“You’re so fierce.”

Rong Shi’s face was blank, his voice low—with the tiniest hint of grievance.

He was actually aggrieved.

Song Yu snorted. “No biting, no rubbing; only rubbing and not biting—that’s just playing dirty.”

Rong Shi: …Is it?

Something felt off.

His gaze kept flicking to the gland.

Soft and pale, sleek and springy, perfect to nuzzle.

How could he not be allowed to nuzzle?

In susceptibility, impulses ran hot. He felt he could hold back—but the little cat kept offering himself up.

His hazy brain tried to think and came up with nothing; only Song Yu’s threat looped in his head—no biting, no rubbing.

“Then I’ll bite?” He found Song Yu’s hand and laced their fingers, then ran his tongue over the smooth skin of the gland.

Wife tastes sweet.

Song Yu patted his head; silky hair slid through his fingers. “Keep licking and you’ll have licked all my sweat clean.”

Rong Shi: …

He was all set to bite—yet still felt dissatisfied. Brows knit, he muttered under his breath, “No sense of romance.”

Song Yu: …

Who the hell lacks a sense of romance?

He fished a pack of military biscuits from his bag and crushed it one-handed, the crack loud and uncompromising. “Since you’re in susceptibility, I won’t hit you.”

Rong Shi: …

Being bitten on the gland by an alpha isn’t just skin-deep pain; the clashing, mutually repelling pheromones mean mental and physical torment.

As a decent partner, Rong Shi knew he shouldn’t bring pain to his other half—but his wife smelled too good.

After a long beat with no movement, Song Yu urged, “Can’t aim, or can’t find your favorite spot? Stop dragging your—hiss!”

The familiar bolt of pain raced through him. He clenched tight on Rong Shi’s hand; sweat soaked his fringe at once.

The tip of a canine pierced skin; two pheromones intertwined. Rong Shi could feel Song Yu’s repulsion—yet also how hard he was working to accept him.

The baseless irritability and anxiety of susceptibility smoothed away.

Marking—so this was what melding into one felt like?

Too good. Addictive.

He fought down the urge to sink deeper and pulled back, the tip of his tongue gently passing over the two tiny punctures.

“Sorry. I hurt you.”

Song Yu’s tense body slowly relaxed. Leaning on him with a smile, he refused to concede. “That’s it? Didn’t feel a thing. Maybe you’re just not up to it?”

Rong Shi: “You know I don’t take teasing well right now.”

Song Yu: “I know. So what?”

Rong Shi thought earnestly. “You’re still young—you can’t take what I’d do to you.”

Song Yu laughed, reckless. “Go on, then. Think I’d be scared?”

He knew Rong Shi was restraining himself—and still smiled that beautifully.

Rong Shi ground his teeth and held on.

Parched from sweating so much, Song Yu grabbed the canteen, cracked it open, and said offhand, “I really do want to know exactly what you’d do to me.”

The canteen was halfway up when a hand hooked his chin—and pain tugged his lip.

“You need disciplining.” Rong Shi bit his mouth and deepened the kiss.

A rabbit that takes the bait so easily—too much fun.

Song Yu turned, wrapped his arms around him, and kissed back laughing.

Two sharp scents collided in the air; the burn of strong liquor slid down the throat; blood boiled.

[01: Little brother, next time Master starts unfastening Sugar Daddy’s belt, enter power‑save standby of your own accord.] 

[00: Mm.]
[01: And never leave video logs, or you’ll lose energy stones.]
[00: Mm!]

The clingy pair: …

Your energy stones this year are gone.

Late that night, Rong Shi jerked awake from sleep.

Images of his fallen legion brothers flashed before his eyes.

If that omega hadn’t been there—if he hadn’t been in such a state—would they still be alive?

Only a glimmer of coals smoldered in the fire. His forehead was icy. He swiped a hand across it—cold sweat.

The thin blanket beside him had cooled. Who knew how long Song Yu had been gone.

Inside the big cage, Song Yu cast a cold glance at the omega cowering in the corner.

“Before my patience runs out, you’d better tell me everything you know.”

The omega curled tighter, arms trembling hard.

“M-my name is 203.”

Song Yu sat on the metal chair 01 had formed, elbows on the arms, long legs crossed.

“203 is a serial number?”

203 opened his mouth several times, panic written all over him—unable to speak a word.

If the organization found out he’d talked, he was as good as dead anyway.

“No?” Song Yu’s tone stayed even. “Then tomorrow I’ll send you back.”

“I won’t go back!” The boy screamed, hysterical. “I’d rather die than go back!”

“Those people… those people are demons…” He hugged himself, trying to press into the corner until he disappeared.

Thick magnolia flooded the air; even with 01 filtering, it couldn’t fully clear it.

But the pheromones barely touched Song Yu.

He checked the time. “Two minutes and thirty seconds left.”

Betrayal meant death—but if he didn’t answer this man, he’d be sent back to the base.

203 sobbed softly, crushed under despair. “If I tell you… will you take me away from here?”

Song Yu idly rolled his combat knife, lowering his lashes to hide the killing edge in his eyes. “I can. I could even buy you a planet to retire on.”

203 brightened, then shook his head. “No need. Just help me find my older brothers—they’ll take care of me!”

“What are their names?” Song Yu’s thumb brushed the edge of the blade; his voice stayed calm.

“I don’t know the names they use outside,” 203 said. “But when they left, their call signs were L739 and 783.”

Song Yu’s hand stilled. Those were the Lin brothers’ call signs.

“Blood brothers?”

203’s face eased a little at the mention. “Not by blood—but we grew up together.”

“Where did you grow up together?”

He faltered, gaze skittering away, voice dropping. “I-in the organization—”

Seeing Song Yu’s hand lift again to check the time, 203 blanched.

“I’ll talk, I’ll talk!”

He collected himself for a moment, then whispered, “We’re all orphans with serious illnesses, abandoned. We were lucky the organization took us in. They gave us temporary names by number, and only when we left at fifteen would we get real names. I don’t know the exact planet—it’s always ice and snow, very cold.”

A flicker passed through Song Yu’s eyes—a stray thought of the dream he’d had that night.

“At fifteen,” 203 continued, “the organization sends us here for treatment. After we recover, they send us out to study.”

“They said you’ve been modified three times—what’s that about?” Song Yu’s voice was frost.

203 flinched. “B-because my illness is special, so three surgeries still haven’t fixed it.”

“What illness?”

“G-gland… gland disease.”

“If they can cure you,” Song Yu propped his chin on his hand, “why run?”

“It hurts too much…” 203’s eyes darted.

“Delaying your treatment is no good,” Song Yu said, standing and flicking the knife shut. “I’ll send you back in the morning.”

Wide-eyed, 203 stammered, “I don’t want to… I won’t go back…”

Song Yu ignored him and told 01 to open the door.

203 stumbled forward, sobbing, “Please don’t send me back, I don’t want—mmph!”

Song Yu pivoted, grabbed his throat, and slammed him into the wall.

“Omegas really have it easy—cry once and alphas go soft,” he sneered, gaze raking over him. “That pitiful look, that fragile frame—it does make people want to coddle you.”

203 didn’t know why he was saying this. He choked under the hand, fingers clawing weakly at Song Yu’s wrist.

A fingertip traced his cheek lightly. “If I flayed you and cut your gland out… I wonder if you could still make an alpha’s heart flutter, hmm?”

203 thrashed, a guttural rasp in his throat. “L-let… go…”

Only when he was about to pass out did Song Yu release him.

He couldn’t kill him yet.

Drawing a deep breath, he forced down the spike of rage and walked out.

The metal door slid shut. 203 crumpled, coughing until it tore at his chest—then lay there and sobbed.

Just outside, Song Yu halted—Rong Shi stood at the cave mouth.

“Get anything?” Rong Shi held out a hand.

“He hasn’t told the truth yet.” Song Yu went over and briefly relayed what 203 had said. “The Empire strictly monitors newborns; they wouldn’t allow a group to keep children penned up—much less sick babies with medical records.”

No matter how remote the birthplace, newborn registration is closely watched. Unless a child never saw daylight in the womb, there would be a record.

And records mean Imperial legal protection.

“Illegal acquisition—or grown in-house,” Rong Shi said.

The Empire’s ex-utero embryo tech was mature; a child’s entire gestation and birth could happen outside a mother’s body.

“Very likely.” Song Yu tugged at his collar, took a rough breath. “They’re held in one place until fifteen, brought here for modification—or modified there and brought here for the next step—then placed by the target’s side after it’s done.”

He looked at Rong Shi. “We’ve found the base entrance. Can you move tomorrow?”

They’d be suspected if they stayed out too long; time was short.

Sitting by the tent, eyes on the dying fire, Rong Shi said softly, “I can.”

“Really?” Song Yu searched his face. When Rong Shi didn’t answer immediately, he reached to touch his chest.

Before he could, Rong Shi caught his hand. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine, why so guilty?” Song Yu frowned.

“…”

Song Yu broke free and laid his palm over Rong Shi’s heart—his face darkened. “Your heart’s throwing a party—and you call this fine?”

“…I can hold it,” Rong Shi said.

He’d been steady before sleep—why like this again?

“You stood outside that cage listening for a long time, didn’t you?” Song Yu asked, testing.

When he didn’t answer, the pent-up emotions boiled over.

The door had been open; 203’s pheromones were bound to leak out.

With a 100% match, the fact that Rong Shi hadn’t rushed in already took immense control.

But knowing didn’t make it easier. It still rankled.

Why did his partner have to be drawn by anyone other than him?

Song Yu surged to his feet and turned toward the side cave.

Rong Shi grabbed his wrist. “Where are you going?”

“Kill him.”

“He’s still useful.”

“I don’t believe we can’t find the truth without him.”

Rong Shi strode after him and pulled him into his arms from behind. “Calm down.”

“How am I supposed to calm down?!” The dam broke. “He can pull you away from me just by releasing pheromones! You’re not mine alone anymore!”

“If I were an omega,” he added bitterly, “what would he be then?”

Rong Shi’s arms tightened; his voice dropped, rough and low. “You’re not an omega—and he’s nothing.”

“Your body says otherwise.”

Rong Shi turned him around and spoke earnestly. “I like you—and your pheromones. It has nothing to do with alpha or omega.”

Song Yu’s eyes flickered—then tracked the fingers opening Rong Shi’s shirt.

“It’s my fault you’re uneasy.” Rong Shi bared the nape of his neck. “Help me press it down.”

“You want me to bite?” Song Yu’s gaze slid to the side of his neck.

“Don’t you want to?”

How could he not? He dreamed of it.

An alpha’s most straightforward confession is a mark.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

He wanted it badly—but still hesitated.

Now he understood why Rong Shi, decisive in everything else, wavered on this.

How could he build his joy on his partner’s pain?

“Bite or not?” Rong Shi pushed.

His eyes kept darting to the gland. “I want to—but…”

“If you don’t do it today,” Rong Shi said flatly, “you’ll never get the chance.”

“Fu-ck.” Song Yu cursed softly, lunged, wrapped his arms around his neck, and sank his teeth in.

Rong Shi clenched his jaw; his fists tightened at his sides.

Unexpectedly, the stab of pain lasted only a heartbeat.

Once his body recognized Song Yu’s pheromones, it accepted them—gladly. It was… very strange.

He frowned.

[01: Unlock successful. Top‑secret module opening.]

The sudden prompt froze him for a beat.

A virtual window snapped open in his field of vision.

A video was playing. The file seemed damaged—snow flickered across the screen.

At second three, a figure appeared.

Long golden hair. A king’s uniform. Pale lips lending a sickly beauty. Languid peach-blossom eyes stared into the lens—like a drawn sword, edge impossible to sheathe even while seated.

Rong Shi’s breath caught.

Song Yu?

“Bunny.” The man in the footage coughed twice, voice pitched low with a grainy, magnetic roughness. “If you’re seeing this video, it means you’ve successfully returned to eighteen—”

__

Author’s Note:

Bunny Rong: Shocked—my wife grows up to be an unbelievably gorgeous super‑cat?!
Kitty Song: Which of us is better looking? [brandishes claws]
Bunny Rong: …

The question bank for “die‑if‑you‑answer” keeps expanding.