The news never stopped, especially within the Imperial Military.
Rumors of Gu Qing attending a banquet for high-ranking male insects spread overnight like wildfire, reaching every office and training ground.
The Xingmang Hall—where male insect nobility indulged nightly in excess while female insects were humiliated—was one of the empire’s most sordid yet luxurious secrets.
That night, eyewitnesses told the tale with fevered exaggeration:
The low-ranking male insect Gu Qing, usually famed for his “composed and dignified” demeanor, sat confidently among the three major noble males, drinking and conversing with ease.
Even more shocking, by the banquet’s end, he did not leave with the others. Instead, he remained alone in a private chamber, spending a long while with several sub-females.
Gossip painted every detail in the most scandalous light:
“He really knows how to play.”
“That cold, aloof image… turns out it’s all just a façade.”
“I told you, no male insect can resist the allure of females.”
When word reached the military, it ignited an inevitable storm.
—The trust of female officers began to fracture.
—Pressure surged through the deputy ranks like a tidal wave.
Yier slammed a water glass onto the desk, green hair flying, voice sharp as a blade: “It was all just for show! I’ve always said male insects are unreliable! Each one more hypocritical than the last!”
Philip sneered: “Rather than a façade, this may be his true self. After all, he’s still a male insect, isn’t he?”
Overnight, the atmosphere in the military shifted. Many female officers whispered among themselves, their opinions of Gu Qing polarized.
Some sighed, disappointed in him. Others laughed coldly: “Finally, a real male insect. Who still buys the idea of being ‘special’? Deep down, all males are the same.”
Some female officers even smiled with relief: “So he can descend to our level too? I thought he was some untouchable, ethereal insect.”
A few loyal supporters defended him, claiming, “Gu Qing isn’t that kind of insect,” but their voices were soon drowned out by growing doubts.
Many female officers tried again to enter the medical chambers under the pretense of “purifying the spiritual sea,” hoping to meet Gu Qing alone—yet all attempts failed, for the chambers remained empty.
The one most silently shaken, however, was Milton.
Standing by the window, gazing into the endless night, a storm of dark emotions surged within him.
The news cut through the defenses he had painstakingly built.
He had never imagined Gu Qing stepping into that world; he certainly hadn’t imagined feeling hurt because of it.
“He never said a word,” he whispered, a tone of indescribable shock and loss in his voice. The words sounded like self-justification, and also accusation.
He was neither Gu Qing’s close insect nor an indispensable part of his life. He wasn’t even entitled to closeness.
He was merely a female officer who had secretly hoped, deep in his heart, that Gu Qing could be different.
Countless times in the dark, he had pondered Gu Qing’s presence—
A posture of gentle compliance, yet at critical moments, a power and stance that could not be ignored. It wasn’t a show of strength, but an inner resolve radiating from his very bones. He had believed it was unnatural for a male insect, that he was a pure anomaly.
Milton’s vision blurred as memories of moments with Gu Qing surfaced.
The day Gu Qing was discharged, he had shown care and compassion toward humiliated sub-females, his eyes gentle and tolerant.
On the day Gu Qing reported to the military, seeing the plight of female insects, he had said calmly:
“Fate is never merciful, but it is never absolute.
An insect trapped in despair, if it does not give up, will one day carve a path for itself through the cracks.”
Later, facing the ridicule and provocation of noble males, Gu Qing had stepped forward without hesitation, shielding him from every corrupt gaze. Even sharp words were absorbed entirely by him.
“If I don’t bear it, all the filth will fall on you.”
“I won’t let a hero be humiliated,” Gu Qing had said with a faint smile, his gaze unwavering.
Milton, long known as the coldest of female officers, remembered his fingers trembling, his vision blurred at that moment.
He had thought someone might stand by his side. He had even hoped, when commanding tens of thousands in battle, that someone would speak for him, leaving a tiny breathing space.
But he never imagined that someone would be a male insect—
A male insect who could easily look down upon everything, yet chose to stand with him, even defend him.
He whispered softly: “You deserve protection.”
Milton had never thought such words could belong to him.
He even recalled that day, in the small villa, Gu Qing’s teasing half-joke:
“General, you’ve seen me completely… now, shouldn’t you consider whether to take responsibility?” Light and playful in tone, yet like a needle piercing straight through his hardened heart.
At that moment, his pulse had raced, and he had seriously wondered—was Gu Qing… different with him?
Was he the only one who could see Gu Qing unguarded?
Was he the only one who could receive this ambiguous tenderness?
He once thought there was a special emotion behind the teasing.
Now, looking back—it might have just been Gu Qing’s way with words.
Or… perhaps he only wanted to believe.
“…You always speak the words that shake insects the most,” he had murmured.
Gu Qing replied: “Do you… never let yourself feel anything? Or… have you long since learned to suppress all emotions?”
Milton clenched his fists, gaze sinking.
He had learned to suppress everything—fear, doubt, attachment, longing. To be a shield trusted by all, he could not retreat, could not hurt, could not waver.
Yet he had never imagined that one male insect’s words could stir buried waves within his heart.
This insect, this Gu Qing…
—he had once wavered… even desired to possess him.
Now, all those convictions collapsed in the face of harsh reality.
He felt as if he had been violently yanked from the clouds, thrown onto a cold, desolate plain.
“He isn’t that kind of insect,” he whispered, struggling to deny it. Yet the words were more self-comfort than truth—he knew it wasn’t entirely accurate.
Those unspeakable thoughts surged in him. He dared not dwell on them: if that night, Gu Qing hadn’t gone to Xingmang Hall, but had come to him… what would he have done? Would he have coldly rejected him? Or willingly stayed?
The thought flickered and was immediately suppressed.
A dull ache gripped his chest, as if invisible chains had tightened around him, making each breath difficult.
This pain had no outlet, only to be turned into coldness and silence.
He didn’t ask Gu Qing anything, for he didn’t know what to say, and feared exposing the most vulnerable part of his heart.
He was not Gu Qing’s insect, yet felt disappointment over his choices. That disappointment was both humiliation and agony.
He let out a self-mocking laugh, almost swallowed by the night wind.
“…Perhaps this is what I deserve,” he whispered.
In the next instant, as if a switch had been flipped, he returned to his usual coldness and restraint, as if the wavering moments had never existed.
At that moment, light footsteps approached the door.
Deputy Officer Yier stood at the entrance, holding a stack of the latest military briefs, about to report, but froze upon seeing Milton’s back.
The general, usually upright, calm, and composed, now had shoulders slightly slumped, a quiet weight in his stance—almost fragile.
Yier had never seen this Milton before.
He hesitated for a few seconds, then chose not to speak, quietly placing the materials on the desk before turning to leave, movements so light they were nearly silent.
—A general’s emotions should not be disturbed by insects.
He didn’t understand the true meaning behind that silence, but instinctively sensed it had something to do with the male insect named Gu Qing.
As the door closed, Milton exhaled slightly, yet found it even harder to breathe.
He looked down at the holo-screen, where Gu Qing’s leave message remained unread. His fingers hovered over “Send,” yet did not move for a long time.
He didn’t know if he truly wanted an explanation,
or if he was just waiting for a reason to continue believing.
But reason crushed every possibility.
He had no right to demand anything, no right to show disappointment.
—He was merely Milton, a general living for the military and the war.
And Gu Qing… was a wind that belonged to no one.
At that moment, the communication terminal suddenly lit up. An encrypted order from the Marshal pierced the silence.
Red alert lights blinked relentlessly, followed by a cold, mechanical voice:
【—Classified Order: Codename “Black Tide.”】
【Target Location: Border of the Third Star Sector, secret black market auction.】
【Mission Objective: Missing male insect suspected to be sold at black market; infiltration and rescue required to prevent information leak. Mission Grade: S.】
【Departure: Three months from now. Coordinated by General Milton.】