Cheng Jin couldn’t understand the meaning behind Lu Tao’s words. What did he mean by not wanting a divorce? And the way he spoke—did it almost sound like he had feelings for him? Could it be that the “place” Lu Tao had mentioned before was some event he wanted to take him to?

Cheng Jin knew this was impossible. He couldn’t figure out Lu Tao’s true intentions, so he concluded that this must be some form of “revenge.” Revenge for his abrupt departure, for his past actions. And now that Lu Tao believed Cheng Jin had found someone new, was he purposely making things difficult to prevent him from moving on?

With others around, Cheng Jin couldn’t ask any direct questions. He just curled up in his seat, staring out the window. He wasn’t sure how long he had been gazing outside, but eventually, his eyes began to blur from staring at the white landscape. Suddenly, Lu Tao pressed a button, and the window darkened, blocking his view and leaving only his reflection visible.

Cheng Jin blinked in surprise, then slowly turned away and murmured, “I don’t want to go back. My dad and brother will be worried.”

“Oh, now you’re worried about someone else being anxious?” Lu Tao’s sarcastic tone cut through the air. “Fei Li’s spaceship is behind us. I’ve already told him to inform them.”

“Oh…” Cheng Jin mumbled, unsure of what to say. He fiddled with his fingers before something caught his eye: a newspaper sitting beside him. Bored but not daring to speak much with Lu Tao, he pointed at the paper and asked, “Lu Tao, can I read that newspaper?”

Lu Tao, with his eyes closed, responded without looking, “Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Cheng Jin reached for the paper but couldn’t help sneaking a glance at Lu Tao. He realized that Lu Tao was actually taking a nap. This struck him as odd. In all his memories, Lu Tao was always energetic—standing or sitting straighter than anyone else, strictly adhering to six hours of sleep per night. Even during breaks, he’d be reading documents or working.

Seeing him resting like this was rare.

For a brief moment, Cheng Jin wondered if Lu Tao’s second personality had emerged again. But when he saw Lu Tao’s hands resting calmly on his knees, he knew this was still his husband. The second personality had long disappeared.

Noticing Lu Tao wasn’t paying attention, Cheng Jin dared to look at him more closely. Upon doing so, he noticed something unusual: Lu Tao’s face looked pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Was he not getting enough rest? Could it be that the Indira issue hadn’t been resolved, leaving him so busy?

Since arriving on the geothermal planet, with communication difficult and the network unstable, Cheng Jin had deliberately avoided checking the news to keep himself from worrying about Lu Tao. As a result, he wasn’t sure how the Indira situation had developed. He believed that with Lu Tao in the military, justice would prevail and that Ta Ta and the others would receive a fair judgment.

But now, seeing Lu Tao like this, Cheng Jin suddenly felt a pang of heartache. He bit his lip, forcing himself to look away and focus on the newspaper. As he unfolded it, a photo on the front page made his heart stop. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, but the image didn’t change—his brother’s face was on the cover.

What was going on? Why was his brother’s picture on the front page?

Cheng Jin quickly flipped through the paper and saw the title, Global Daily. It wasn’t some tabloid or fake publication. This was a globally distributed paper meant to cover major events. But why was his brother’s picture there? And why was it… a missing person notice?

Cheng Jin was utterly confused. He scanned the paper and nearly jumped when he saw the reward amount. Unable to hold back any longer, he tapped Lu Tao’s arm, ignoring everything else. “What’s going on? Who posted this missing person notice? Why are they looking for my brother?”

The moment Cheng Jin touched him, Lu Tao opened his eyes—clear and alert, as if he hadn’t been sleeping at all. Glancing at the newspaper in Cheng Jin’s hand, he replied calmly, “Yan Qi.”

“Yan Qi?” Cheng Jin was baffled. “Why would he post a missing person notice for my brother? And a reward of thirty million credits? How did he even get this published in a global paper? Isn’t this an official publication?”

“I don’t know how he managed it. As for why he’s looking for your brother… You really don’t know about their relationship?” Lu Tao sounded a bit surprised.

“What relationship?” Cheng Jin was even more confused.

Lu Tao looked at him for a moment before responding, “What do you think?”

“I… I don’t know.” Cheng Jin racked his brain but came up with nothing. “They’re just acquaintances, right? My brother worked for Yan Qi for a while. Could it be… could it be that my brother took something important from him?” Now that he thought about it, his brother’s behavior had always been odd. It wasn’t as if he had just left the Imperial Planet to start over; it felt more like he was avoiding someone.

Lu Tao seemed tired of watching him struggle and calmly dropped a bombshell. “Yan Qi likes your brother.”

“Huh?” Cheng Jin was stunned. “What?” He stammered, unable to process it. “That’s impossible, right? Yan Qi likes my brother? Like… that kind of like? No way! They’re so far apart in age, almost a generation! How is that even possible?” The more he spoke, the more flustered he became, though deep down, he knew Lu Tao wouldn’t lie about something like this.

Suddenly, memories began to surface—Yan Qi crying in a corner of their house after a breakup, his brother warning him not to get too close to Yan Qi, and the odd tension whenever the two were together. There was also that one time when Yan Qi went on a blind date and asked Cheng Jin not to tell his brother.

Cheng Jin’s mind was a mess. The revelation hit harder than when Lu Tao had first found him. It took a while for him to find his voice again. “So… does my brother like Yan Qi too?”

“I don’t know,” Lu Tao replied, his tone indifferent.

Cheng Jin wasn’t surprised by the answer. Lu Tao rarely cared about things that didn’t concern him. He started thinking out loud, “He probably doesn’t… If he did, he wouldn’t have run away. So what exactly happened between them?” Cheng Jin found himself obsessing over whether they had a physical relationship, or worse, if Yan Qi had forced his brother.

After the shock wore off, the rest of the news felt much calmer. The paper he was holding had a large section covering the Indira case. Over thirty thousand criminals had been captured, including more than four thousand doctors, biologists, and other professionals. In the fierce battle, over three thousand people were killed.

“There were so many involved?” Cheng Jin was still shocked by the numbers. What shocked him even more was the staggering death toll from the “Chimera” experiments over the past century. Records showed that over ten thousand children had died. Of all the people abducted and taken to the experimental planet, fewer than three hundred survived. And of those, only one had successfully undergone the experiment: Ta Ta.

“This is beyond cruel!” Cheng Jin whispered.

Despite reading through the paper, Cheng Jin didn’t see anything about Indira’s sentencing. He turned to Lu Tao. “Has Indira been judged yet?”

“He’s already been sent to Hell Planet,” Lu Tao answered curtly.

“Not sentenced to death?” Cheng Jin frowned. “Weren’t a lot of people pushing for the death penalty?”

“The Court of Justice voted. One-third supported execution, but two-thirds supported life imprisonment,” Lu Tao paused. “I voted for the latter.”

“You voted for life imprisonment? Why?” Cheng Jin asked, puzzled. He had always thought of Lu Tao as someone who stood for absolute justice.

“Lethal injection is too painless. Living in hell is a better punishment, don’t you think?” Lu Tao replied, his tone cold and detached.

Cheng Jin shuddered at the thought of Hell Planet. He nodded in agreement. “You’re right. What about Indira’s family?”

“They were all exiled to Hell Planet. Those uninvolved didn’t go to prison.”

Cheng Jin asked the question that had been weighing on his mind the most. “What about Ta Ta? Where is he?”

“In the military hospital, under observation,” Lu Tao answered.

“Why? Is he being experimented on by the military?”

“No,” Lu Tao replied calmly. “They’re trying to help him return to normal. Doctor Tian Qi is in charge. No harm will come to him.”

Relieved, Cheng Jin whispered, “Sorry for accusing you.”

Lu Tao glanced at him. “Anything else you want to ask?”

Cheng Jin had so many questions, but he couldn’t think of any at the moment. He shook his head.

“Rest for a while. In eleven hours, we’ll be back on the Imperial Planet,” Lu Tao said.

Cheng Jin suddenly remembered, “I lost my communicator. I might not be allowed to enter.”

Lu Tao stared at him for a few seconds before saying, “Hold out your hand.”

Cheng Jin, confused but obedient, stretched out his hand. He was dressed warmly, and though the spaceship’s temperature was high, he hadn’t taken off his thick coat. As Lu Tao reached over and rolled up his sleeve, revealing his slender wrist, he pulled something from his pocket and fastened it around Cheng Jin’s wrist.

With a soft “click,” Cheng Jin’s familiar communicator was securely back in place. Surprised, Cheng Jin realized, “You… you also boarded that train later?”

Lu Tao’s expression didn’t change. “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”