“Ji Ling, 40 years old, Omega, eldest son of the aristocratic Ji family. I’ve combined all databases, and this is all the information available.”

01’s voice brought Rong Shi back to attention.

After marrying into the royal family, personal information would be elevated to top-secret, making it difficult to access without hacking the central intelligent system.

Rong Shi: “What about his siblings?”

“He has a younger sister who married into the Tianxi Constellation and has very little contact with the family.”

Seeing Rong Shi’s grave expression, Song Yu looked up at the photo on the virtual screen, then distastefully shifted his gaze.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Rong Shi’s thoughts were a mess, unsure how to explain.

“There might be big trouble.”

It was the first time Song Yu had seen Rong Shi so serious. He held Rong Shi’s hand, asking softly, “Is there anything I can help with?”

The hand in his palm was dry and warm. Rong Shi gripped it back, thinking of the posthumous portrait of the Persian cat, his eyes turning cold.

“Was he not good to you?”

Rong Shi had no interest in or understanding of the royal family. In the past, Little Cat most often spoke of how good his father was to him, but the father he spoke of shouldn’t be Ji Ling.

“I’m a stumbling block to his son ascending the throne, how could he be good to me?” Song Yu sat down next to Rong Shi, dragging his voice sarcastically, “He’s tried to assassinate me countless times every year. The only reason I’m alive now is pure belief.”

Rong Shi turned to look at him: “Belief in sitting on the throne?”

Song Yu smirked: “Belief in finding Bunny.”

The vexation in his heart dissipated considerably with that smile. Rong Shi’s expression softened slightly, and he tentatively asked, “Does he know your virtual image is a Persian cat?”

Song Yu nodded: “I think he knows.”

At some thought, the smile on his face faded.

“My father really loved Persian cats. He used to have one, but unfortunately, it was found dead in the backyard one day, its eyes gouged out.”

Thinking of his childhood, Song Yu’s brow furrowed slightly, then he nonchalantly relaxed it, feigning indifference.

“To cheer Dad up, I created an identical Persian cat image in Star Wars. Dad loved it, played Star Wars with me every day, and even showed off to people, saying his son spoiled him.”

At this point, Song Yu couldn’t help but smile.

“This wasn’t kept a secret at the time, but later, Dad—” Song Yu paused, then continued, “Not many people know about it now, but it’s easy to find out if you really want to.”

So that’s where Little Song Cat’s image came from.

Seeing his crestfallen expression, Rong Shi held his hand and kissed it.

“So, originally, besides those in the palace, only those close to your father knew about your virtual image?”

It couldn’t be a coincidence that Ji Ling was there, holding a sketch of a Persian cat that had died years ago.

The innuendo was too obvious, but what puzzled Rong Shi was whether He Nian and the Omega Rights Protection Organization were connected to him.

How did He Nian investigate Little Cat and his affairs so thoroughly? Was Ji Ling involved?

Song Yu nodded: “Father’s social circle was very small. Only the Qin family visited.”

“Only the Qin family?” Rong Shi felt something was off, “The Qian family didn’t visit?”

“The Qian family?” Song Yu frowned in recollection, then shook his head, “I don’t remember.”

Rong Shi got up, rummaged through his backpack for the box Qian Xun had given him, and handed it over.

Inside were some old film negatives. The topmost one showed two children playing in the sand. Song Yu picked it up and examined it.

Rong Shi: “I vaguely remember my father saying your dad would come to pick you up soon when he brought me back, which means your dad and the Qian family did visit each other.”

Not only did they visit, but their relationship was also very good, otherwise he wouldn’t have brought his young son there and left him alone, seemingly very at ease with the environment of the Qian family.

“But regardless of whether your father and the Qian family—”

“Damn it!”

Rong Shi was halfway through his sentence when Song Yu suddenly cursed.

He shoved the photo in front of Rong Shi’s face, a fierce smile on his lips: “I knew it looked familiar. Don’t you have anything to tell me, gege?”

Rong Shi: “…”

That “gege” made his back sweat.

Song Yu moved closer, and Rong Shi retreated, ending up pinned on the sofa.

“The beautiful big brother didn’t come the next day, do you know how long I was sad for?” Song Yu smiled through gritted teeth, “That night, I waited by father’s study door until midnight! I just wanted to tell him I wanted to marry you and make you queen. I finally convinced him to agree, but you never appeared again!”

Rong Shi’s mind automatically conjured the image of a small child squatting by the door, drowsily waiting with longing eyes.

Too cute; can’t dwell on it.

Any more thought, and he’d burst out laughing.

Laughing now would surely earn him a beating. Rong Shi tried hard to suppress the corner of his mouth, speaking expressionlessly: “I didn’t know Father had arranged to leave that day.”

Song Yu scoffed: “Childhood promises really are the cheapest.”

He was too adorable when he got ruffled and sarcastic.

Rong Shi stroked his soft hair, pulled him closer, and kissed him.

“I won’t break my promise next time.”

When he walked out of the room, Rong Shi still felt uneasy and couldn’t help but ask, “Did you really talk to your father about marriage?”

Song Yu was less than three years old at the time, stumbling over his words. He highly suspected this memory was artistically embellished by Song Little Milk Cat.

His thumb brushed the hickey on his neck, and Song Yu pulled his collar tighter.

“I did.”

Rong Shi: “How did he agree?”

“He said—” Song Yu buttoned up his shirt, stifling a laugh, “Baby, Father really doesn’t understand. As long as you go to sleep obediently, you can have anything you want.”

Rong Shi: “…”

On the return ship, Rong Shi listened to the data retrieved by 01, and the premonition of something big about to happen surged again.

The Ji family was just an ordinary noble family, their status quite common. All of Ji Ling’s generation were females, their family tree was complete, and no major genetic centers had handled commissioned surrogacies for them.

From this situation, it seemed that Father had no connection with the Ji family, nor could he be a long-lost child of the Ji family.

[Do you want to compare their DNA?]

“Yes, but not now.” Rong Shi looked out the window, recalling some distant memories.

Father had no parents, and his own father rarely mentioned them. The photo in his personal file was processed, all information fabricated, and even the data in the genetic bank was inaccurate.

Rong Shi used to think his father was an orphan and an unregistered resident, needing to fabricate some personal information to register smoothly.

But thinking about it carefully now, this matter was full of holes.

Who exactly was Father? Did his own father know his identity? What was his relationship with Queen Ji Ling?

What was going on with his and Mianmian’s illness? Was it related to the Super Omega Organization?

Was his father’s return to his hometown to be stationed after leaving Capital Star related to his identity?

Rong Shi vaguely felt he had found a door, but the door was locked tight, and without the crucial key, it wouldn’t open.

The more he thought, the more agitated he became. He got up to find Song Yu.

In the bathroom, Song Yu stood under the shower, rinsing off soap. Hearing footsteps behind him, he was about to turn around when he was embraced from behind.

“I’m almost done, you can use it.”

“I don’t need it.” Rong Shi held him, his gaze falling on the lingering tooth mark on the back of his neck, “You’re enough.”

Song Yu was about to speak when suddenly the back of his neck warmed.

“Hey, I’m not done washing yet.”

The water from the shower quickly soaked Rong Shi’s clothes, but he completely ignored it.

“You wash, I’ll ‘suck’.”

Song Yu: “…” Suck?

His shower was interrupted halfway through. He turned around, ready to have a “talk about life” with a certain clingy bunny.

Song Yu smiled: “Finally completely captivated by me?”

Rong Shi looked at the impossibly beautiful face before him, and something suddenly flashed in his mind.

“Experience!”

Song Yu’s nose had just brushed his face, about to kiss: “?”

“Wash faster, don’t get a fever again.”

Rong Shi let go of him and hurried away.

Song Yu, left behind: “…”

Are you only satisfied if you get your own pleasure?

After “sucking” the cat, Rong Shi took off his wet jacket, and his knotted thoughts became a little clearer.

To find out his father’s identity, perhaps he could start by examining his father’s past experiences.

In the evening, the two ate dinner and walked back.

Song Yu smiled coldly: “Do you know how those unromantic people die?”

Rong Shi: “…”

Indeed, it was inconsiderate to tease and then run.

Rong Shi touched the back of his hand, attempting to appease him, but the other person quickly pulled it back.

His wife wouldn’t let him touch him anymore.

Entering the cabin aisle, a cabin door ahead suddenly opened, and a beta in a guard uniform stepped out, his military cap pulled low, obscuring his face.

Rong Shi’s peripheral vision caught sight of him, and he subtly raised his eyelids to look at Song Yu.

Their gazes briefly met, and the beta was already walking towards them.

The moment they brushed past each other, the beta suddenly raised his hand!

A cold glint flashed in his palm.

Song Yu immediately seized the beta’s wrist, while simultaneously shifting his body to avoid the dagger.

Almost at the same time, Rong Shi grabbed the back of the beta’s neck, twisted his attacking arm behind his back, and led him two steps into the cabin.

[AI minion hijacked.]

Everything happened in a mere second.

Rong Shi slammed the beta violently against the wall, placing the dagger against his neck.

“Who sent you? You only get one chance. Think carefully before you answer.”

The beta pressed against the wall, lowering his eyes: “It, it’s the second prince—ugh!”

As soon as the last word left his mouth, he suddenly exerted force, gripping Rong Shi’s wrist and pushing outwards. Another dagger popped out from his other hand, stabbing towards Rong Shi’s face.

Rong Shi easily caught it, squeezed his neck, and applied force.

“Crack!”

Bones fractured.

By the time Song Yu entered, the beta had already fallen to the ground.

“Dead?”

Rong Shi: “Yes.”

He crouched down, examining the beta’s right arm through his clothes.

Song Yu crouched beside him, seeing nothing unusual.

“How did you know he was off?”

“Posture.” Rong Shi turned the arm, observing the calluses on the tiger’s mouth and finger joints. “Assassins and guards have significant differences in their details; it’s a subconscious action caused by long-term training.”

Song Yu recalled the recent events, finding nothing amiss.

Rong Shi put the beta’s hand back: “He’s a soldier trained by a regular system; we can’t rule out the military’s assassination unit.”

You could tell that? Song Yu was startled: “Is there anything you don’t understand?”

“It’s easy; I’ll teach you slowly later.” Rong Shi pulled him up, “He might make another move next, stay close to me, don’t run off.”

“He?” Song Yu raised an eyebrow, “Ji Ling?”

Rong Shi: “Yes.”

That posthumous Persian cat portrait and today’s level of assassination were a public declaration of war and provocation against him, clearly telling him—”I’m going to kill Song Yu, and no one can stop me. If you know what’s good for you, get out of the way.”

The spaceship landed on Academia Star, and the military academy’s principal and several grade deans personally came to greet them.

Rong Shi fastened Song Yu’s tactical belt, then casually buttoned his shirt all the way up.

Song Yu frowned, swatting his hand away: “It’s too tight.”

Sensing his strong displeasure, Rong Shi reluctantly took a step back.

“I’ll allow you to unbutton one.”

“The shirt’s on me, do I need your permission?” Song Yu scoffed, defiantly unbuttoning two, and walked off elegantly.

Rong Shi: “…”

Little Cat was good in every way, just too rebellious.

Qian Fan watched Rong Shi approach with a beaming smile, wishing he could pick up his precious student and hoist him high if his strength allowed.

This league, he really showed what he was made of!

“Your performance was pretty good.”

In front of everyone, Qian Fan couldn’t praise him too much, fearing Rong Shi would become arrogant.

He put on a stern face: “For you, it was just normal performance, so-so.”

The deans of other grades couldn’t help but glance sideways upon hearing this.

“…”

Getting first place is normal performance? And only so-so? That’s quite the humblebrag.

All the good students are being driven away by you, it’s really irritating!

The military academy forum, which had been quiet for a few days, became lively again.

[Morning Light Appears: Full version of the league internal video, comprehensive analysis of Daddy Rong’s answering and combat techniques!]

The post, once refreshed, immediately garnered hundreds of replies—

“Ahhh, I’ve been waiting for so many days, finally!”

“No need to analyze the answering techniques, right? 233333”

“If there wasn’t an answering section, Daddy Rong’s clear time could be reduced by two-thirds.”

“Daddy Rong’s combat posture is amazing!”

“So handsome!! I’m ready again!”

“This kind of individual combat strength can rival Jiang Xingze!”

Qin Luo and others sat in the auditorium, yawning while listening to the principal’s impassioned speech on stage.

“Old Chen, your post was perfectly timed,” Hu Feng scrolled through the replies, laughing, “Chairman Rong becoming a top star, you’re indispensable.”

Chen Chen checked the replies in the post.

“My focus was clearly on technique analysis, but they only saw his face and posture?”

Liu Hong leaned over to glance, and upon seeing a particular comment, his brows furrowed.

“Someone’s already trying to undermine him so quickly?”

Among the myriad of flattering comments in the analysis post, a few critical ones suddenly appeared, standing out noticeably.

“Just lucky. They got the small pickup early, ate and drank their way through half the race. Lu Ming’s team was the one that truly walked the whole way!”

“New recruits and the league all relied on launchers. The poster should analyze the usage of launchers.”

“That’s it? Pretty average, right?”

“It’s only for freshmen. If a second or third-year student got this score, they’d be laughed at.”

“Many people paired up this time. I heard Lu Ming paired with Major General Zhao Ji, and Zhao Wan paired with Major General Lu Youqi. It seems there’s no pairing information for Rong Shi.”

“He rejected several military officers’ recruitment offers before, who would still be willing to pair with him?”

Some questioned, others refuted—

“Saying they just ate and drank is hilarious. They were there to have fun! If you go on vacation and don’t eat or drink, what do you do?”

“Are you serious about him relying entirely on launchers? Launchers are just tools; whether they’re powerful depends entirely on whether the user knows how to use them!”

“Daddy Rong’s wish is to marry a wife and become a civil servant. Marriage is enough; what pairing?”

“Lu Ming, Lu Ming, always Lu Ming. Is Lu Ming your father? Don’t you know how crappy his strength is?”

In less than half an hour of debate, the analysis post quickly became a hot topic, stickied on the homepage.

While the group was vigorously arguing, Qian Fan quietly walked up to their seats from behind.

“Where did Rong Shi go?”

Chen Chen typed rapidly, not even looking up: “He said he gets seasick on spaceships, so he went back to the dorm first.”

Qian Fan: “…”

It proved that praising a lazy person was useless; a lazy person praised to the skies was still a lazy person.

In the dormitory, Rong Shi took a pen and paper and drew out his father’s activity area from two years before his birth.

[19 years ago, a biochemical laboratory on Andromeda V99 had a virus leak, infecting the entire region. The danger level soared to level four. Rong Guang led the rescue mission. After this mission, his military merits were enough for him to be promoted to major general, but he wasn’t.]

Rong Shi had a slight impression of this event.

For some unknown reason, the virus wasn’t well-contained and kept spreading.

V99 gradually became an uninhabited desolate planet because of this.

The artificial atmosphere was removed, cosmic radiation intensified, and with the virus spreading, V99 was designated a Level Four danger zone ten years ago, second only to the highest level.

Rong Shi had participated in a reclamation mission on this planet in his previous life.

Planets where human activity had once occurred had much lower development costs than those that had never been touched.

In his memory, the danger on that planet was far from Level Four, and no virus-related substances had been detected.

“Can you find any information related to that laboratory?”

Song Yu, having finished his communication with Qin Zhuo, walked out of the bedroom and heard Rong Shi talking to thin air, scribbling on paper.

He walked over, hugged Rong Shi from behind, and placed his hand on Rong Shi’s. 01’s voice immediately entered his mind.

[I’ve retrieved all related reports and database information from that year. There’s no very detailed information, I only found an incomplete rescue list.]

Rong Shi: “Open it.”

A virtual screen automatically expanded in mid-air, displaying a list.

Rong Shi quickly scanned it, and under the “refugees” section, there was a roster of rescued medical experts.

His gaze fell on a certain name, unable to move away.

He heard Song Yu’s confused voice.

“Qin Lin? Qian Fan’s partner?”

__

Author’s notes: 

Song Big Cat: Hey, Old Rong, my son spoils me too much! He secretly spent a week creating a cat to cheer me up, truly my good boy, balabala…

Rong Big Bunny: …#[getting increasingly irritable]

An hour later, hanging up—

Rong Big Bunny throws down a drawing: Son, draw a bunny in Star Wars based on my drawing, it has to be exactly the same! Go now!

Rong Bunny, busy with homework, holding a pencil stub: …#[Do I look idle?]