“All other alphas can hold their wives—why can’t I hold you?” Bai Chunian mumbled, eyes closed, drunk.
Lan Bo stopped struggling, hesitating before lightly biting his lip. “You can.”
The alpha closed his eyes, lashes twitching occasionally. Lan Bo watched him, lost in thought, enduring the intense warmth in the alpha’s embrace.
He rarely endured anything for anyone, yet here he compromised entirely for Bai Chunian, indulging his hugs and intrusions.
Lan Bo gently brushed Bai Chunian’s lashes, releasing calming pheromones, cradling his face in his hand as he gazed at him.
“Cabean se weyena quaun kadin kimo. (The Caribbean Queen’s long-forgotten throne has always awaited you.)”
“Boliea milaye. (My little boy.)”
His voice was low, weary, and tired.
After being altered into a developmental-stage experiment, he had lost much of his reasoning ability and forgotten certain things, relying mostly on instinctual reactions. But over time, fragments of memory slowly reassembled, and Lan Bo’s cognitive abilities were returning.
After several minutes, Bai Chunian appeared to be asleep. Lan Bo carefully extracted himself from the alpha’s embrace, the scattered scales falling onto the bed.
He felt a little dizzy, his hands bracing on the mattress as he rested. Large patches of exposed skin were burned. Bai Chunian’s body temperature was abnormally high—almost beyond what Lan Bo could endure. Most wouldn’t notice, but Lan Bo’s sensitivity to temperature was extreme. This level of heat shouldn’t exist on anyone.
A faint, unfamiliar scent of pheromones lingered on him.
Lan Bo rifled through drawers to find a thermometer, examining it against the light, unsure how to use it.
Bai Chunian shifted, nuzzling over, frowning and murmuring in his sleep. Just sitting beside him, Lan Bo could feel a wave of intense heat radiating off the alpha.
He stood blankly for a moment, picking up Bai Chunian’s phone from the floor. The contacts were encrypted, leaving Lan Bo unsure how to operate it. He tapped Bai Chunian’s face, pressing his hand onto the phone. “Han Xingqian. Call him.”
Bai Chunian mumbled groggily, “Don’t say any other alpha’s name…”
“No. Dr. Han,” Lan Bo insisted, pressing his hand against the screen, a thin layer of sweat glimmering on his palm.
Convincing Bai Chunian to place the call took some time. Han Xingqian answered groggily; it was late, and everyone else was asleep.
“Xiaobai, hot,” Lan Bo described quietly.
Han Xingqian: “He said he went drinking; a slight temperature rise is normal. Step back a bit.”
“No, no—it’s extreme.” Lan Bo pressed the phone to Bai Chunian’s blazing forehead, trying to convey his heat through the call.
Han Xingqian: “…I’m coming over. You can try cooling him down first, try waking him.”
Lan Bo set down the phone and moved Bai Chunian back into his fish tank. The cold water relieved him somewhat. Lan Bo stayed perched on the tank edge, watching. Alarmingly, the glowing blue jellyfish in the tank slowed and began dying, one after another.
Feeling the water, Lan Bo noticed the temperature rising.
“…Faak,” he cursed under his breath.
He dragged the cooling system by the waterbed to the tank, connecting it to the outer wall, set to level three. Frost slowly formed on the tank’s exterior, barely keeping the water cold, yet Bai Chunian’s skin remained scalding.
Leaning back in the tank, dazed, Bai Chunian mumbled, “Are you cooking me? I’m going to be done… it hurts so much.”
Lan Bo slid in, tail coiling around him, removing the moist bandages and pressing his own cold skin against Bai Chunian’s burning chest.
The bandages sank to the tank bottom, and direct contact with his high heat quickly reddened and blistered Lan Bo’s skin. He endured the pain stoically, adjusting positions as needed to cool the alpha.
When Han Xingqian arrived, he paused, briefly surprised despite his usual composure. Xiao Xun followed, carrying a medical kit, glancing over his shoulder at the scene.
Lan Bo’s back revealed a full red pattern, resembling a devilish face. The lines were not the skilled strokes of a tattooist, but crude, scar-like markings. Shifting over his thin, prominent shoulder blades, the blood-red visage seemed to leer.
Seeing them enter, Lan Bo wrapped the remaining bandages around his torso, climbing from the tank to sit at the bed’s edge, still visibly weak.
“You okay?” Han Xingqian asked, taking the stethoscope and thermometer from Xiao Xun with concern.
Lan Bo shook his head.
Examination revealed Bai Chunian wasn’t suffering from alcohol poisoning. His temperature was dangerously high—beyond what a normal person could survive. Without his high differentiation level, he would have burned alive from his own heat.
“I believe this is a differentiation ability of a certain gland,” Han Xingqian assessed. “Xiaobai is very alert when conscious. It’s difficult to manipulate him unnoticed. Using the alcohol-induced fever masks early heat spikes. Once it reaches a critical point, he passes out and can’t resist.”
“His temperature keeps rising; even Xiaobai can’t endure much longer. I’ll take him to the Medical Association first, then request a search of the suspect tomorrow.”
Lan Bo’s gaze bore into him like a predator.
Han Xingqian leaned in, soothingly: “I promise, the seniors at the Medical Association won’t let Xiaobai come to harm. Stay home and don’t wander.”
“You stay with him,” he instructed Xiao Xun, “I’ll send your intern stipend later.”
Xiao Xun didn’t care about money, but nodded obediently, remaining at Lan Bo’s side.
With two people gone, the room fell silent. Lan Bo sat hugging his coiled tail, dazed. Xiao Xun stayed quiet, maintaining a fragile stillness.
Even so, the mermaid’s beauty was overwhelming. Xiao Xun couldn’t help stealing glances—Lan Bo’s damp golden hair lay messily on his shoulders, many scales missing, looking exhausted and melancholic, yet still captivating.
Lan Bo ignored him but sensed the gaze, asking coldly, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Sorry,” Xiao Xun whispered, averting his eyes.
After a moment, he broke the silence first, explaining, “That day was only my second time meeting Bai Chunian. We really aren’t familiar. He was just trying to provoke you.”
“En.” Lan Bo wasn’t particularly interested in the topic.
“So…didn’t you hit him too hard? Aren’t you two lovers?” Xiao Xun asked. He knew it wasn’t his place to interfere, but growing up in an abusive household had left him instinctively averse to violence.
“Lovers?” Lan Bo considered the word seriously, letting out a soft hum. “You mean the nursery pouch. He didn’t want it; I forced him. Cats—cute, pitiful—but I forced him. I wanted him.”
Xiao Xun froze. “Nursery pouch…? Normal people don’t like that term, especially since he’s an alpha.”
Lan Bo frowned, puzzled. “Wei? (Why?)”
Xiao Xun thought for a moment, then explained carefully: “A nursery pouch is basically like surrogacy in our culture. It means you have someone carry your child, but there’s no emotional attachment.”
…Just like me, he thought silently.
Lan Bo mulled over this cultural difference for a long moment, then asked softly, “Then…what about a nursery pouch with feelings?”
Xiao Xun hadn’t expected the question and had to pause to formulate an answer. Shifting his head awkwardly, he said, “I…don’t know. I’ve never been in love.”
Silence fell again.
For a fleeting instant, a faint, unfamiliar pheromone slipped through the window. Both men instinctively looked up.
Lan Bo’s reaction was immediate; he pinpointed the scent, hostile and similar to the strange odor that had appeared on Bai Chunian. Swiftly, he climbed to the windowsill, opening it to jump down in pursuit.
“Wait, it might be a trap,” Xiao Xun cautioned.
“En. So what?” Lan Bo removed Xiao Xun’s hand from his wrist. “Kill. Whoever uses abilities—once dead, their powers vanish. You know that.”
Without hesitation, Lan Bo leapt from the window.
Xiao Xun hesitated, then grabbed his phone and followed, sharing his real-time location with Han Xingqian en route.
Lan Bo moved with incredible speed, using electromagnetic adhesion to scale steel structures, virtually unstoppable.
But Lingti’s speed was comparable, even surpassing most land-based merfolk. Lan Bo scaled a high wall in a flash, while Xiao Xun followed, vaulting with his arms and legs, keeping pace.
“I’ll stick with you,” Xiao Xun said.
Lan Bo glanced at him. “You can’t. Stay back.”
“But Dr. Han told me to stay with you,” Xiao Xun insisted stubbornly.
Lan Bo frowned. “Obedient, huh?”
“I’m not! I just…” Xiao Xun trailed off, awkward.
“Who cares,” Lan Bo said, eyes fixed ahead.
“Detected.” Using his J1 differentiation ability, Xiao Xun’s universal dashboard could monitor multiple data points. He projected the intruder’s escape route: two possible paths with over 90% likelihood.
“Left and straight ahead. We can split up,” Xiao Xun suggested. “But based on what I know, there aren’t many who could secretly manipulate Bai Chunian like this—aside from guests at the banquet, it can only be a traitor within the alliance… I know this is blunt, but my analysis is precise. This is a deliberate plan. Charging in recklessly could get us killed.”
“Lan Bo, I advise you not to go,” Xiao Xun added. “I calculate a 77% chance of danger. Trust me—request backup, then search tomorrow.”
Lan Bo ignored him.
It wasn’t stubbornness—it was knowledge of the experimental subject’s regenerative abilities and how quickly severe infection could develop. He knew the stakes.
Xiao Xun stopped, realizing Lan Bo’s survival of fourth place in the ATWL exam wasn’t luck—it was undeniable skill, not recklessness.
Lan Bo scaled the high wall easily, leaping between buildings under the moonlight, hunting blind spots in surveillance, constantly tracking his own trajectory with keen vision, calculating the success rate of different tactics in his mind.
When they regrouped, Xiao Xun shared his two tactical route plans. Lan Bo nodded, and Xiao Xun scaled the wall to follow.
At a flickering streetlight, Xiao Xun first spotted the target. Using his universal dashboard to analyze air data, he identified the intruder’s gland type—Yeqi armored alpha, beetle-type glands.
Xiao Xun relayed through hand signals to Lan Bo, crawling along the chain-link fence: “Yeqi armored glands. Abilities likely involve toxin and high heat.”
Lan Bo slowed slightly. Most powers didn’t faze him, but extreme heat was a fatal weakness.
Sweat formed on Xiao Xun’s forehead. He wasn’t skilled in close combat and lacked a sniper rifle. He signaled to Lan Bo: “Can you handle this?”
Lan Bo checked the sky—dawn was near, time was short.
If the opponent’s power was disadvantageous, the only option was preemptive action. Lan Bo’s tail charged with electric energy, transforming into a streak of lightning as he surged forward.
Meanwhile, Bai Chunian lay in the Medical Association ward, surrounded by esteemed professors and Han Xingqian.
The monitors attached to him climbed steadily. High temperatures were killing his cells faster than they could regenerate. If this continued, his life was in danger.
Professor Zhong spoke: “I believe this is a fixed-point high-heat ability of the Yeqi armored alpha’s M2 gland. The fastest solution is to eliminate the user. Given his current state, serious infection will develop within four hours. There’s no time to request a search.”
Another doctor suggested: “Inject AC serum to forcibly advance his growth stage. At his level, as long as he awakens, it should be safe.”
Han Xingqian held the AC serum in his hand. It had originally been promised to Bai Chunian after his mission.
“I don’t recommend this,” Han Xingqian finally said. “If he were only a developmental-stage subject, maturing him with the serum could be controlled. But he’s already in maturity. Forcing growth to the next stage could trigger uncontrolled escalation. Even if the serum’s effects last only twenty-four hours, I cannot guarantee safety during that time.”
Professor Zhong agreed with Han Xingqian’s assessment and quickly submitted an urgent request to the Special Operations Unit, hoping to capture the Yeqi armored alpha before Bai Chunian’s infection worsened.
In the rush, Han Xingqian had forgotten to silence his phone, and it suddenly rang.
“Sorry,” he muttered, silencing it. But a notification showed that Xiao Xun had sent a shared live location along with a video. In the dim streetlight, Lan Bo was locked in combat with an M2-level Yeqi armored alpha. He was attempting to discharge electricity to kill the opponent, but the alpha clearly understood his power, repeatedly raising the local air temperature to interrupt Lan Bo’s charge.
“He found him,” Han Xingqian said, showing the video to Professor Zhong. Zhong’s expression darkened. “Against high-heat abilities, aquatic glands are at a huge disadvantage.”
On the video, Lan Bo’s once-smooth, radiant tail was scorched by air heated to nearly one hundred degrees Celsius. He fell from the fence, quickly scrambling to avoid follow-up attacks. His scales blackened and burned, exposing raw red flesh.
Even through the video, the pain was palpable. Lan Bo’s agonized cries pierced the footage.
Bai Chunian’s fingers twitched. The monitors spiked erratically. He clutched his throbbing head and blindly reached for the AC growth stimulator in Han Xingqian’s hand.
“Go… give it… to Lan Bo…”