In the children’s dormitory, Cola lay on the bed with his belly stuffed full, arms and legs sprawling, snoring away.

Rong Shi and his younger brother Mian Mian sat cross-legged, facing each other in the little lounge.

“Not long after you got into trouble,” Mian Mian said quietly, “Yu‑ge came to our house to find me.”

Remembering that lifetime left his chest tight. He grabbed a piece of sticky rice cake to calm his nerves.

“You remember when exactly?” asked Rong Shi.

“About the third day after the military’s notice.” Mian Mian’s voice thickened as he chewed. “They told me you died in action—your body couldn’t even be recovered. My body was already weak; I couldn’t even get out of bed. I cried myself into blackouts a few times.”

Rong Shi rubbed his head, silent.

In that lifetime, Mian Mian’s body had only grown weaker as he aged. Rong Shi had wanted to move them to Imperial Star’s Saint Wu district, where the best medical centers were, so he could look after his little brother. He never got the chance.

Mian Mian licked his fingers and sighed in a strangely world-weary tone: “Dad never woke again, and you were gone too. With my body, there was no way I’d last long. I even prepared our memorial photos. Told the neighbor—if I went missing for three days, to deal with my remains.”

“……”

Mian Mian continued, “I didn’t expect Yu‑ge would come two days later. He said you’d entrusted me to him. At first, I didn’t believe it. With your personality, how could you have any friends? And one that good-looking?”

“……” Rong Shi.

He could accept being mocked by others but not family. “I have plenty of friends!” he said defensively.

“Those are subordinates. Or colleagues.” Mian Mian crossed his arms, serious. “A partner doesn’t count either. Strictly, you really don’t have friends, ge.”

“…” Was this brat here to reminisce or ridicule?

“Back to the point.”

Mian Mian rolled his eyes but kept going. “He revealed his prince identity, showed me your terminal, and said you were alive. Just for that, even if it was dangerous, I had to go see.”

At that time, Song Yu was under harsh circumstances. In the previous life, Rong Shi hadn’t paid close attention. He only knew vaguely that Song Yu had destroyed his glands, gone to recuperate on a remote planet, and seemingly withdrawn from succession. Yet Big Cat had ascended the throne years later… Had Song Ke ruined himself somehow?

“And then he took you to some small planet to care for you?” Rong Shi asked.

Mian Mian shook his head. “There was still war everywhere. He was constantly on the move. No time to care for me. He reserved a place for us on his warship. But however busy, every two or three days he’d come to the infirmary and sit at your bedside.”

Rong Shi’s eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t died?

“Many times, I’d wake in the night and see him sitting there alone. By dawn, straight back on duty. I honestly wondered how often he ever slept. His health was already bad—”

Rong Shi’s heart clenched. “His health?”

“His glands were damaged. He couldn’t control pheromone release. He wore protective collars in daily life.” Mian Mian frowned, remembering. “But in the infirmary with you, he’d take it off. Said maybe his pheromones could wake you.”

Rong Shi’s voice tightened. “Did I wake?”

Stupid question—he knew the answer.

“No,” Mian Mian whispered. “Not before I went into stasis. My body gave out during my first heat. Doctors said I wouldn’t survive. Yu‑ge insisted I be put in cryo. Said he’d make sure I was cured.”

“…How long after my ‘death’ was this?”

“Less than six months.” Mian Mian chewed his lip. “Then ten years later, I awakened. Yu‑ge said the only way was to send me back to childhood. Less than a one-in-ten-thousand chance. Asked if I’d try.”

One in ten thousand. Practically impossible.

A memory nudged in Rong Shi’s ear: If it fails…

His chest tightened, grim. “…By then he was already king?”

Mian Mian nodded. “By the time I entered the stasis pod, yes. He said you’d left him important data. Helped immensely.”

Must have been the battle data 01 stored.

That last campaign—trusting bad intel, walking into a coalition’s ambush. Outnumbered ten‑to‑one. He’d gone down fighting.

So nothing to do with Song Ke after all.

“Anything else?” Rong Shi pressed.

Mian Mian closed the cake box carefully and thought for a long time.

“…He really loves you. I heard him call you ‘wife.’”

“……”

“He even said, if you didn’t wake soon, he’d just do you.”

“……” The damn lunatic. It was possible.

“…He didn’t actually…?” Rong Shi asked cautiously.

Mian Mian shook his head, disgusted. “You were unconscious for months. How could anyone even…”

“……”

As they were leaving, Rong Shi asked suddenly: “Why were you so scared when you first saw Qin Lin?”

“Oh, that.” Mian Mian smacked his forehead. “Heard Yu‑ge say Grandpa Qin’s research tied to the Organization. Assumed he was bad.”

“And now?”

“I’m not sure.” He thought hard. “When I stayed at his home, I once had a fever high enough to frighten. He took care of me two days straight without sleeping. If he truly saw omegas as tools, why bother? No need to maintain an act for a toddler.”

“…Mn.” Rong Shi ruffled his hair. “For now, stay at school. Lao Qian’s people will guard you. Contact me if anything happens.”

“Fine.”

“And since you’re back, it’s time to study. I’ll upload the Academy’s curriculum to your terminal. Monthly checkups.”

“…” Mian Mian stared. Are you a devil?

---

At 6 a.m., the king’s bedchamber was saturated with thick, corrupt pheromones.

On the vast bed, Song Zheng twisted and moaned in his sleep, drenched in cold sweat, fists clenching sheets.

Ji Ling sat calm and elegant across the room in a silk robe, sipping coffee. His gaze toward the struggling king was full of thinly veiled contempt.

At half past six, Song Zheng’s pheromones subsided. The filters purged the air.

Ji Ling finally moved to the bed, putting on his warm, gentle face. Ten minutes later, Song Zheng woke.

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Ji Ling helped him sit. “You sweated badly. A nightmare?”

“Forget it.” He brushed him off and stalked to the bathroom.

“I’ve an appointment; I need to leave the palace,” Ji Ling said softly.

“You don’t need to report such trivialities.”

“That’s only because I worry you won’t find me.” Ji Ling smiled serenely—but his eyes held no smile.

Outside, he bumped into Yin Rong. The king’s special aide, immaculate in suit and glasses, always sharp as steel.

“Good morning, Your Highness the Consort.” Yin Rong bowed politely.

Ji Ling smirked faintly. “You’ve grown younger each year. Just now, I almost mistook you for a general walking by.”

“Thank you. Serving His Majesty, one must mind appearances.”

Ji Ling flicked his chin upward. “He’s awake. Go on.”

Yin Rong went in.

After the king showered, only YinRong  was there.

“Got it?” Song Zheng asked, pouring whiskey.

From his jacket, Yin Rong produced a syringe labeled: SYT7737. “No drinking while medicating, Your Majesty.”

Song Zheng scowled and slammed the glass down.

The injection went in. A faint smile crossed Yin Rong’s face. “Lucky Your Majesty detests alphas. Otherwise your chastity would’ve been gone.”

Song Zheng: “……” Black-faced fury.

“Apologies. Spoke truth out loud,” Yin Rong said flatly, face shifting back to neutral.

“……”

Yin Rong adjusted his glasses. “The database is gone. He’ll know soon. He’ll act.”

Song Zheng sneered. “We planned so long with no success—yet two kids stumbled ahead of us. We underestimated them.”

“Then we’ll need to shield the princes more heavily.”

“…Fine. With the data, our plan moves years ahead.”

“Are we to coordinate with their moves?”

“…No. We have more important work.”

__

The day after Zhao Wan’s father’s fall, Zhao Wan requested indefinite leave—like Zhang Yi before him.

By month exams, Zhang Yi even reappeared at Lu Ming’s side, as though nothing had happened.

__

That morning, Rong Shi awoke to find no cat plushie in his arms.

He washed and stepped out—caught sight of chaos in the kitchen.

Song Yu, with long layered hair tied carelessly back and a beautiful face framed in disarray, was wrestling with the oven.

Rong Shi paused just to take photos. Side profile flawless.

“…Done staring? Come fix this damn oven! It’s broken!” Song Yu snapped, hammering the panel.

Rong Shi knocked his hand away. “Keep that up, it will break.” He tapped the controls a few times. The oven whirred to life.

“…So, Your Highness feels like cooking breakfast today?”

Song Yu crossed his arms. “I wanted to surprise you before you woke. Waste of effort thanks to that pile of junk.”

“…And raid the sugar while you’re at it. Shameless.”

“You manage your numbers. I eat my sugar. No problem.”

“……”

Rong Shi braced both arms to cage him against the counter. Smooth hair tied back revealed a pale ear and perfect jawline—Rong Shi couldn’t resist kissing him.

“…One cookie, no more,” he murmured.

“……” Song Yu. This husband is impossible.

---

Exam day. Faculty directors lined up like gatekeepers. Glaring daggers.

“This one’s harder than Zhao’s!”

“You just want to show off!”

Qian Fan had to shove them aside. “Ignore these old fools. Just focus.”

“….”

Three hours later, the wails reverberated through halls. Song Yu and Rong Shi left calm.

Faculty crammed in Qian’s office stared at system results.

Top scores: Rong Shi and Song Yu, tied at 61.5.

Director of Year 4 screamed. “Impossible! My exam quality is not inferior!”

Zhao roared laughing with tears. “I’m not the lowest anymore!”

Qian Fan: “……” Utterly childish.

---

Afternoon was live combat. When finished, Qin Luo yawned. “Ge, weekend hang out?”

“Sure. Not with you.”

“…Having a boyfriend is so smug.”

Nearby students in chorus: “Having a boyfriend really is smug.”

“….” Qin Luo, slaughtered.

At the gate, Song Yu climbed into a sleek hovercar. He waved openly: “Tell your sister-in-law and I won’t be back till Sunday. Don’t wait dinner.”

“……” Qin Luo.
“……” Everyone. Critical hit.

__

Minutes later, Rong Shi reported, “Tail car intercepted.” He swerved into a warehouse, swapped transport, and sped out.

An hour later, aboard a safe ship, Song Yu skimmed reports, then forums.

Ha—the infamous “True Love Tower” thread glowed hot again.

Recently, fans had been brawling:

“Even his worst hater’s converted. Daddy Rong that amazing!”
“My Song Beauty is the hottest!”
“Kick impostor fans out!”
“@LittleCatEatsFish—scram! We don’t need turncoats!”

Song Yu scrolled, amused. Ah yes, once tangled with that ID.

Rong Shi approached. “What are you smiling at?”

Song Yu flipped to public view. “A former black fan’s now praising me. Must be mentally ill.”

Which account? Rong Shi frowned. “01, trace their IP.”

Song Yu tapped a message history. “This ID. Look. Idiot.”

Rong Shi followed his finger. Stared. Fell silent.

Song Yu squinted. “…Wait.”

Expression, silence—realization struck.

That ID… was him.

He bared his teeth in a cold grin. “So I’m just some bullsht* to you, hm?”

---

Author’s Note:

Song Cat: What am I to you?! [licks paw in fury]
Rong Bunny: …A rainbow fart? 🌈💨