The moment Ji Shenwen stepped inside, he sensed an abnormal pheromone aura.
It was the raging pheromones of a heat cycle, violent and surging. The chilling Alpha scent was like a savage beast staking its territory.
As a fellow Alpha, Ji Shenwen immediately felt pain—under the oppressive dominance of a higher-level Alpha’s pheromones, his body bent under the weight, every sensory organ blaring danger, his spine crawling, cold sweat breaking across his forehead.
Struggling to lift himself, he forced his eyes open, only to see a scene that horrified him to the core, blurting out: “Your Highness?”
The moment the words left his lips, Ji Shenwen regretted them—but he still couldn’t reconcile the image of this dark, lust-filled, irritable Alpha with the noble, aloof Crown Prince of the Empire.
Back in the Empire, he had never seen the Crown Prince with an Omega—never once, not even during heat. Even if Omegas approached, those cold eyes never held a trace of their beauty or fragility, only disdainful indifference.
Ji Shenwen had seen that look before.
At the Imperial First Military Academy, Gu Heng had always worn that cold, detached, world-weary face—especially when disguised as a civilian, even altering his looks to an utterly ordinary, forgettable face.
An Alpha with plain looks, plain background, yet who always carried that aloof, arrogant air, enraging others as if begging for a beating—yet those cold, indifferent eyes truly trampled the pride of the noble scions of the Imperial University into the dirt.
Even Ji Shenwen sometimes shuddered at the sight.
It was no wonder those aristocratic young masters threw themselves at Gu Heng again and again, provoking him even at the cost of a beating—turning practically into masochists, challenging him despite knowing they’d be crushed.
And anyone who stayed at Gu Heng’s side, Ji Shenwen included, was dragged down with him—earning second place in the university’s ranking of “Most Hated Alphas.”
The first place, of course, was the Crown Prince, Gu Heng himself.
Because of this strange, arrogant reputation, the prince had once drawn the attention of powerful noble Omegas at the academy.
They wanted to conquer this hard, unyielding prey. Partly to restore the face of those disgraced young Alpha nobles, but also because this seemingly ordinary Alpha was too promising—a talent worth lowering themselves to pursue, worth drawing into their families.
So what if an Alpha is arrogant? In the end, they still turn into fawning lapdogs before the Omega they admire.
And yet, no matter how many Omegas pursued him, all of them returned defeated—including the stunning S-rank beauties among the seniors.
Even if the most beautiful Omega stood before Gu Heng, his face would remain cold, even impatient, treating them as he did those provocative Alphas—except without laying a hand on them.
If an Omega annoyed him, Gu Heng would drive them away with ruthless indifference, leaving more than one admirer crying from rejection.
At first, Gu Heng was merely ranked as the “most hated Alpha classmate.” But later, he became a veritable demon king figure, inspiring awe not just among Alphas, but Betas, Omegas, and even the teachers.
In the beginning, Ji Shenwen thought it was only because the Crown Prince was too young and didn’t know how to interact with Omegas.
After all, the first time he met the Crown Prince, he thought him young—taller than himself, looking like an ordinary youth in his twenties. Only later did he learn that Gu Heng hadn’t even reached adulthood back then.
When he found out the truth, Ji Shenwen had been shocked.
After humanity adapted and evolved in space, the average lifespan of Imperial citizens was 300–400 years. Alphas and Omegas with higher genetic grades could live even longer. Accordingly, their developmental stages also stretched longer—typically, Alpha and Omega bodies, along with their glands, only reached full maturity and stability around the age of twenty-five. Betas, by contrast, matured at around eighteen since they didn’t undergo secondary differentiation.
As a result, the Empire’s compulsory education was extended to twenty years.
The vast, complex system of interstellar science meant ten years of elementary schooling, followed by five years of junior high, and another five years of high school. By the time most people entered university, they were already in their twenties, and graduating meant being close to thirty.
When Ji Shenwen had been at the same age as the Crown Prince—still a teenager—he had only known how to roughhouse with his Alpha classmates. He had no idea how to interact with Omegas or Betas. If one of them confessed to him, he only felt shy and uncomfortable.
So it was natural, he thought, that the Crown Prince didn’t know how to deal with Omegas either.
But later, once Ji Shenwen matured as an Alpha and began experiencing trouble during his susceptible periods, his family arranged Omegas for him. Yet he had no interest in them, and since he followed the Crown Prince closely, it was inconvenient—so he never accepted.
Among the aristocratic Alpha/Omega circles of the Empire, however, it was perfectly normal to take lovers during susceptible or heat periods, even after marriage. Some debauched noble couples continued to do so long after tying the knot.
Because otherwise, the unchecked surge of pheromones could cause overload syndrome—sometimes leading to raging death in Alphas or severe fevers and collapse in Omegas.
As long as a permanent bond was not formed, most people were open before marriage. Permanent bonds in the more traditional Empire were exceedingly rare. Even couples with over 90% pheromone compatibility often chose not to bond.
For bonding meant a lifelong tie between Alpha and Omega. They would no longer accept any other’s pheromones, their bodies stabilizing—entering heat only if triggered by their partner. But it also meant that if one’s partner died, the resulting pheromone breakdown was so severe that few survived long after.
Even the Crown Prince’s father had numerous lovers. Though the Empress was his only legitimate consort, the Emperor’s many paramours freely entered and left the palace.
Yet the Crown Prince himself never had a single lover.
Even now, though Gu Heng had already come of age—nearly twenty—he had never once shown interest in any Omega.
Ji Shenwen had once asked him about it.
The answer had surprised him, though it was cruelly realistic.
At that time, they had not yet graduated. The Imperial University’s Mecha Command Department was the harshest, most demanding major, often dispatching students to real missions with the military and the government’s inspection corps.
Ji Shenwen, a somewhat naïve and pampered second son, had toughened after participating in several anti-pirate missions. He had seen the pirates’ cruel, bloody methods against civilians, hardened himself to deal with such criminals, and though the sight of blood still unsettled him, he could no longer remain soft-hearted.
But this mission was different—it was to the front lines, facing the Zerg. A single misstep meant never coming back.
No matter how youthful or fearless he was, when it came to humanity’s natural enemy, Ji Shenwen still felt a thread of fear.
The Zerg had cost humanity dearly for millennia. In the last great war, even the Emperor—hailed as a god of war—had lost his legs to the Zerg Queen’s poison, incurable ever since, forcing him to rely on prosthetics. The Zerg Queen, too, was gravely injured, hovering at death’s door in restorative sleep, leaving the swarm in forced dormancy.
But each year, during the Zerg’s restless periods, they still raided the Empire’s borderlands.
At the front lines, faced with a black tide of hideous, twisted Zerg, even the claw of one could rip a crack in a low-grade mech and drag the soldier out to be devoured.
Trying to sound casual, though it was half like a last testament, Ji Shenwen had said to Gu Heng: “If my family had arranged me an Omega wife, it’d be troublesome. I wouldn’t want her to see me return missing a piece—she’d be terrified. Better I stay a single Alpha bachelor.”
“Oh right—Your Highness, do you have a preferred type of Omega?”
Gu Heng, adjusting the aim of his weapon, had replied coldly: “No.”
Ji Shenwen had been surprised: “How could that be? With so many Omegas chasing after you, not one is your type?”
Gu Heng had cast him a cold glance, thinking this fellow Alpha far too noisy and gossipy—but still answered.
“Omegas with too low a compatibility are a waste of time for me. And my future wife will, in any case, be chosen from the great noble houses—whichever Omega has the highest compatibility. She will shoulder the duty of the next Empress. Whoever it is, it makes no difference to me.”
Ji Shenwen had fallen silent. He had guessed as much—but still, what young man liked the thought of a marriage arranged by others?
“Don’t you long for a little free love?”
Gu Heng hefted the hundred-plus jin of guns and ammunition on his back, giving Ji Shenwen an impatient sidelong glance. “If you don’t move right now, I’ll shoot you in the leg and let you go back to your so-called free love.”
Ji Shenwen: “!!!”
“Your Highness, spare me! I don’t want free love anymore, I just want to rush to the battlefield and contribute to the Empire!”
Gu Heng frowned, expression oddly strange. “Enough. No need to flatter me. If you survive, what you do afterward is none of my concern. Besides, what you call free love—in my case, as the Empire’s Crown Prince, I have always inherited part of the Empire’s authority. Even my imperial father cannot interfere with my choice of Crown Princess. That, I suppose, is what you mean by free love.”
Ji Shenwen: “…How is that the same thing?!”
“No matter what, Your Highness, you’d still be choosing among the great noble families. What if you happened to fall for a civilian Omega?”
Gu Heng was indifferent. “You think too much. A civilian Omega would never even have the chance to stand before me, much less make me fall for them.”
Ji Shenwen pressed on: “But what if? What if Your Highness truly fell for someone impossible?”
Gu Heng’s eyes carried the chill of royalty, overlooking the battlefield from above. His cold, detached black gaze reflected the fierce clash of soldiers and insectoids.
“Impossible. An Omega is just an Omega. Just as civilians remain at the rear base, soldiers kill at the frontlines, and the zergs are destined to be slain by our Empire’s army. In the end, all will bow beneath the Empire’s glory.”
For a moment, Ji Shenwen felt his heart clench at the chill in the prince’s eyes.
That icy, merciless gaze seemed to view everything only as quantifiable tools and chess pieces.
As if each piece performed its duty all its life, remaining in its designated place until one day picked up and commanded by the hand of the player towering above.
The oppressive awe shook Ji Shenwen for a long while. Strangely enough, even before the zerg horde, he calmed, no longer panicked or afraid.
He thought only of a future where an imperial ruler, cool-headed and resolute, would lead them to wipe out the zergs, to raise the Empire to the peak of glory. Even if he himself was but a chess piece, he still felt anticipation.
So long as he could witness the Empire’s rise, to die as an imperial subject would leave no regrets.
***
From the bottom of his heart, Ji Shenwen became convinced: the Crown Prince would be a calm and wise sovereign, never ruled by sentiment.
He would never be like himself—
Who, for a wealthy Federation-born Omega heiress, developed real feelings, breaking his vow to the Empire. Who, for giving in to emotion, became nothing but a useless fool.
Disheartened, Ji Shenwen planned to return to the staff quarters, pack his things, say farewell to His Highness Gu Heng, and then voluntarily return to the Empire to accept punishment.
However—
What was this scene before his eyes when he pushed open the door?!!
The Crown Prince was entangled with a Federation Alpha!
So much for cold and ruthless!
Ji Shenwen simply couldn’t believe his eyes. He was so stunned and shaken that he couldn’t even speak; his mind buzzed blankly, doubting reality itself.
The air was thick with a heady, intimate pheromone scent.
One was unmistakably the Crown Prince’s—fiery liquor, so strong it seemed dragged out by an Alpha’s susceptibility.
The Crown Prince’s lips were marked with ambiguous kiss-bruises. His dark eyes were filled with the kind of unfulfilled hunger any Alpha could recognize, and his clothes bore rips and claw marks.
Behind him, the Alpha slouched against the wall, clothes disheveled, seemingly too weak to stand. The black high collar had been tugged down to reveal pale skin, while the conservative gray coat was wrinkled all over from rough handling. White plaster dust smeared his shoulders, exposing half of one shoulder. Dark hair tumbled down, half-revealing lips flushed unnaturally red.
That Alpha looked a little familiar.
Ji Shenwen leaned curiously for a better look—
Only for Gu Heng to block his view, black eyes sharp with displeasure. “What’s there to see? You can leave.”
Ji Shenwen was utterly confused, stammering: “…But, this…?”
At that, Zuo Shihuan in the back could no longer bear the shame. He straightened his clothes, dusted the plaster off his shoulders, regaining the look of a cold and refined Alpha. But his lips, abnormally red and slightly swollen, betrayed the aftermath of what had just transpired.
Head lowered, Zuo Shihuan planned to slip quietly away while the two talked.
But Ji Shenwen instantly recognized him, eyes wide as he blurted out: “Zuo Shihuan, right! You’re that Alpha friend of Yu Lizhu’s—the one who helped tie up my hands earlier so I couldn’t escape.”
Zuo Shihuan’s face flushed faint red, embarrassment prickling him down to his toes.
Of all people to walk in—it had to be his fiancée’s boyfriend, catching him in this humiliating scene. He could only be grateful they hadn’t gone all the way, or else he’d never dare set foot in this bar again.
Avoiding Ji Shenwen’s eyes, he forced a denial: “You’ve got the wrong person.”
Naive Ji Shenwen actually believed it, thinking to himself that in the dim lighting of the bar, it was normal to mistake someone.
Scratching his head, he asked in puzzlement: “Did I really mistake you?”
Zuo Shihuan nodded, bluffing: “Mm. Just like earlier—you even called your colleague ‘Your Highness,’ or was it ‘Dian Xia’ or something.”
This time it was Ji Shenwen’s turn to feel a pang of guilt. Calling the Crown Prince by title here, in Federation territory, was no small matter. Luckily only one outsider had heard.
So Ji Shenwen quickly played along, explaining with a forced laugh: “Hahaha—right, I mistook Gu Heng for another colleague. Slipped and called the wrong name.”
Both of them breathed a sigh of relief.
Just then, urgent footsteps came pounding from outside.
The staff lounge door was shoved open once more, and in stormed Yu Lizhu, face full of fury.
“Ji Shenwen—”
“Eh? Zuo Shihuan, why are you here?”
The anger on Yu Lizhu’s face froze, her gaze instantly caught by Zuo Shihuan, whose complexion was unusually flushed. “Zuo Shihuan, didn’t you just say you were going to wait for me at the bar until I came back?”
“Why did you run in here… and with one of Ji Shenwen’s annoying colleagues at that.”
Yu Lizhu’s dissatisfied gaze shifted to Gu Heng beside him—obviously, this was the “annoying colleague of Ji Shenwen” she was talking about.
Ji Shenwen suddenly realized the truth, his trembling finger pointing at Zuo Shihuan, eyes filled with shocked fury at being deceived.
Zuo Shihuan covered his face in shame, praying this scene would end quickly.
Gu Heng, looking as though the matter had nothing to do with him, casually draped his arm over Zuo Shihuan’s shoulder under everyone’s watchful eyes, fingertips brushing against his flushed, bashful ear in an intimate manner.
Yu Lizhu looked left, looked right—something about the atmosphere felt off.
Four pairs of eyes locked together.
The room was thick with awkwardness.
