Seeing him, Xia Canming couldn’t hide anymore. Wiping the sweat from his face — part fear, part heat — he crawled out from under the blanket, freckles dotting his round cheeks, and gave a shy, obedient smile.
“Big brother, you’re still here? I thought you’d left.”
Gu Heng watched the boy, Xia Canming, with amusement, taking in his forcedly well-behaved smile that was growing increasingly strained. When Xia Canming was on the verge of breaking, Gu Heng finally gave up teasing this slightly clever little kid and said, eyes full of mockery: “After all, big brother here is like a mecha superhero — I always have secret missions to complete. If I don’t finish them, I can’t leave. So, I came back.”
Xia Canming: “…”
He had been the one to mention “mecha superheroes” in the first place, only because he’d been testing and curious about this handsome stranger who had inexplicably appeared in his home.
But this good-looking big brother, who earlier couldn’t even pronounce the words “mecha superhero” properly, now had the audacity to take on the title of his favorite hero as if it naturally belonged to him?!
At this point, Xia Canming felt that he was still not thick-skinned enough—especially compared to this somewhat ill-tempered big brother in front of him, the kind of adult who clearly enjoyed scaring children.
He said faintly, “Then, big brother, do you need me to go to bed now? The door’s right there — you can make yourself at home. I won’t bother you. After all, like you said, if little kids don’t go to bed, they won’t grow tall.”
With sensible obedience, Xia Canming prepared to lie on the bed, pull up the blanket, and shut his eyes—pretending he knew nothing at all.
His instincts told him that this big brother wouldn’t hurt his family. Otherwise, he would’ve done so already. After all, Dad was away on a business trip; it was just him and Mom at home — a six-year-old child and one adult woman who’d get out of breath and weak-kneed just from running a little.
How could they possibly stop a mysterious adult man who could appear and disappear freely on the tenth floor?
So the best way to deal with it was to pretend to be nothing more than an ignorant six-year-old.
Xia Canming lay down straight, but before he could pull up the blanket, something occurred to him. He suddenly sat up, his childish little face serious, his deep brown eyes earnest.
“Big brother, don’t worry. I’ll keep your secret. I’ll pretend nothing happened tonight. My mom definitely won’t know. Besides, I’m only six — even if I said something, no one would believe me.”
Gu Heng found himself increasingly admiring Zuo Shihuan’s half-brother. Compared to their mother — the only link between them — this boy was far more intelligent and mature.
Or perhaps it was precisely because of such immature parents that these two half-brothers, who had never met before, both displayed a premature forced maturity from a young age.
Through that pair of soft, deep brown eyes, Gu Heng inexplicably thought of another person.
What had Zuo Shihuan looked like as a child? Would he have resembled this half-brother of his…?
But Gu Heng quickly denied the thought.
No — no one could ever be like him.
Unlike Xia Canming, who grew up wrapped in the love of his parents — even if he experienced setbacks or pain, he would quickly be protected again — his eyes were pure, unpolluted by the world, filled with innocent kindness.
Even facing someone as dangerous and unfamiliar as Gu Heng, he still had that naive trust, believing that Gu Heng wouldn’t harm him.
Perhaps Zuo Shihuan had once been similar as a child — but at some fork in life, their paths had completely diverged, and he had become someone utterly different.
A child who has been abandoned always carries wariness and guardedness in his first glance.
There could be no such pure trust. Zuo Shihuan was like a frozen sea — distant, cold, and intimidating from the outside, as if even a touch would send a chill to the bone.
And yet, such a person had lowered his icy guard before Gu Heng.
Gu Heng had come to understand that Zuo Shihuan wasn’t truly cold. Beneath that frozen sea was ice forced to harden — and beneath that, the softest water, quietly merging within.
Hard, yet fragile.
Contradictory — and soft.
Gu Heng furrowed his brow tightly. He felt he must have overlooked something.
This seemingly ordinary family of three — this was the icy, untouchable core of Zuo Shihuan’s heart, his deepest vulnerability.
The more Gu Heng learned about this family, the more he realized how deeply complicated and important they were to Zuo Shihuan. And the more he couldn’t understand why Zuo Shihuan had allowed him to come here — to see and touch this part of his past that should have been private.
Gu Heng’s brows remained knitted as he sank into thought, then suddenly paused — and laughed quietly, without clear meaning.
He remembered — he hadn’t come here to understand Zuo Shihuan, nor to learn about his past.
He came here to end it all. Once he returned, there would be no reason, no opportunity to see Zuo Shihuan again.
Even if they met once more, it would be as Zuo Shihuan — the Federation heir of the Zuo family — and Gu Heng, the Empire’s Crown Prince. A meeting where personal feelings had no place.
Reaching this point was already a rare mercy on Gu Heng’s part — for someone standing as the Federation’s enemy.
He hadn’t exploited Zuo Shihuan’s identity. He hadn’t harbored any manipulative intent. He hadn’t greedily dragged the person who had stirred his heart into the perilous world he lived in.
Even he found such “selflessness” from himself unbelievable.
Who was he, after all?
An Alpha beyond S-rank, the Crown Prince of the Empire — the future ruler of an entire dominion. Even his own father couldn’t defy his will. If he wished, with his strength and the vast power behind him, to crush both the Federation and the Zerg and bring them all to heel — that dream was not so far-fetched.
Because he was Gu Heng — one who had every right to possess everything he desired: power, wealth, rare beauties.
Things others spent their whole lives chasing were, to him, mere trifles within easy reach — dull and uninteresting.
The only exception was that single setback in childhood — the time he was kidnapped by his royal uncle.
Since then, everything had gone his way. Gu Heng had been tested to possess extraordinary genetic potential, designated Crown Prince early on, and surrounded ever since by admiration, flattery, and indulgence.
And in every gaze around him burned the same desire — the hunger for power and privilege.
Since childhood, Gu Heng had long grown bored of everything around him. The endless parade of clowns scheming to please him felt tedious—but since he had nothing better to do, he would maliciously toss a spark into the crowd chasing after him, just to watch them make fools of themselves in more spectacular and amusing ways.
He simply played too much. In the end, he earned the title of the Empire’s capricious, unpredictable Crown Prince. Even those same clowns who once tried to curry favor began to shy away in fear, as if they had finally seen something terrifying in him.
That was just as well. As a youth, Gu Heng had nearly tired of such games anyway. Occasionally, he would summon one of them just to startle them, laugh a little, and then let them go—before running off to find some new amusement among the Zerg.
Because he was very curious about what the Zerg tasted like. Acting on pure whim and relying on his powerful physique, he would kill each new type of Zerg he encountered, cut off a piece of its flesh, and cook it to eat. He even swallowed the meat of high-level Zerg that carried toxins. Intelligent Zerg who witnessed this were horrified and immediately reported to their Queen that there was an utterly deranged “Zerg-eating madman” loose.
Gu Heng had never been so conflicted about anything in his life—especially not over a single person. And yet now, he found himself hesitating, all because of a Federation Alpha who had once been a Beta.
He had always taken what he wanted. Even when things were difficult, he would eventually seize them by force.
But this was the first time he had felt the unwilling frustration of forcing himself to let go—and the worst part was, it had been his own decision.
Gu Heng’s face darkened. His thin lips pressed tightly together in suppressed resentment, and the normally aloof black eyes now rippled with shadow. His entire being exuded a sharp, intimidating aura as he turned his gaze toward the only other person in the room.
“Since you’re awake,” he said coldly, “then help me. Find the thing in this picture.”
The chill in his tone made Xia Canming shiver. It was as if a suffocating sense of danger surrounded him. He didn’t understand why this big brother suddenly seemed like a different person, but his instincts screamed that he mustn’t provoke him.
“…Okay. I’ll help,” Xia Canming stammered, swallowing nervously. His already obedient face became even more meek and compliant.
“May I ask, big brother, what exactly are you looking for?”
Trying to stay calm, Xia Canming reached out to take the picture Gu Heng handed him, expecting something mysterious or dangerous—but when he looked, he froze.
It was a photo of an old, dust-covered mecha toy box.
“Have you seen it?” Gu Heng asked, voice cold.
“I have…” Xia Canming hesitated, but still answered.
More than seen—it was in his own home. Almost every time he went into the storage room, he saw it. He had even nearly taken it apart once.
But his mother—who had always indulged him unconditionally—had, for the first time, gotten angry and forbade him from touching it.
It was strange. That box was nothing but an outdated toy model sold at clearance prices in a shopping mall. He still remembered that day: he’d been happily carrying out new toys, when his mom suddenly stopped, staring blankly as the store clerks piled up those unsold, outdated toys for clearance. Then she walked, dazed, toward the stack, picked up one of the old mecha toys, paid for it, and brought it home.
At first, Xia Canming hadn’t thought much of it—it was just a cheap toy, and sooner or later, he’d get to play with it.
But to his surprise, his mom never gave it to him. Instead, she put it away on the highest shelf in the storage room—out of his reach.
That only made him more curious. He wanted to know what was so special about that outdated toy. One day, while his mom wasn’t paying attention, he sneaked into the storage room—and found something unexpected.
From the narrow gap in the mecha box, Xia Canming pulled out a photograph. The moment he saw it, his eyes lit with astonishment.
It was a photo of his mother, young and beautiful, standing beside another little boy.
Just one glance told him their relationship was not ordinary—their faces looked far too alike. The elegant young woman and the refined, well-dressed boy looked as though they belonged to the same noble family: similar features, the same soft brown eyes.
No one would believe they weren’t related by blood.
Xia Canming had always known his mother was a great beauty. He’d grown up proud of having such an enviably beautiful mom—and also a little disappointed that he resembled his ordinary-looking father more than her.
But seeing that photo made him realize just how beautiful a boy who looked like his mother could be. That little boy would surely have been the teacher’s and classmates’ favorite in kindergarten.
Clutching the photo tightly, Xia Canming stared at the other boy—about the same age as him—and a strange bitterness rose in his chest.
Who was that boy?
Why did his mother look at him so affectionately?
And why did they look so much alike?
Could it be… that boy was a child she’d secretly had elsewhere?!
His mother’s side of the family had always been shrouded in mystery. He’d never heard of her having any relatives or friends. Even at his birthday parties, only his father’s acquaintances ever came. The only thing he knew was that his mom wasn’t from the planet Baile—she’d come from some faraway world. Why she came to this obscure, nameless little planet, even Xia Canming didn’t know.
Before he could figure it out, he heard his mother’s footsteps approaching. In a panic, he shoved the photo back into the box—but just as he drew his hand away, she entered and caught him.
She thought he’d been reaching for the mecha box.
For the first time in his life, Xia Canming saw his mother truly angry. After yelling, she broke down and cried, staring at that ordinary-looking toy box with guilt and torment in her eyes, her expression filled with unbearable sorrow and remorse.
Then she pushed Xia Canming out of the storage room—but even then, she told him softly, “I’m sorry, Mommy was just in a bad mood.”
At the time, Xia Canming had been too young to think much of it. He just thought adults were strange. But his curiosity about the boy in that photo only grew.
Using the fact that adults rarely guarded themselves around children, he secretly eavesdropped many times on his parents’ conversations and arguments—until one day, he finally learned an answer he never could have imagined.
Now, Xia Canming was unusually silent. He led Gu Heng to the most secluded room in the house.
He opened the door, pushed aside the piles of clutter blocking the entrance, and pointed up toward the highest shelf in the storage room.
“The thing you wanted is right there,” Xia Canming said.
Gu Heng glanced over.
In the middle of the shelf sat a box almost buried under dust—easy enough to reach.
He wiped a layer of dust off with his palm. Through the dull, yellowed plastic cover, he could still make out the miniature mecha model inside—the very one he’d come for.
Now that he had it, there was no reason to stay any longer.
Just as he was about to leave, someone tugged at the hem of his coat. Gu Heng turned his head—it was Zuo Shihuan’s younger half-brother, Xia Canming.
“Did he send you to get it?” Xia Canming’s eyes shone with a fragile hope as he asked cautiously.
“Who are you talking about?” Gu Heng raised a brow.
“I… that…” The light in Xia Canming’s eyes flickered. He couldn’t bring himself to say the word brother. After a sigh, he finally asked instead, “The owner of that mecha model.”
“You could say that. Anything else? If not, I’m leaving.” Gu Heng’s tone was cold.
Xia Canming was sweating with anxiety. There were so many things he wanted to say to that older brother he had never met—but just as the words reached his throat, he hesitated again and again, until his face turned red with the effort.
At last, he managed to blurt out one question: “Big brother, you must be really close with him, right?”
Gu Heng froze for a moment. The corner of his mouth twitched as if to smile, but the expression didn’t form. His tone stayed indifferent.
“Why would you think that?”
“Huh?”
Xia Canming scratched his head, troubled. His clear brown eyes met Gu Heng’s cold gaze as he tried to explain: “Because everyone in my family is kinda… uh, how do I say it…”
His eyes suddenly brightened as he clapped his hands. “Easily jealous!”
Gu Heng frowned. “???”
Excited, Xia Canming hurried to explain, “It’s not that we’re stingy or anything! Like—I’ll share my comic books and toys with my classmates, but there’s this one comic I really love, and I never let anyone touch it. Unless it’s my very best friend, because he’s super important to me!”
“So I think that big brother must be really important to him too—like my best friend is to me.”
Gu Heng went still. A quiet murmur escaped his lips. “Very important… huh.”
Xia Canming nodded earnestly, his eyes sparkling. “Yeah! Just like my best friend is important to me—and like Dad is important to Mom! Even though people always say they don’t match—that Dad looks too ordinary compared to Mom who’s so beautiful—and even though it’s always Mom who gets hit on after they got married, Mom’s actually the jealous one. If Dad zones out and looks at another woman for a few seconds, she gets mad and sulks until he coaxes her back.”
Gu Heng thought of Zuo Shihuan’s possessiveness—how overbearing and jealous he became whenever Gu Heng talked about leaving.
Just like a little hedgehog clutching its apple, bristling with its quills and pretending to be fierce— yet the moment it heard he’d once been kidnapped, it softened instantly, anxious and protective. That kind of contradiction, in such a tall, proud Alpha, was oddly endearing.
The memory pulled a faint laugh from Gu Heng’s lips—one that came from deep within.
“Right? I bet the owner of that mecha box must be a really important person to you too,” Xia Canming said shyly.
Gu Heng’s expression softened slightly, his smile fading into quiet calm. “Who knows?” he replied lightly.
Xia Canming blinked, puzzled. Maybe he’d guessed wrong about this big brother and his own half-brother’s relationship. He’d thought they must be very, very good friends…
Still, ever since he’d learned about his older brother’s existence, he’d been both curious and uneasy, wanting to know how that brother was living now.
The only clue he had was a single photograph—his mother didn’t even have a way to contact him.
At first, Xia Canming thought his brother was just his mother’s child from before her remarriage. He’d heard classmates talk about parents divorcing, remarrying, taking kids away, starting new families—so he assumed it was the same with his mom.
He used to wonder what it would be like to have an older brother, but since he never saw him, the curiosity faded with time.
Then, a few months ago, his mother suddenly became cheerful. She went into the storage room, took out the old mecha box, and for the first time, he saw her so excited—talking endlessly to his father, her words full of news about the son she’d never met. She even started planning to buy a ticket to the faraway capital star.
But Xia Canming kept waiting and waiting. No ticket was ever bought.
As days passed, his mother’s expression grew uneasy, her face pale with dread—like a prisoner awaiting judgment. Even his father’s gentle comfort couldn’t ease her anxiety.
Then, one day, the phone rang.
And everything shattered.
His mother broke down crying in front of his father.
“He doesn’t want to see me—he won’t even take my calls! The rejection came from that man!”
“I know he hates me. Hates that I abandoned him—left him all alone in that slum. So now he wants nothing to do with me…”
“I really regret it, Xia Geng, what should I do?”
Listening secretly from behind the door, Xia Canming went silent in shock.
His mom might have her flaws, but he and his dad still loved her, believing she could change for the better someday.
But no one ever told a six-year-old child what to do— if his mother turned out to be the kind of person who abandoned her own child.
That abandoned one— was his very own half-brother.
Just imagining what that must’ve felt like— his chest hurt so much it felt like something inside had died. The sky seemed to turn black and cold.
It must have been unbearable. So unbearably painful.
And yet, that unseen, half-brother of his had survived it all— stronger and better than anyone else.
It was like a blade of grass growing stubbornly toward the light from within the cracks— only to prove everyone wrong. It wasn’t a weed at all, but a rare sapling that would one day grow into a towering tree, one so vast that everyone could only look up to it in awe.
Even as a fragile sapling, it had already begun to shelter others from the wind and rain.
His mother had been protected so well—so thoroughly—that even a child like Xia Canming could sense how that unseen older brother had once shielded her, indulged her, spoiled her to the point she became like an immature, naïve adult.
The more Xia Canming thought about it, the more he found his mother both innocent and cruel.
But the scars of the past could no longer be mended.
That brother had sent someone else to secretly retrieve the mecha model rather than coming himself, going to great lengths just to avoid seeing their family again— clearly unwilling to have any further entanglement.
A sour ache welled in Xia Canming’s heart, yet he couldn’t help trying one last time. With pleading, hopeful eyes, he looked up at Gu Heng.
“He… my brother really doesn’t want to come here? Mom really knows she was wrong now. Can’t they meet just once?”
Gu Heng gave the same reply as before—his dark eyes cold and unreadable. “Who knows?” he said with a faint smile.
Even he didn’t know what Zuo Shihuan was truly thinking.
But Xia Canming, not hearing an outright rejection, mistook it for a chance. His eyes lit up with excitement.
“Then—then could you give me my brother’s contact? Mom’s not very mature, but she really regrets what she did. She wants to apologize properly! And our whole family really hopes my brother will visit someday!”
Gu Heng only patted the boy’s head and gave a faint, ambiguous smile. Then he walked past him, holding the mecha box, and left.
Xia Canming thought that smile meant “yes.” Beaming, he called after him, “Thank you, handsome big brother! No matter what happens, I’ll keep waiting for my brother’s message!”
In the blink of an eye, Gu Heng’s figure disappeared into the dusk.
Curious and full of excitement, Xia Canming leaned on the windowsill, gazing into the night beyond, where the man’s shadow had long vanished.
After a long while, he calmed down and sat at his desk.
Something came to mind. He pulled out his pencil case—a car-shaped one—and carefully lifted the bottom layer to reveal a photograph.
He had secretly taken it from the mecha box. Not even his mother knew.
In the photo was his mother, and beside her—a young boy, his biological brother. The boy looked about the same age as he was now. He wondered what he might look like when grown up.
Nervous but excited, Xia Canming thought— Anyone who could protect Mom so well must be someone kind, someone who truly cherished family.
“Xiaxia, why haven’t you turned off the lights?” His mother’s tired voice came from behind.
“Coming!”
Xia Canming hurriedly hid the photo back in the pencil case and ran out. He saw his mother, Yu Cha, her eyes swollen and weary—clearly just woken from another restless sleep.
He took her hand and said, “Mom, go sleep! If you can’t, I’ll bring you warm milk. I’ll turn off the lights and go to bed soon too.”
“Thank you, Xiaxia.” Yu Cha smiled faintly. “Even the smallest bit of light wakes me up. I just came to see what you were doing. I’ll go to sleep soon.”
Her exhausted face softened. A gentle, tender smile spread as she carefully buttoned the loose collar of his pajamas. Her eyes were full of a warmth that could melt anything.
Xia Canming, used to it, simply tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear in return.
The two—mother and son—looked after each other so naturally, so warmly, it almost seemed like harmony.
“Your dad’s on a business trip tonight,” Yu Cha said softly. “How about Xiaxia sleeps with Mom tonight?”
“Okay!”
“Then bring your little pillow. I’ll turn off the lights—no wasting electricity,” she said gently.
“Got it—!” Xia Canming ran off, thump thump thump, to fetch his pillow.
Yu Cha went to the kitchen for a glass of water. When Xia Canming came back hugging his pillow, she turned off the kitchen light, the living room light, the child’s room light, the hallway light…
But one hidden corner of the house was still glowing.
Yu Cha frowned.
“Xiaxia, why did you turn on the light in the storage room too? I’ll turn it off.”
Xia Canming suddenly remembered—the mecha box that handsome big brother had taken. If his mom went in, she’d notice it was gone!
He panicked and rushed forward. “Wait—Mom, I’ll turn it off!”
“What’s the difference who turns it off?” Yu Cha said mildly, walking in.
Her eyes swept around the room automatically— and just as she was about to look toward the empty space on the shelf, her heart seized in pain.
She shut her eyes tight, refusing to look—refusing to face the spot that filled her with guilt every time she saw it.
Click.
The light went out.
Yu Cha turned around, smiling gently. “Come on, it’s late. Let’s go to sleep.”
Xia Canming’s usually clear eyes dimmed. He forced a polite, obedient smile.
“Okay, Mom.”
But… he’d seen it.
Mom had turned off the light with her eyes closed.
She’d rather shut her eyes and run from reality than look at her son’s shadow.
—Mom really was a cowardly, selfish fool.
***
Main Star.
A dark-gray hovercar suddenly appeared, crashing down onto a desolate plain. It sped across wildflower-strewn earth at a reckless pace.
Even its reinforced frame couldn’t withstand two consecutive space jumps.
The vehicle didn’t slow. Cracks like spiderwebs spread across the strengthened windshield; the onboard AI blared overheating warnings; the doors were warped and twisted; the molten steering wheel dripped down Gu Heng’s hands onto his legs like melted tar, and the smoking tires sparked against the ground.
Warning signals from the onboard AI blared endlessly in his ears.
The flashing red lights were enough to drive anyone mad.
Gu Heng narrowed his dry, dark eyes, frowning as he turned the half-melted steering ring sharply. With a screech and a violent 280-degree spin, the out-of-control hovercar skidded across the barren wilds, tires smoking, before crashing back onto the flat road.
It continued forward another three hundred meters before finally grinding to a stop.
At this point, the deformed hovercar was little more than scrap.
But compared to the price of one expensive hovercar—
Even Gu Heng had to admit he had overestimated himself this time. Anyone who dared to perform two consecutive spatial warps in such a short period of time was essentially courting death.
His dark eyes tightened as he swallowed down the metallic tang of blood rising in his throat.
The skin exposed to the air had split open under the crushing pressure of repeated spatial compression. Bluish-black veins and thin streaks of blood spread across his face, arms, and legs—like cracked fish scales—making him look less like a man and more like some strange, otherworldly merman washed ashore.
His breathing was heavy and ragged.
Sweat soaked through the hems of his pants, dripping onto the ground and staining it a faint red.
Gu Heng paid little attention to the wounds caused by the warp. At most, he found the deeper ones slightly annoying—but he had suffered far worse fighting the Zerg. With his extraordinary physique, those injuries had always healed without a trace.
He staggered, step by step, out of the hovercar.
At first, it was as if he were walking on knives. Gradually, his stride steadied—his pace quickened.
The torn, scale-like skin knit itself back together at a speed visible to the naked eye, returning to its original smooth, pale state, as if he had never been hurt at all.
Were it not for his pallor and the weight in his breathing, one might think he had emerged completely unscathed.
Yet wounds that would have left anyone else bleeding out—wounds that even an expensive regeneration pod would take hours to repair—he healed from effortlessly. Even advanced Zerg species capable of limb regeneration could not recover so quickly.
But he could.
He was like a true monster—a being that even the Zerg feared.
At birth, his genetic data had tested beyond all known limits of human capability. Doctors and scientists alike had declared that humanity’s ceiling had been reached. His cellular longevity was projected to exceed a thousand years—far beyond the Empire’s average lifespan of three hundred. It was no surprise that, not long after his birth, he was granted the title of Crown Prince of the Empire.
A son his father both took pride in and feared; A man placed high above others, spoiled by fortune, yet cold and detached by nature— The Empire’s aloof and untouchable Crown Prince.
When his gaze finally fell upon the hotel in the distance—
Gu Heng’s dark eyes shone with rare intensity. A faint, inexplicable smile tugged at his lips. Cradling the mecha box he had guarded so carefully in one arm, he walked step by step toward that person.
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