Chi Yao pulled out the seat across from him and sat down: “Do you have—” an illness.

Jing Xi looked at him: “Hmm?”

The words that were about to come out were swallowed back. Chi Yao changed his question: “There’s a lead on that yaoyao.”

He found out?

Jing Xi’s heart skipped a beat. After a moment of panic, he quickly calmed down: “What lead?”

If Chi Yao knew that person was him, he definitely wouldn’t be this calm.

Seeing his evasive gaze, Chi Yao became more certain of his suspicion.

This guy really refuses to face reality.

“My people found an omega youth in the Ursa Minor constellation. I heard he went there to live when he was four or five years old. His background and experiences are similar to what your yaoyao told you, and he’s also very beautiful.” Chi Yao propped his chin, speaking slowly.

Jing Xi: “…And?”

Chi Yao observed his expression while making things up: “He’s truly stunning, the village flower. Before he even turned eighteen, his family’s doorstep was trampled flat by alphas proposing marriage—”

Jing Xi: “…He is indeed very beautiful.”

Chi Yao nodded and sighed: “Under such circumstances, as soon as he reached the legal marriage age of eighteen, he married the village grass.”

Jing Xi: “…”

Chi Yao shook his head: “Marriage aside, he also had three children in two years. He’s especially fertile. After all these years, his kids could form a soccer team.”

Jing Xi: “Yaoyao is especially fertile?”

Chi Yao nodded: “Especially fertile.”

Jing Xi raised an eyebrow: “Then his body is certainly in good shape.”

Chi Yao: “Wrong. It means he and his husband love each other very much.”

Jing Xi: “So?”

Chi Yao looked directly into his eyes: “He’s living happily. Don’t go disturbing his life.”

So that’s what this is about.

Jing Xi’s eyes flickered, his expression serious: “What if he’s not happy?”

Chi Yao: “That’s still his life, it has nothing to do with you.”

“Nothing to do with me?”

Jing Xi’s expression turned cold.

He suddenly remembered what happened that night in front of Building 10.

Whether talking about his own matters or others’, Chi Yao’s words all conveyed one meaning—don’t reminisce about the past, mind your own business about others’ affairs.

He seemed to be the unnecessary one.

Jing Xi’s mind was in chaos. He wanted to return to his room to calm down.

Just as he stood up, his wrist was grabbed.

“What, unhappy now?” Chi Yao smiled casually. “There’s a ready-made yaoyao right in front of you. I’m happy to be a substitute.”

Jing Xi tilted his head slightly, looking down at him: “Substitute?”

Chi Yao: “We each get what we need. Isn’t that great?”

Jing Xi: “Each get what we need?”

Chi Yao explained with a serious expression: “I want your photos, you want my—care?”

Jing Xi: “…”

The air suddenly froze. Chi Yao thought this approach wouldn’t work, but then saw the other person nod.

“Fine.”

Chi Yao’s eyes widened slightly.

He actually agreed?!

Jing Xi pulled his hand free and turned toward the bedroom.

“Come tell me a bedtime story.”

Chi Yao: “…”

Jing Xi: “Yaoyao used to tell me one every time before bed. You’re a qualified substitute, right?”

Chi Yao: “…”

A recycling robot floated wobbling in front of him, a line of red text on its face.

“You’re a qualified substitute, right? Hurry up and tell the master a story.”

Chi Yao: “…”

The mute function can’t cure you?

He flicked Xiao Hong out, walking into the bedroom without looking back: “Teach him how to be a qualified AI.”

Five minutes later, Chi Yao deeply regretted his momentary soft-heartedness.

He didn’t need to work for photos at all. Jing Xi could never repay what he owed him.

Jing Xi lay flat, urging: “Haven’t chosen which one to tell yet?”

Chi Yao: “Given your poor credit history, this service requires advance payment.”

Jing Xi’s gaze shifted over: “I’m right here in front of you, take whatever photos you want.”

Chi Yao: “I want the originals.”

Jing Xi: “…”

He beckoned: “Give me your hand.”

Chi Yao obediently extended his hand.

Seeing him open his terminal, Chi Yao said lazily: “I already searched your terminal. Besides ID photos, there are no other pictures.”

Jing Xi, who was about to give him an ID photo: “…Turn your head away.”

Chi Yao frowned impatiently but still obediently turned away: “Even if it’s a nude photo, it’s not like I haven’t seen one before. Stingy.”

Jing Xi switched to the cloud, quickly logged into his account, searched through a pile of folders, found one and opened it.

“Sent it to you.” He casually closed the page.

Chi Yao grabbed his hand, opened his own terminal, swiped his finger, and projected the photo into the air.

The moment he saw the photo, Chi Yao’s breath caught, and something seemed to flash quickly through his mind.

The photo appeared to be taken in a children’s activity room. A chubby little cherub with a small ponytail, bare fat feet, sat on a cushion with a picture book spread in front of him, looking across and smiling to reveal small, white, neat baby teeth.

That yaoyao must have been in the direction the little dumpling was looking.

Jing Xi observed his expression, saying calmly: “How is it?”

Chi Yao came back to his senses, teasing: “Has an omega face but differentiated into an alpha. What a waste.”

Jing Xi: “…Anything else?”

Chi Yao: “I don’t like blowing smoke.”

Jing Xi: “…”

He turned over, saying coldly: “Payment received. Begin service.”

Chi Yao: “…”

“Once upon a time there was a wolf who always thought he was a dog—”

Listening to his own voice telling a story, he couldn’t sleep at all.

Jing Xi wasn’t sleepy to begin with, and now he was even more awake.

Halfway through the story, the sound behind him stopped. He turned to look and saw that substitute Yaoyao had successfully put himself to sleep.

Jing Xi: “…”

He carefully pulled the blanket over to cover him.

Chi Yao knew he must have fallen asleep.

Because Xiao Xixi in the photo was actually smiling at him.

“Yaoyao, which wolf do you want to be?” Xiao Xixi pointed at the picture book and asked.

The perspective moved quickly, soon arriving beside him.

The content on the page was clearly displayed before his eyes.

This was a popular science picture book about mutant wolves. The open page introduced the fifth-level mutant species commonly called the White-Furred Wolf King—the Silver Emperor—and the fifth-level mutant species of the Night Moon Wolf—the Red-Eyed Howling Sky Wolf.

“Yaoyao?”

The little bun looked over. Being so close, it seemed he could smell the milky scent on his body, along with a hint of sourness.

Chi Yao: “…”

Why does even a dream have to be dominated by sourness?

The scene changed, and a wooden corridor appeared before his eyes.

Chi Yao had been to this place not long ago—it was the Jing family home.

Xiao Xixi might have just woken up. Holding a picture book, rubbing his eyes, he walked forward.

“Is there any possibility the child got off the ship midway?!”

A man’s voice came from a room at the end of the corridor.

Chi Yao guessed it should be Jing Rong, twenty years younger. His voice hadn’t changed much.

“I don’t believe it! Find the black box, the space station boarding records, all nearby satellite surveillance—pull everything! I want all records related to this incident!…How can I stay calm when the child is gone?! I said long ago that the Jing family can afford to raise one more child! You were the ones who insisted on sending him back to his maternal grandparents! If he really died, you’re all responsible!”

The perspective lingered outside the door for a long time. Chi Yao listened with furrowed brows.

The child was sent away without Jing Rong’s consent?

Why did the child have to be sent to maternal grandparents so far from the Capital Star?

What happened to his parents? What about his paternal grandparents?

“Yaoyao is so smart, he won’t die.”

Hearing this childish voice, Chi Yao snapped back to attention and examined Xiao Xixi’s expression.

But after observing for a long time, apart from distress and irritation, there wasn’t a trace of sadness.

Xiao Xixi turned and walked back, muttering quietly: “The Wolf King won’t die so easily.”

Chi Yao: “…”

You’re overly confident in your childhood friend, little one.

Everything before his eyes suddenly began to fall apart. Xiao Xixi walked into white light and could no longer be seen.

“Xixi!” Chi Yao’s eyes flew open to find himself lying on the bed, and Jing Xi had already left at some point.

His forehead was cold. He raised his hand to wipe it—it was covered in sweat.

He hadn’t noticed in the dream, but now thinking back, everything seemed off.

When looking at the book, he’d clearly been in second-person perspective, but later he became first-person.

Could the part about hearing of his childhood friend’s death be Jing Xi’s own memory?

Unable to figure it out, Chi Yao simply stopped thinking about it and got up to leave the bedroom.

As soon as he opened the door, his steps halted.

Two recycling robots were giving each other dustpans and brooms, fighting with sparks flying everywhere. They’d dismantled half the small living room.

Chi Yao: “…”

He turned his wrist, swiped his finger, and the two AIs behaved.

Chi Yao: “Where did he go?”

The recycling robot on the left raised its dustpan, emitting a mechanical voice: “He went to the cockpit.”

The red line on the right recycling robot’s face became distorted.

“That was my line!”

Without another word, the two started fighting again.

Chi Yao couldn’t be bothered and walked out with his hands in his pockets.

There was less than half an hour until they reached N110’s airspace.

When Chi Yao entered, Jing Xi was having Fang Liang search for any abnormal situations nearby.

“What kind of abnormal situations?”

Jing Xi: “Things like space pirates robbing people.”

Chi Yao: “You want to fish in troubled waters?”

Jing Xi’s eyes flickered. He nodded.

Talking with Chi Yao was most convenient—he always knew what he was thinking.

A moment later, Fang Liang exclaimed excitedly: “There really is something!”

Chi Yao: “Let’s go join the excitement.”

He leaned against the console, checking the surveillance footage.

About an hour’s journey from N110, at Space Station No. 11 in the Cetus constellation, an unknown organization was conducting an illegal invasion.

Although this space station ranked high, the surrounding area mostly consisted of barren planets, privately purchased planets, and various research bases with low population, resulting in very low station traffic.

Fang Liang glanced sideways at Jing Xi standing beside him, somewhat puzzled.

Has this young general taken the wrong medicine? Why does he feel strange?

Jing Xi returned and handed a bag to Chi Yao: “Put this on.”

Chi Yao glanced at it without taking it: “What is it?”

Jing Xi: “Disguise.”

A moment later, Chi Yao zipped up his jacket and put on a baseball cap.

The brim covered most of his face, and he wore a mask below, leaving only his eyes exposed.

Click.

Chi Yao’s hand adjusting his collar paused. He turned to look over—someone was secretly photographing him.

“You have a habit of secretly photographing yourself too?”

Jing Xi flipped through the photos he’d taken, saying flatly: “Payment for next time.”

Chi Yao: “…”

Space Station No. 11 was surrounded by one large battleship and two medium battleships. The battleships didn’t emit any identifying wavelengths, only displaying on their hulls an image of a bald uncle smoking a cigar.

“So it’s them—” Chi Yao said in a low voice.

Jing Xi looked at the logo, confirming it was one he didn’t recognize.

Up to now, he’d spent half his entire career dealing with Extreme Shadow, so he didn’t know as much about other pirate groups as other military officers.

Chi Yao patted Fang Liang’s shoulder, pointing at the surveillance screen: “Cut in through docking port No. 3. Don’t get too close to these idiots—they might suddenly fire a shot at us.”

Fang Liang glanced at his own boss. Seeing him say nothing, he steeled himself and complied.

Jing Xi put on his mask: “Leave immediately after we go out. Don’t linger here.”

Fang Liang: “Okay.”

The ship forcibly docked. The hatch opened, and Jing Xi walked quickly forward, pressing several times on the sensor. The space station’s hatch opened in response.

The two strode in with their long legs, entering in a few steps.

As soon as they got inside, they immediately heard shrill screams and chaotic footsteps.

Just as they walked out of the passage, a male beta in his fifties, leaning on a pure gold cane, blocked their path.

Chi Yao’s gaze moved from the cigar in his hand to the reflective scalp on top of his head.

“Two more little fish here. Take them down.” The middle-aged beta raised one corner of his mouth at them. “If you want to keep your lives, scrape together a million within 10 minutes. One finger chopped off for every extra minute.”

“A million?” Chi Yao sneered.

Wearing a mask and baseball cap, the male beta couldn’t see his expression.

“Yes, one mill—ugh!”

Before he could finish, a punch to the face sent him flying two meters away.

Chi Yao rubbed his wrist, walking over unhurriedly: “You dare rob your grandpa?”