Ding-dong.

The terminal on the table let out a chime—it was a special alert. Chen Nian instantly shot up from bed, grabbing the new terminal he used specifically to stay in touch with Chen Ci.

A photo had just come in from Chen Ci.

Chen Nian tapped to view the original image. The virtual screen expanded before his eyes, presenting the captured scene in sharp, vivid detail.

Dark blue and deep violet tones spread across the frame, softened in the center by a misty wash of milky white. The light source seemed to come from the far edge where the sea met the sky—or maybe from above, raining down from the heavens.

It was the edge of the sea at dusk, thick fog rolling in.

Above the mist, almost cloud-like, loomed a colossal structure—crumbling ruins of ancient architecture, half-buried under endless snow and wind. It seemed as if it was about to vanish into a wash of white light.

A full moon hung high, casting a cold glow over the forsaken land.

There were missing details everywhere, but not a single thing detracted from the impact of the image. The clashing colors, the snow-draped ruins pressing down on the receding tide—so vast and desolate, the melancholy practically spilled out of the screen and swallowed Chen Nian whole, even as he sat in the bright, opulent palace.

It took a few seconds before Chen Nian realized he’d been holding his breath the whole time. He gasped for air, tasting on the tip of his tongue the sharpness of ice, moonlight, and seawater.

Where was this? Could such a magnificent place exist on Chensha?

He quickly messaged Chen Ci:

[That’s incredible! Where is this?]

Chen Ci took two minutes to reply:

[Abandoned Suburbs.]

Chen Nian immediately pulled up Chensha’s structural map and scanned it. His eyes settled on the lower platform where “Abandoned Suburbs” was marked.

So Chen Ci had gone that far?

Chen Nian was a little surprised. When Chen Ci had told him days ago that he was going on a trip, he thought he’d just be exploring a few nearby zones—not heading all the way out to the edge.

That place used to be a battlefield, right? Wasn’t it dangerous?

He looked back at the photo and suddenly felt a bit regretful he couldn’t be there with Chen Ci.

Wouldn’t it be fun—two brothers off on an adventure together?

He lingered in the atmosphere of that skyborne sea temple a while longer before saving the picture.

Not long after, another photo came in.

This one had a much warmer tone. In a cleared-out patch of the ruins, a stove had been set up, something steaming away inside it. The vapor flames flickered in a bright orange-red glow, warding off the night and casting a gentle hue on the surrounding weeds and rubble.

A foot in a sneaker and a pair of hands were visible in the frame—opening an instant meal packet. It was clearly an Alpha’s hands: strong, defined, capable.

Looked like Fu Tianhe was taking good care of his big brother.

Seeing that Chen Ci had food, warmth, and stunning views to enjoy, Chen Nian felt reassured.

And he’d guessed right—his brother, raised in pampered luxury inside the White Tower, was deep down more spirited and strong than anyone.

Chen Nian replied with a jealous emoji and saved that photo too.

He had just finished dinner and was lazily lying in bed out of habit. But now that he saw Chen Ci actively out there, he felt like he couldn’t keep being a couch potato.

His room in the palace was too comfy. Knowing Chen Nian’s real identity, Shavri hadn’t decorated it in the stiff, sterile White Tower style. Instead, he’d told Chen Nian to describe what he wanted, and then relayed it to the housekeeper.

Chen Nian had finally gotten to live out his dream of a big, cozy room. He spent a whole night planning the layout and everything he wanted, then told the housekeeper.

By the time he returned from a walk the next day, the bedroom was already done. When he opened the door, the joy was beyond words—it looked like something straight out of his dreams, maybe even better.

It was so perfect that for the past few days, all he wanted to do was laze around in it.

Stretching with a yawn, Chen Nian slipped into his slippers and headed out. Turning left, he knocked on the door next to his.

A few seconds later, there was a click, and the lock released. Chen Nian pushed the door open and walked right in.

The one who let him in was the intelligent housekeeper. As for Shavri himself…

Chen Nian narrowed his eyes and stepped quietly through the living room. That’s when a flustered Alpha voice called out from down the hall:

“Wait a sec!”

Chen Nian paused where he was.

Shavri darted out of the bathroom and bolted into the bedroom in a blur. He shut the door behind him and quickly took off the towel wrapped around his waist, pulling on a loose set of loungewear.

He had no idea why the housekeeper had opened the door for Chen Nian—he’d been in the shower!

Good thing he’d just finished.

Shavri vigorously rubbed his hair with a towel, trying to dry it as fast as possible. He set the towel aside, and a robotic arm immediately whisked it away for drying.

“Why’d you open the door?” he asked.

Housekeeper: “Your Highness Chen Ci is your fiancée. I believed this was a perfect opportunity to deepen your bond.”

Shavri was speechless at the AI’s “considerate” logic. He shook his head, his damp hair falling in soft, tousled waves.

After a quick blow-dry, he stepped out of the bedroom. Chen Nian was by the display cabinet, playing with one of his collectible figures.

Seeing Shavri appear, Chen Nian carefully put the alien clay figure back in place and looked up.

The Alpha was in simple, oversized home clothes. In his rush, he hadn’t had time to fix his hair. The platinum-blond strands curled gently and looked incredibly soft—just asking to be messed with.

The whole room carried a faint scent of sherry, intensified by the post-shower heat. Just breathing it in made you feel a little tipsy.

Shavri noticed, of course, and quickly cranked the ventilation system to full blast so as not to overwhelm the Omega’s senses.

The air would soon carry his pheromones away.

“What’s up?” he asked. Chen Nian wouldn’t drop by for no reason… right?

Chen Nian blinked, didn’t answer. Shavri took the hint and shut off the housekeeper system.

Only then did Chen Nian speak: “My brother went to the Abandoned Suburbs.”

Shavri froze. He wasn’t like Chen Nian—he didn’t need to check a map to know where that was. The moment he heard it, his brows creased deeply.

“That place was a war zone, wasn’t it? If I remember right, it’s dangerous and not exactly worth visiting.”

“Who knows,” Chen Nian shrugged. “But the photos he sent looked amazing. Makes me want to go myself. He’s strong—shouldn’t run into much trouble.”

Shavri was still frowning. Chen Nian’s words were unexpected—and reminded him once again just how little he knew about Chen Ci.

Or rather… no one truly knew who Chen Ci really was.

Chen Nian hadn’t mentioned that Chen Ci had gone with another Alpha.

No matter how composed Shavri appeared, Chen Ci was, at least officially, his fiancée. It would sting to hear his future Omega ran off with someone else.

So, out of kindness, Chen Nian decided not to mention it—for now.

“Oh right, about what I mentioned the other day—did you ask?”

After Chen Ci told Chen Nian about taking Jiang Dai to a black-market clinic, the two had agreed on a plan: Chen Nian would talk to Shavri.

Upon hearing that the man who raised Chen Nian was at risk of total blindness, Shavri had agreed without hesitation.

As Chen Ci predicted—Shavri, as the Crown Prince, held significant power. As long as they kept things discreet, bringing Jiang Dai up from the Underground City for treatment was absolutely doable.

“I’ve already contacted the hospital. Just say the word and we’ll bring him in. The doctors will need to examine him in person for an exact diagnosis, but we’ve got Chensha’s best ophthalmologists. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“That’s awesome.” The weight on Chen Nian’s chest finally lifted. He beamed, offering the Alpha a rare, sincere smile. “Thanks.”

It wasn’t teasing, or sly, or flirtatious.

Just a genuine smile.

There might not be much difference between smiles, but when it came from Chen Nian, it made Shavri pause.

—So this is what Chen Nian truly cares about.

“I’ve looked into some other things too lately,” Shavri said, shifting his gaze. “You might be interested.”

He beckoned Chen Nian to the desk. The curtain over the floor-to-ceiling window blocked the light, turning their meeting into a private conversation.

There was a sofa nearby, but Shavri sat on the floor.

Chen Nian followed suit, folding his legs onto the soft, handmade rug. The loose hem of his loungewear pants slid up, revealing a slender calf and pale ankle.

The rug was too soft—Chen Nian couldn’t help but wiggle his feet, rubbing against the plush fibers that tickled and sprung back up with every press.

Shavri’s eyes briefly swept over those elegant lines—then politely looked away.

He didn’t mean to, but the boy in front of him had an inexplicable pull. Anyone who spent time with Chen Nian found it hard not to look.

Shavri tapped his terminal. In an instant, seven or eight floating screens lit up in front of them.

“I re-examined the Chen family files and had someone dig up more data,” he said, sorting through the clues. “I’m guessing the housekeeper didn’t tell you anything?”

“Mm. If I hadn’t run into Chen Ci by accident, I probably never would’ve known I had any connection to the upper levels.”

Chen Nian watched as Shavri moved with practiced ease—his fingers so fast it was like watching a magic trick.

Usually quiet and spaced-out, the Alpha was now laser-focused on his work. He leaned slightly forward, the collar of his loungewear loose, but his chest was firm and broad beneath it.

He was more built than Chen Nian had expected.

Once everything was organized, Shavri handed the visuals over. Then he got up, barefoot, and walked to the bar to make drinks.

Chen Nian followed the sequence. The life of Chen Wei unfolded on screen.

This was the father he had never met—well, maybe not exactly. He must’ve seen him as a newborn, but the Marshal never appeared in any of his memories.

Chen Wei had risen to fame young. At 23, he graduated top of his class from the First Military Academy. His first battle was the famous Altyn-Tagh Defense, where his flawless tactics earned a place in the history books.

He proved it wasn’t luck with multiple campaigns afterward, becoming the military’s brightest star. The young emperor at the time valued him deeply, and the two became close allies.

Chen Wei could crush invading primordial creatures with minimal losses. At a time when the six major signal beacons were isolated by oceans and politics, each vying for dominance, both Sanshui and Yanjing had requested Chen Wei to lead them.

For over a decade, his record was stellar. Chen Nian had known his father was a hero, but seeing it laid out like this—it hit differently.

Then, the turning point came 19 years ago.

On a seemingly ordinary morning, Moonlight, the sixth beacon on Greenland’s Ice Plateau, suddenly collapsed due to unknown causes.

The crash was so loud even Sanshui, across the Rocky Mountains, could hear it. It rumbled for a full 57 hours.

Chen Wei led his forces to Moonlight, rescuing trapped survivors on the ring platforms. But by the time they arrived, the sea beneath was already swarming with primordial creatures drawn by the collapse.

Chen Wei severely wounded the Sea Emperor Canglong and successfully evacuated the survivors.

He returned victorious—and not long after, the Marshal’s wife gave birth to twin sons. She died in labor.

And from there, the rest was predictable.

Chen Wei was named imperial candidate for Chensha. One of his sons was betrothed to royalty, securing the Chen family’s wealth and power for generations.

Just then, Shavri returned with drinks. He handed a glass to Chen Nian, sat back across from him, and asked:

“See anything strange?”

Chen Nian scrolled back, rereading a few odd parts. Then he looked up and asked:

“…What about my mom?”