Yun Xunlan’s sensitive period was fast approaching.

For all alphas, this was undoubtedly the most difficult time to endure. When an alpha enters their sensitive period, their emotions fluctuate wildly, becoming irritable and anxious. They tend to harbor intense hostility towards other alphas and their possessiveness over the omegas they have marked increases significantly. At the same time, their sexual desire becomes particularly strong, and with their minds clouded, it becomes hard to control their actions rationally. So, most alphas, once they enter their sensitive period, prefer to stay at home to avoid going out.

However, Yun Xunlan’s sensitive period hadn’t even started yet, and he had locked himself in his bedroom for three whole days.

During these three days, he hadn’t stepped out of his room even once, nor did he allow anyone else to enter. His childhood friend, Jian Wenxi, had been unable to see him in person and had started asking him on the holographic communicator if he was still alive—
[Jian Wenxi: Yun Xunlan, are you still alive?]
Yun Xunlan replied almost instantly: [Alive.]
[Jian Wenxi: So can we set off for the Freeport auction today?]
[Yun Xunlan: Tomorrow, definitely tomorrow.]
[Jian Wenxi: ……]
[Jian Wenxi: You said the same thing yesterday, the day before, and the day before that. You haven’t forgotten the auction’s start time, have you?]

Yun Xunlan hadn’t forgotten. The auction was set to start tomorrow night at nine o’clock. However, his reply to Jian Wenxi remained the same four words: definitely tomorrow.

But Yun Xunlan wasn’t intentionally ghosting Jian Wenxi; he genuinely had no choice—after finishing the conversation with Jian Wenxi, a second voice suddenly appeared in the bedroom, which had previously been silent except for him.

This voice was mechanical, devoid of any emotional fluctuations, cold as a killer: “You didn’t complete yesterday’s daily task, and you haven’t completed today’s daily task either. Do you want to die—”
“—you will die.”
“I know.”

Yun Xunlan stared intently at the rapidly flashing text on the holographic screen, his voice a bit hoarse, but his expression was calm, as if he had long since grown accustomed to such threats: “Just one more to go, I’m looking, don’t rush me.”

Everyone was guessing whether Yun Xunlan had encountered some major issue during his three days of isolation in his bedroom. Perhaps he was sick, heartbroken, or had a failed experiment that made him shut himself in.

Yet no one knew that the real reason he hadn’t stepped outside was that he was waiting for a derogatory comment about himself to appear online.

This comment was crucial and related to the “daily tasks” mentioned by the mechanical voice. Until he saw it, Yun Xunlan would never step out of his bedroom.

Because he couldn’t be sure what would happen if he stepped out of this room, which had been cleared of all dangerous factors and was nearly absolutely safe, without completing his daily tasks. He couldn’t predict when, where, or how he might suddenly drop dead.

So at this moment, Yun Xunlan was too preoccupied to care about anything else. He hurriedly logged into several major social apps that had the most users in the galaxy, skillfully typing his full name, initials, nicknames, and derogatory names into the search bar to look for negative comments about himself.

Fortunately, heaven did not disappoint those who were determined. After two days of frustrating failures, at exactly six o’clock on the third day, Yun Xunlan finally caught a glimpse of a particularly vicious and cutting negative comment about him on the StarNet.

Although it existed for only a second before being deleted, Yun Xunlan had the help of his holographic AI butler. The program he set up would automatically back up all the text information he browsed and organize it into an e-book. Therefore, this negative comment had already been saved into the “Bedtime Reading” category of his reading app before it was deleted.

Yun Xunlan quickly opened the e-book, eager to read the negative comment.

The moment he finished reading the last word of the comment, the mechanical voice appeared again. This time, its tone had a rise and fall, as if it had been infused with humanity and emotion, excitedly saying: “10000/10000, daily task completed!”

Yun Xunlan also clasped his hands together, thanking the netizen who posted the comment: “Thank you.”

Then he opened the private chat interface, wanting to send this netizen a red envelope. However, after entering the amount, the red envelope couldn’t be sent—the private chat interface showed that the user had been banned.
Yun Xunlan: “……”
He had originally wanted to follow this person to easily see their daily insults directed at him.

“Saving a life is better than building a seven-story pagoda.” The mechanical voice couldn’t help but mourn for the account that had been banned, “Rest in peace.”

Yun Xunlan also felt regret for the account being banned, but he had already grown accustomed to such regrets. He didn’t have much time to waste on these trivial matters, so as soon as he completed his daily task, he immediately messaged Jian Wenxi: [Wenxi, I’m sorry for ghosting you for several days. I can go out now; shall we set off for the Freeport today?]
Jian Wenxi replied instantly: [Okay, come pick me up at my house.]

Ten minutes later, an omega fully armed with a mask, hat, and gloves, leaving only a pair of dark, shiny eyes exposed, boarded Yun Xunlan’s spacecraft.

He crossed his arms and, as soon as he sat down, pouted angrily: “I’m very angry right now, so angry that I want to curse.”

Yun Xunlan turned his head to look at him.

Jian Wenxi took a deep breath to suppress his anger: “I’ve never felt so wronged in my life. If you weren’t my best friend, I would definitely curse you out.”
“……”
Yun Xunlan hesitated, wanting to say: Go ahead, the louder the better.

However, he knew Jian Wenxi would never curse at him.

Yun Xunlan apologized to him again: “Wenxi, I did make a mistake in this matter, I’m sorry.”
“Alright, I forgive you.”

Jian Wenxi had a really good temper; he could be easily soothed with a few kind words. He took out a few round brooches from his pocket and handed one to Yun Xunlan: “This is a mask sent by the auction house. It can hide all personal information when worn.”

Upon hearing this, Yun Xunlan reached out to take the brooch, pinned it to his collar, and activated it.

In the next second, he transformed into a heavy gray silhouette in Jian Wenxi’s eyes. Even though they were sitting so close, Jian Wenxi couldn’t see Yun Xunlan’s appearance at all.

“I’ll sync our visual and audio channels for the masks, so we can communicate normally.” Jian Wenxi fiddled with his brooch for a while, then handed the remaining ones to Yun Xunlan, “The rest of these are for your attendants and guards.”
“Okay.” Yun Xunlan replied.

At this moment, the spacecraft was breaking through the atmosphere and docking with the starship for a jump.

As an omega, Jian Wenxi’s physique couldn’t compare to that of a beta or alpha. He closed his eyes to ease the discomfort caused by the rapid ascent, then continued speaking: “It might be too late to ask this question now, but I still want to know, does His Highness the Crown Prince know about our trip to the Freeport auction? Is she okay with us leaving the Imperial Capital Star?”
“Of course she knows.” Yun Xunlan countered, “Is there something to worry about?”

Jian Wenxi opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the silver-haired young man to his left.

The young man had his eyes slightly lowered, his gaze fixed on the holographic screen in his hand, never once looking away.

The evening’s golden afterglow shone through the glass, illuminating his expressionless face. The long eyelashes and high nose bridge cast a small shadow, accentuating his nearly perfect bone structure, making him even more deeply handsome. Even the red mole on the skin at the corner of his eye was dyed brighter by the sunset, resembling a stroke of vibrant oil paint.

Jian Wenxi gazed at his face, thinking that an omega’s physique really couldn’t compare to an alpha’s. He was feeling so uncomfortable, yet Yun Xunlan seemed completely unfazed.

Taking advantage of the jump not starting yet, Jian Wenxi seized the opportunity to talk to him: “Isn’t there someone in the interstellar black market offering 3 billion star coins for your manuscript?”
“What about it?”

Yun Xunlan raised his eyes and smiled, causing the red mole to hide in the folds of his eyes, revealing a pair of golden pupils shining like the blazing sun: “Are you interested in taking that bounty?”
“Just 3 billion.” Jian Wenxi shook his head, “Besides, my bounty is worth more than yours.”
Yun Xunlan said softly: “Yeah, they are offering a bounty for my manuscript, not for my head, so there’s no need to worry.”

Jian Wenxi felt that Yun Xunlan was right.

After all, the bounty on Yun Xunlan was just for his manuscript, while he was being offered a bounty on his life. Clearly, he was the one who should be worried.

However, the auction was completely anonymous, and there were so many guards accompanying Yun Xunlan, soldiers from the military were definitely more reliable than the mercenaries he had hired. With their protection, what could possibly happen to him?

Thinking of this, Jian Wenxi leaned back: “I can’t stand the gravitational pressure of the jump. I’m going into the pressure chamber. Call me when we reach the Freeport.”

After saying that, he pressed the button for the pressure chamber on the armrest of his seat, and the closed cover that rose around him completely enveloped him.

Yun Xunlan, however, continued to stare at the holographic screen, unwilling to enter the pressure chamber, desperately searching for negative comments about himself online, preparing for tomorrow’s daily task—because if he couldn’t complete the task before returning, Yun Xunlan had no doubt that he would leave alive but not return home.

Just a few minutes later, his personal attendant, Ni Chun, came from the service cabin to the passenger cabin, slightly bowing as he approached Yun Xunlan: “Third Prince, the jump is about to begin. For your health… please enter the pressure chamber.”
Yun Xunlan paused his fingers scrolling the screen and replied, “Okay.”

Ni Chun straightened up but remained in place, seemingly wanting to see Yun Xunlan enter the pressure chamber before he felt at ease to leave.

Yun Xunlan didn’t want to make it difficult for him, so he quickly closed the holographic screen, leaned back, and activated the pressure chamber button.

Before the transparent cover isolated him from the outside world, Yun Xunlan turned his head to take one last look at the scene outside the round window.

He saw countless stars being born in the vibrant nebula, burning with breathtaking brilliance, and saw massive starships setting sail or returning, silently traversing the magnificent interstellar port—this was a beautiful yet perilous new world.

And how did he end up here?

All of this had to start from his previous life.