First Military Academy.

At three o’clock in the afternoon, Yan Qing arrived at the large lecture hall right on time holding his lesson plan. The moment he pushed the door open, the noisy chatter inside instantly died down. The next second, he received subtle, loaded looks from all the students.

He caught faint snippets of conversation: “Second Prince’s dad,” “melodramatic,” “His Majesty’s second wife,” and the like.

Yan Qing placed his lesson plan on the podium, looking slightly perplexed. “What’s wrong? Why is the atmosphere in the classroom so strange today?”

Nobody dared to speak, all waiting for someone else to step up and take the plunge.

In the end, it was Meng Tao—who had just returned to class—who raised his hand. His gaze toward Yan Qing carried a trace of disdain. “Teacher Yan, someone online leaked Li Xiao’s birth secret, claiming he was born to a waiter.”

Jiang Hao and the other two sat in a corner on the far side. Hearing this, they glanced over.

Qian Can muttered in a low voice, “That little brat, starting trouble the minute he gets back.”

Qin Le scoffed, “A spoiled, foolish son of a noble family.”

Arrogant, domineering, and completely unable to read the room. The fact that the Meng family remained unaffected amidst the Chi family storm wasn’t because Meng Jian was competent, but rather a delay tactic employed by the Royal Family to temporarily stabilize the situation.

Once the Royal Family was fully prepared to act against the Meng family, Meng Tao wouldn’t survive a single day.

Once Meng Tao spoke up, other students chimed in one after another.

“Yeah, every single group chat is talking about it!”

“I don’t know if it’s real or fake, but there’s even a DNA report.”

“I heard the waiter is from the Pique clan. There are so many conspiracy theories saying the Pique clan is trying to control Danse Empire by manipulating the royal bloodline.”

“How many times has the Pique clan been on the trending topics lately? Leaking the Second Prince’s background at a time like this feels totally calculated.”

“I wonder who’s being so insidious, but I’m still really curious—was the Second Prince actually born to the former Queen or not?”

Yan Qing let out a light laugh and raised a hand for quiet. “This world harbors so much malice toward outstanding children. If the people spreading rumors understood even a tiny bit about how palace waiters operate, they wouldn’t write something so clumsy.”

The Royal Family had always been a symbol of power—distant, unattainable, and shrouded in mystery to the average person.

Hearing Yan Qing mention palace waiters, a student asked, “How do palace waiters actually work?”

The other students looked at Yan Qing with curiosity, waiting for him to elaborate.

Yan Qing said, “Though they’re all called waiters, their positions vary, and their job duties and security clearances are worlds apart. There are waiters specifically tasked with tending plants and pets, and others who assist royal members with political affairs. Regardless of the role, there are strict shifts. They are closely supervised during work hours, and when their shift ends, they must leave the premises immediately. If they can’t clock out on time, they have to report it in advance—”

At this point, quite a few students couldn’t help but gasp in admiration. “That sounds amazing! You have to clock out on time? I want a job like that in the future!”

A student countered, “Well, it’s still possible for something to happen between them and His Majesty during work hours, right?”

Yan Qing replied, “Waiters rarely work alone, and it’s even less likely for them to be in a room one-on-one with a royal family member. In a large office full of people, what could possibly happen between someone and their boss?”

This remark made the gossip-loving teenagers burst into chuckles.

Meng Tao said, “But there are always scandals online about royals and waiters.”

“Stories like that generate traffic. If people read them, someone will write them,” Yan Qing picked up the thread. “There aren’t that many steamy scandals; they’re all fake.”

Meng Tao sneered, “Are you only saying that because you know the waiter’s name on that online DNA report happens to be the same as yours?”

Yan Qing looked over. “What’s the same as mine?”

Beside him, the Beta teaching assistant who had just rushed in hastily leaned over and whispered a few words in Yan Qing’s ear.

A student in the front row projected the DNA report from the news directly onto the board.

“Look at the name on this report. The waiter is also named Yan Qing.”

Yan Qing’s eyes lingered for a brief moment on the name Jin Heng on the final page. He turned to the Beta assistant and said, “Quick! Help me print a copy of this report.”

The Beta assistant, already frantic and worried that Yan Qing would be affected by the online news, grew even more anxious at his urgent tone. “Print it out for what?”

“To take to the palace and claim my kid,” Yan Qing declared right in front of all the students. “If my son is a prince, why am I still working as the Dean of Discipline?”

The Beta assistant’s footsteps froze. “…”

The students in the front row were completely baffled. “Didn’t you just say it was all fake?”

Yan Qing looked at everyone. “I made it all up. Just pretend you didn’t hear anything.”

The classroom fell silent for a moment before bursting into a wave of laughter.

“A handsome, powerful son and no husband? Teacher Yan, you’re truly living the dream!”

“Teacher Yan, please let me cling to your golden thighs!”

“So jealous! Why doesn’t a good thing like this ever happen to me?”

“I wonder if the Second Prince minds having another dad who’s the same age as him?”

“I can be your son too! I eat very little!”

Yan Qing gestured for everyone to quiet down. “This might be the last class I ever teach at the Military Academy. Everyone, treasure it. First, turn your textbooks to page 336.”

The atmosphere in the room turned exceptionally lively, wiping away the subtle tension from earlier.

Even though Yan Qing hadn’t given a direct explanation, nobody was stupid—everyone understood that it wasn’t true at all.

Qian Can, Qin Le, and Jiang Hao exchanged glances, thinking to themselves that Director Yan really knew what he was doing. With his years of experience, shutting down a hotheaded provocation like Meng Tao’s was a walk in the park.

Seeing the topic derailed, Meng Tao had no choice but to shut his mouth.

When the report first came out, he had suspected Yan Qing due to the shared name, but now it seemed unlikely.

It was virtually impossible for a palace waiter to cross over and become a professor at the Military Academy. If Yan Qing really were Li Xiao’s biological father, his grandfather would have discovered it long ago and never allowed him to stay comfortably at the school for so many years.

Back at the podium, Yan Qing opened his lesson plan, his lowered eyes deep in thought.

The timestamp on that DNA test was precisely three days after he left the palace. The name and the handler matched up perfectly. If it were the Meng family behind it, they could indeed make it look this convincing. But fake was fake; the Royal Family couldn’t possibly lack even the basic capacity to debunk a rumor.

Did the Meng family fabricate this just to throw mud at Li Xiao amidst the chaos?

Many students posted Yan Qing’s response into their group chats. Before class even ended, the tone across various chats and the internal network shifted drastically, with everyone competing to claim the title of Li Xiao’s father.

Some bored students even created a thread detailing all the perks of being Li Xiao’s dad, which quickly got bumped to the front page.

The conspiracy theories harmful to Li Xiao were completely buried.

“His Majesty made a post!”

As class let out, a student raised their voice. “The first batch of people who reposted it have already been arrested! That was so fast!”

“His Majesty must be furious. Anyone would lose their mind over this,” a nearby student chimed in.

Walking down the corridor, Yan Qing caught a glimpse of Li Ji’s post on a student’s screen. The official Intelligence Bureau account had replied below it, stating they were currently apprehending the mastermind behind the rumors.

What could the Meng family possibly gain from pulling such a stunt, other than getting slapped in the face?

Rumors had an immediate effect, but being debunked this quickly meant its impact was extremely limited.

Returning to the staff dormitory, Yan Qing locked his door and sent a video call request to Li Xiao.

The call connected quickly. On the screen, Li Xiao was sitting in the living room, seemingly discussing something with Song Jin.

“Teacher Yan?” Li Xiao looked at the screen.

Yan Qing said, “Regarding Zhan Qiming’s matter, I spoke with my grandfather.”

Hearing that it concerned Zhan Qiming, Li Xiao set aside what he was doing. “What did he say?”

Yan Qing: “My grandfather doesn’t know much about the details between Zhan Qiming and Wei Feng. However, I heard that when Zhan Qiming died back then, Wei Feng was deeply despondent and locked himself in his study for two days. Afterward, he discussed it with my great-grandfather and the others, suspecting that Zhan Qiming had been assassinated by someone hired by Meng Shan.”

Li Xiao’s brows furrowed. “Meng Shan?”

Meng Shan was Meng Jian’s father. Seventy-six years ago, he was the Vice Commander of the Viper Legion, and he had long since retired from the military headquarters.

Yan Qing: “My grandfather heard it from my great-grandfather. Supposedly, Wei Feng and Meng Shan submitted their applications for promotion to Major General in the very same year. Zhan Qiming recommended Wei Feng, causing Meng Shan to lose out, which displeased Meng Shan greatly. Less than half a year after that, Zhan Qiming died of a heart attack on the battlefield.”

Li Xiao logged into the military search system and pulled up Meng Shan’s personal file.

Calculating by time, Meng Shan’s promotion was indeed three years later than Wei Feng’s.

And in the year Meng Shan was promoted to Major General—which was the year of the Golden Finch Coup—Wei Feng was already a Lieutenant General.

If the two were peers, the gap between them was far too large.

Li Xiao asked, “Did they find any evidence back then?”

Yan Qing shook his head. “Grandfather doesn’t recall. I guess not, otherwise Meng Shan couldn’t have been promoted to Major General.”

Nesting beside Li Xiao, Song Jin leaned against the back of the sofa, eating ice cream. “Wei Feng suspected Meng Shan of killing his mentor, and with the Meng family stirring up trouble in the Zufu Constellation, he rushed over to sanction them—only to be surrounded and ambushed by the Meng family, leading to the fall of the Golden Finch?”

Li Xiao followed his train of thought. “The Golden Finch Coup occurred four years after Zhan Qiming’s death. Wei Feng wouldn’t have been that impulsive. Even if he really went, he would have left approval documents within the military. With documents in place, how could it possibly be questioned as a coup?”

Song Jin said, “Maybe he originally went to stop the Meng family, but Wei Feng used public power for a personal grudge to wipe out the Meng family’s army, causing the battlefield to spread and harm innocents. So your grandfather was so enraged that he destroyed all the files, causing the Golden Finch to vanish from history?”

“That’s also very forced.” Li Xiao tilted his head to look at him. “Judging from the video, there was nothing wrong with the Golden Finch’s battle strategy. Besides, if the military was already going through the approval process and the Meng family stubbornly caused trouble, wasn’t that just seeking death?”

Following that logic, the one who should have been condemned back then was the Meng family.

Song Jin tousled his hair in frustration. “There have been countless coups in history far larger in scale than this. Why would your grandfather need to destroy the data? Even if he destroyed it, the Golden Finch was still cursed for decades. I have no idea what he was thinking!”

Li Xiao’s heart skipped a beat. “Wait.”

Li Xiao carefully pondered Song Jin’s words.

Data destroyed… Golden Finch condemned…

His grandfather’s actions seemed to shield the Golden Finch on the surface, but in reality, they were shielding the Meng family. Given how big the incident was back then, it should have been much easier to gather evidence than it was now.

Why did his grandfather do that?

Yan Qing didn’t disturb Li Xiao’s thoughts. He turned to Song Jin and said, “Your exchange student period is almost up. Remember to come back in time to complete the paperwork.”

Song Jin did the math—it really was almost time.

Right around when Li Ji returned from his tour, they would have to head to the Capital Star to attend the farewell banquet.

Song Jin looked at Li Xiao.

They needed to resolve Meng Jian soon, and then haul this kid back home with him.

The video call disconnected. A long leg draped across Li Xiao’s lap. He snapped out of his thoughts. “Move it.”

Song Jin toyed with his earring, leaning in close. “Old man, I’m heading back to my country in a few days, and your head is still entirely full of the case.”

Li Xiao grabbed his hand. Being this close, he could smell the ice cream on Song Jin. “If I solve the case as fast as possible, won’t I free up brain space to think about you?”

Song Jin asked, “So, did you figure anything out?”

Li Xiao held the clingy little lion, relaxing against the sofa as his eyes swept over Meng Shan’s personal profile hovering in midair. “The party involved in the Golden Finch Coup back then isn’t dead yet. Rather than guessing back and forth, it’s better to go ask him directly.”

Song Jin raised an eyebrow. “Meng Shan? Would he answer you honestly?”

Li Xiao chuckled softly. “He won’t.”

Seeing the calculating smile in Li Xiao’s eyes, Song Jin sat up, his interest piqued. “What are you planning to do?”

Li Xiao: “Maybe he’ll have a lot he wants to say to an old acquaintance.”

“Wei Feng?”

Seeing Li Xiao nod, Song Jin smirked wickedly. “You’re so bad. An old acquaintance from over seventy years ago hasn’t aged a day—wouldn’t that scare the old guy to death?”

Li Xiao: “It’s called respecting the old and cherishing the young.”

Song Jin: “Where’s the respect?”

Li Xiao: “Respecting his fate.”

Song Jin burst out laughing. “Since you put it that way, it’d be a waste not to pull off something huge for him.”

Li Xiao patted his head. “Whatever you say.”

Jiang Chi, who was studying photos nearby: “…”

You two are truly a pair of helpful Living Yama demons.

He had even come up with a name for their duo: Your Time Has Come.

Capital Star, Military Headquarters.

Meng Jian’s assistant was preparing to leave work. Just as he stood up, he heard a commotion. A group of fully armed soldiers burst into the office, pointing machine guns at him.

“Hands behind your head, get down!”

“What are you doing?!” someone yelled as they followed into the office.

The Major leading the squad shouted, “Intelligence Bureau operation! Uninvolved personnel, step back!”

The assistant’s face turned pale as he slowly raised his hands under the gun barrels. “What crime have I committed?”

The Major thrust an arrest warrant in front of his face. “There is reasonable suspicion that you unlawfully forged a DNA test report of a royal family member and are suspected of espionage. You are under arrest! If you attempt to flee or resist, you will be executed on the spot!”

“I didn’t!” The assistant’s pupils dilated in shock as he looked frantically to his team leader for help. “I never forged anything!”

“You will be given a chance to defend yourself,” the Major said coldly. “Take him away!”

Just as the soldiers were about to cuff the assistant, Meng Jian’s adjutant came running in from outside.

“Who dares?!”

“Do you even know who he is before making a random arrest?” The adjutant walked up to the Major, looking at him with displeasure. “Who do you think you are? Call your superior here!”

The Major kept his hands behind his back. “The arrest warrant was issued by His Majesty himself. If your household acts so grand, should I have His Majesty come invite him in person?”

The adjutant’s expression shifted slightly as he glanced at the arrest warrant. It indeed originated from the Royal Family.

Even with the highest level of encryption applied, it had been uncovered this quickly.

“He truly didn’t forge any DNA report,” the adjutant explained, suppressing his temper.

Major: “Can you speak for him? Are you accomplices?”

Meng Jian’s assistant cried, “I know nothing about any DNA report!”

The Major didn’t even spare him a glance. “I only received orders to arrest people. Investigating the case isn’t my job. Cuff him!”

Two armed soldiers grabbed the assistant, slapped hand and leg shackles on him, and dragged him away.

The adjutant hurriedly followed them out. “There must be some mistake!”

Reaching the doorway, the Major paused. Spotting Meng Jian approaching from down the corridor, he raised a hand to signal his soldiers to halt.

“You dare come here and run wild?”

Meng Jian looked at the Major expressionlessly. “Trespassing on military headquarters and obstructing official duties—take them down.”

Given the Meng family’s immense influence, which even the Royal Family struggled to touch, the Major felt immense pressure. He said respectfully, “General Meng, we are arresting this suspect under orders from His Majesty. Please let us pass.”

“Nonsense!”

Meng Jian’s face darkened. “His Majesty is throwing a childish tantrum, and you’re joining him in his nonsense?”

The Major’s hands tightened at his sides, palms dripping with cold sweat.

A royal order became “a childish tantrum” in Meng Jian’s mouth, an Intelligence Bureau arrest became “playing around,” and they were even being held accountable in reverse.

It sounded ridiculous, but because the speaker was Meng Jian, even the most absurd thing could be made to sound reasonable.

Meng Jian: “Head back first. I will speak to His Majesty about this.”

The Major lowered his head slightly. “I’m afraid that would be inappropriate.”

Meng Jian’s expression turned grim. “Take them!”

The adjutant had been waiting for his command and immediately called men over to apprehend them.

“What’s going on here? Why so lively?” Yi Yongning walked over from the other end of the hallway, stopping beside the Major. “What happened?”

Seeing Yi Yongning, the Major let out a massive sigh of relief in his heart.

“Someone forged and uploaded the Second Prince’s DNA report. We are executing an arrest on the suspect under His Majesty’s orders.”

“Oh, that thing. I saw it online too.”

Yi Yongning looked at the handcuffed assistant. “Old Meng, even you have times where your judgment slips. I know you value talent, but keeping a person like this by your side is a ticking time bomb.”

These words instantly cleared Meng Jian of any involvement, offering him a smooth way out.

Meng Jian asked, “You’re so sure he did it?”

Yi Yongning smiled. “I certainly choose to trust the Intelligence Bureau.”

Looking at the smile on Yi Yongning’s face, Meng Jian found it exceptionally eyesore.

Not long ago, the Intelligence Bureau was under his control, but now it had been seized by Yi Yongning.

Yi Yongning checked the time and asked the Major, “What are you waiting for? Anyone else left to arrest?”

The Major glanced at Meng Jian and signaled his men to withdraw.

Seeing the situation turn against him, Meng Jian’s assistant trembled violently. His legs went so soft he couldn’t walk, and he was dragged away by the soldiers.

Yi Yongning turned back to Meng Jian. “Don’t pull such a long face. Isn’t your old man’s big birthday coming up soon? I’m stressing over what gift to send—how about giving me some advice?”

“He lacks nothing in his old age. You only need to show up.”

Leaving behind that single sentence, Meng Jian turned and walked away.

Watching Meng Jian disappear around the corner, Yi Yongning’s adjutant asked in a low voice, “Sir, is this appropriate?”

“Times have changed.”

Yi Yongning turned around, heading back in the direction he came.

For over a decade, the Yi family had deliberately avoided their edge, stepping back time and again to avoid direct conflict with the Meng family. Even His Majesty had intentionally favored the Meng family between the two households to prevent the string between the Meng family and the Royal Family from snapping, which would accelerate their destruction.

But things were different now.

Though he didn’t know what cards the Second Prince still held in his hand, the situation was indeed developing in their favor.

A ray of light was finally breaking through this pitch-black sky.

Thinking of this, Yi Yongning unlocked his terminal. “I’m in a good mood today. I’ll ask Old Zheng out for a drink and talk about life.”

Adjutant: “He might not necessarily come.”

Yi Yongning: “As long as I can annoy him, it doesn’t matter if he comes or not.”

Adjutant: “…”

In another passage, Meng Jian’s adjutant asked anxiously in a hushed voice, “Just letting them take him away like that… what if he confesses?”

Meng Jian: “What else could we do besides let them go? This is Yi Yongning’s turf.”

The adjutant pursed his lips in unwilling frustration. “I didn’t expect them to move so fast.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Meng Jian kept a tense face. “The report is real; it’s just that the terminal was tampered with and leaked out by accident. It doesn’t constitute a crime. The harder they refute it now, the bigger the public backlash will be later.”

As he spoke, the adjutant’s terminal vibrated. He hurriedly answered it. “What?! Yan Ying was intercepted by Shengya Empire?!”

Hanging up, the adjutant reported frantically, “Our troops were almost there, but Shengya Empire actually struck Yan Ying first and even told us to fall back to a safe distance!”

Meng Jian’s face darkened, and he smashed a potted plant in the hallway with a single kick.

Endless concessions had drained every last drop of his patience.

“Notify the Shengya Empire forces that Yan Ying is involved in launching a terrorist attack against the Royal Family. Our side demands the primary perpetrator be brought to justice—tell them to pull back!”

Adjutant: “Yes!”

The adjutant contacted the front line immediately, only to be informed that Shengya Empire had already blasted half of it away. Meng Jian was nearly driven mad with rage. Returning to his office, he crushed four walnuts with his bare hands.

Zufu Constellation, Z152.

Once night fell, Li Xiao took Song Jin and Jiang Chi out. They rented a random vehicle to buy basic gear like goggles, gloves, and face masks, then stopped by a knife market to pick up a few handy tactical hiking knives. They were no match for military grade, but better than nothing.

After returning the car, they headed to a camera blind spot and had 09 transform into a vehicle to fly them to the abandoned underground base.

Since the previous insect tide, the damaged parts of the hospital had been repaired.

Using 09’s stealth mode, they easily made their way into the underground entrance.

Just as Li Xiao had anticipated, the place hadn’t been sealed off.

Since Meng Jian wanted to make a statement out of this place, he would keep it intact until he squeezed out every last drop of value.

Walking inward through the charred passage, Li Xiao watched Jiang Chi’s reaction. Seeing him looking around in confusion, he led them to the first spot where a mark had been discovered.

“Does this look familiar?” Li Xiao pointed to the mark on the wall and asked Jiang Chi.

The mark was very low off the ground. Jiang Chi crouched down with his flashlight.

The moment he clearly saw the familiar numbers, his vision suddenly blurred, and images flashed rapidly before his eyes.

“Hss!” Jiang Chi clutched his head. “My head hurts!”

Song Jin: “Then you definitely drew it.”

Li Xiao: “…”

Jiang Chi stood up and looked at the fork in the road ahead, his eyes finally landing on the second path on the front left. “Should we go that way?”

Li Xiao: “Yeah.”

Li Xiao didn’t offer any more prompts, intentionally letting Jiang Chi lead the way.

After traversing a very long passage, Jiang Chi looked at a fork in the road again. Shining his flashlight, he indeed found numbers on the edge.

“Holy shit! What was I thinking back then, coming to a creepy place like this?”

Li Xiao asked softly, “Can you remember why you came here?”

Jiang Chi shook his head and continued forward relying purely on intuition.

Passing through passages that grew taller and taller, their vision suddenly opened up.

Illuminating the hall with his flashlight, Jiang Chi’s pupils shrank. “Isn’t this dome ceiling identical to that stage?”

Li Xiao: “That stage was a replica modeled after this place.”

Jiang Chi looked puzzledly toward a distant door, a powerful intuition surging in his chest.

That should be the place where the stone pillar was located.

Stepping through the dilapidated door, the beam of light swept over the stone pillar, causing Jiang Chi’s heart to thud. A bone-chilling cold crept up from the soles of his feet, leaving his chest feeling heavy and suffocated.

The one on stage and the one here gave off completely different feelings.

The stage had lights and an audience; even though the set was eerie, one would subconsciously feel it was fake.

But the one here couldn’t be faked.

A soldier clad in military uniform was pinned down by metal rods, suppressed in the pitch-black underground. Just thinking about such an insane act made one’s spine chill!

Jiang Chi didn’t approach. His gaze shifted to a small door on the right, and he treaded lightly toward it.

Li Xiao and Song Jin cast a glance at the stone pillar, silently following behind Jiang Chi.

Inside the small door were several large metal cages that looked like a place used to confine people.

When they came last time, Li Xiao and Song Jin had searched everywhere without finding anything.

Jiang Chi’s steps gradually quickened. He crouched down in front of a cage.

“There should be something here.”

Song Jin: “What thing?”

“I forgot.” The light in Jiang Chi’s hand swept around randomly, finally settling on a spot near the right wall. “It’s around here.”

Li Xiao bent down to inspect it and found a three-centimeter gap in the corner of the wall. The edges showed slight wear, and there was a drag mark in the dust on the floor.

Light shone into the gap, but the inside was empty.

Unless Jiang Chi’s memory was wrong, whatever was originally there had been taken away by Jiang Chi.

Li Xiao and Song Jin exchanged a glance, thinking to themselves as expected.

Jiang Chi indeed had discovered something, but the problem now was that nobody knew what the object was or where it was.

“A space this small can hold very limited items,” Song Jin remarked, studying the gap. “An epaulet or a larger button wouldn’t fit.”

Li Xiao: “A memory drive.”

The size of a memory drive fit perfectly inside, and its width matched the edges and the drag mark on the floor seamlessly.

“Ugh!”

Jiang Chi tried to recall, but his head felt as if it were being torn apart alive. “This is killing me.”

Song Jin: “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

It was rare to hear Song Jin say something sympathetic, and Jiang Chi felt almost touched.

Song Jin added dryly, “If you pass out here, nobody’s carrying you back.”

Jiang Chi: “…”

He had gotten touched way too early.

After exiting the area, Li Xiao and Song Jin followed Jiang Chi as he wandered around for a long time, but they didn’t find any more clues.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time they returned to the hotel.

Having been repeatedly stimulated all night, Jiang Chi was mentally exhausted. Upon returning to his room, he crashed onto the bed and fell asleep immediately.

The air in the abandoned underground base had been foul, and their clothes carried a stale odor after coming back. Song Jin couldn’t stand it; he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside carelessly.

Walking to the bathroom doorway, noticing that Li Xiao was still deep in thought, Song Jin tapped his fingers lightly against the doorframe.

Hearing the sound, Li Xiao looked up. Seeing Song Jin’s gorgeous eyes looking over, the latter curled a finger at him with a mischievous smile. “Together?”

It was the first time Li Xiao had ever seen such an unrestrained and seductive expression on Song Jin. His train of thought was completely derailed.

09: 【Pheromone levels fluctuating heavily. Stay calm!】

Li Xiao: “…”

Wanting his beloved to be covered in his own scent was an Alpha’s instinct. He was already exercising immense restraint.

Over by the bathroom, Song Jin had also heard 09’s prompt.

Seeing Li Xiao completely unreactive at first, he had thought the kid was entirely unfazed. Who knew he just wasn’t showing it on his face?

Song Jin smirked. “So you fall for this trick?”

Li Xiao: “…”

Exposed.