Chapter 8

The Omega’s breath was warm, his eyes filled with innocent confusion, yet his words were utterly wanton.

“I’m not interested in an Omega with a fever-addled brain.” Lu Mingjin’s gaze was deep and dangerous, his tone laced with mockery. “I prefer mine lucid.”

He had expected the Omega to understand plain language and back off. He hadn’t expected Bai Ruonian to have absolutely no sense of personal space or danger, still clutching a corner of Lu Mingjin’s clothes, leaning closer to him.

An inexplicable dependence.

It was Lu Mingjin who finally ran out of options. He paused, his voice a low rasp. “Go back to your room.”

The dark sheets made Bai Ruonian look exceptionally pale. When he was pulled back into the room, his expression was still dazed, his hand still clutching Lu Mingjin’s clothes.

There was an eerie sense of trust, not a shred of resistance. Whether it was an act or not was unclear.

Lu Mingjin’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked at Bai Ruonian’s azure eyes, paused, and touched Bai Ruonian’s forehead. It was burning hot; the fever hadn’t gone down.

Not an act. Purely delirious from the fever.

They say a person’s unconscious actions betray their true self the most. Bai Ruonian’s behavior, Lu Mingjin couldn’t decipher.

“Are you going to teach me here?” Bai Ruonian tilted his face up, still stroking the corner of Lu Mingjin’s clothes as if holding a security blanket. He looked at his Master—the latter’s eyes were deep and unreadable. He couldn’t decipher that either. He had to swallow his saliva and ask the question aloud.

“Teach you what? Take your medicine. Sleep.”

“Dr. He said I could help you.” Bai Ruonian blinked innocently.

“I don’t need it.” Lu Mingjin’s interruption was a little rough.

“Then don’t go…”

Beating around the bush hadn’t worked, so Bai Ruonian simply spoke his true feelings.

He wouldn’t teach him what to do, and he didn’t need his help. Bai Ruonian pouted. When he was a kitty, if he just showed a little affection, Master would scoop him up and pet him. It didn’t even matter if he put his own paw in Master’s cup. Now that he was human, nothing he did was right.

Being human was so troublesome.

He just didn’t want Master to leave.

Bai Ruonian was truly delirious with fever now. He clearly knew Master didn’t like him, but he still couldn’t help wanting to cuddle close. His voice sounded utterly aggrieved.

He used to be a proud kitty too, damn it!

Lu Mingjin looked at the Omega’s pale, small face. That grievance didn’t seem feigned. He paused.

After a long silence, he finally said, “I’m next door.”

Next door… That wasn’t far at all.

A partial victory in this stage of the struggle.

Muddled by fever, Bai Ruonian finally let go of his claws. But, like a little kitten, he still had to rub his face against Lu Mingjin before he was satisfied.

Lu Mingjin stiffened for a second, then turned and went into the bathroom. Cold water gushed from the faucet. He wiped his face, calming himself down.

The label on the medicine bottle on the washing cabinet glinted with a silver light.

Lu Mingjin narrowed his eyes. The bottle’s position was off. The label had been facing inward before.

Having an origin, a purpose—it was normal.

He walked out of the bathroom, looking at the Omega sleeping soundly in the bed, his gaze unfathomably deep.

Bai Ruonian’s illness came quickly and left just as fast. When he woke up the next day, although groggy, he could already move and jump around. Back when he was a Little Stray, he’d been rained on and chased by dogs plenty of times. He’d always bounced back, lively as ever. Having been reborn, it felt like he’d brought some of that good kitty constitution with him.

When he went downstairs, Lu Mingjin was having breakfast downstairs.

Bai Ruonian checked the time—six in the morning. He yawned.

Seeing him come down, Lu Mingjin didn’t make any particular expression. He just nodded faintly towards a direction. “There’s warm goat milk over there.”

“Huh?” At the mention of goat milk, Bai Ruonian’s eyes lit up.

Back when he was still a little cat, he couldn’t drink cow’s milk, so Master often got him goat milk to drink. After all this time, even Master had gotten used to drinking goat milk.

“Really?”

“Fake.”

The light in Bai Ruonian’s eyes dimmed again. He’d thought things would be like before.

He rubbed his eyes, telling himself to forget it. As a cat, Bai Ruonian was rather self-accepting. He’d turned into a human, no longer fluffy. How could he expect the same treatment as before?

The soft clink of glass touching the tabletop sounded. Bai Ruonian looked up. A steaming cup of goat milk had been placed on the table.

Bai Ruonian’s eyes instantly lit up. His voice was soft and thin. “Mas— … Ah… Thank you… Hubby.”

He still didn’t know what he was supposed to call Lu Mingjin.

Lu Mingjin, who was looking down to fasten his uniform hook-and-loop closure, paused. He didn’t object to the term of address.

“Let me help you fasten it.”

Adhering to the principle that as a cat he could take things for granted, but as a human he must repay kindness, Bai Ruonian stood up to fasten it for him.

However, only after his hands were already poised did Bai Ruonian belatedly remember.

He was barely able to button his own clothes…

Where did he get this confidence…

Lu Mingjin looked down at the paws Bai Ruonian extended and thought the exact same thing.

A few brief seconds of awkwardness hung in the air.

Bai Ruonian’s hand hovered in midair, his fingertips half-touching Lu Mingjin’s fingers. He couldn’t advance and couldn’t retreat.

In that stalemate, Lu Mingjin expressionlessly grasped Bai Ruonian’s fingertips. “Button-fastening is something I can still teach you.”

Bai Ruonian blinked curiously. He could teach him this, but why not teach him how to stabilize his Mental Power?

If he became stronger, that would benefit Master too, wouldn’t it?

Kitty didn’t understand.

Lu Mingjin saw the Omega’s blue eyes darting around rapidly, wondering what he was scheming now. He just tightened his grip on his hand. “Focus.”

“Mm.”

Bai Ruonian snapped back to attention and, very obediently, tilted his face up and began a battle with the button.

The touch of fingertips against the neck brought a strange sensation. The Omega’s fingers were delicate and pale, slowly guided by Lu Mingjin’s hand—a hand accustomed to holding a gun for years—and finally managed to fasten one button.

Lu Mingjin looked down, but his gaze didn’t follow the hand’s movement. It landed on Bai Ruonian’s face.

The beautiful Omega was studying very seriously, standing on tiptoes, chin slightly raised. This made him, the “teacher,” seem very inattentive.

Just like that, the second button was fastened.

Only the last one remained.

Lu Mingjin released his hand. Bai Ruonian, completely unaware, earnestly fastened the last button on his own, only belatedly realizing. He stared blankly at Lu Mingjin, then at that button, and finally understood. His sky-blue eyes curved into crescent moons, dimples appearing on his cheeks. He threw himself into Lu Mingjin’s arms, lively as a kitten.

“Done! I know how to fasten them!”

Lu Mingjin stood still, letting the Omega crash full-on into his arms.

“Beep-beep… Beep-beep-beep…”

A Communication Stream alert rang out, sounding exceptionally jarring in the air.

It was Lu Mingjin’s daily briefing reminder.

Lu Mingjin glanced at the Communication Stream alert. Nothing major—a routine Capital Planet briefing.

An additional message also arrived at that moment. [Major General, His Majesty the Emperor will attend this briefing.]

“Are you leaving now?”

Bai Ruonian asked cautiously.

“Yes.” Lu Mingjin nodded. He looked at the young man’s azure eyes. They were just like his previously adopted cat’s—bright and shining, would come rub against him just before he left the house, only content after getting a confirmation that he’d return today.

Lu Mingjin looked into those eyes and, on a strange impulse, added, “I’ll be back today.”

“Okay!!”

The young man’s delight was visible to the naked eye, as if he’d been genuinely looking forward to it.

The moment Lu Mingjin left, Bai Ruonian’s excitement instantly evaporated.

The steam from the goat milk had already thinned, and the room immediately felt empty and desolate. Only a little robot was bumping into the wall in the corner.

Staring at the vast space, Bai Ruonian felt like bumping into the wall himself.

Because he didn’t know what to do.

When he was a kitty, he could climb the Cat Climbing Frame. Master also prepared all kinds of toys for him; he could play with whichever he wanted.

But now he was human.

Utterly boring.

He lowered his head and took a sip of goat milk, feeling a little lost. He could only curl up on the sofa. The living room clock stopped at six-thirty in the morning.

So long.

This was the scene Zhang Huaijin walked into.

Fine, soft hair plastered against pale cheeks, almost translucent in the sunlight, eyes half-closed. His nose wrinkled slightly—seemingly catching a stranger’s scent, his eyes flew open in an instant.

Those were sky-blue eyes, like jewels.

Zhang Huaijin was stunned, afraid of frightening this Omega. He hurriedly stated his purpose.

“I am Major General’s Adjutant Zhang Huaijin. I’m here to pick up some materials for the Major General.”

What was the right way to address him?

From what Song Hanshan said, it seemed they had already…

He’d just call him sister-in-law.

“Little Sister-in-Law.”

He wasn’t met with the expected wariness. The young man wasn’t shy around strangers, nor did he show any timidity. Instead, he smiled, his eyes curving into crescent moons, his eyelashes fluttering. “Call me Little Bai… Adjutant Zhang.”

Bai Ruonian hadn’t met Song Hanshan before, but he was very familiar with Zhang Huaijin. He was the one who always secretly brought him Cat Treats.

A good person.

“Little Bai…” The moment Zhang Huaijin said the name, he stopped short.

Wasn’t that the name of the cat the Major General used to have?

He didn’t know Song Hanshan had just been scolded for this exact thing. His intuition just told him this person and that cat were truly quite similar, especially those azure eyes.

Zhang Huaijin came back downstairs after getting the materials and found Bai Ruonian still curled up on the sofa, his distinct blue-whites staring at the front door, as if anticipating the next time it would open.

Exactly like the Little Bai the Major General used to keep.

It was said that every day he would sit at the door waiting for Boss to come back.

What a coincidence…

“Little Bai…” Zhang Huaijin called his name softly.

Bai Ruonian turned his head, looking confused. “What is it, Adjutant Zhang?”

“Well…”

Zhang Huaijin suddenly remembered another purpose for this visit besides picking up the materials. He pulled out a Terminal.

“This is a Terminal prepared by Military Command, meeting security clearance levels. It has recorded the communication numbers of your family and friends, oh, and the contact information for Quartermaster Old Cao and me. If you need to go out for daily matters, just contact him or me.”

The device was for surveillance. Populating it with frequently contacted people was for better monitoring and following the trail. Zhang Huaijin pressed a button; a laser scanned, and the Terminal automatically recorded the young man’s facial features.

Bai Ruonian looked at the glowing box in front of him with a hint of curiosity.

This morning, Lu Mingjin had pulled out something similar, and a single Communication Stream alert had called him away.

He looked up at Zhang Huaijin, his eyes sparkling. “Then is… Master… Lu Mingjin’s communication number in here?”

Zhang Huaijin was taken aback for a moment, then smiled.

“Yes.”

The Major General had stored it right in front of him. How could it not be?

At the Capital Council Hall, the Empire’s Emperor, who rarely attended in person, was presiding over this meeting. Therefore, not only Military Command but also the Science Department, the Parliament Council of Elders, the Internal Affairs Department, the Finance Ministry, and even other members of the Royal Family were present.

The Chief of Internal Affairs was speaking eloquently at the briefing podium. A meeting attended personally by the Emperor was the perfect time to showcase political achievements and claim credit.

The core of his proposal was: [The Empire should invest massive funds to enhance the intensity of artificial sunlight on the Capital Planet, creating an “Eternal City of Light” to improve resident happiness index and city image.]

Faced with this kind of “vanity project” proposal, aside from a few Royal Family members particularly keen on urban beautification projects who listened attentively, nodding occasionally in approval, the Minister of Finance was visibly annoyed, the Military Command representatives were stone-faced, and several members of the Science Department were frowning almost imperceptibly.

However, catching the occasional approving look from the Emperor, the Chief of Internal Affairs seemed greatly encouraged. He reported with even more passionate fervor, his tone rising several notches.

“…Therefore, we firmly believe that this project will not only greatly enhance the Capital Planet’s livability and image but also manifest the Empire’s prosperity and…”

Before he could finish, the sound of a Terminal ringing broke the silence.

“Buzz— Buzz— Buzz—”