Perhaps because the pheromone chaos was finally soothed, or because the nervous tension of these days had finally relaxed, that night Lance slept deeply for the first time in a long while.
He seemed to fall back into the inescapable nightmare of his childhood, fleeing in panic through that boundless, vast darkness.
But he was too small, his speed too slow. All the figures surpassed him, leaving him behind.
He called out desperately, hoping someone would save him, but those figures didn’t look back. All he heard was the gradually approaching footsteps of a grotesque monster.
He dared not look back, his legs trembling violently, almost unable to take a step.
For some reason, a building appeared before him, ancient and dilapidated. In his panic, he rushed headlong into a unit door, and the monster followed.
Too late… too late!
In desperation, he hugged his arms, tightly closed his eyes, and huddled on the stairs, praying for mercy from fate.
Perhaps the monster would find him and eat him, or perhaps ignore him as if he were dead.
He felt the monster pass by him and heard it knocking on a door.
He helplessly screamed in his heart, don’t open the door, please don’t open the door…
But the door opened.
He heard the family’s screams as they were torn apart and devoured. Sticky blood slowly flowed down the stairs, adhering to his Stitch-patterned sneakers.
The monster turned back to stare at him, contemplating how to eat him. His mind was already on the verge of collapse.
“Dad… Sister…”
But no one could save him, no one could reach this place. This was a hell belonging to him alone, where he would suffer until death.
He hugged himself tightly, like clutching the last piece of driftwood. The monster finally reached out for him, and he saw clearly that horrifying, eerie face.
It was shrouded in black mist, Its form indescribable, a crimson curse ring binding It. It seemed very agitated, very angry.
The scene before Lance’s eyes became a chaotic kaleidoscope of colors, and his spirit was annihilated with it. He heard a void resonance from an unknown place—
“pietas…” (Pity)
“Vos estis nimis infirma…” (You are too weak)
When he opened his eyes again, he was curled up on a floating boat. The dark clouds had swallowed the last bit of light, and all around was a pitch-black, rolling sea.
No shore, no human voices, no hope.
In the endless sound of waves, his eyes were hollow, convulsing uncontrollably.
He couldn’t distinguish whether this was a dream or reality. He couldn’t even lift his arm to row the boat.
Hunger, drowsiness, and exhaustion completely overwhelmed him. He knelt on the boat, crying, his knees bloodied by the rough wood.
He mustered his last bit of strength, put his small hands in the seawater, and paddled desperately. Water splashed into his eyes. He didn’t know how long it would take to reach the shore; he didn’t yet understand how to think about such things.
Until he was finally exhausted, a lightning bolt struck from the sky, the crisscrossing purple light illuminating his contracted pupils.
In that blinding divine punishment, he saw clearly what was beneath him.
It was an inescapable giant mouth of the abyss, with dense, sharp teeth and a blood-red throat of unfathomable depth.
He saw meat hanging on shark teeth, blood spreading on the sea surface, mottled and festering wounds, and the terror of an ancient ruler’s arrival.
His consciousness was tearing apart, his mind collapsing. He knew this bewilderment had no end, his struggles were all delusions. He was willing to give up his soul.
However, at that moment, a pair of hands reached out from the void, gently covering his eyes.
Then, he was held in someone’s arms. He felt human warmth, like the soft pearl in a clam shell. He was no longer alone and helpless.
“Don’t be afraid.” That voice was steady and firm, wiping away the desperate tears on his face.
He couldn’t see clearly and didn’t know how that person had entered this darkness, but it didn’t matter. He just needed someone to rely on.
Lance hugged his knees, curling himself into a small ball and rolling into that person’s embrace, carefully hiding every fingertip.
He was so small, but that person was large. That person enveloped him like a clam shell and kissed his reddish-brown hair.
“I’m with you,” he stroked his sweat-soaked back.
From that day on, during every mental contamination from the Outer God, he could feel that person’s presence. That person couldn’t intervene but was always there.
In his personal hell, there was a beam of light from beyond.
Until one day, he was no longer afraid. He stepped out from his huddled corner and gazed at the abyss before him.
The evening breeze passed through, the flowing mist bringing a hazy deep fragrance. Golden stars filled the vast sky. He heard melodious singing, mending his mottled soul and torn spirit piece by piece.
That person said: “I have to go.”
Lance still couldn’t see him clearly. It was a blurred feeling, or perhaps a fantasy, a split personality, an illusion.
But he still chased after, his steps unceasing, his breath urgent: “Where are you going?”
That person caught his hand, kissed his hair one last time, and whispered in his ear with an affectionate voice: “To see you, thousands upon thousands of times.”
The first ray of morning sunlight filtered through the window lattice, and Lance finally tumbled out of the rolling between dream and reality, suddenly opening his eyes.
His gaze was momentarily stagnant. It had been too long; he no longer remembered that voice, nor was he certain if that person truly existed.
Just then, he heard the faint sound of a conversation.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s just a Boras. Come on, your son is an S-level.”
“Yes, yes, yes… summer vacation… never mind that, how much is the internship salary?”
“I’m planning to buy an 800-square-meter villa, with a 100-square-meter bathroom.”
……
Perhaps because it was the first voice he heard upon waking, in his daze, Lance felt that Zhan Pingchuan’s voice overlapped with the voice in his dream, gradually merging into one.
He didn’t notice that his own gaze was unprecedentedly soft and gentle at this moment.
Zhan Pingchuan stood on the balcony, leaning against the sliding door. His left leg was slightly bent, his right leg straight, one hand in his pocket, leaving a gap of alternating light and shadow between his elbow and supple waist.
The morning light shone on him, casting his tall shadow toward Lance’s fingertips peeking out from under the blanket.
He promptly raised his eyebrows, closed his eyes, tilted his head, and moved the phone away from his ear, allowing Mr. Zhan to rage on the other end.
[800 square meters?! Even your father hasn’t lived in 800 square meters! Are you a hippopotamus, needing a 100-square-meter bathroom?!]
“Mm-hmm…” Zhan Pingchuan responded perfunctorily.
[Still asking about internship salary. I’m too embarrassed to talk about you. You didn’t catch Erdiff, but you managed to kill a Federation government officer!]
“Mm-hmm…” Zhan Pingchuan scratched his ear.
[There’s no intelligence, the person is gone like a meat bun thrown to a dog, and you’ve picked up extravagant, pampered habits. Tell me, what have you achieved there?]
“Mm-hmm…” Zhan Pingchuan began admiring the rising sun at Star University.
[Don’t you know how fierce the competition in the crystal ore trading market is now? Especially that dog Lan Wendao, who stole a big client from me last month!]
“Mm-hmm…” Zhan Pingchuan was used to this and predicted the next entry in his father’s profanity vocabulary.
[Pah, no one with the surname Lan is any good!]
“—Hmm?”
Zhan Pingchuan: “I disagree with that.”
Mr. Zhan: “?”
Mr. Zhan was choked for a moment, clearly not expecting his son to contradict him on this most trivial matter.
Zhan Pingchuan said seriously, his tone solemn: “Dad, you have some status after all. How can you make such sweeping generalizations? Haven’t you considered what if your future daughter-in-law has the surname Lan? What if your eldest grandson has the surname Lan? Disease enters through the mouth, and disaster comes out of it.”
Mr. Zhan was furious—
[Take your Lan-surnamed wife and get out! I don’t have a son like you!]
Zhan Pingchuan deliberately teased: “What about your eldest grandson?”
Mr. Zhan hung up the phone with a bang.
Zhan Pingchuan suppressed a laugh, leaned against the doorframe, using it as leverage to turn around. Looking up, he found Lance propped up on his elbow, half-risen, looking at him.
The morning light fell on Lance’s delicate features, highlighting his moist, soft lips. His reddish-brown long hair cascaded down, with one strand hanging over his shoulder, giving him a gentle, divine quality.
Zhan Pingchuan suddenly thought of George Watts’ painting “The Choice,” with the brown-haired girl holding violets and lightly smelling camellias—lovely and beautiful.
But Lance’s thoughts were slightly stirred, as he had clearly heard Zhan Pingchuan’s last string of words.
Of course, the risqué talk about a daughter-in-law surnamed Lan and an eldest grandson surnamed Lan brushed past his ears and was automatically ignored.
But years of sensitivity and suspicion quickly made him catch a key word: status.
What did Zhan Pingchuan mean by saying his father had some status?
A position in the Federation government? Or in the major guilds?
Since starting school, Zhan Pingchuan had always appeared lazy, casual, and cynical, but judging from the precision and smoothness of the assassination of Boras, Zhan Pingchuan didn’t seem untrained.
Could it be… that Zhan Pingchuan, like him, had an uncommon identity and background?
But why conceal it?
Perhaps Zhan Pingchuan had come to Star University with another purpose as well.
Zhan Pingchuan came in from the balcony, brushing off the morning mist, casually placing his phone on the table: “Awake?”
Lance closed his eyes, then opened them again. The doubt in his eyes was gone, replaced by a trace of a smile: “Mm.”
Zhan Pingchuan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he shifted his gaze from Lance’s slightly bitten lip corner: “Ahem, it seems class is about to start. I’ll wait and go with you.”
He had kissed too forcefully last night, couldn’t hold back.
It wasn’t really his fault. Although he had extensive experience appreciating adult videos and thought he had seen through various “teachers,” this was his first time practicing himself.
Indeed, this thing most forbids armchair theorizing. Watching those uniform, dramatically moaning Omega “teachers,” he had thought he was sexually cold.
“Okay.” Lance got up.
The two quickly finished washing up and arrived at the classroom. The Blue Pivot inspection team hadn’t withdrawn yet, and a solemn atmosphere pervaded the school. The news of the two officers’ deaths had everyone on edge, their minds no longer on their studies.
Knowing that Erdiff was already dead, Zhan Pingchuan no longer bothered to act like a troublemaker. Just as he was about to sit beside Lance, he saw Tang Li in the front row precisely catching sight of him, “springing” to his feet and coming toward him.
Zhan Pingchuan’s heart skipped a beat, sensing trouble.
However, it was too late to escape. This sweet pear wine-scented little Omega rolled over like a wine jar.
“Zhan Pingchuan!”
Lance slowly raised his eyes, casually glancing at Tang Li, then methodically took out his notebook from his bag.
Zhan Pingchuan made up something off the cuff: “Ahem, classmate, let me tell you, today the temperature in East Africa has dropped sharply, and Kilimanjaro…”
“I’m here to return this to you!” Tang Li interrupted him, suddenly pulling out two thousand yuan from his pocket.
Zhan Pingchuan: “?”
Lance opened his pen with one hand and wrote down the classic poem “Anger” by poet Alan Shapiro in his notebook.
Tang Li took a deep breath, as if having made some decision: “Although you don’t like me, I shouldn’t have been so greedy, making you buy my shumai for two thousand yuan.”
Zhan Pingchuan felt as if a fierce wind was raging, the building about to collapse, the throat of fate tightly gripped.
He hurriedly raised his hand: “Wait—”
Tang Li said guiltily: “Especially knowing how difficult your family situation is, with your father picking up scraps and stealing bicycles to raise you, and your mother passing away early. What I did was too much.”
Zhan Pingchuan’s vision darkened, as if his lifeline had been erased.
Lance’s pen tip deviated, scratching out a line of text: “……………….”
##
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
no way he guilt tripped Tang Li into NOT (possibly?) liking him 💀