Jing Xi flicked his eyes over.

It was a face he didn’t recognize—
but the infuriating smirk and that voice, all too familiar.

“You’ve got the wrong person,” he said coolly, withdrawing his gaze, eyes back on the newsfeed.

Chi Yao tugged off his baseball cap and tossed it onto the table. “The stench of liquor rolling off you is enough to intoxicate me, and you’re still playing dumb?”

Jing Xi frowned slightly, instinctively drawing in a breath.

No scent.

His heat was long past—pheromones couldn’t just leak into the air unchecked.

“You followed me here?” his tone turned like ice.

Chi Yao sneered, “With that thirty‑six cents in your account? My Iron Bear wouldn’t even bend down for it. Worth me tailing you? Please.”

Jing Xi: “…”

Chi Yao leaned back in the seat, dragging his voice out slow. “I just wrangled Cetus for you, and barely a breath later you’re here inspecting it yourself? Major General, so professional.”

Jing Xi flipped through the news feed without looking up. “Thanks to you, I’m on an extended holiday.”

Chi Yao: “And how will you thank me?”

Jing Xi: “A prison suite with iron bars?”

Chi Yao: “…”

---

A day later, the starship docked at Cetus’s Tenth Station.

Chi Yao slung his pack over his shoulder as his cabin door slid open—right across from Jing Xi’s.

Two unfamiliar faces met, indifferent. They exited without a word.

Half an hour later, boarding the same flight to N9, they ended up in the same cabin.

Chi Yao: “…”
Jing Xi: “…”

This was fate’s cruel joke.

Chi Yao’s terminal buzzed with report after report. He replied, then glanced over.

His opposite sat like a mannequin—silent for hours. That mask of a face lopped off ninety percent of the beauty. The lingering ten sat entirely in his eyes.

With this face, Chi Yao thought darkly, he might’ve crushed him to death the first moment they met.

He almost missed his enemy’s devastating looks.

Flicking open his album, he projected some of the stolen selfies.

Crack crack crack—the sound of joints grinding.

“Put it away,” Jing Xi ordered coldly.

“What, looking at beauty’s a crime now?”

“Switch it private.”

“They’re not shameful shots. Why hide them?”

“Then go to your room to look.”

Chi Yao chuckled. “You don’t seriously think I’ll be doing something indecent to photos, do you? Anyway, it’s just us here. Even if I did—why bother with a room?”

“Put—”

“Oh, you’re going to call me dissolute again? How about I prove it?” He set his hand on his belt buckle like he might open it then and there.

Jing Xi scowled.

That message from days ago floated back: love you o~.

Once he had dismissed this man as warped, decadent, drowning in lovers and bedpartners.

Now he added another row of damning tags: reckless AO, utterly amoral, pure scum.

Expression tight, Jing Xi rose and left for his room.

The door slammed with a bang, muting Chi Yao’s unrestrained laugh spilling through the crack.

So childish.

So relieving. He laughed until his stomach ached, then tapped into the photo’s note file and added:

[Amusing to tease.]

---

When the shuttle descended, Chi Yao lingered deliberately at the exit to glimpse Jing Xi’s paperwork.

[Name: Xi Jingjing. Beta.]

“…,” Chi Yao hummed, amused.

Outside the terminal, he slipped into a hired hovercar, rolling down the window and smiling to the man behind.
“Need a lift, Jingjing?”

Jing Xi’s cold face flickered, his words biting: “No need, Yaoyao.”

The last syllables bitten hard.

Chi Yao only smirked, raising the window as his car shot off.

Moments later, Jing Xi opened his terminal. A blue dot tracked on the screen—moving. His satellite tracker hidden on Chi Yao’s device.

Already paying off.

Chi Yao’s car streaked toward the luxury quarter. He smirked at his wrist‑screen.
“Didn’t want my invite, but you’ll stalk instead? Playing coy?”

He snapped his fingers and summoned the AI. “Dial N90011.”

A black screen flickered alive, a deep male voice sounding: “Boss.”

Chi Yao’s eyes stayed on the road. “Tail the hovercar marked ASW3212N. Report any movements.”

“Understood.”

“And 013?”

“He’s… top billing at the Lure Club,” the voice said grudgingly.

Chi Yao: “…”

“He’s earning plenty. Brags in the group every day,” it added sourly.

Chi Yao: “……”

---

By evening, Chi Yao had swapped into a sharp suit, standing at the Lure Club’s grand doors.

On N9, such clubs were as common as casinos.

Inside, he flashed the black card borrowed from a subordinate. Automated scans beeped; a bowing attendant hurried to guide him.

“Send Yu Yi.”

“At once.”

As he entered the elevator, the attendant whispered into her earpiece:

“Black‑card guest requested Feather Wing. Prepare him through the VIP channel.”

“But he’s with another patron—”

“This is a black‑card guest!”

“—Understood! Sending them now.”

By the time Chi Yao reached the eight‑floor lobby, Yu Yi already waited: dolled up, face exquisite, a tiny beauty mark by his left eye making him dangerously alluring.

Tall for an omega; shoulder height came to Chi Yao’s nose.

“Gege, first time at Lure Club? I’m your little Feather Wing~” Yu Yi cooed, wrapping his arm around Chi Yao’s. “What should I call you?”

Chi Yao shoved one hand in his pocket, walking in calmly with Yu Yi clinging. “Surname Chi. Given name—Yaoyao.”

The omega froze mid‑step. His knees buckled.

Chi Yao caught his waist, looking down with mockery. “I haven’t even done anything, and you’re weak at the knees already?”

Yu Yi: …this man was a veteran.

The attendant ushered them into a lavish suite, whispering nervously, “Feather Wing only offers companionship. If you require, we can arrange someone else for other services.”

With an arm around Yu Yi’s waist, Chi Yao waved him off. “Save it. Nothing else interests me.”

The door shut.

Lights dim and heavy.

Yu Yi began, “Boss—”

“Little Wolf Head,” Chi Yao interrupted.

[Online.]

The AI answered as the suite lights blinked, cameras dying.

Eyes wide, Yu Yi gasped. “Even that lamp was AI‑linked?!”

Chi Yao dropped onto the couch, sighing at how uncomfortably soft it was compared to his enemy’s.

“Still as clumsy as ever,” he muttered.

The young omega pouted but obediently stood, listening.

“Last request to the Old Man—what’s the result?” Chi Yao asked.

“Intel says ten casinos demanded level‑four ore recently. Only one is making transactions now.”

“Accurate?”

“Very. One of my patrons won big, cashed his chips for ore. He told me personally.”

Casino ore. Underground deals. Risky. Profitable.

“Which casino?”

“Juhao.”

---

On the eighth floor’s main hall, music pounded, shadows writhing under garish lights.

At the bar, Jing Xi scanned calmly across the crowd—saw nothing suspicious.

“Alone?” a voice asked.

He turned. A flashy beta in diamond‑studded shirt cuffs and a limited‑edition watch sat beside him, dripping wealth.

The man ordered him a vodka.
“Where’s your companion?”

Jing Xi’s pale hand hovered over the glass.
“Gone. Bored of them.”

The beta smirked knowingly. “Tire of one? Replace.”

Jing Xi tapped the rim of his glass slowly. “I’d prefer a… riskier gamble. Heard Juhao has the best.”

The spotlight glinted on crystal, casting dance of light across his long, white fingers.

The beta’s gaze locked there helplessly. “…Gambling’s gambling. What difference?”

“I prefer excitement,” Jing Xi said softly. “My friend couldn’t bring me. You have a way in?”

Underground casinos barred newcomers unless escorted. Jing Xi needed inside to track his lead.

The beta’s eyes glazed. “I… no. Can’t afford Juhao membership. Clothes are rentals.”

Jing Xi: “…”

Before he could probe further, a familiar face distracted him—Chi Yao, disguised, arm around a courtesan, laughing like sin itself.

Crack.

The sound snapped the beta out of daze. Confused—why couldn’t he recall the last few minutes? Had he been drugged? He bristled in suspicion, but Jing Xi was already walking away.

He tried to block him. “What did you do to me?!”

Jing Xi set down his glass with quiet finality. “Your drink’s on me.”

Then crack!—the glass in his hand shattered into shards under his fingers.

The beta’s Adam’s apple bobbed in terror. Did he just crush it barehanded?!

The bartender gasped, “Sir, broken glass must be compensated!”

When Jing Xi ignored him, he called security.

Armed enforcers with shock batons closed in. “You’re breaking rules here, kid. Don’t think you’re walking out!”

Then— “What’s happening?”

Chi Yao approached with Yu Yi still at his side.

The bartender rushed to explain. “This guest wanted brought into Juhao. When refused, he smashed my glass! I—I can’t pay for it!”

Chi Yao’s eyes flicked across the shards. He smiled faintly. Not for that reason, surely. Still, his mood lifted.

The Major General, three‑and‑a‑half credits to his name, treating a glass like priceless treasure.

“I’ll pay for it,” Chi Yao said lazily.

“It’s not about money—” security began.

“Enough.” Yu Yi cut him off sharply. “Have some sense. Do you want to offend a patron?”

Security paled. Yu Yi was the club’s crown jewel. Upsetting his guest spelled ruin. They bowed and scattered.

Chi Yao slung an arm over Jing Xi’s shoulder, teasing. “Come now, don’t sulk. I’ll buy you a drink.”

Jing Xi caught his wrist coldly, eyes flashing. The same arm that had been around an omega, now daring to touch him?

Watching, Yu Yi’s gossiping instincts blazed.

Wait wait wait—his boss’s demeanor toward this one was very different.

“Boss, this gentleman is…?” he couldn’t resist asking.

Chi Yao met Jing Xi’s cutting glare and smiled with reckless ease.

“My brother,” he said.

Then, grinning wider: “The kind of brother who knows his body very, very well.”

Yu Yi: “!!!”

Holy shit. Had he just stumbled onto something monumental?!