Song Yu hadn’t felt hungry at first, but once the aroma from the pot drifted out, his stomach growled.

“Is it ready yet?” he urged.

“Almost.” Rong Shi cleaned the counter meticulously, then took two bowls from the cupboard.

Lining the bowls up side by side gave him a sudden rush of surreal domesticity—living married life with his little cat.

“The six-month limit… only two months left.” He caught Song Yu’s hand at his waist, turned, and encircled him in his arms. “Divorce? Or marriage for real? Thought it through?”

Song Yu kissed his chin. “What do you think?”

The brush of stubble prickled pleasantly against his lips—like chewing on something.

Rong Shi’s face was serious. “Divorce. Then remarry a cat that’s more virtuous.”

Not virtuous enough for him?!

Song Yu snorted. “Perfect. I’ve been wanting to trade up to a more useful bunny anyway.”

“……” Rong Shi.

Soon, the two steaming bowls of noodles were placed on the bar. They sat facing each other.

Rong Shi wasn’t hungry. He ate just a few bites, then spent the rest of the time watching Song Yu enjoy his share.

Song Yu pushed strands of hair behind his ear, slurping happily at the noodles. At moments like this, he almost resembled a proper wife—if only in cooking.

A stray lock slipped free. Rong Shi brushed it back gently.

“Your hair’s getting long.”

“It bothers me when people touch it,” Song Yu replied lightly. “I’ll cut it when we’re back on Imperial Star.”

Then he realized—his bunny was a hopeless face-con. Was he hinting it looked bad?

“Ugly?” Song Yu added, frowning.

Rong Shi shook his head. “Long hair looks good too.”

…Long hair? Instinctively, Song Yu touched his strands.

“Actually, I was thinking of shaving it short; it’s easier to manage.”

Rong Shi’s face darkened. “I forbid it.”

“……”

---

After eating, Song Yu cuddled his rabbit plushie, drowsiness crashing over him.

“I stole some of Ji Ling’s hair. When do we match it with your father’s for a DNA test?”

The Royal Database already had DNA records—but neither of them trusted its credibility anymore.

Rong Shi, stretched out flat, had Song Yu clinging arms and legs around him like an octopus. He gave his cat’s backside a light smack; Song Yu instantly settled.

“I’ll look for a chance to go home.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“…We’ll see,” Rong Shi said.

---

The next morning, they only had one class: military theory.

In the last row, Qin Luo was dead asleep on his desk.

Rong Shi and Song Yu flipped through the files Qin Luo had compiled.

Suddenly: “Professor Qian, can an eighteen-year-old really earn an A-Class license?”

It was Zhao Wan, raising his voice.

Every head turned. Everyone knew who he was implying.

No official news had been published after the arrest of Director Chen. Rumors exploded across forums—hundreds of versions of “truth.”

At the podium, Professor Qian Fan closed his book, scanning the class. He knew exactly what they wanted.

“The A-Class license is difficult for two reasons. First, pass rate. Second, real-combat tests. Only the ten very best are admitted. One mistake, you fail.” His expression was grave.

“On theory, it’s practically impossible for someone who’s just reached adulthood to earn it.”

The class buzzed instantly.

Even Zhao Wan felt energized. He smirked sideways toward Rong Shi.

“…Then those who claim they flew back solo end up a laughingstock. Who’d have thought our respected Chairman was a liar—”

“But,” Qian Fan interrupted lightly, “there’s one exception.”

Zhao and Lu Ming stiffened.

“…Professor, why stop there!?” the class simmered.

The teacher’s gaze slid directly to Rong Shi. Their eyes met.

“For some,” Qian Fan said with a small smile, “ordinary measures don’t apply. They perceive difficulty differently. We call them… geniuses.”

“……” Rong Shi. Being praised publicly was more uncomfortable than being scolded.

The class erupted. Zhao Wan and Lu Ming went dark-faced.

Qian Fan wrapped up with the rest of the students: “Not everyone needs to aim for three consecutive jumps like him, but channel your effort. Even without talent, hard work brings possibilities.”

And to Zhao Wan directly: “Don’t you agree?”

Forced, flushing under every gaze, Zhao ground out: “…Yes, Professor. You’re right.”

Satisfied, Qian Fan winked secretly at Rong Shi—How’s that, did I protect you properly?

Rong Shi: “……”

---

After class, Zhao stalked out, boiling inside that his only leverage had been squashed by Qian.

But before he could vent further, someone blocked his path.

“What the—” His curse cut off when he was slammed brutally against a pillar, then dropped to the ground. Pain left him gasping.

Black boots nudged his jaw upward.

Song Yu leaned over him, half-smile cold and sharp. “Think because I’ve been letting you live, you can climb on my head?” His voice dropped. “Tell your father—the Thirteenth Corps chief of staff—not to report for duty tomorrow.”

Terror flashed across Zhao’s eyes. He stammered, “You don’t decide that! My master’s Major General Lu Youqi! Don’t think—”

Song Yu sneered. “Lu Youqi?” He glanced at Lu Ming nearby, who couldn’t meet his eyes at all.

“I don’t see him as worth considering.”

Lu Ming’s fists clenched, fingernails digging bloody crescents into his palms. But he kept silent. The atmosphere was volatile—better to endure than be first to burn.

At Song Yu’s side, Qin Luo had actually expected a beating—but was surprised when his temper ended with just one punch.

When they were away from sight, Qin Luo muttered, “Ge, your temper’s amazing today.”

Song Yu’s reply was cold logic: “On my wife’s turf, the price of missteps is too high.”

Qin Luo: “……” Makes sense.

---

At 3pm, while Zhao Wan rallied smear campaigns online, he had long forgotten the morning’s threat.

But Lu Ming’s terminal lit up. His face sank.

“Your father’s been charged with corruption and arrested.”

Zhao Wan went white. “H‑how? That’s impossible!”

Lu Ming bolted, trying to prevent it from implicating his own family.

–

In the underground cells, Rong Shi and Song Yu headed toward prisoner 203’s cell.

The report said 203 demanded to see Rong Shi.

Just the idea rankled Song Yu terribly—because 203’s pheromones matched Rong Shi. Like shards lodged into his heart.

If he dares… Song Yu clenched his fists.

Rong Shi squeezed his hand. “His body’s so weak, he’ll fall apart before you can even touch him.”

Satisfied with that reassurance, they stepped inside. The floral stench of 203’s pheromones was immediate.

Rong Shi grimaced slightly but shook his head. “I’m fine.”

203 shrank in the corner of his cot, pure fear in his eyes.

“My pheromones… slip sometimes,” he said faintly. “Aftereffects of modification.”

Rong Shi frowned. His mind reeled back to warzones of a past life. Could this “match” really be coincidence? Or… engineered?

Song Yu’s voice cracked cold: “Say what you need. Once.”

203 hugged his knees, trembling. “If I tell you everything… can you let me go?”

But a second later, he wilted. “…But even if I left, I’d have nowhere. At least here, I’m fed and not injected with drugs.”

“If you’re truly just a victim, we’ll release you,” Rong Shi said softly. “But your body is now altered. You can’t walk free—not entirely. Only live within designated zones.”

“…Designated zones?” 203 whispered.

“Remote planets. Quiet.”

A spark lit in his eyes—hope. “…Alright. I’ll talk.”

So he told them. His story spilled raw and ragged:

Raised in the Organization’s compound, taught daily how to weaponize pheromones, told that omegas were the strongest sex destined to “liberate” their kind by dedicating everything…

He saw classmates disappear—never return. He suffered invasive experiments, drug injections, and forced induced heats. He cut his own gland in desperation. Re‑modified, downgraded from A to D to E. Forgotten, but alive.

“So that’s it,” he ended, shuddering, tears unfallen. “When I ran the fifth time, I met you.”

Song Yu snapped: “Draw it. Every detail—the buildings, the place, any memory.”

Panic, hope, tools in trembling hands. 203 began sketching.

But Rong Shi’s expression darkened. Fallen snow… that planet… memories throbbed.

Before he could settle, a guard ran in breathless: “Report! Ji Ming’s laboratory is locked tight. No sign of him anywhere in his tracking logs.”

Song Yu’s face iced. “Keep watching. Don’t stop.”

“Yes, sir!”

---

By night, the two sat cross‑legged in their living room, searching star maps for snowy worlds.

“…Over 1,300 planets, hundreds of thousands of sectors,” Song Yu groaned, rubbing his brow.

Rong Shi stared at the swirling white planet on screen. “If he sketches something useful, we’ll narrow it.”

Song Yu leaned over, pressing warm against him. His forehead flushed. “Bunny, are you alright? Since the cell, you’ve seemed off.”

“I’m fine. Your pheromones keep me steady.”

“…Really? Want me to bite once more, reinforce it?”

“….” Rong Shi.

---

The next day, Song Yu kicked Qin Luo awake.

“Deployment?”

Bleary-eyed and fish‑like, Qin Luo muttered: “Dad already moved. By now, Lin Feng’s probably blowing a gasket.”

__

Military HQ—

“Suspended indefinitely? My promotion?!” Lin Feng roared, slamming the desk. “Qin family again?!”

The report was devastating. Charges submitted accusing his branch of corruption, bribery, and treason. Every branch member suspended for investigation.

He reeled, slumping into his chair—jaw tight with panic.

__

Elsewhere, Rong Shi visited the Academy’s kindergarten wing with fresh pastries.

From afar, he spotted toddlers doing calisthenics. One round face stood out—Mian Mian, earnest and serious. Beside him, Cola puffed cheeks, bored.

When class ended, Cola lit up. “Gege! You came!”

Kneeling, Rong Shi patted Mian Mian’s head. “Didn’t trip this time. Improvement.”

“I practice daily,” Mian Mian beamed.

The gym teacher rushed over, starstruck. “Please sign—my child’s your fan.”

Rong Shi: “……” Fan?

He signed. The teacher left glowing.

Carrying both kids, he passed jealous little classmates yelling they wanted hugs too! One proudly blurted: “That’s Mian Mian’s brother! He’s so strong! He’s actually a bear in disguise!”

“Wowww!” chorused the tots.

“….” Rong Shi. Do I look that bulky?

At the dorm, he set pastries on the sofa. Red sugar rice cakes, packed with dried fruit and nuts.

The kids devoured them with delight.

Mian Mian shyly offered a piece to Rong Shi. “Ge, you eat too.”

Rong Shi ate from his hand and smiled. “Mine aren’t half as good as yours.”

Mian Mian lit up. “I studied hard to make them!”

But suddenly, his smile froze. His heart pounded wildly. Something was off. Rong Shi’s words, his tone, his gaze—

“Ge… you too?” Mian Mian whispered.

Rong Shi flicked his forehead. “Call me gege.”

Covering his brows, Mian Mian flushed. Cola rushed to his side, rubbing, scolding: “Bad brother, don’t hit him! Hit me instead!”

“….” Rong Shi.

“Transfer’s done? You’re back here for good?”

“Yeah,” Mian Mian nodded.

Silence stretched. Memories flashed—his razor‑sharp suspicion: rebirth. Both he and Mian Mian. Linked somehow.

Finally, his voice rasped tense: “About the Organization… What do you know?”

---

Author’s Note:

Little Bunny Rong: My only vest left—and my brother yanks it straight off. He’s my real brother! QuQ [shivering in the wind]

Big Bunny Rong: Call me gege. #

Little Bunny Rong: …

I’m amazing—I actually wrote six thousand words today! [hands on hips]