Chapter 138

Chapter 138

Lu Yan returned the laptop to Zhou Qimeng the very next day.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he left the patient’s room, nearly bumping into Chen Shisi who had come to visit the wounded.

Lu Yan gave a polite nod before turning to leave.

Chen Shisi closed the door and was met with the sight of Zhou Qimeng sitting up in bed, clutching the laptop to his chest and rubbing his cheek against the keyboard.

Chen Shisi was horrified. “Boss, what in the world are you doing?!”

It looked disturbingly perverse.

Zhou Qimeng’s expression was one of pure bliss. “You wouldn’t understand. This is the keyboard Dr. Lu personally typed on.”

Chen Shisi pulled up a stool, hesitating before he spoke. “Boss, it’s just… I’ve heard some rumors in the group chats lately. It’s about… Dr. Lu. It seems he might be seeing someone.”

Thanks to the pheromone developed by the Third Research Institute, the entire industry now knew that the scent of Diting could calm the Berserk Tyrant. Who would believe the two of them weren’t involved?

If the rival were anyone else, Chen Shisi would have encouraged Zhou Qimeng to go for it. The man was over forty and had never been in a relationship; finally meeting someone he liked was a rare event. Agents lived with death on their shoulders every day. Who knew when your time was up? You had to seize happiness when you could.

But Dr. Lu’s rumored partner was Tang Xian’an. More importantly, Lu Yan didn’t seem to harbor any special feelings for Zhou Qimeng.

“I know,” Zhou Qimeng said. “But me liking him and him not liking me aren’t mutually exclusive. It’s like drinking iced milk tea in summer and hot milk tea in winter. The act itself brings joy. Good things are worth appreciating. My feelings for him satisfy my own emotional needs.”

He thought for a moment, a trace of dejection coloring his words. “It’s just… sometimes it’s hard not to feel bitter. I was here first.”

---

The wards for this batch of severely injured Agents were clustered close together.

Yan Bei’s room was directly across the hall from Zhou Qimeng’s.

In his pocket, Lu Yan carried the Rabbit Butcher’s simple drawing.

He reached Yan Bei’s door and raised his hand to knock, only to hear voices from within.

“Mr. Yan Bei, I came today to say goodbye…” Li Ping’s voice was as gentle as ever, but underpinned by a new, firm resolve. “Inside the slaughterhouse, I awakened as an Agent. I want to join the Special Operations Department to fight pollutants. I won’t be able to work as your liaison anymore. I’ve truly enjoyed our time together.”

Yan Bei offered a faint smile. “Congratulations.”

Lu Yan had intended to give the drawing to Li Ping, but now he hesitated.

She’s finally accepted her child’s death and is about to start a new life. Would telling her now be too cruel?

[And isn’t keeping it a secret its own form of cruelty for a mother who has mourned for over a decade?]

The system was right.

Lu Yan pressed the doorbell. Yan Bei’s voice came from inside. “Come in.”

Li Ping stood upon seeing him. “Since Mr. Lu is here to see you, I’ll take my leave. Please, take your time.”

“Wait a moment,” Lu Yan called out.

He retrieved the Rabbit Butcher’s drawing and handed it to her. “Someone asked me to pass this to you.”

Li Ping froze. A premonition stirred in her heart. Her hands trembled violently as she took the paper.

The folded drawing slowly opened. The Rabbit Butcher’s skills were far from masterful—just two crude stick figures drawn with simple lines. Beneath them, in shaky, childlike script, were the words: Tongtong and Mama.

Li Ping’s fingers suddenly clamped around Lu Yan’s arm. Her eyes reddened. “Mr. Lu, where did you see this person? Please, you must tell me. This drawing… it’s so important to me, I—”

Her words dissolved into choked sobs before she could finish.

“In the slaughterhouse,” Lu Yan answered quietly. “A butcher asked me to give it to you. It said… it’s doing well now.”

Li Ping doubled over, weeping so hard she could barely stand. “Then why… why won’t he come to see me?”

She wasn’t a fool. From Lu Yan’s clues, she had already guessed the truth. The butchers in that place were all pollutants. Her child could be no exception. After Tongtong was taken, she had never dared hope he was still alive in this world. But she had never imagined his existence could take such a form.

Yet even knowing this, she couldn’t stop loving him. If he were a mindless pollutant, she might have found closure. But from Lu Yan’s description, Tongtong still remembered. He was so small. Was he scared, alone among those butchers?

Lu Yan met her tear-filled gaze. “It said… children have to leave their mothers when they grow up.”

Li Ping’s grip loosened. Clutching the drawing to her chest, she sank to the floor.

After a moment’s thought, Lu Yan offered a packet of tissues. Yan Bei had already pulled out his IV line. He knelt and wrapped his arms around Li Ping, repeating softly, “It’s alright. It’s alright.”

A long time passed before Li Ping finally regained her composure. Though still weak, she forced herself to stand and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Mr. Lu.” Lu Yan had taken a risk by doing this.

After she left, Lu Yan fell into a pensive silence.

Yan Bei spoke suddenly. “In the future… if Li Ping encounters Tongtong, do you think she’ll pull the trigger?”

Lu Yan considered it. “That depends on what state Tongtong is in.” If the Rabbit Butcher retained its reason, Li Ping likely couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“…But I shot Zong Yan.”

Yan Bei’s mood was clearly poor. As he spoke, the unopened flower buds nestled in his hair began to wither.

Lu Yan was not skilled at comfort. He thought for a long while before answering slowly, “You did what you believed was right. You weren’t wrong.”

Yan Bei studied him for a long moment, then said quietly, “I wish I could be as rational as you, Doctor.”

Because of Yan Bei’s low spirits, Lu Yan’s visit stretched longer than intended.

He had left home at 9 a.m. It was already noon by the time he reached Tang Xian’an’s room.

Clearly, even among patients, there was a hierarchy. Surveillance on someone like Yan Bei or Zhou Qimeng was noticeably looser. Tang Xian’an’s room was larger, but the monitoring was far stricter.

When Lu Yan entered, Researcher A was injecting a medication into Tang Xian’an’s arm—a serum to lower his contamination index. Tang Xian’an’s draconic tail still refused to retract, severely hampering his mobility.

Lu Yan didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he asked internally, System, last time you mentioned Tang Xian’an could also undergo pollution source excision surgery. What would be removed?

[A rib.]

[The transplanted pollution source was a spinal vertebra. After fusing with him for so many years, other parts of his body have undergone aberration as well. Once removed, a new rib will regrow within three to five months.]

Researcher A finished the injection, sighed in relief, and began packing his medical kit. He had wanted to ask Tang Xian’an about the mission, but with Lu Yan here, disturbing the couple seemed inappropriate.

Just as he finished packing and prepared to make a discreet exit, Lu Yan’s calm voice reached him. “Remember to disable the surveillance feeds.”

Researcher A: “…Understood.”

Lu Yan added, mentally, System.

The system gritted its metaphorical teeth. [Fine. I’m leaving.]

Lu Yan sat on the edge of the bed. “I received confirmation from headquarters today. Subject 01 is confirmed dead. And Subject 09’s life pod was recovered from the slaughterhouse.”

Barring unforeseen complications, Subject 09 would soon be thawed. Only when Changjia City saw daylight again could the Divine Kingdom operation be considered truly complete.

They hadn’t even signed a contract for this mission, yet the outcome surpassed all expectations. Not a single high-ranking Agent had been lost.

On the Agents’ forum, threads about the X City Slaughterhouse were exploding. Many participants had received long streams of fanmail, turning the place into something resembling a celebrity fan club.

Lu Yan had logged in late one night and found the posts idolizing the “Tyrant” were the most numerous. He’d promptly set “Tyrant” and “Tang Xian’an” as blocked keywords.

Had he not, he might have discovered that, a day later, the entire forum was buzzing with discussions about his and Tang Xian’an’s impending marriage.

Lu Yan unbuttoned his jacket and lay down beside Tang Xian’an.

Almost without prompting, Tang Xian’an’s tail shifted, coming to rest across Lu Yan’s waist.

Lu Yan raised a brow. “So obedient?”

Tang Xian’an looked down at him, his expression indulgent. “If you like it, then it’s fine.”

Lu Yan did like it. It was a pity Tang Xian’an was fully conscious now and adamantly refused to let Lu Yan touch the base of his tail. A slight disappointment lingered—like missing the sweetest, centermost bite of a watermelon.

Seizing the relatively calm atmosphere, Lu Yan asked abruptly, “Have you thought about what you’ll do if you can’t change back?”

Tang Xian’an’s expression stilled.

Lu Yan didn’t look at him.

Tang Xian’an had an inkling this wasn’t the real question Lu Yan wanted to ask.

After a brief silence, he replied, “I have. I wondered… if I couldn’t return, would Yan Yan cry?” His gaze was steady. “Would you?”

Lu Yan’s eyes drifted to Tang Xian’an’s sword-calloused hands, then to the lattice of wounds crisscrossing his arms—some deep, some shallow.

His answer was a soft exhale. “Yes.”

Lu Yan didn’t cry, but that single word sent a complex surge of emotion through Tang Xian’an—a bittersweet tang, like lemonade with too much sugar.

He leaned down and pressed a careful, reverent kiss to Lu Yan’s eyelids. “I’m sorry.”

Given the chance to choose again, Tang Xian’an would make the same decision. He’d never had any other choice.

Lu Yan sighed, reluctantly accepting the apology.

A young man’s body was not built to endure such provocation. It was a pity that these kisses—whether born of infatuation or meant to soothe—always stopped far too soon.

Two buttons of his shirt had come undone, only for Tang Xian’an to fasten them again.

They lay in the same bed, under the same blanket. The heavy cocktail of drugs left Tang Xian’an drowsy, his eyelids growing heavy.

Lu Yan held out for a long while before the words escaped him. “Are you… incapable?”

It wasn’t an unreasonable suspicion. Research showed that the higher an Agent’s spiritual power threshold, the more muted their base desires became.

Tang Xian’an was past thirteen thousand now. Certain… functional difficulties wouldn’t be unusual.

Tang Xian’an: “……”

Lu Yan soon discovered exactly how capable Tang Xian’an was.

He hated deviations from the plan. For instance, he had genuinely never considered that the aberration might have left him with a reproductive cavity akin to a mermaid’s.

It served no purpose for procreation. But it was, evidently, perfectly suited to accommodate a knot.

Lu Yan’s mind went blank for a moment before he realized the wetness on his cheeks were his own tears.

Tang Xian’an’s hand covered his, and his lips brushed the tears away.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured.