Rong Shi gave him a deep look as he placed his shoes into the cabinet.
“Homes of ordinary families often look similar.”

Song Yu caught his gaze, the strange familiarity surging in his chest again.

“Really?” He bent down to change into slippers. “I’ve never lived in an ordinary home. I wouldn’t know.”

When the purifier clicked on, the faint mustiness of the house quickly faded.

Song Yu had planned to stroll around and explore, but Rong Shi tugged him into the kitchen to help.

“First time I come here, and you make me cook for myself?” Song Yu rolled up his sleeves with a cold snort. “This is your hospitality?”

Rong Shi rummaged through the food storage. “Hospitality? This is your home too.”

Most of the vegetables had long rotted despite preservation and went straight into the recycling bot. Finally, he only kept eggs and instant noodles.

“That line—say it again.” Song Yu squatted beside him suddenly.

Rong Shi shut the storage with one hand, pressed an egg into his palm with the other, and leaned down to plant a kiss on his forehead.
“This is your home too. And the eggs are yours to fry. I’m hungry.”

“….”

Song Yu stapled on a face. “That last half was absolutely unnecessary.”

He straightened. Rong Shi handed him a pan.
“You know how to crack eggshells, right?”

Song Yu sneered. “I lack some life experience, but I’m not an idiot.” He waited for the pan to heat, then pressed the egg against his palm and squeezed.

Crack. The shell split.

He carefully tilted the egg, letting the white drip through the cracks. But the slit was too narrow. The white cooked while the yolk stuck stubbornly inside.

Annoyance bubbled. He shook it harder—the yolk finally dropped, followed by the entire shell hitting the pan.

“…F*ck.”

Rong Shi silently: “……”

---

After dinner, Rong Shi set the house robot to clean.

“Second floor was dad and father’s quarters. Mian Mian lived with them when he was small. After their accident, I converted a little room on the third floor into a kid’s room, but he rarely stayed here. My room is on the third.”

He led Song Yu upstairs.

“This is my room.”

Song Yu froze a moment, eyes roaming.

Compared to his own palace chamber, this room was tiny. No heavy decorations—plain warm wood tones, white walls, gray carpet, and tidily arranged furniture. The neatness made it clean and cozy.

Nowhere had ever made Song Yu feel so… comfortable. As though his every pore was shouting: I like this.

This was where his “bunny” had gamed with him all those years.

His eyes fell on the sky-high stacks of books on the desk. He picked the top one, read the title—and laughed.

“You really bought it.”

Rong Shi’s face softened. “The day after you recommended it. I never found it interesting, but it works like a charm for insomnia. Two pages and I’m out.”

Song Yu chuckled. “That was Qin Luo’s book. He was making small talk when he mentioned it. You actually took it seriously.”

“….” Rong Shi narrowed his jaw. Tricked.

Song Yu’s eyes sparkled suddenly—he rushed to the shelf. “This mech model—where did you get it? Even my Third Uncle failed.”

It was a Gu Corp six-year old Founding Day Limited. Only ten in the empire. Song Yu had been neck-deep in studies and missed it. Even begging his uncle hadn’t worked.

“Won it,” said Rong Shi.

Song Yu’s envy turned green. “Someone wagered with this? Insane.”

“Weren’t you the one whining you lacked only this model?”

Song Yu blinked. He had mentioned that offhand. And Rong Shi remembered.

“If you like it, take it. It was always meant for you.” Rong Shi walked off to reset the robot.

“My bed’s only one‑fifty wide. Dad promised me a big one if I married. Guess that’ll have to wait—”

He was cut off when sticky arms wrapped around from behind. The pampered kitten clung again.

Leaning close to his ear, Song Yu whispered huskily: “You’re going to drive me crazy, my bunny.”

Rong Shi’s eyes flickered, expression complicated. He petted the sticky cat, lips curving faintly.
“No—you’re the one killing me.”

—Compared to your effort, mine feels like nothing.

---

A 1.5m bed, two tall alpha giants. Cramped, but they’d shared smaller.

Song Yu sprawled across him like a body pillow. His head nestled against Rong Shi’s chest, hair brushing through fingers. Silky, cool.

“…Can you not treat me as a pillow every single night?” Rong Shi sighed.

“If you’re not my pillow, what else?” Song Yu’s smirk curved, hand straying to waistline. “Or would you prefer we do something else more interesting on your bed? Because I’d agree.”

Rong Shi’s voice was icily slow. “Early excess leads to baldness in age.”

“……” Song Yu almost spat blood. You liar.

–

Next morning, Rong Shi drove them to a convalescent center.

The building was massive, egg-shaped, room after room. Patients in long-term induced sleep.

“This isn’t where Dad is,” Rong Shi said softly.

They passed through hidden corridors, stopped at a locked vault. He keyed a long string of digits instead of retina scan.

Perfect for hiding.

Room 9899. Custody remaining: 25 years.

Inside was nothing but a cryo-pod.

Through the glass, Song Yu froze—it was like staring at Ji Ling’s twin.

“Dad, I’ve come to see you.” Rong Shi held Song Yu’s hand before the pod. “This is your son-in-law, Song Yu.”

“…What illness?”

“The same as Mian Mian’s,” Rong Shi explained. “Daily meds since my memory began. After my birth, he worsened. Tried again… almost died of hemorrhage on the table.”

“…If he was modified, could this illness be sequela?” Song Yu pondered.

“Sequela… hereditary?” Rong Shi frowned.

If his father was a subject, then Ji Ling’s identical face… What secrets lay under the throne? Was his father controlled into turning cold?

Song Yu’s mind spun. Only evidence could confirm.

Opening the shield, 01 darted out of his terminal.
[01: Extraction complete.]

Rong Shi closed it swiftly.

“…Dad’s in decent shape. If we can find the proper treatment, he’ll wake soon.” His mind flickered back to Big Cat’s repair-serum research.

“Should we move him to Imperial Star?” Song Yu asked. “More advanced care. I trust my people to guard him.”

Rong Shi shook his head. “Before sleep, Dad said—he won’t go anywhere.”

It had seemed sentimental then. Now… not so simple.

---

Leaving, waiting for the car to rise, Rong Shi’s sharp eyes caught shadow—a figure spying, then vanishing into an alley.

[01: They disappeared 100m inside alley. Likely anti-surveillance device. 2 minutes to crack.]
[00: Ran.]

Song Yu was deciding capture method when his terminal flashed. It was his aide.

“Your Highness, something odd. Half a month ago, two hundred men began mining crystal on V812. Checked—it’s the exact same blue crystal we extract.”

Rong Shi turned at once. That lone energy source, formally recognized only ten years later—being mined now? Foreboding pricked his gut.

“Who are they?”

“Not found yet. But the planet is privately yours. Their behavior is illegal. Legal office already moving.”

“Hmn.” Song Yu ordered coldly. “Station guards at all likely stars. Anyone finds that crystal—buy it immediately. Don’t wait for me.”

“Yes.”

Call cut.

[01: WHO THE HELL dares steal from mine bowl?! You can’t even eat it! Why mess with my food! Pissed!]
[00: Pissed!]

---

Barely had the aide left when Qin Luo’s haggard face popped on-screen, beard wild, eye bags sagging.

“You guessed right. The palace king moved. Source says—going to a place called Snow Star.”

Rong Shi’s eyes darkened. A chilling deja vu.

That final battle in his past life—Snow Star.

Ending the message, Song Yu tilted his head. “You know Snow Star?”

Though phrased as question, his tone was sure.

Rong Shi nodded.

“Since we’re out already… go see?”

Memories tightened his jaw. “Go.”

---

Author’s Note:

Rong Bunny: Indulge young, bald when old.
Song Cat: So that’s why you still have such thick hair at your age.
Rong Bunny: …