fin with the tip of his finger and asked casually, “What else did it say?”
“Queen.”
“What does that mean? Is it calling you that?”
“No.” Lan Bo was visibly impatient at having to translate the language of such an insignificant fish. He grabbed Bai Chunian’s arm. Sharp nails slid from their sheaths as he lightly tapped the alpha’s elbow. “Have you… touched enough?”
Perhaps because his food intake had been increasing, Lan Bo’s demeanor was becoming more and more like how he had been after evolving to the mature stage during the exam—overbearing and cold, with an air of absolute dominance.
It took them a while to realize the room had grown even quieter than before.
“Captain He?” Bai Chunian turned to look around. The bedroom was empty except for him and Lan Bo.
“Did they go back to the previous room?” Bai Chunian muttered. He went to the staircase where they had just come down. The open doorway was gone, replaced by the same recessed door outline as the others on the wall.
“Hey, those two little wolves with the surname He are gone too.” Bai Chunian examined the scratch marks on the leather-patterned wallpaper covering the sealed door. He pressed his palm flat against where the door had once been, carefully sensing subtle changes in temperature. It seemed slightly warmer than normal.
He knocked on both the door and the wall but could not determine whether it was hollow or solid. The material of the wall was unusual. Out of idle curiosity, he peeled back a small piece of wallpaper. Beneath it was an ultra-high-density metal. From the sound of knocking alone, there was no way to tell whether there was space on the other side.
Lan Bo sat in the very center of the room, his fish tail bent like human knees, arms wrapped around it, his head resting on top.
Bai Chunian walked over and dropped to one knee in front of him, pulling Lan Bo against his chest with a soft laugh. “Scared?”
“Just… tear it down.” Lan Bo lifted his tail. Strong currents crackled at the tip.
Bai Chunian believed he absolutely had the ability to turn the entire escape room into a charred ruin.
“We don’t know how many living people are inside yet. If you destroy the whole place and the hostages die, it’ll be pinned on you. And if you get locked up in an international prison, rescuing you will be a lot more trouble.”
Lan Bo leaned against Bai Chunian’s shoulder hollow and asked faintly, “Why… do I have to… do all this?”
“At first, it was for the three-thousand-dollar prize money… but ultimately, it’s to prove to the Chairman and the others that you’re not a threat to humans—and that you’re capable and well-behaved. Then the Chairman will allow me to keep raising you in my home. Do you like that?”
“I don’t need… anyone’s permission.” Lan Bo pushed himself upright with the strength of his tail and pulled Bai Chunian possessively into the crook of his arm. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips gently to Bai Chunian’s forehead. “I’ll take you… back… to Honduras.”
Bai Chunian narrowed his eyes with a quiet hum, deliberately indulging him, rubbing his cheek lightly against Lan Bo’s neck.
When the alpha displayed dependence, Lan Bo’s demeanor visibly softened from cold indifference to pleased tenderness. He cupped Bai Chunian’s face, tilted his head, and kissed his lips. A cool tongue slipped into his mouth, releasing a rich and elegant white briar rose soothing pheromone. His long tail coiled tightly around Bai Chunian’s body in a forceful embrace.
For a merman, passionate affection manifested entirely as dominance and control.
In nature, certain species are matriarchal—like the queen bee in a hive or the queen ant in a colony. They control mating rights and hold absolute authority within the group.
Bai Chunian suddenly understood. He finally grasped the pattern behind Lan Bo’s shifting warmth and coldness. Whenever Lan Bo felt his “authority” had been challenged, he would deliberately withdraw, becoming stern and distant to reinforce his status. But when Bai Chunian intentionally showed weakness and reliance, Lan Bo perceived it as submission. That made him happy, and he would respond by protecting and caressing him from a position of superiority.
He recalled the first day they had slept in the same breeding tank. After a full day of brutal training, battered and exhausted, he had found a beautiful little omega fish on the bed. Anyone would have felt comforted by that sight. Yet Lan Bo had shown little interest in him, keeping his back turned.
But his scent had been unbearably gentle. Bai Chunian had wrapped his arms around him from behind and fallen asleep with his forehead resting lightly against Lan Bo’s back. Looking back now, from Lan Bo’s perspective, that posture must have been a clear gesture of submission.
Perhaps from that day on, Lan Bo had completely claimed him as his own. And now, as Lan Bo’s appetite approached satisfaction, that instinctual nature of his species was becoming increasingly pronounced.
“So that’s how it is.” Bai Chunian finally figured out the ways of this elusive creature. Tilting his head back, he curved his lips into a well-behaved smile, eyes half-lidded. “Gege.”
The moment the word left his mouth, he saw Lan Bo’s breathing quicken.
The merman tightened his tail around Bai Chunian, excitement flashing in his eyes. The fin covering his lower body was subtly lifted by something swelling beneath it.
A red laser dot suddenly landed on Bai Chunian’s face. His senses sharpened instantly. He grabbed Lan Bo and rose to his feet, cradling the omega with one arm while pulling the HK417 from his back with the other, aiming toward the threat.
“Don’t move. My gun doesn’t have eyes. Hands up.” While the two of them had been lost in their own world, ignoring everything outside, one of the bedroom doors by the bed had opened without them noticing. An alpha dressed like a mercenary stepped in slowly, submachine gun raised.
Bai Chunian had not even had time to think about how the door had opened before the Lan Bo in his arms transformed into an enraged red-tailed form. Blood-red spines bristled along his dorsal fin, fury blazing in his eyes at having their moment interrupted.
“Wait, Lan Bo, don’t—”
A bolt of lightning shot from the tip of his tail. In an instant, the mercenary—and the gun in his hands—were reduced to a wisp of acrid black smoke.
Soon after, more of the mercenary’s companions emerged from the same inexplicably opened door, guns trained on Bai Chunian and Lan Bo.
Leading them was a Gila woodpecker alpha. Bai Chunian remembered him clearly. During the ATWL exam, in the library, they had encountered the No Survivors Team. That team had tried to ram straight through with a vehicle, and Bai Chunian had used an M25 to snipe the driver in a single shot—their main force, an alpha named Enke.
Because Bai Chunian’s quick-scope had been so fast, Enke had been eliminated before he even saw his face. So now he failed to recognize him.
Enke held his submachine gun and sized them up. When he saw the police uniform on Lan Bo, he raised a brow. “Police?”
“We’re here to rescue hostages. No conflict of interest,” Bai Chunian replied with a smile, quietly restraining Lan Bo to prevent another outburst.
“Hmph.” Seeing there were only two of them, Enke did not take them seriously. He interrogated coldly, “Was there someone else who entered this room just now? Where did he go?”
Bai Chunian answered with complete sincerity, “Huh? Didn’t see anyone. Who? Nobody came in. Must’ve missed it.”