Chapter 92 – Honest Confession

Shi Chan couldn’t even remember how he returned to the camp, or how he managed to close the door under Xi Ming’s gaze.

Behind the door, he irritably ruffled his hair, then slumped slowly against it, his eyes dull.

Ever since he had been with Xi Ming, Shi Chan hadn’t thought much about his previous life. He believed he had finally found someone who could stay by his side forever, someone he could entrust with all his faith, someone he could pour every emotion into.

Shi Chan had even started to believe in fate, to believe that they had come together from two lonely worlds just to meet in this lifetime.

He had grown tired of wandering, tired of fighting. He had lived on the fringes of the world, and even when he recognized the twisted state of society, he had only wanted to spend a stable, ordinary life under the extreme “welfare” for omegas—or rather, the exploitation of their gender—living out the shaped illusion of “happiness.”

Until he met Xi Ming.

His thoughts scattered—

He thought of the admiration he’d felt for Xi Ming in his youth, of his cautious probing when they first met, of his disheveled state when stranded in a wormhole.

He thought of Xi Ming protecting him, of Xi Ming’s thin legs when he could barely stand, of all the wounds they had endured together along the way.

Shi Chan had never imagined that Xi Ming would one day betray him. When Xi Ming admitted to the existence of the surveillance device, Shi Chan felt as if his heart had collapsed in an avalanche—disbelief giving way to surging anger.

The anger of not being trusted.
The anger of being betrayed.

Shi Chan thought of the worst possible outcome: what if Xi Ming truly never trusted him, never cared, never loved him, and had been deceiving and using him all along?

What if this meeting in this life, what if all their deep feelings, had been nothing but his own one-sided wishful thinking?

Shi Chan’s eyes reddened.

All those sweet, bitter, and tender memories, as gentle and steady as a mountain spring, came rushing in.

The more he thought, the more he realized how much space Xi Ming occupied in his heart. The more he thought… the harder it was to imagine leaving him.

But—

Wasn’t there something wrong with him?

In the cultivation world of his previous life, Shi Chan had endured and adapted to all kinds of flaws in others’ lives and characters, but he had always had a principle—betrayal was his bottom line.

In that life, betrayal had pushed him to the edge of life and death again and again. In this one, he had cut ties with the parents who sold him out.

Shi Chan could endure anything, adapt to anything—but not betrayal. Betrayal was the one line he could never cross, the one hatred he could never let go of in either life.

What frightened him was that, with Xi Ming, he seemed not to care about even this bottom line anymore.

Even Shi Chan was alarmed at the depth of his feelings—if he could forgive betrayal, was he even himself anymore?

Shi Chan thought of pheromones, of the temporary mark… but still found it hard to believe that these “gifts of the stars” could influence him so deeply.

Before, he had indulged every emotion stirred up by Xi Ming’s marks. He had deliberately let himself sink into this deepening bond—

Because he already loved Xi Ming, and didn’t mind loving him even more.

Because he came from a world full of deceit and bloodshed, and rejoiced in finding someone whose heart resonated with his, someone he could trust completely.

Most importantly, Shi Chan knew he had the power to end the relationship whenever he wished. He could easily erase the temporary mark Xi Ming left on him.

Shi Chan had never spoken it aloud, but he didn’t mind being the one who gave more in this relationship. He was willing to drown in this love he’d never experienced before, because, in essence, he was the one in control. He could leave whenever he chose.

That was why he let himself grow addicted to Xi Ming’s pheromones, why he let himself revel in the surging waves of love with every mark.

But now, without him even realizing it, that love had grown into a towering tree, taking over his whole being. It was a love that made him abandon his bottom line—

Shi Chan suddenly jolted awake.

---

Outside the door.

Not knowing what had happened, Feifei paced anxiously at the entrance, trying to claw a hole in the alloy door strong enough to squeeze through so it could be with its master again, making sharp, pitiful noises.

After spending days wandering outside, the little Vermilion Bird chick had flown back. Seeing Feifei scratching at the door, it tilted its head, then began pecking at the metal with its small beak, adding to the noise.

Only after standing outside for a whole day and night did Xi Ming come back to himself. Though there was a trace of hostility between his brows, he gently reached out and scooped up the two little creatures, not letting them disturb Shi Chan inside.

The two were already used to Xi Ming’s presence around Shi Chan. Even though they could sense the frightening aura around him now, in Shi Chan’s absence, they were still willing to stay by Xi Ming’s side.

Especially the furry little beast in Xi Ming’s arms—it had already grown sensitive and timid after being separated from its master once before. Now that its master was shut away behind the door, if not for Xi Ming’s familiar scent beside it, it would likely have gone mad again.

The Vermilion Bird chick perched on Xi Ming’s shoulder wasn’t in much better spirits. It had come from deep mountain forests of another universe and was utterly unfamiliar with this world. With Shi Chan’s company and protection, it had happily explored everything new. Now, being suddenly denied access to him, the little bird panicked almost instantly.

Looking at the two small creatures, Xi Ming forcibly pressed down his own panic, clumsily soothing them as he murmured softly,

“It’s all right. Can Can will come out soon. He won’t abandon us.”

It was hard to tell whether he was comforting them—or himself.

Inside the Empire, the old nobility never ceased their attempts at restoration. Though the Federation had their agents stirring up trouble, they couldn’t be counted on completely. Even sparing a single day away from official business was already pushing the limit.

In the past, whenever Xi Ming handled affairs, Shi Chan was by his side most of the time, so it never felt difficult. Even when Shi Chan spent less time with him recently, Xi Ming would still listen to Shi Chan’s voice through the terminal—like an addiction—unable to endure even a moment of not knowing where Shi Chan was, unwilling to let him slip beyond his grasp.

But now… the surveillance device had been discovered, the door was shut against him, and Xi Ming didn’t know whether, when it finally opened, he would be met with Shi Chan’s forgiveness—or with a farewell he could never accept.

Official reports kept streaming into his terminal, one after another demanding his attention, but Xi Ming’s focus was fixed only on the tightly closed door before him. For the first time, he felt nothing but disgust at the power in his hands.

Dark, destructive thoughts crept in, making his heart restless.

The pressure around him thickened and darkened. The little fluff-beast whined uneasily, circling with a low whimper.

Inside the room, after a full day and night of reflection, Shi Chan finally made his decision: he would erase the temporary mark.

Since he could no longer trust his own heart, no longer believe his feelings, then he would clear away all interference—strip everything away—until only his truest desire remained.

The temporary mark between them, deepened by Shi Chan’s deliberate indulgence, had already formed a powerful bond. To refine it away completely would take months.

Just the thought of being apart from Xi Ming for so long made Shi Chan falter. Even as he berated himself, his spiritual sense swept out toward the door…

Through it, he saw the little bird and fluff-beast pitifully clinging to Xi Ming. And when his gaze fell on Xi Ming’s exhausted, shadowed face, a sour ache welled in his chest.

He let his awareness extend further: to the crowd waiting for Xi Ming’s orders at the base of the building; to the mech warriors drilling on the training grounds; to the omegas clustered around Yi Fei; to the bustling, orderly command center of the military district; to the newcomers from Ju Gu immersed in studying vast new knowledge; to the star soldiers, armed to the teeth, standing guard around the perimeter…

From the moment they had met, Shi Chan had never left Xi Ming’s side. Everything before his eyes—the empire reborn from ashes—had been built step by step with Shi Chan accompanying him.

From the start, Shi Chan had admired men like Xi Ming—he marveled at their brilliance, their tenacity, their ability to climb from the depths and soar again.

He had rejoiced countless times for finding a partner like Xi Ming.

To Shi Chan, Xi Ming was almost flawless: talent, determination, character, looks… He could count Xi Ming’s virtues on his fingers and still never finish. Even his occasional obsessions seemed oddly endearing.

After a night of thinking, Shi Chan could vaguely guess that the surveillance device might not have been about betrayal after all. After all, they had long since exchanged their deepest secrets. But now, the device itself wasn’t the issue—what gnawed at him was the realization that he, who thought himself in control of this relationship, had unknowingly let it grow to where even his bottom line could be abandoned.

Once more, Shi Chan’s spiritual sense circled Xi Ming. As if sensing it, Xi Ming’s eyes fixed tensely on the door.

Shi Chan hesitated, then stepped out.

“Chanchan…” Xi Ming’s expression brimmed with desperation. Afraid Shi Chan would utter words he couldn’t bear, he rushed to explain first:

“That surveillance device—it wasn’t because I don’t trust you. It’s because I can’t live without you. I couldn’t stand being apart, so I needed to hear your voice at all times, to feel like you were always by my side. I swear, other than that, I never used it for anything that could harm you.”

“It wasn’t only on your wristband. Mine has one too. It’s a special terminal a subordinate of mine developed—far safer than anything on the market. I won’t hide it: back when we first met, I did use it. But later, I hardly touched it. Only recently—when you weren’t by my side—I couldn’t resist turning it on again. I wanted to know where you were at every moment, yet I couldn’t bring myself to cage you here with me. That’s why I used it.”

It had been so long that Xi Ming had almost forgotten what he’d felt when he first gave Shi Chan that wristband. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been love.

Terrified that Shi Chan would misunderstand—or worse, leave—Xi Ming humbled himself utterly, flooding him with explanations, apologies, pleas to stay.

“Chanchan, I know my thoughts are twisted. I’ve even imagined being like those imperial alphas—locking you away so your world had only me, so your eyes could see no one else. I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong. I’ll restrain myself from now on, I swear. You have to believe me—everything I did was because of my own selfish desire.”

“I’ll change. I’ll listen to you in everything. Here—take my terminal. You’ll have the authority over the device, not just for audio but video too. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, you can watch. Anything—just forgive me…”

“Shi Chan, you pulled me back from the abyss. You can’t leave me now…”

If Xi Ming had grown up cherished by loving parents, perhaps he would now be coaxing forgiveness with gentle words. If he’d been raised among star pirates, perhaps he’d be laughing it off, shamelessly clinging to his omega. If he’d remained the Empire’s rising star, perhaps he’d never have stooped to a cheap trick like a surveillance device, but instead shared with Shi Chan a bond forged through blood and fire—a love radiant with loyalty and resolve.

But… there were no ifs.

His life had shaped his nature, dictated his choices.

So he cast aside all dignity, standing there with his filth, his obsession, his warped mind laid bare—nothing hidden—pleading with Shi Chan, abject and devout.

Begging Shi Chan, as always, to pity him, forgive him, save him once more from despair.

Shi Chan had only meant to tell Xi Ming about his upcoming seclusion and then return inside. But faced with him like this, how could his heart remain unmoved?

Shi Chan was no deviant. How could he take pleasure in seeing the man he adored—his hero—bow so low?

“You don’t have to do this. I told you, I’m not leaving.” He held back, then couldn’t, stepping forward to embrace Xi Ming, burying his face in his chest, close to his heartbeat.

Xi Ming was so shocked and overjoyed he forgot to even return the hug, until he heard Shi Chan’s muffled voice:

“I don’t blame you. I’m not angry anymore.”

It had been Shi Chan’s own miscalculation—thinking he could control the relationship. That belief had led him to indulge Xi Ming, to grant every desire.

He had long since noticed Xi Ming’s possessiveness, yet he had chosen to let it grow wild. The surveillance device was wrong, yes—but not Xi Ming’s fault alone.

“…I’m sorry.” His arrogance, his indulgence, his mistake—had driven Xi Ming to this.

“Xi Ming.” As Xi Ming reeled at hearing those words, Shi Chan spoke his name with gravity: “I owe you an apology.”

“As for the device… the truth is, I share part of the blame.”

Xi Ming had stripped himself of all dignity before him. Shi Chan, aching at the sight, refused to let him bear the shame alone. Grateful there was no one else to witness it, he lowered his head and confessed everything—how he had long noticed Xi Ming’s possessiveness yet chosen, deliberately, to indulge it.

At the time it hadn’t seemed like anything. But now, saying it aloud, embarrassment flushed through him.

To admit, out loud, that he liked being restrained by Xi Ming’s obsession… Shi Chan’s gaze flitted aside, flustered.