In the past few days, for reasons unknown, the weather on the barren star had abruptly turned harsh. The wind carried sand like blades, and the nights cut to the bone with icy cold.
In this brutal environment, the cave became the only refuge.
The cavern was deep and shadowed, wind howling through its passages, sand rattling against the rock walls. Milton sat at the edge of the stone bed, repeatedly attempting to contact the military through his holocomputer, but every attempt returned only a string of error signals. He had tried every frequency, yet the star’s magnetic field was so chaotic that even military devices could not pierce the interference.
Through it all, Gu Qing remained by his side, tending to his injuries, quietly sitting by the fire to aid in his recovery.
Milton had initially assumed Gu Qing was one of those “abnormal males” with no pheromones—the medical reports in the hospital had indicated as much.
But now it was clear that this, too, had likely been deliberate concealment.
Normally, pheromones carry a scent.
In the Empire’s insect society, pheromones were never gentle. For males, they were a weapon, a tool of control—released to provoke females into arousal, to coerce, humiliate, or simply for pleasure.
Milton had witnessed too many such scenes.
Pheromones never brought warmth. They were symbols of conquest and dominance.
But Gu Qing’s was entirely different.
His pheromones were warm and pure, like sunlight—odorless, yet miraculously able to mend the wounds on Milton’s body. Milton watched, astonished, as his injuries stopped bleeding, contracted, and healed within mere moments. He knew this was far beyond any technological treatment, beyond any synthetic pheromone’s purity.
This was an extremely rare power, and Gu Qing released it without reservation.
He had never imagined that he would, one day, feel such gentle care from another male insect in this way.
Even more astonishing was the moment Gu Qing entered his spiritual sea—
The psychic current flowed like a clear stream, unobstructed, penetrating a psyche long shattered.
No ordinary male could accomplish such a feat.
Even the Empire’s highest-tier A-class males could not endure a high-level female’s chaotic spiritual sea, let alone stabilize it.
Yet Gu Qing not only did it—he performed extensive cleansing and repair.
The cracks and scorched edges long accumulated along the borders of Milton’s psyche slowly healed under Gu Qing’s purifying psychic flow.
Even more thoroughly than any military treatment he had ever received.
He could hardly believe it—his spiritual sea was now more stable and clear than before.
How was this possible?
Gu Qing… what kind of male insect was he?
Such an ability was beyond any ordinary male, beyond what the Empire could train.
Instinctively, he looked at the male by the fire.
Gu Qing sat there, back straight, black eyes calm, face handsome, bathed in flickering firelight like a mirage. He said nothing, asked nothing, simply cared for him silently for days.
—So gentle, there was nowhere for the insect to escape.
Milton stared at him, suddenly recalling the day Gu Qing had spoken about the audio files. With only a soft, quiet phrase: “I will no longer let you be harmed because of me.” That promise quietly touched the softest part of his heart.
A faint blush spread across his ears; he lowered his head, heart pounding wildly, fluttering in his chest like wings. Sweet warmth spread from his chest, gentle and thrilling.
At that precise moment, his stomach growled embarrassingly. Milton froze, momentarily flustered.
He hadn’t eaten in days. When the spiritual sea collapses, the body’s demand for food and energy surges, yet the pain of the past few days had dulled his awareness of hunger. Now fully conscious, the empty feeling rang like an alarm—he hadn’t eaten in days.
He was about to rise to find food when Gu Qing pulled out the wild vegetables and dried provisions he had gathered earlier, skillfully lighting a fire, boiling water, cooking. Meals were prepared effortlessly, with enticing aroma, even seemingly driving away the cave’s chill.
Milton blinked, speaking before he could stop himself: “…How are you so good at cooking?”
Without looking up, Gu Qing replied calmly: “Practice makes it natural.”
“…” Milton watched the expert motions, realizing his question had barely touched the mystery.
A male insect, rare pheromones, and now a master of cooking—how was any of this reasonable?
He was about to ask again, but Gu Qing interrupted smoothly.
“Eat quickly.” He handed over a bowl of soup and roasted meat.
“You haven’t eaten in days. Your spiritual sea has just stabilized; you won’t last long without food.”
As Milton reached to take the dish, he heard Gu Qing add casually:
“…Or would you like me to feed you, General?”
“…!”
Milton’s hand trembled, nearly spilling the soup. His face heated, ears flushed, and any further questions caught in his throat, leaving him speechless.
He quickly lowered his head, biting into a piece of meat without hesitation, ignoring the heat.
The aroma filled his mouth, the flavor unusually rich, yet his heart raced from Gu Qing’s offhand remark, body aflame as if immersed in fire.
Unconsciously, the corners of his lips lifted slightly.
The little silver light being in Gu Qing’s mind peeked out, giggling:
“Eh eh eh~! You’re flirting with him again! Progress is going so fast—General’s ears are bright red!”
Gu Qing ignored it, quietly watching the high-ranking general before him, who ate the meal he prepared, ears flushed.
He thought softly to himself: this is enough.
Night deepened. Cold seeped further into the cave, wind howling like beasts. Qi was thin, and having expended much energy tending to Milton’s injuries, Gu Qing’s reserves could no longer ward off the chill with his aura.
The cold was but a breeze to him, yet for Milton—clad in a tattered uniform, unable to activate any thermal systems—it was brutal.
He looked over to see him curled up, shivering slightly, lips pale, yet not uttering a sound.
That stubborn endurance tightened something deep in Gu Qing’s chest.
He paused in silence before stepping forward.
Stopping before Milton, he leaned slightly, extending his arms as if to lift him into his embrace.
“——!”
Milton flinched as if struck, eyes widening, ears red instantly, instinctively raising a hand to push him away.
“I—I can still manage—”
“It’s too cold.” Gu Qing’s voice was low, calm, yet carried a gentle insistence.
Before the words had fully fallen, he spread his coat over both of them with one hand, the other hand firmly encircling Milton’s slender waist, drawing him tightly into his arms.
In that moment, he felt the warmth of Milton’s real, tangible body, subtle yet unmistakably affirming his presence.
The fragile yet strong form stirred an unspoken protective urge within him, along with a faint, uncontrollable thrill—an echo of desire rising from the depths.
Silver hair spilled over his chest, skin pale and smooth like polished jade, delicate and glossy, contrasting sharply with his own tanned, muscular frame.
The contrast was enough to make Gu Qing’s own heart race unexpectedly.
His fingers tightened almost instinctively, as if he wanted to lock this warmth into his grasp, unwilling to let it slip away.
Warmth instantly enveloped Milton, yet he froze in Gu Qing’s embrace, every muscle taut, unwilling to move.
…It wasn’t just warmth.
It was a presence so intense it almost burned, impossible to ignore or pull away from.
Pressed against Gu Qing’s chest, Milton could feel the firm musculature and steady breathing through layers of fabric, each beat sending heat surging through his chest.
His mind went “boom”—a dizzying explosion of sensation.
“This… this is just for warmth, absolutely not…!”
He denied it fiercely in his head, yet could not stop more scandalous images from emerging—
The day at the small villa, in the misted steam, he had seen Gu Qing half-naked: broad shoulders tracing powerful lines, chest firm, eight-pack abs carved like a sculpture, a physique worthy of the legendary war gods of old—strong yet elegant, force and beauty fused seamlessly.
Milton’s cheeks flamed crimson, his heartbeat drumming like a war drum, ready to burst from his chest.
He dared not move, as if some invisible force had pinned him, letting the searing warmth seep inch by inch into the softest, most vulnerable corners of his heart.
He tilted his head, gazing at Gu Qing’s flawless face, held in an embrace unlike any he had ever felt before.
In that moment, he finally realized that what he felt was not merely embarrassment or desire.
It was… security. The sense of being cherished, protected.
So foreign, so lavish a feeling, it left him stunned—and yearning.
While his mind churned in turmoil—
The little silver light being in Gu Qing’s mind laughed until it almost split:
“Master Sword Lord, your body is breaking all the rules! The General’s turned into a little roasted shrimp! Ahahaha, he wishes he could just burrow into the ground right now!”
Gu Qing shot a quiet glance at the little reddened shrimp in his arms, then toward the light being, speaking calmly:
“I’m just making sure he doesn’t catch a cold.”
The little light immediately protested:
“Clearly you care! That’s basically heart-meltingly sweet, don’t play dumb!”
Gu Qing said nothing more, lowering his gaze to the slight, shivering figure in his arms.
He knew this action might feel too direct for Milton—but at the thought of him curled up and shivering, a strange flutter rose in his chest.
The space beneath the coat was narrow; he could clearly feel every breath Milton took—rising, trembling, and… the rapid beating of that little heart.
So small, so fragile, yet so resilient.
Milton lifted his eyes, inadvertently locking gaze with Gu Qing.
Those deep, night-black eyes reflected only him.
The calm, focused gaze, infused with tender warmth, made his throat tighten—
His heart trembled slightly; it felt that if he moved just a little closer, he could touch Gu Qing’s lips.
“Mm!”
Milton recoiled into Gu Qing’s embrace with a sharp squeak, burying his entire face, careful even with his breathing.
Gu Qing chuckled softly, adjusting the coat, meticulously sealing every gap so not even a wisp of cold could slip through.
He raised a hand, gentle yet firm, patting Milton’s back, voice low as if whispering in a dream:
“Sleep. I’m here.”
Milton had expected a restless night on this desolate star, yet for the first time, Gu Qing’s steady heartbeat and quiet words gave him an unprecedented sense of security and happiness.
In Gu Qing’s arms, he let down all pretense, no longer forcing himself to be strong, and softly closed his eyes, sinking into the warm, dreamlike darkness.
He admitted quietly to himself—
He shouldn’t be feeling this way toward Gu Qing, yet at this moment… he truly wanted to remain in his embrace forever.
He really… liked him. More and more, to the point that it was almost impossible to hide.