“Then why are you always unhappy?” Wei Tingxia poked his chest. “I can tell—you’re very dissatisfied.”
Yan Xinfeng felt a bit guilty but showed none on his face. “I’m not dissatisfied.”
Wei Tingxia narrowed his eyes. “If I become emperor, you can pick any resource star in the Empire you want. You won’t have to do anything dangerous anymore. I’ll give you titles and vassals; you can do whatever you want.”
He tried to tempt with benefits, but Yan Xinfeng thought of another layer.
“Will you give me lots of servants?” he asked. “The kind who’ll do anything I tell them to.”
Wei Tingxia nodded. “Yes.”
He didn’t see anything wrong with those words—as if crowning lives with the title of servant made them insignificant, disposable at will.
Yan Xinfeng stared dazedly at his lover’s soft brows and eyes, feeling reality and the past fracture before him. The omega he loved to his bones suddenly sprouted sharper, more venomous fangs, gorgeously and tragically gnawing at hearts.
Only at this second did he truly realize his lover was the Empire’s Second Prince. No matter what he had endured before, Wei Tingxia had decided to follow in his father’s footsteps.
And if neither of them compromised, the final outcome would not be pretty.
In that instant, even Yan Xinfeng’s breathing trembled.
He found it amusing because, in all his speculations, he hadn’t even considered that Wei Tingxia wouldn’t end up on the opposing side of the rebels. He had such profound faith in his lover, believing he could reach the top.
Believing they would ultimately face each other with arms.
“Then I should thank the emperor in advance for the favor,” Yan Xinfeng said slowly. “Even a star pirate gets ennobled.”
He laughed again, still sounding awful. Yan Xinfeng shut his mouth and simply stopped laughing.
Instead, Wei Tingxia’s gaze shifted. He paced to the wardrobe, picked out a loose shirt to put on, then returned to stand before Yan Xinfeng.
“Yan Xinfeng.” He called out, “Do you know how terrible your face looks right now?”
Yan Xinfeng did not know, nor did he want to know, but Wei Tingxia’s gaze left him unable to respond. He could only let him grab his sleeve and drag him in front of the mirror.
The icy mirror surface clearly reflected two faces.
Wei Tingxia stared into the mirror for a moment, then turned sideways and planted an intimate kiss on Yan Xinfeng’s cheek. In a low voice, he asked, “What are you thinking about right now?”
Yan Xinfeng wanted to jump out of the base.
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m considering where to build my castle.”
“You don’t like the promise I gave you.” Wei Tingxia stated calmly, his tone certain.
Yan Xinfeng turned his head to look at him. “I didn’t say that.”
“You’re not very good at lying,” Wei Tingxia evaluated objectively. “At least not as good as me.”
“Yeah, it’s hard for most people to go up against you,” Yan Xinfeng said with a bitter smile. “I’ve rarely met anyone who can lie continuously for three whole years.”
Wei Tingxia unusually let his sarcasm slide. His fingertip thoughtfully traced the bite mark on Yan Xinfeng’s collarbone.
“The Emperor’s husband doesn’t satisfy you, so how about the rebel leader?”
Those five short words exploded like an invisible thunderclap in the cramped space. Yan Xinfeng’s pupils contracted sharply to pinpoints. His blood seemed to freeze in an instant, then surged to his limbs with the next heartbeat, bringing a piercing ringing in his ears.
Wei Tingxia knew his identity.
That was Yan Xinfeng’s first thought, followed immediately by the second—when had he found out?
Yesterday? A month ago? Or three years back?
Different answers meant different outcomes, but one thing Yan Xinfeng was absolutely certain of: he could not let Wei Tingxia leave the base.
“I’ve become the rebel leader too.”
His expression unchanged, he reached out and ruffled Wei Tingxia’s hair, his tone sighing. “How much did you drink before coming here?”
“Not a drop.” Wei Tingxia brushed his hand away, his gaze cool as he pressed, “Does that mean you’re not admitting it?”
“Why would I admit to something I didn’t do?”
Deny it to the death, of course.
Wei Tingxia nodded, realizing their bond was like a pile of ash just swept from the stove—both gray-faced and ashen, neither in a position to complain about the other.
“I lied to you, you lied to me,” he said slowly. “Let’s call it even.”
Yan Xinfeng fell silent.
In his peripheral vision, a flash of light caught his eye—it was the restraint device. Wei Tingxia pretended not to notice as he reached out to touch Yan Xinfeng’s brow and the corner of his eye.
The cool fingertips felt like dense, gentle kisses. Yan Xinfeng turned his head slightly, taking in Wei Tingxia’s expression at that moment.
It was a calm that saw through everything, yet carried a resolute detachment.
He could wait no longer.
His fingertip in his sleeve twitched slightly, activating the restraint ring’s launch sequence, precisely locking onto Wei Tingxia’s wrist.
At this critical juncture, the finger Wei Tingxia had trailed over his brow suddenly paused. Instead of pulling back, it gently pressed against Yan Xinfeng’s tense temple. He tilted his head slightly, a flicker of reminiscence in his eyes.
“Do you know how I escaped?”
Yan Xinfeng did not react in time, and his hand paused. “What?”
“You don’t know.” Wei Tingxia withdrew his hand, his tone flat as if recounting someone else’s old news. “I never told you—and honestly, it’s simple. Everyone thought I’d differentiate into an alpha, and I thought so too. But the differentiation result wasn’t that. I didn’t want to sit and wait for death, so I stole a mecha and fled Capital Star. During the escape, I was chased and cornered, nearly died, and then you saved me.”
The cold detachment melted like an ice shell, replaced by a deeper indifference and ruthlessness.
Wei Tingxia continued, “For a while, I often wondered why I differentiated into an omega. Later, I realized that question didn’t matter. I could be anything, because the problem wasn’t with me—it was with others.”
That person sat at the highest place in the Imperial Palace, enjoying the Empire’s tributes.
Wei Tingxia curled his lips and said candidly, “I want to deal with him, Yan Xinfeng. No one in this world should be able to decide my fate.”
His words sliced through the stagnant air like a blade. Wei Tingxia looked up at the man. “Can you help me?”
Yan Xinfeng’s throat felt scraped by sandpaper, dry and painful. “How would I help you?”
He was still playing dumb, and Wei Tingxia was truly annoyed. “I’ve made myself perfectly clear!”
“That’s obvious,” Yan Xinfeng said stubbornly, trying to muddy the waters with logic. “Our definitions of ‘clear’ must differ—you suddenly say I’m the rebel leader and want me to kill your father for you. Baby, can you spell it out?”
“It’s clear because you won’t admit it!” Wei Tingxia snapped, lifting his foot to kick him.
Yan Xinfeng agilely sidestepped, but Wei Tingxia’s next words hit like a heavy hammer: “You’ve been investigating the Blue Nail Ship the whole time. Do I need to drag that storage-type intelligent robot out of the archives for you?”
With those words, the last veil over Yan Xinfeng was torn away.
Wei Tingxia was still not satisfied. His gaze swept like a knife toward Yan Xinfeng’s sleeve. “And if you dare point that damned restraint device at me again—”
Before he finished, Yan Xinfeng reflexively clasped his hands behind his back while his fingertip moved lightly. The restraint device retracted swiftly. By the time Wei Tingxia turned back, there was nothing there.
Yan Xinfeng looked innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He dodged quickly enough.
Wei Tingxia took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his anger, and yanked the topic back on track. “What I said earlier… was a lie.” He meant the earlier probing.
“Which part?” Yan Xinfeng asked instinctively, his nerves still taut.
“The part about giving you slaves,” Wei Tingxia said with a mocking tone in hindsight. “I don’t even have any, so don’t dream of it.”
Yan Xinfeng reflexively asked, “What about the title then?”
“…”
Wei Tingxia gave him a weary look. “The Empire’s gone, and you’re talking about titles? Dream on.”
Yan Xinfeng felt like he was dreaming right now. The wild ups and downs had shaken his mind; he could barely tell if what was happening before him was real or fake.
The omega pheromones’ scent still softly lingered around him, unlike Wei Tingxia himself, who was so sharp and biting. Yan Xinfeng recalled their earlier exchange and unconsciously reached out, his fingers tentatively stroking the back of Wei Tingxia’s neck.
Unexpectedly, Wei Tingxia did not resist. Instead, he went limp, leaning tamely and softly into his embrace.
Yan Xinfeng confirmed in a low voice, “You mean it?”
Wei Tingxia nodded listlessly, eyes closed, looking utterly exhausted.
Wei Tingxia had the sharpest armor in the world, allowing him to charge forward fearlessly. Briefly shedding that armor to expose himself left him mentally and physically drained.
“…I can’t believe you.”
After a long silence, Yan Xinfeng spoke with difficulty, his voice low and hoarse, each word heavy. “Xiao Xia, don’t blame me, but I have to be responsible for the others. I’d die for you… but they can’t.”
Yan Xinfeng could not drag others into the fire pit for his own affections. Believing Wei Tingxia was his choice, and he could take responsibility for it, but he could not decide for others.
“Is that what loving me means?” Emotions were hard to discern in Wei Tingxia’s voice.
Yan Xinfeng chuckled muffledly and nodded. “Yes. So, can you forgive me?”
Frankly, Wei Tingxia was still upset about not becoming Emperor, but he knew Yan Xinfeng had given his utmost sincerity.
“It’s okay, barely acceptable.”
The moment he gave that answer, he was scooped up and spun around twice like a happy rocking horse, then sprawled atop the other as they tumbled back into the bedding together.
Yan Xinfeng laughed with utter delight, eyes sparkling. “Really?”
Wei Tingxia sighed.
“Yeah, really,” he said. “You’ve saved your own skin. Cry tears of joy in the middle of the night!”
Bonded alphas and omegas had somewhat linked hearts to an extent, and Yan Xinfeng could sense that, at least in this moment, Wei Tingxia was not lying.
“You found out I was with the rebels a long time ago?” he asked.
His frankness instead irked Wei Tingxia. “You shouldn’t have admitted it outright. What if I was just tricking you to gather evidence and wipe you all out?”
Yan Xinfeng laughed.
“You’ve had countless chances to take us out—it’s not an exaggeration, but you didn’t. So I think you’re a good person.” He leaned against the headboard. “Besides, if the Empire came to raid the base today, only two people would die here.”
One of them was himself.
Yan Xinfeng said, “I fell in love with you, chose you, and I’ll take responsibility for my decision.”
Few people would feel their heart soften from being called a good person, but at that instant, Wei Tingxia closed his eyes and silently listened to Yan Xinfeng’s heartbeat.
“Wait until I make a trip back to the military district.”
A long while later, he said, “You really should talk to Lin Wensi.”