Even though it was daytime, Jiang Yu felt inexplicably that he could see stars in Li Po’s eyes. He quietly observed for a while before shifting his gaze to the corpses of the combatants on the ground.

Di Kai’s death was extremely gruesome; he was riddled with bullets, his abdomen a mess of blood and flesh, with a ring of black eggs faintly visible. Even though he was dead, the parasites inside him were still alive, gnawing at his flesh and hollowing out his organs.

Following Jiang Yu’s gaze to the ground, Li Po’s expression momentarily chilled as his eyes touched the corpse, but he quickly recovered. He moved closer, grabbing Jiang Yu’s sleeve, his voice unsteady, “Is he… really beyond saving?”

Jiang Yu hummed affirmatively.

Relieved, Li Po leaned closer, nearly clinging to his arm, appearing very insecure, “Commander, did Yang Guang tell you, we were attacked?”

Jiang Yu allowed his closeness, not turning his head, just lowering his eyes to the parasites in Di Kai’s abdomen, “No.”

Relaxed, Li Po briefly explained what had happened. To maintain his facade of a fragile omega, he omitted his own act of killing, blaming everything on two others. As for how Di Kai died… it was naturally assumed he had killed himself in despair after discovering the parasite.

The bullet holes in Di Kai’s shoulder and abdomen could be explained as accidental discharges during a struggle with the attackers, and the temple shot was even simpler; it was self-inflicted. Given Jiang Yu’s well-known stance on parasite infection from the incident at Training Ground No. 2, it was better to end oneself dignifiedly than to be undignifiedly executed by others.

As Li Po was concocting his story, Jiang Yu suddenly asked, “Are you scared?”

“…A little,” Li Po replied, his voice low and his eyes downcast, concealing his emotions.

Though he said ‘a little’, the hand holding Jiang Yu’s sleeve was trembling. Jiang Yu fell silent for a moment, then glanced to the side…

Beside the attacker’s corpse.

“Commander, it was him,” Li Po frowned slightly, his tone aggrieved, “I was hiding here when he pounced on me from behind, muttering strange things I couldn’t understand. I only had a dagger and couldn’t beat him; he beat me up. If it weren’t for my teammate arriving in time to save me, I would have…”

At that moment, Jiang Yu was staring at the attacker’s shattered bloody helmet, a flicker of something crossing his mind. Li Po keenly noticed his pause, his own gaze shifting sharply, his breathing halting for a moment. Just before Jiang Yu could suspect something, Li Po suddenly lowered his head and buried his face in Jiang Yu’s shoulder, whispering, “Commander, I’m scared.”

Jiang Yu’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted. He furrowed his brow but stiffened when he felt the dampness on his shoulder. Li Po’s stomach had taken several punches from the man, and without looking, one could tell it was bruised badly. Just now, he had pressed down hard without hesitation.

Tears, borne of physical pain, spilled over, and Li Po buried his face in Jiang Yu’s shoulder, quickly dampening the fabric of his uniform. Jiang Yu’s attention was quickly diverted; he turned and looked into Li Po’s eyes, “Why are you crying?”

Li Po’s eyes were slightly red, the corners tinged with a hint of red. His tearful eyes looked up at Jiang Yu, tears falling freely. Jiang Yu looked down at him, his emotions complex.

He was rarely unskilled at anything, but interacting with omegas was one of them. Whether before or after entering Area S, he had little contact with omegas, let alone further interaction. In the five years after entering Area S, the only connection he had with an omega was when Bian Lu took his blood samples to check compatibility, and even then, he only knew the name of Li Po.

Raised to believe that omegas were fragile, timid, and needed protection, Jiang Yu couldn’t treat Li Po the way he treated the alphas of Area S. In his eyes, Li Po might be arrogant, selfish, and overstepping, but also sensitive, fragile, and sensible.

Just like now, he didn’t understand why Li Po was crying. Even though the performance was not very convincing and the crying seemed fake, Jiang Yu believed him. Li Po’s clumsy methods might not deceive a flirt, but they could deceive the renowned combat officer.

In this moment, Jiang Yu, clueless about AO dynamics, helplessly raised his hand to wipe away Li Po’s tears, “It’s okay now.”

Li Po’s tears flowed even more fiercely. He suddenly stepped forward, crashing into Jiang Yu’s arms, his chin resting on his shoulder, holding him tightly.

This was the first time he hugged Jiang Yu while fully conscious, and also the first time in his life he had initiated a hug while awake. He didn’t want Jiang Yu to see the deceit and calculation in his eyes, nor did he want to clearly see any emotion on Jiang Yu’s face.

He shamelessly used this method to escape.

The moment his chin rested on Jiang Yu’s shoulder, his tears stopped instantly. Through Jiang Yu’s shoulder, he looked towards another attacker’s corpse, his eyes indifferent.

Jiang Yu paused. Li Po was an omega, much softer than an alpha, and at the moment of impact, he didn’t feel pain, only the other’s vivid and intense heartbeat.

Jiang Yu’s soft black hair brushed against his face, the temperature through the combat suit making his fingertips stiff. He thought about pushing away, but ultimately did not, just lowering his hands, letting Li Po cling tightly to his waist.

After a while, the omega resting on his shoulder finally spoke, “Commander, you’re really nice.”

“Hmm?”

Li Po ignored him, continuing on his own, “Only you don’t want to mark me. Apart from you, all other alphas look at me strangely.”

“Some come up and want to bite my gland. I don’t understand, do they see me as just a gland?”

“A bunch of idiots led by their lust,” he coldly concluded, then let go of Jiang Yu’s waist and stepped back. The tear stains on his face had already dried, but he still made a show of wiping them. He didn’t notice the increasingly heavy look in Jiang Yu’s eyes, only looking towards another body, “Commander, shall we go check it out?”

Jiang Yu withdrew his inscrutable gaze and nodded faintly.

The last body was so mutilated it was unrecognizable, the flesh decayed like a pool of rotting meat. The scattered bullet holes told of what had happened here, even Li Po couldn’t bear to look directly. The man’s clenched fist, however, still showed part of a glass bottle from the palm. It was seeing this that had initially made Li Po suspicious of Di Kai.

His head still maintained the position Li Po had kicked it to, and from this angle, one could clearly see the black hourglass behind his ear. Li Po observed Jiang Yu’s expression discreetly but saw no change, still the same unflappable demeanor.

Regretfully, Li Po withdrew his gaze.

Jiang Yu took Li Po’s dagger, pried open the corpse’s hand, and gouged out the glass bottle. Suddenly, Li Po, with sharp eyes, spotted a black insect leaping out from it, heading his way.

Li Po took a big step back.

He didn’t want to be parasitized by that thing.

The next second, the insect silently vanished. Jiang Yu stood up, threw away the dagger, and said flatly, “Let’s go.”

Li Po was stunned, “What about these bodies…”

“Someone will take care of them.”

Li Po responded with a disappointed “Oh.” Then he suddenly thought of something and asked, “Commander, aren’t we going to check that pile of corpses again?” He remembered seeing needle marks on those bodies.

“We’ve already checked.” Jiang Yu answered succinctly.

After speaking, he pulled out a communicator to summon the starship.

Li Po didn’t argue further, obediently following behind Jiang Yu without another word.

Suddenly, the person in front stopped and asked, “Why didn’t you just message me?”

Li Po faltered. He abruptly looked up at Jiang Yu. Jiang Yu didn’t look at him, only turning his head slightly to speak.

He swallowed, suppressing the inexplicable guilt and panic in his heart. It must be an illusion, he thought; Jiang Yu must be just asking casually. If he had really discovered anything, he wouldn’t be probing now.

With this thought, he lowered his eyes, his voice very light, “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

Jiang Yu paused.

“You never reply to me,” Li Po’s voice grew more aggrieved as he took a few steps forward, moving to Jiang Yu’s side, looking into his eyes, “If I hadn’t asked Yang Guang to call you, would you have come?”

The light scattered in his eyes, his light tea-colored pupils reflecting a lighter shade in the sunlight. He focused on Jiang Yu, his eyes gradually reflecting a vague figure, “Would you?”

Jiang Yu stared back, his eyes unreadable.

After a long while, he averted his gaze, his tone neither warm nor cold, “Perhaps.”

As his words fell, Li Po gazed at him somberly, his expression suddenly falling. He no longer bothered with him, just focused on walking his own path.

After boarding the starship.

Jiang Yu chose a seat towards the interior, Li Po pursed his lips, silently walking to sit next to him.

Even so, he showed no intention of speaking to Jiang Yu, just hugged his arms, closed his eyes, and leaned back in his seat to feign sleep.

Half a minute later, he fell asleep.

His head slowly drooped, his forehead nearly touching his chest. As the starship passed through the troposphere, the ship shook, waking him at that moment.

To be exact, he woke up but wasn’t fully awake.

He just groggily opened his eyes, glanced to the side, and instinctively moved closer, resting his head on the other’s shoulder.

Within a second, he was asleep again.

Jiang Yu: “…”

Li Po’s head drooped lower and lower, until at last he was nearly lying in Jiang Yu’s lap. Jiang Yu felt a headache coming on but couldn’t push him away, only lifted his head to rest back on his shoulder.

And so, Li Po slept the entire way.