If a man from an enemy nation were to hide his identity, infiltrate another country, and save countless people there, earning their gratitude, would that make him a good man?
Gu Heng never presumed to think so.
He was an Imperial, and they were Federation citizens.
That inherent divide in allegiance made it impossible to distinguish right from wrong, black from white.
As long as he stood on Federation soil, even if he saved a hundred or a thousand civilians from star pirates’ abuse, even if he received their gratitude and reverence, it was all nothing but a false, absurd farce.
To have a Federation citizen thank him face-to-face and call him a good man?
Gu Heng found that thought unbearably ironic, laughable, even. And besides, would a crown prince of the Empire ever need the empty praise of Federation citizens?
He was self-aware.
He never saw himself as a good man in the usual sense of the word. Everything he did was for himself and for the people of the Empire. Saving others was merely incidental, something he did along the way. He couldn’t care less whether those Federation civilians thanked or repaid him.
Because Gu Heng knew one thing clearly:
If his true identity were ever revealed, those same people who once praised him would be the first to turn their guns on him.
The very Federation civilians who once hailed him as a hero who saved them from fire and flood would now look at him with fear and suspicion, certain that all his past good deeds had been part of a greater conspiracy.
He would rather they had pointed their guns at him from the beginning, at least that would have been direct, clean, and honest. It was far better than facing those sincere, grateful, and foolish smiles of people who did not belong to his Empire, smiles that only left him faintly irritated and uneasy.
So when his comrade Ji Shenwen was surrounded by the warm gratitude and admiration of rescued civilians, unable to extricate himself, Gu Heng always remained cold, unmoved.
Those grateful civilians had tried several times to approach him, only to be met with icy rejection that left them afraid to come close. They naturally turned to Ji Shenwen instead, who was mild and friendly by contrast.
That was exactly how Gu Heng preferred it.
He had no intention of forming any connection with anyone from the Federation. Saving people was merely something to pass the time between hunting down Imperial traitors.
That was how Gu Heng had always thought and acted. Detached, uninvolved, keeping his emotions sealed off from this long-term mission in Federation territory.
At least, until he met Zuo Shihuan.
After that, he slapped himself in the face.
Because he couldn’t do it anymore.
Once, he had mocked Ji Shenwen for wasting time on a trivial Federation woman, yet now, he himself had fallen for the one person he should never have cared about: a Federation citizen, a man from the long-opposing Zuo family.
Forget about keeping his distance.
Just a single cold glance, a single word of refusal from Zuo Shihuan was enough to make Gu Heng’s vision go red, his chest tighten as if torn open. Yet even then, he refused to let go, refused to give up.
Zuo Shihuan had no idea how powerful he truly was.
He didn’t need to do anything, just ignore Gu Heng for a while and that was enough to make the proud Imperial crown prince lower his head, willingly tamed, breaking his own rules again and again.
After all Gu Heng’s painstaking efforts, when Zuo Shihuan finally relented, when he turned away from that engagement banquet, meeting Gu Heng’s gaze once more, those clear, warm brown eyes reflected only trust, filled entirely with him.
How could Gu Heng bear to deceive him?
How could he lie to someone who had walked away from wealth, status, and a bright future, who had endured his father’s reproach, society’s condemnation, even the threat of being disowned by the Zuo family just to stand by his side?
Gu Heng found it unbearably hard.
If not for the last shred of reason holding him together, just meeting Zuo Shihuan’s clear, anxious gaze would have crushed him under the weight of guilt… made him want to give up and confess everything he’d hidden.
But he couldn’t.
He kept reminding himself—he couldn’t.
Things were already difficult enough for Zuo Shihuan. Gu Heng had selfishly dragged him away from the engagement banquet; he couldn’t now make him face the even harsher truth that he hadn’t merely run away with a Beta, but with an Imperial Alpha spy hiding under false pretenses.
But if he didn’t say it—
How could he possibly hide it from Zuo Shihuan, who was always so sharp and rational?
Gu Heng’s emotions surged violently and wouldn’t settle. He stared at Zuo Shihuan in a hoarse silence for a long time, the cold tremor in his palm brushing over Zuo Shihuan’s cheek. He opened his mouth several times, but each time it was as if his tongue and throat had been seared by red-hot iron: dry, stuck together, unable to make a sound.
Perhaps it was because he had been staring too long.
Even Zuo Shihuan noticed something was wrong and asked,
“Gu Heng, what’s the matter with you?”
Zuo Shihuan’s brows drew together in a sharp frown. His eyes swept over Gu Heng’s dark, unreadable gaze, and a ripple of worry spread through his heart. Always the overthinker, his mind inevitably turned toward the worst possibilities. A line of concern flickered in his eyes as he asked,
“Did those people force you to do something?”
He tightened his hold on Gu Heng’s gradually cooling hand, his tone steady with reassurance. “If you were forced into a mistake, I’ll help you make it right. But if they threatened you into doing it, I’ll make sure they pay the price.”
A flash of ferocity and hatred crossed Zuo Shihuan’s eyes, his gritted words carried a vengeful loathing for the organization that had coerced Gu Heng, as if he wished he could annihilate them all.
Gu Heng froze for a moment, faintly startled. The depths of his eyes calmed as he gathered himself, the corners of his lips lifting into a small smile, quickly fading again, leaving behind an expression tangled with unspeakable bitterness.
Zuo Shihuan’s instinctive defense of him, his bias, made Gu Heng, someone who had never been protected by anyone, feel strangely awkward, unaccustomed… and yet, deep down, there was a faint, indescribable warmth and happiness.
He had protected too many people so many that he no longer remembered their names, no longer cared for their gratitude. He was used to playing the protector’s role.
But this was the first time someone had ever said they wanted to protect him.
When others said that, Gu Heng would only find it laughable, even sneer at it. But when the one saying it was Zuo Shihuan…
Gu Heng found himself unexpectedly nervous and at a loss, staring blankly at Zuo Shihuan who was angry on his behalf, who thought he was someone innocent being forced. His heart swelled with an unfamiliar, clumsy gratitude and confusion, a warmth spreading through him that mingled with a bittersweet ache of regret.
He didn’t know how to respond to Zuo Shihuan’s kindness.
Gu Heng had instinctively learned how to retaliate against malice, but never how to respond to goodwill.
No one had ever taught him.
He had never cared to learn. As someone always standing above others, proud and aloof, he dismissed the shallow, insignificant kindnesses people offered him.
But right now, he regretted it.
Faced with Zuo Shihuan’s sincerity, Gu Heng could easily have brushed it off with a teasing, cutting remark as he always did. Yet at this moment, he stood frozen like a tree struck by lightning in a storm, unable to speak.
The rain could not extinguish the fire of guilt burning through his trunk; it consumed the charred, blackened bark until it reached a soft, untainted core that had never hardened.
For just one fleeting moment—
How he wished—
How Gu Heng wished he were truly a good man.
A good man in Zuo Shihuan’s eyes. A true Federation citizen, as good and upright as Zuo Shihuan himself. Not an Imperial by birth, ot a deceiver, a dangerous enemy spy.
If only he were just a Federation man… or even an ordinary, simple Imperial citizen—
Any identity would have been better than this.
But in this world, anyone could change sides except Gu Heng. He alone could not abandon his duty as the Empire’s protector, could not betray the Empire that raised him.
Gu Heng knew what kind of person he was. Not a good man, but not quite evil either.
He was born cold and indifferent. He felt little even toward his parents, and none of his loyalty toward the Empire came from affection. It was simply where he had grown up, the land that had raised and tempered him. Naturally, he bore its mark and its burden, his duty as a crown prince of the Empire, its protector.
Gu Heng had never regretted this difficult, glorious path. Many envied him, schemed in vain to take his place, only to look up from below; he, standing just one step away from the throne, commanding their submission.
Some foolish or treacherous courtiers even suggested he should pull his father down from the throne.
Since the Emperor had become a crippled Alpha, they said, weakened in battle, it was time to abdicate, to let the Crown Prince ascend as rightful ruler.
Gu Heng had shown polite interest on the surface, but inwardly treated them as clowns.
No matter his personal dislike for his royal father—
His royal father had still been wounded in the war to drive back the Zerg Queen. Among the Empire’s people, his reputation was revered. Even Gu Heng himself, before being abandoned by him, had admired that royal father who spent years warring beyond the stars. His own harsh training had been driven by a wish to become just as strong, just as brilliant an Alpha.
Both publicly and privately, Gu Heng would never lay hands on his father.
Moreover, the throne that others yearned for was, to him, a burden, a heavy seat that once taken would bind him for life, demanding everything he had in service to the Empire.
It would be his, sooner or later. Why rush to bear its weight early?
So those schemers had miscalculated.
Gu Heng had never longed for the Imperial throne, nor was he the power-hungry son outsiders imagined, eager to dethrone his father.
Once he uncovered their plots and which foolish half-sibling of his had instigated them, he immediately ordered their arrest. Under the charge of “disrespecting the Imperial family” and “disrupting the Empire’s internal order,” the ministers were imprisoned; those guilty of corruption and dereliction of duty were executed for their crimes.
As for the royal family members involved, they too were stripped of their titles and privileges, reduced to commoners. Their schemes collapsed entirely, leaving them to curse Gu Heng as cold-blooded, ruthless, and heartless, denouncing him for ignoring the bonds of blood and family affection.
Gu Heng accepted all those insults and condemnations with a laugh.
He even found himself darkly amused, wondering if he had simply been too lenient all along, if his tolerance had made these foolish, self-indulgent royals too comfortable for their own good.
Even as the Crown Prince, he had to brave hardship and danger, fighting day and night at the Empire’s front lines against the Zerg. Yet these pampered nobles who never had to face wind or rain, who lived cushioned lives behind palace walls still dared to stir up trouble for him, to resent him, to question him as if they were the wronged ones.
They’d enjoyed too much luxury. It was time they learned what suffering meant.
So, in response to their resentment and accusations, Gu Heng sent them all off to a nearby prison planet to live like any other convict: confined in sparse, cold cells, eating watery gruel, doing daily manual labor for reform.
He didn’t go out of his way to torment them.
He merely treated them as he would any other prisoner.
But those who had never suffered a day in their lives could not withstand it. It didn’t take long before some fell ill, others died.
When word reached the Imperial Palace, everyone began to look at him with fear and awe as if he had personally devised those torments, as if he took pleasure in humiliating them. Soon, his name carried a reputation more violent and bloodthirsty than even his royal father’s, the Emperor who had spent years on the battlefield.
If he hadn’t still been the Crown Prince, the title of “tyrant” would have already been branded upon him.
One of his younger half-brothers, still a child, was particularly shaken by the rumors. Once, they could still exchange polite words when they met. But one day in the palace gardens, when the boy saw him and bowed, terror seized him. He trembled from head to toe, his head nearly pressed to the ground, as though begging for his life.
Gu Heng found the sight irritating and waved for him to leave, only to see the boy bolt away like a terrified rabbit, tripping in his panic.
At first, Gu Heng frowned but soon, he found it funny.
Still, as a royal, the boy, even if he hadn’t yet differentiated, ought to set an example. He should know right from wrong, not flee like a frightened hare at the first sign of trouble.
So out of boredom, Gu Heng discreetly had someone track the boy’s whereabouts for a few days. Then, pretending to “accidentally” encounter him, he amused himself by seeing just how fast this little half-brother could run.
But after a few such “encounters,” the child who had nearly fainted the first few times gradually managed to stammer a few words to him before fleeing. It seemed he’d realized Gu Heng was merely toying with him.
The rabbit-like younger brother had learned his lesson. He even pretended to be sick for days, too afraid to leave his chambers.
Gu Heng remained unmoved by the public’s criticism or the court’s outrage. He was only disappointed that he’d lost a small source of entertainment.
One less diversion meant returning to the monotony of duty.
He even mused idly that since his little brother could run so fast, perhaps one day he could make a decent courier when he grew up.
But just then, the boy’s delicate Omega mother appeared before him, trembling, voice low and cautious as she begged him to spare her child.
Gu Heng nearly laughed in disbelief.
So that was how others saw him now, someone so cruel he’d bully even a harmless child.
Yet when he looked at the woman, her face resembling her son’s, timid as a rabbit but still mustering the courage to plead for her child before the “violent, dangerous” Crown Prince, Gu Heng suddenly lost all interest in the joke.
He agreed to her request, and never sought the boy out again. Even when they crossed paths in the palace afterward, he made a point to keep his distance.
Ironically, once the little royal brother recovered from his “illness” and saw Gu Heng no longer coming near, he grew curious, taking a few tentative steps closer, only to lose his nerve and stop.
Gu Heng thought he’d forgotten the matter completely. But whenever he recalled it, an inexplicable sense of loneliness would stir within him.
Even a timid little rabbit had a mother to shield it.
And he, seated high above in the Imperial Palace, was truly, utterly alone.
Gu Heng had never thought solitude was a bad thing. He’d lived that way all his life. Everyone feared and respected him; the power, the status, the wealth, the beauty others envied; all were his for the taking.
But after meeting Zuo Shihuan, even someone as cold and detached as him found that a real heart had begun to grow inside.
He realized he no longer needed to pretend to be heartless.
Because he, too, had a rabbit who would protect him and this one bit back. Zuo Shihuan was far smarter, stronger, and braver than any timid rabbit. There was no need for envy anymore. Zuo Shihuan was the best.
And yet—
Zuo Shihuan’s unwavering faith in him, that blind protectiveness, made even Gu Heng, usually shameless, feel a rare flush of embarrassment.
Of all people, only Zuo Shihuan could see what kind of willful, unreasonable person he truly was, and still somehow believe he could be bullied by others.
If there was anyone in this world who treated him best, it would be Zuo Shihuan, better even than his own parents.
That kind of unconditional protection and affection was something Gu Heng had never known before. And it was precisely what made it impossible for him to stay unmoved: to lie, deceive, and keep hiding the truth from Zuo Shihuan without guilt.
He lowered his eyes, the darkness in them unreadable. Then, with a faint, almost careless smile that masked the bitterness caught in his chest, he finally replied,
“No one dares force me to do anything. All of this, I did willingly.”
But Zuo Shihuan didn’t believe him. He sensed at once that Gu Heng’s smile wasn’t real, and the worry in his eyes deepened. He frowned, gripping Gu Heng’s hand tightly as he said softly, “Gu Heng, if you have your own concerns and can’t tell me, that’s all right. As long as you’re safe, that’s enough for me. I don’t have to know everything. It’s just…”
Zuo Shihuan’s gaze dimmed with melancholy. He pressed his lips together, then forced a small, bitter smile as he went on, “It’s just that I don’t want you to keep hiding everything from me until one day I have to watch you get hurt again, right before my eyes. I can’t bear that. I can’t just stand by and watch you suffer anymore. If that ever happens again… I’ll be angry, not just at you, but at myself too.”
When Zuo Shihuan recalled that heart-stopping moment, a wave of helpless panic gripped him, reason and composure seemed to shatter along with the image of Gu Heng nearly being shot.
The more powerless he felt, the tighter his fists clenched. The cold, elegant features of his fair face slowly froze into anger, even his breathing turned harsh and unsteady, and beneath his light brown eyes flickered a trace of uneasy frustration.
He didn’t understand what kind of world Gu Heng lived in, nor what he had gone through.
Zuo Shihuan could understand that Gu Heng had his reasons for hiding things from him. After all, Zuo Shihuan himself didn’t share every secret either, and he never demanded that his lover bare every last thing to him in complete honesty.
But this… this he couldn’t accept.
That Gu Heng might be injured, vanish, or even die somewhere unknown, all while hiding everything from him, treating him like some useless fool, shut away in a safe and false little world!
He was Zuo Shihuan. He didn’t need anyone’s presumptuous protection.
Least of all Gu Heng’s.
After a moment, Zuo Shihuan lifted his light brown eyes, his voice trembling for a beat as he said seriously, “I’ll really be angry. Rather than watching you get hurt again, I’d rather tie you up right now and lock you somewhere safe. That’s still better than losing your life over something that shouldn’t even see the light of day.”
His tone sharpened.
“If you don’t want it to come to that, then take care of yourself. Don’t get hurt again. If I see you anywhere near danger again… if I see you trying to get yourself killed again then…”
Zuo Shihuan’s face went cold. He grabbed Gu Heng by the collar and yanked him down. Gu Heng’s head lowered involuntarily, his pupils shrinking, meeting Zuo Shihuan’s heavy, restrained expression and the redness burning in his eyes.
“Gu Heng, you know my temperament. I mean every word I say and I always do what I say. Even if I have to use any means necessary to reach my goal. If you don’t want the person you’re hiding for to suffer, then you’d better—stay—alive.”
Zuo Shihuan ground his teeth, his tone deadly serious, a threat filled with desperate earnestness.
Gu Heng fell silent, staring at Zuo Shihuan’s flushed, furious face as if something inside him were being torn apart.
Part of him felt like a vile, contemptible liar.
He wasn’t worthy of Zuo Shihuan’s open, fervent affection. Shame, pain, and guilt welled up so tightly in his chest it almost numbed him; his tongue and throat felt too heavy to form words.
But another part of him, a far uglier part, was secretly rejoicing.
Hopeless.
The clearer Gu Heng saw his own shamelessness, the more deeply he was moved and drawn in by Zuo Shihuan’s blazing feelings. He couldn’t tear his gaze away for even a second.
His ears were filled with the rapid thump of his heartbeat: wild, reckless, pounding only for the man before him.
He was being threatened. He’d always hated being threatened.
And yet, facing Zuo Shihuan’s open and blatant threat, Gu Heng didn’t feel a trace of disgust or resistance; if anything, he shamelessly thought that even Zuo Shihuan’s anger was unbearably adorable.
Warm affection surged uncontrollably in him; the corners of his lips lifted of their own accord. And when Zuo Shihuan pulled him even closer, Gu Heng’s gaze fell to those slightly dry, pale-pink lips right before him.
His thoughts went wild, he wanted to hold Zuo Shihuan, to press a kiss against those lips until they were covered with his warmth, his breath, his taste.
But Gu Heng’s self-control barely held. Fearing Zuo Shihuan might actually explode with rage, he swallowed hard and forced himself to stay still though his gaze couldn’t stop flicking toward those lips, again and again.
Zuo Shihuan, meanwhile, was starting to feel a pang of regret, had his tone been too harsh? Gu Heng’s silence must mean he was reflecting. Maybe Gu Heng had his reasons, his own burdens. He should be more understanding.
As he was busy making excuses for him, Zuo Shihuan lifted his eyes, intending to offer comfort only to catch the faint upward curve at the corner of Gu Heng’s mouth.
Something instantly felt wrong.
He shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but instinct told him: Gu Heng wasn’t repenting at all, he was daydreaming about something, smiling like that.
Zuo Shihuan’s expression changed.
Suppressing the irritation flaring in his chest, he smiled sweetly but his voice was gritted through his teeth.
“Gu Heng, what are you thinking about? Care to tell me?”
“Thinking about kissing you.”
Gu Heng blurted it out before realizing what he’d said. His eyes widened in shock, meeting Zuo Shihuan’s equally stunned and now very unamused face.
Zuo Shihuan was about to explode. Fury burned in his chest as he glared at the flustered Gu Heng, his fist clenching with a crack.
“So all that I just said, you didn’t take in a single word? You weren’t listening at all, and you still have the nerve to laugh?”
He’d even been feeling guilty a minute ago! Turns out Gu Heng really was just an incorrigible b*stard, a complete, hopeless b*stard!
“Wait, I didn’t…. Yeah, I did just want to kiss you.”
Gu Heng started to explain but gave up halfway, surrendering to impulse. He pulled Zuo Shihuan tightly into his arms, and while Zuo Shihuan was too angry to react, he pressed a kiss to his flushed cheek then another, and another.
Zuo Shihuan froze, then grew even redder with anger and humiliation.
“Stop kissing me! Were you even listening to a single word I said?!”
“B*stard! Stop kissing me! I honestly don’t know why I ever fell for a shameless b*stard like you, let go of me, hurry up and let go—!”
But how could Gu Heng possibly let go after finally getting his way? His kisses trailed across Zuo Shihuan’s cheek, and his hot breath drifted toward those enticing, pale-pink lips.
At last, in his anger, Zuo Shihuan seized the chance and bit down hard on Gu Heng’s lips.
Gu Heng winced but only let out a soft, indulgent laugh. He didn’t resist, just let Zuo Shihuan bite as much as he wanted, his face pressed close in gentle affection, long lashes half-lowered, eyes blinking up at him with pitiful submission.
For someone usually proud and aloof to suddenly bow his head like that, the impact was devastating.
Zuo Shihuan’s ears burned bright red. The pressure of his bite loosened, and before he could pull away completely, Gu Heng immediately took advantage, deepening the kiss. His breath was hot, forceful, overwhelming, leaving Zuo Shihuan no space to breathe, no space to think.
Then Zuo Shihuan realized he was indulging Gu Heng again. He couldn’t keep letting Gu Heng get away with this, Gu Heng had been the one in the wrong! He ought to make him reflect properly!
If he could, Zuo Shihuan would’ve made Gu Heng hand over a thousand-word written reflection, thoroughly analyzing his unreasonable, disobedient behavior: always distracted, always thinking of nonsense instead of what mattered.
But right now, Zuo Shihuan couldn’t even speak. Gu Heng’s arms held him too tightly; he couldn’t break free. He almost wanted to bite Gu Heng’s tongue off except he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Flustered and furious, Zuo Shihuan finally raised a hand, intending to push away Gu Heng’s head pressed against him, only for Gu Heng to lick his palm.
That wet, ticklish, warm touch made Zuo Shihuan’s heart seize up.
By the time he realized what Gu Heng had just done, his pupils widened in shock.
The ever-reserved, self-disciplined Zuo Shihuan instantly pulled his hand back, his heart pounding like thunder, face flushing scarlet. His palm, still warm from Gu Heng’s tongue, felt as though it were burning. Grinding his teeth, mortified and furious, he glared at Gu Heng.
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