Song Hanshan, ever the one to read the room poorly, opened his mouth again. “Boss, what about the meeting at Headquarters?”
Lu Mingjin shot him a glance, then looked down at the omega in his arms. Bai Ruonian was sleeping soundly, and the sudden sense of weightlessness hadn’t disturbed him. Instead, he buried his face completely into Lu Mingjin’s chest, subconsciously nuzzling against it.
“It’s postponed.”
There was no way he was attending any meeting like this.
Lu Mingjin scooped up the little omega nestled in his arms and strode out of the hospital room.
The VIP ward corridor was silent, but the moment they reached the elevator, it was clear the area was packed with people.
The Dean, flanked by his staff, hadn’t dared to go in and was instead keeping watch near the elevator lobby.
Lu Mingjin’s temper was well-known. Cold on the surface, with a streak of untamed ferocity underneath, the sudden appearance of such an omega was something no one expected him to accept. Having him just come to take a look was already considered giving face.
But these unlucky folks sent out here had no choice. They’d been given a firm directive: from a medical standpoint, they had to prove to this young Division Commander that having a highly compatible omega by his side wasn’t a burden, but rather… a kind of “necessity.”
The Dean, hands clasped behind his back, was silently rehearsing his pitch when he looked up and saw Lu Mingjin walking towards him, carrying the omega in his arms.
He adjusted his glasses in disbelief, eyes widening.
No one convinced him? He just accepted it?
Right under everyone’s gaze, he was walking out with his omega? And it even seemed like he nodded his head at him?
Snapping back to reality, the Dean hurried after him.
“Major General Lu, do you need any of our staff to accompany you?”
Before the Dean could catch up, as soon as they exited the hospital doors, they were blinded by a barrage of live broadcast screens and camera flashes. He stumbled, saved from a fall only by the people beside him.
Those gathered outside watched Lu Mingjin emerge. One bold soul dared to rush forward. “Major General Lu, rumors are going around that this match is with a family from the business world. Is it true?”
“They say there are always close ties between politics and commerce. Is this a sign of action between Military Command and the business sector? Is this match purely about pheromone compatibility, or are there other vested interests at play?”
The devastatingly handsome alpha glanced at the reporter. “No comment.”
He’d like to know the same thing himself.
Several of his soldiers rushed forward to form a human wall, blocking the reporters. But the journalist was undeterred, willing to risk it all for a big scoop.
“So it is true? It really is a family from business circles?”
Song Hanshan intercepted the reporter, smiling amiably. “If it’s true, I’d be leaking classified intel. If it’s false, I’d be spreading rumors. Believe what you will.”
The reporter finally shut up, watching as Lu Mingjin carried the person in his arms onto a starship. With a warp, they vanished from sight.
=
When Bai Ruonian woke up, he found himself in Lu Mingjin’s house. He’d been tossed onto a sofa, without even a blanket over him.
He stretched his arms and kicked his legs, looking around in a daze.
The entire house was exceptionally chilly and sterile.
The Capital Planet has excellent sunlight. As the Central District, the very hub of the Empire, sunlight was an amenity that was necessarily preserved. The orientation of this house, situated in the best, most meticulously planned spot for light, only emphasized its owner’s high status. Yet, in contrast to the luxury one would expect from such power, the place felt hollow, almost empty.
Even in the daytime, the precious sunlight was obscured by half-drawn curtains, hazy and ice-cold.
It hadn’t always been like this.
His owner, afraid he would get bored, had bought all sorts of cat climbing frames, cat beds, and cat toys. Worried he wouldn’t eat well, there were endless cans of various flavored cat food. The doorway was forever piled high with deliveries.
Fearing he, a lone cat at home, wouldn’t get enough sun, his owner had even set up an artificial sun. The place was always bright and clean, curtains wide open, the light fantastic. Even the cat grass he planted, no matter how much he scratched at it and gnawed on it, somehow always flourished with vibrant life.
So what had changed now?
The house was deathly quiet; he could only hear his own breathing.
Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and, without even putting on shoes, went looking for his once-familiar surroundings.
The cat climbing frame was gone. The spot on the bookshelf where a vase had once held cat grass now contained only a pot of dry dirt. And his owner… his owner was gone too.
Bai Ruonian sniffled. The faint scent of pine and cypress surrounding him confirmed that the homeowner didn’t spend much time here.
Everything had changed…
He looked blankly at the empty vase on the bookshelf, at a loss. He’d once belonged here.
But now…
It seemed like everything was different.
“What are you doing?”
A cold voice suddenly came from behind him. Not loud, but in the vast, empty house, it was crystal clear.
Little Bai’s hearing wasn’t good enough to make out the words, but he felt a buzzing tremor. Startled, his wrist went slack, and the vase fell to the floor with a harsh crash.
“I…” Bai Ruonian knew he should probably explain, but he’d only just started learning Chinese. He tried for a long moment, unable to get a single word out. He just stared at Lu Mingjin, blinking pitifully, frozen in place.
Lu Mingjin looked at him.
The young man’s lashes trembled as he looked back with a pitiful expression. His bare, pale feet stood on the wood floor, surrounded by sharp shards.
Suddenly, Lu Mingjin lost any desire to stand here in a stalemate with him.
It was exactly like the white cat he used to have—the one that constantly knocked over water glasses and refused to admit fault. He’d just stare at him, perfectly still, waiting for him to clean up the mess.
“I… just wanted to look at the vase.”
Bai Ruonian spoke timidly. Lu Mingjin’s don’t-come-near-me aura was just too overwhelming. Completely different from his former owner.
At that thought, his nose stung a little.
Lu Mingjin just sneered. “Only the vase?”
Bai Ruonian nodded.
He couldn’t really read the books either, and he had no idea what Lu Mingjin meant by the question.
Lu Mingjin clearly had no intention of explaining. He turned and walked away, his voice slightly cold.
“There’s nothing classified on the bookshelf.”
Bai Ruonian stared blankly at Lu Mingjin’s retreating figure. Lowering his head, he looked down at the shattered porcelain all over the floor.
He had a feeling those words carried a hidden meaning, like sarcasm.
Chinese really was… profound and deep.
When Lu Mingjin came back, he saw Bai Heavy Industries’ little Young Master crouched in place, preparing to pick up the shards of porcelain on the floor.
He raised an eyebrow, standing still.
The little Young Master was trying so hard, being so well-behaved. Unlike the rumors.
He didn’t know if this was his upbringing or an act.
Within his line of sight, the little Young Master’s slender, pale fingers—whiter than the white porcelain itself—reached out, trembling. But before they could touch a single shard, they recoiled as if shocked.
Bai Ruonian looked utterly panicked, like a trapped rabbit, frozen amidst the debris, not knowing what to do. In the past, his owner had always cleaned this up.
His owner would scoop him up, scratch his fur, and warn him not to touch the broken pieces. He would never just leave him here and walk away coldly.
Bai Ruonian took a deep breath. As he looked up, his eyes met Lu Mingjin’s, who was looking down at him with a condescending gaze.
The breath caught in his throat. Bai Ruonian felt his nose sting, and his eyes instantly went red.
He felt like crying.
So this was what it felt like for a human to want to cry.
They stood at an impasse for a few seconds. Ultimately, Lu Mingjin was the one to concede.
A spoiled, troublesome nuisance had followed him home.
“Step out of that ring of glass,” Lu Mingjin ordered.
But this was no battlefield, and Bai Ruonian had no intention of following commands. He remained crouched, looking pitiful as he stretched out both arms, clearly wanting to be carried.
“Get up.” Lu Mingjin looked at him, not moving.
Bai Ruonian pointed at his own ear, blinked, and didn’t withdraw his arms.
Lu Mingjin took in the wet, glistening rims of the other’s eyes, then his bare feet. Expressionlessly, he bent down. Bai Ruonian’s arms immediately looped around his neck, and as naturally as could be, the person buried his face against Lu Mingjin’s shoulder.
Lu Mingjin looked at the shards on the floor and asked flatly, “Is this how your family taught you to behave?”
He was exactly like the cat he’d once owned.
Strutting around after causing trouble, then demanding to be held, acting cute like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Bai Ruonian clung on a little tighter. “Me and my maste—”
The word ‘Master’ was at the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it back. He thought for a moment. His relationship with Lu Mingjin as a human probably wasn’t that of owner and pet, but rather…
What was that word again?
Hubby.
He should probably call his owner ‘Hubby’ now…
“What’s wrong with me hugging my… Hubby?”
The movement of Lu Mingjin carrying him paused. He looked down at the little omega in his arms.
The latter lifted his pointed chin, lashes fluttering over sky-blue eyes. He looked exactly like a kitten.
Lu Mingjin’s tone was a little mocking. “Do you even know what a ‘hubby’ is?”
Bai Ruonian blinked. “It’s an owner…”
Lu Mingjin choked for a second, completely unable to grasp this omega’s logic.
Bai Ruonian was still watching him, arms hooked around Lu Mingjin’s neck. His soft hair swept without a care against Lu Mingjin’s neck, carrying a faint scent of fresh grass mixed with disinfectant.
The strands of hair grazing his skin made Lu Mingjin itch slightly. His breathing inadvertently grew heavier.
Luckily, the scent of disinfectant sobered him up a bit.
He looked down at the Bai family’s little Young Master.
The latter was looking right back at him, blinking.
As Song Hanshan had said.
Exceptionally innocent. Exceptionally pure.
Lu Mingjin let out a cold, internal laugh.
Compared to the intel in his hands, this wasn’t just a slight discrepancy—it was the complete opposite.
Bai Heavy Industry’s Fake Young Master, Bai Ruonian. An arrogant personality by nature. Speeding, drunk brawling—nothing was beneath him. He was a headline regular, a walking scandal until his father beat him so bad he ended up in the hospital, finally stopping the public embarrassment.
A person’s character trajectory always has an origin. For someone like that to suddenly turn so naive and unworldly—he didn’t buy it.
Who the hell knew who was coaching him behind the scenes, or what kind of scheme they were plotting.
At that thought, Lu Mingjin’s tone turned a bit hostile. “That disinfectant smell is too strong. Go take a shower.”
But the moment the words left his mouth, Lu Mingjin felt the person in his arms shrink back in his embrace as if startled.
A slight tremble ran through him.
Lu Mingjin raised an eyebrow. “Are you afraid of showers?”
The moment Bai Ruonian heard the words ‘take a shower,’ he shuddered. If he still had his claws, he’d have given this spectacle-watching owner a good swipe.
He was a cat.
Of course!
He was terrified of showers!
