A tiny snowflake drifted blindly through the sky… Then a sudden gust of north wind swept it into the chimney of a wooden cabin hidden deep within the vast snow forest. As it tumbled downward, a piercing alarm grew ever clearer.
“Severe gland degeneration detected—life-threatening…”
“Severe gland degeneration detected…”
“Degeneration detected…”
In the living room, a slender hand slowly emerged from the inner side of the sofa. It gripped the backrest for leverage as its owner sat up.
Dim snowlight filtered through the window. Wen Yan fumbled to silence the neck ring’s alarm. When he looked up, a ray of bright, pristine morning sun fell across his cheek. Several plump little squirrels scampered in through the door gap and hopped familiarly onto the low table in front of him.
“I’m heading out to take care of something,” Wen Yan said softly. “I’ll be back soon, and I’ll leave plenty of food for you.”
The squirrels’ emergence from their burrow signaled that the months-long blizzard had finally broken. For a short round trip like this, Wen Yan didn’t need to pack. He simply removed his S-Grade Omega neck ring, secured a barrier patch over his sutured gland, checked the solar equipment, armed the intrusion alarms, locked the cabin door, and set off alone—plunging deep and shallow into the endless snow forest.
Before the sun dipped below the horizon, Wen Yan located his hidden snowmobile. He started it up and drove twenty kilometers to the next supply point, where he swapped vehicles and pressed on. Skills like these—how to vanish during a crisis, how to preserve one’s life in peril, how to live safely afterward—had been drilled into him since childhood by his father Wen Zecheng’s security team.
Night fell. The off-road vehicle’s high beams cut through the darkness as it rumbled silently across the blue ice plains, past vast swaths of eerie, shadowy pine forests, racing southward without pause.
His first stop was a border town, right at midnight. The streets stood utterly deserted.
The inn’s weathered sign flickered with broken neon in the cold wind. The balding middle-aged proprietor clutched Wen Yan’s ID, squinting suspiciously at the face half-hidden by a mask and the fine quality of his clothes. After a few moments, he broke into a grin. “Welcome, dear guest!” he said, though he promptly charged five times the listed rate.
“Thanks,” Wen Yan said with a nod.
The next morning, as the owner tidied the room, he found the bed and toiletries untouched—save for an old chair draped with a fine llama wool scarf. He muttered delightedly to himself, “Did he sleep sitting up all night? Tsk tsk, rich folks and their peculiarities…”
By then, Wen Yan had already resumed his southward journey, switching vehicles and identities countless times. The cities he passed grew ever more bustling, the crowds thicker, the winds warmer.
~~~
The border lay under perpetual snow, but the capital brimmed with spring.
A military starship glided slowly past the jagged skyline carved by towering skyscrapers. The vehicle’s broadcast droned in crisp, solemn tones with Sailes Star’s biggest official news of late:
“The 32nd Alliance General Election has concluded successfully. Congratulations to Chief Liang Shijing on his re-election as Chief Executive Officer of Sailes Star’s first major power… Chief Liang attended the ceremony with his five-year-old son. Other attendees included the highest commanders of the navy, army, air force, and starfleet…”
“Hello, please present your ID and anti-forgery entry permit,” the security personnel at SOP High-Level Residential District prompted.
Wen Yan snapped back to attention and handed over his documents.
The ID brushed lightly against the reader, and a flawless profile popped up on the screen.
“Please remove your mask,” the guard said.
Wen Yan complied and turned his face.
“Th-thank you for your cooperation.” The guard coughed awkwardly. “Please collect your ID on your way out.”
“Thanks,” Wen Yan said as he drove into the complex.
His destination was a three-story house in the courtyard’s center. Pacing beneath the eaves was a young male Beta wearing gold-rimmed glasses. He whipped around at the sound of the engine shutting off, his eyes lighting up before he hurried down the steps. Though his expression brimmed with barely contained excitement, his voice came out gentle: “Young Master, it’s been too long.”
“Too long, Doctor Li,” Wen Yan replied with a faint smile.
Early spring chill hung in the air. Wen Yan wore a beige trench coat over a round-neck white shirt. His slender neck bore no ornate Omega neck ring—only an old barrier patch. Slim and pale-skinned, with warm, luminous eyes, he stood quietly on the lawn with his hands in his pockets, the picture of gentle serenity.
“You should have let me come pick you up,” Li Li said, his tone a mix of complaint and concern. “ID checks have been ridiculously strict in the capital these past few years. Did it take you forever to get in? Have you had breakfast?”
He fired off the questions in a rush. Wen Yan answered quietly, “I slipped back in secret. I didn’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“Come inside first, then,” Li Li said at once.
The house’s interior was elegantly appointed. Tall silver poplars swayed their tender branches beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Subconsciously, Wen Yan chose a spot on the sofa in the sunlit corner, full of life.
“Need a moment to rest?” Li Li asked, bringing him a glass of orange juice.
“No, I’ll hand off the item and head right back.” Wen Yan shook his head. His slightly slumped shoulders betrayed the exhaustion of days on the road.
“I don’t know how you’ve been faring these past few years, but please prioritize your safety. Call me anytime you need help.”
“I will.” Wen Yan cradled the orange juice and spoke softly. “I haven’t even asked—how have you been?”
“Work keeps me swamped, but otherwise, all good.” Li Li glanced around the living room with a wry smile. “Home’s basically a hotel. I crash here for a few hours, shower, and head back to the office. Rinse and repeat.”
“You mentioned researching artificial glands before. Any breakthroughs?”
“Sigh. I joined this company specifically to crack the barriers in neural damage repair and functional reconstruction for artificial glands.” Li Li’s face fell. “We’re one of the leading biotech firms, and even with billions poured into our team over five years, we’ve got nothing to show. With so many patients suffering gland failures, it’s heartbreaking—no real treatments yet.”
“Take it slow. No rush,” Wen Yan said with a relieved smile.
“No worries.” Li Li got back to business. “So, what is it you need me to hold onto?”
Wen Yan set the untouched orange juice on the table and dipped his chin. His hands reached back to unclasp a dazzling diamond necklace shaped like a key from around his neck. “This.”
Two months earlier, Li Li had received an encrypted message from Wen Yan asking if he could help safeguard an item for him. The necklace itself appeared utterly ordinary, but Li Li adhered strictly to the confidentiality protocols he had followed while working for the Wen Family. He made no inquiries and showed no undue curiosity. He accepted it and asked, “Who exactly is it for?”
Wen Yan hesitated for a moment. “Liang Shijing’s five-year-old son.”
“What?!” Li Li steadied his glasses with a jolt.
“I don’t trust handing it over ahead of time to the people managing the Family Office,” Wen Yan explained. “When he turns eighteen, someone will contact you to retrieve it. Until then, I’d like to trouble you with keeping it safe for me.”
“What’s your relationship to him?” Li Li asked, his voice thick with disbelief.
“He’s my son too.” Wen Yan lowered his gaze, his words laced with sorrow.
“Good heavens… five years old? How on earth did you and Chief Liang…”
“You know what my father did to Liang Shijing all those years ago. Truth be told, I did some things back then that wronged him too.” Wen Yan’s explanation trailed off vaguely. “As for the child, I have no idea if Liang Shijing treats him well. And I… I don’t have anything else to leave him.”
Under the 《Special Protection Law》, all photos and personal details about the Chief Executive Officer’s family members were classified at the highest security level. As a result, Wen Yan didn’t even know the boy’s name, let alone a fitting way to refer to him. This diamond necklace served as the key to Freeport’s most secure vault, which housed the Wen Family’s generational wealth: trust funds, vast sums of cash, tons of gold, top-tier military-grade security systems, understated real estate holdings, antique artworks, and a steady stream of profits from numerous canal management rights.
The Liang Family might boast even greater prestige, but this was all Wen Yan had to his name.
Li Li absorbed the revelation in silence. “You have my word. I’ll keep it safe.”
“Thank you.” Wen Yan rose to his feet at once. His shoulders and back were bathed in the vibrant green glow of lush foliage, and his eyes shimmered with a soft, fragmented light. “I’ll be on my way, then. You take care—stay healthy and happy.”
The entire exchange, from Wen Yan’s arrival to the handover, had lasted scarcely fifteen minutes. Li Li sensed something amiss but knew he had no standing to probe further. He grasped at neutral small talk instead. “If the Little Young Master asks who it came from someday, what would you like me to say?”
A long corridor linked the living room to the front door, its transparent skylights scattering shards of light across the floor—and onto Wen Yan’s back as he walked away without turning.
“Just tell him he’s a lucky little guy.”
“Should I inform Chief Liang?”
“Absolutely not.” Wen Yan rejected the idea outright, then added more slowly, “He’s the last person who wants to hear anything about me.” With that, he turned the door handle. The instant the door swung open, sunlight stabbed at his eyes, forcing him to squint. When his vision cleared, he found himself staring down dozens of pitch-black gun barrels.
Five meters away across the street, Alliance Army personnel crouched behind car doors as makeshift shields, their weapons trained on him. Dozens of red laser sights converged like a celestial snare dropped from the heavens, swiftly coalescing into thick beams of light.
The beams locked steadily on Li Li’s forehead. Li Li raised his arms slowly.
Yellow and blue warning tape cordoned off every street entrance encircling the small building. Riot vehicles, hulking like predatory beasts, hemmed in Wen Yan’s nondescript car—and a sleek black official sedan besides. An Alpha officer bowed low to open the sedan’s rear door. In the next breath, an S-class Alpha in a black suit, exuding an air of icy detachment, stepped out.
Wen Yan turned to stone in that instant.
The world slowed to the crawl of a film reel. That figure—both alien and achingly familiar—filled his vision. That flawless, superior face invaded his sight, unchanged by the passage of years from the man etched in his memory.
It was a shame old friend and mortal enemy were separated by the thinnest of lines.
The soldiers parted ranks to form a broad avenue. Liang Shijing—the man who ought to be ensconced in the Chief’s Mansion, buried under a deluge of daily duties—stood at its end. His right hand, adorned with a black wristband, clutched a transparent document pouch. He tapped it idly against his lean, elongated leg. Wen Yan’s credentials, which he’d left at the SOP Guard Room, now fluttered up and down within the pouch.
Their eyes met. Wen Yan’s breath caught as he stumbled backward step by step. Liang Shijing’s gaze, languid and unhurried, settled on his face—heavy and unyielding as an oncoming tide, though it carried no tangible weight.
The sky stretched clear and blue, clouds drifting lazily overhead. The S-class Alpha crossed the fresh green lawn and ascended the steps to the building, each footfall drawing nearer, each feature sharpening into focus. When his shadow engulfed Wen Yan completely, the younger man’s heart surged to a fever pitch.
“These 1825 days—you didn’t die out there after all?” Liang Shijing asked, his tone utterly flat.
