Cheng Jin found it strange. The waiter, who had been chatting with him so enthusiastically just moments ago, had turned cold the moment they entered the restaurant. His entire demeanor shifted, and now he stood with his eyes cast down, as if the earlier warmth had been nothing but an illusion.

They took their seats in what was reputed to be the best restaurant in the building. The ambiance was indeed quite good, though it didn’t quite compare to the establishments on Imperial Planet. However, it did offer a unique view.

As Cheng Jin settled into his seat, his eyes were drawn to a huge sphere in the distance. It looked enchanting, like a crystal house straight out of a fairy tale, though it was too far away for him to make out the details.

Curiosity piqued, Cheng Jin was about to ask the waiter what it was, but when he turned his head, he saw the waiter already walking away with the menu. A bit disappointed, he let the moment pass.

Lu Tao noticed. “What were you going to ask?”

Cheng Jin was startled that Lu Tao could read his thoughts, but then remembered that he wasn’t particularly good at hiding his emotions. It wasn’t all that surprising. He rubbed his nose and replied, “I wanted to know what that place is. It looks so beautiful.”

“The Crystal House,” Lu Tao answered, “a landmark of Planet 26.”

“How do you know that? Have you been here before?”

“No.” Lu Tao pushed a glass of warm water toward him, his tone calm. “It’s part of the middle school geography curriculum.”

“Oh…” Cheng Jin took a sip of the water, feeling a little embarrassed. He knew he lacked common knowledge, but hearing it stated so bluntly still stung a little. In moments like this, he often thought of “Lu Tao No. 2.” That version of Lu Tao never mocked him, always slipping such information into casual conversations, often making it fun. Thinking of “Lu Tao No. 2,” Cheng Jin glanced at his real husband and quietly asked, “After the surgery, did he really disappear?”

Lu Tao’s gaze turned colder. “Miss him?”

Without hesitation, Cheng Jin nodded.

Lu Tao’s eyes narrowed. “Missing him didn’t stop you from finding someone else.”

Cheng Jin’s lips twitched at the comment, his voice softening. “What else could I do? After all, he’s never coming back.”

A few seconds of silence passed before Lu Tao spoke again, this time his voice softer but firm: “I’m still here.”

Those three words made Cheng Jin’s heart race, but he quickly suppressed the feeling, pretending he hadn’t heard and turned his gaze back to the Crystal House. Not long after, their food arrived.

Each planet had its own culinary preferences. On Imperial Planet, fried and grilled dishes were more common, but here, “stewing” seemed to be the favored method. Even the serving dishes were unique, appearing as if they were made of ice, adorned with patterns resembling snowflakes.

Cheng Jin couldn’t resist reaching out to touch them, only to find that the dishes weren’t cold at all. In fact, they were warm. Leaning closer, he realized the patterns inside the plates seemed to be moving. Amazed, he exclaimed, “What… what are these made of? They’re so magical!”

The waiter was about to respond, but after receiving a cold glance from Lu Tao, he quickly shut his mouth and left. Lu Tao explained, “They’re made of ice crystals, encased in a special material. It’s similar to the technology used for planetary models.”

“So beautiful,” Cheng Jin marveled. He tasted a spoonful of soup, his eyes lighting up. “It’s delicious!”

The stew was incredible. Cheng Jin had been quite hungry, and he eagerly ate everything, savoring each dish. While the stews weren’t visually stunning, the beautiful plates and the rich flavors left him with no complaints. By the time he was done, his belly was round and full. “That was amazing. I want to bring my dad and brother here next time.”

It was probably the most he had eaten in months. In contrast, Lu Tao had eaten very little, his movements slow and deliberate. Once they finished, they took the elevator to a higher floor, where the guest rooms were located.

Most services here were still handled by humans. Cheng Jin used to find that surprising, but not anymore. He had learned that not every place was like Imperial Planet. People didn’t always travel in spaceships or high-tech cars; some still used gasoline-powered taxis and snow vehicles. And not everywhere had abundant food. In some places, a simple bowl of potato-flavored nutrition soup was considered a good meal.

Traveling had broadened his horizons and made him more aware of the struggles people faced.

With a communicator, there was no need to provide identity information. Cheng Jin stood behind Lu Tao, listening to him speak to the receptionist. When he heard Lu Tao ask for a room, his first instinct was to refuse, but then he remembered—they were still married. He let the thought slide.

After getting the key, Lu Tao glanced at him and said, “Follow me.”

Cheng Jin followed slowly, not out of reluctance, but because he was so full he had to move carefully. Lu Tao, usually a fast walker, seemed to notice Cheng Jin lagging behind and slowed his pace, walking just a meter ahead.

Cheng Jin looked at his tall figure, his gaze drifting down to Lu Tao’s hand, which hung naturally at his side.

If this were “Lu Tao No. 2,” they’d surely be holding hands by now, but his real husband had never done such a thing. In fact, they’d barely had any physical contact at all. Cheng Jin still didn’t understand why they had been intimate on their wedding night.

That night, Cheng Jin had been certain Lu Tao wouldn’t come near him.

He remembered the anticipation he had felt then. It had been his first time. He hadn’t even watched any adult films before. He thought the most intimate things lovers did were kissing and caressing. It wasn’t until after the wedding, when his brother allowed him to watch some videos, that he realized how intimate things could get between partners.

Watching those tutorials had made his face burn, but his heart had filled with even more excitement. That night, he had gone into the bathroom early, stripped off his clothes, and cleaned himself thoroughly. Nervously, he sat on the enema device, his hands shaking as he pressed the button.

Even with the most advanced technology, it was still painful for a first-timer. Cheng Jin, who had been pampered all his life, could barely endure pain. He cried from the discomfort. The process took only ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity, each moment a small torture. Still, he persevered, stepping out of the bathroom in a bathrobe that exposed his calves.

His newlywed husband hadn’t come to their bedroom, and the beautifully decorated space felt strangely empty. After waiting for half an hour, Cheng Jin grudgingly went upstairs to find him.

With his usual temper, he would have thrown a fit if anyone else had treated him like this. He had planned to confront Lu Tao, to demand an explanation. But when he opened the door to the smaller bedroom and saw his husband’s face, all his resolve vanished. In a soft voice, he asked, “Why didn’t you come down? That’s supposed to be our room.”

Lu Tao glanced at him, his tone as cold as ever. “We’re sleeping in separate rooms.”

Cheng Jin felt wronged, his lips pouting. “What newlyweds sleep in separate rooms? I… I want to sleep with you…” He walked shyly toward Lu Tao, but the closer he got, the more indifferent his husband’s expression became, deepening his hurt.

“Separate rooms,” Lu Tao repeated.

Afraid of angering him, Cheng Jin had no choice but to agree. Yet, as he gazed at his handsome husband, a spark of joy flared in his chest. This man was his now. “Are you going to sleep?”

His hint was obvious, but Lu Tao avoided his gaze. “I’m going to shower.”

While Lu Tao showered, Cheng Jin sat on the small bed, waiting. Despite the cold treatment, he wasn’t upset—he was too excited. His face flushed, and he kept alternately loosening his bathrobe to reveal more of his body, then pulling it tight again, feeling it was improper. He repeated this a few times until Lu Tao emerged.

Lu Tao’s physique was excellent. Even before he started his military training, his regular workouts had given him a strong, fit body. When he stepped out, wearing only a pair of pants, Cheng Jin glanced at him and shyly turned his head away.

His bare feet rubbed nervously together, his toes practically curling into knots. He was so tense he wanted to hide under the covers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lu Tao approach. Gathering his courage, Cheng Jin let his bathrobe slip off, revealing his pale, jade-like skin.

Lu Tao’s breath didn’t waver, but Cheng Jin’s did. Overcome with embarrassment, he didn’t know what to do. Just as he was contemplating whether to make the first move, he heard the sound of a drawer opening. A box of condoms appeared in his line of sight.

Even in his naivety, Cheng Jin knew what they were for. He froze for a moment, his voice trembling. “Why… why are you using a condom?” His eyes filled with hurt as he looked at Lu Tao. “If you use it, we won’t be able to have a baby, right?”

“If I don’t use it, we’re not doing this,” Lu Tao said calmly, as if discussing something completely impersonal.

Cheng Jin had no other choice.

He knew Lu Tao didn’t like him—every glance was filled with disdain. But he hadn’t expected this. Not wanting a child with him hurt more than he could bear. But back then, Cheng Jin had been naive. He thought that with time, he could win Lu Tao over.

Their first time together wasn’t pleasant. Anal intercourse was painful, and while Cheng Jin eventually climaxed, the single position they used left him emotionally unfulfilled. He couldn’t touch Lu Tao, couldn’t hold him. Throughout the act, Cheng Jin had begged Lu Tao to remove the condom, saying it felt uncomfortable. But his pleas were ignored.

He still remembered the words Lu Tao whispered in his ear: “Don’t think you can trap me with a child.”

The memory sent a tremor through Cheng Jin, his hand gently brushing against the small bulge in his abdomen.

He didn’t know why Lu Tao had changed recently, but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t let him find out about the child.

He no longer wanted to use a child as leverage or a way to secure anything.