Chapter 101: Cats Can’t Replace Alphas

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

The snow leopard moved along a mountainside where most slopes rose at angles steeper than sixty degrees. Each time his paws struck the rock, loose shards broke away and clattered down into the endless chasm hidden beneath darkness and drifting smoke.

This planet lacked moisture. No clouds drifted in the high sky—only an unrelenting cold wind funneled straight down the back of Lu Yao’s neck. When that icy air collided with his fever-hot body, the clash of heat and chill left him in miserable torment. Gooseflesh prickled across his arms, his skin frozen stiff as ice, yet inside him burned a turbulent, restless heat that seemed to boil his very soul.

The snow leopard crested the summit and began to race downward. If climbing up had been only a jarring struggle—steep rock cast behind them and unable to inspire true fear—then descending meant facing the cold gray abyss head-on. The primal human terror of heights surged uncontrollably to the surface.

Lu Yao clung tightly to the snow leopard’s neck and turned his head toward the heavens, where scattered stars shone. He fixed on the constellations, using their positions to steady his mind.

“When we reach the foot of the mountain,” he whispered, “head northwest.”

When the snow leopard’s metal-clad paws struck the gravel plain, light from the eastern sky began to sweep away darkness and stars. The sun still hid below the horizon, not yet risen, and with no clouds overhead there was no blush of morning. Yet in the eastern sky loomed a vast, deep-blue star, its form revealed in dawn’s glow. It was Planet B12.

From the surface of B13, it appeared ten times larger than Earth’s moon and hung grotesquely in the heavens, consuming nearly a quarter of the sky. Its mountains and ridges were visible to the naked eye.

But B12 would not linger long in the view of Lu Yao and Zhou Yunchen. The snow leopard thundered across the vast desert plain, carrying Lu Yao. As the sun climbed, B13’s surface heated quickly. The temperature soared past ninety degrees. Though Lu Yao wore insulated combat gear, he hadn’t sealed it completely. Scorching wind poured through the collar, driving his body’s fever higher.

The snow leopard fared no better. Hours of relentless running left his breath hoarse and ragged. His chest heaved, and the long fur meant for warmth now became a punishing burden.

Sweat streamed like rain down Lu Yao’s forehead and neck. Heat boiled his mind into sludge, then into scalding paste. Worse still, he felt an alien dampness seeping down his thighs into his boots—thick, slippery, nothing like sweat. The combined torment of heat and estrus drained him of water until he felt as though his body held back a dammed lake, its waves battering his insides, threatening to burst loose at any moment.

His breath carried pheromones, laced with an overpowering sweetness like catnip mixed with syrup. To Zhou Yunchen, it was as if he bore on his back a massive catnip confection glazed with honey, maple, and malt sugar. A low, engine-like purr rumbled in the snow leopard’s throat. Without the distraction of running, he might have already lost reason under the pull of omega pheromones.

Torque poked his head out of the pack, lured by the scent, and licked Lu Yao’s cheek with a barbed feline tongue. The scrape made Lu Yao shudder. He whimpered, clutching unconsciously at the snow leopard’s mane. He felt like bread dough stuffed with cheese, swelling inside a blazing oven, ready to split open and ooze molten filling.

As B13 spun and revolved, the sun still hung at its zenith while oppressive B12 sank halfway below the horizon. The swelling pressure inside him pushed him near collapse. Lu Yao bit his lip hard, unable to speak a word.

He had endured estrus before, but never for this long. With Zhou Yunchen at his side, the torment felt even sharper, because here in the desert wasteland they had no chance to stop—no place to shelter, no time for marking. He had no choice but to endure.

After more than a hundred miles, Zhou Yunchen finally reached the massive sinkhole Lu Yao had described. To Lu Yao, it was like a dying traveler glimpsing water in the desert. His mind unraveled in relief. He could no longer communicate with the snow leopard. Zhou Yunchen followed the directions Lu Yao had left earlier, climbing down the fifty-meter pit, then slipping into the hidden passage leading to the abandoned base.

Inside the artificial tunnel, carved into rock and sand, Zhou Yunchen shifted back into human form. He cradled Lu Yao in his arms and carried him forward. For a moment, Lu Yao stirred. He lifted a trembling hand, hooked it around Zhou Yunchen’s neck, and pressed close. His half-lidded eyes had lost all light, hollowed out by the pain of estrus. Instinct drove him toward the source of alpha pheromones beside him.

His fingertips grazed the scabbed wound at the back of Zhou Yunchen’s neck. His forehead rested against Zhou Yunchen’s throat, both their skins damp and burning, sparking like iron tongs struck together. Zhou Yunchen ground his teeth and forced himself onward, veins bulging at his temple.

Lu Yao’s lips, once flushed, had already blanched from heat and dehydration. They trembled against Zhou Yunchen’s throat as he whispered, “Zhou Yunchen… General Zhou… Commander Zhou…” He spoke unconsciously, unaware how irresistible his words were to the alpha who loved him.

Alphas were violent by nature—possessive, uncontrolled, brutish as beasts. By baring his vulnerable neck, Lu Yao unknowingly offered an invitation that undermined every chain society had fastened on such creatures.

No— It was not just like an invitation. It was an invitation. Lu Yao’s desperate calls earned him nothing but Zhou Yunchen’s unbroken stride and silence. Reason had long since yielded to instinct; emptiness and desire drove Lu Yao to reach for what he could not have. His next plea came out broken, tinged with sobs. “Zhou Yunchen…”

If they had not yet reached the abandoned base, Lu Yao might have endured a little longer. But once they arrived at their destination, his will collapsed. They were in a safe place now—why didn’t the alpha respond? Why wouldn’t he mark him? The more he thought about it, the heavier the grief pressed against his chest, as if stones were crammed inside.

Zhou Yunchen’s fingers dug into the combat fabric at Lu Yao’s waist and thigh. “Yaoyao,” he said, his voice taut, “give me a little time to check this place, all right? Just a moment more.”

Lu Yao clutched his shoulder, trembling all over. Fire raged in Zhou Yunchen’s mind as well. His omega lay in his arms, exuding the sweet, intoxicating scent of estrus. The ache in his body had grown unbearable, yet he forced himself to do nothing. He had to ensure the nest was safe.

The base’s construction startled him. Most of the tunnels weren’t reinforced with special materials at all; they had simply been hewn from yellow earth and stone. No lights had been installed either. Instead, shafts carried sunlight deep below, and cool breezes drifted through, maintaining a tolerable temperature.

Following the flow of air, Zhou Yunchen quickened his pace. From the backpack, Torque poked out his head and rubbed his ears against Lu Yao’s neck, purring with pleasure. The sound gnawed at Zhou Yunchen, turning his craving into a sharp mix of jealousy and anger. Even this little white cat was allowed to kiss Lu Yao’s lips…

By the time they descended to the fifth level, a chamber of metal and synthetic material opened before him. As Zhou Yunchen stepped inside, mechanical hums and electric light flickered on together. “Welcome back, Mr. Lu Yao,” said a voice.

Zhou Yunchen froze. The base’s artificial intelligence had recognized Lu Yao. He scanned the room. Computers and workbenches lined either side. Towering servers stood silent in the back. A long central table served half as a lathe, half as a drafting platform, and on it lay scattered sketches— unmistakably in Lu Yao’s handwriting. This was the laboratory where Lu Yao had once worked.

Near a console sat a cylindrical robot with mechanical arms, holding a ceramic cup. Its indicator light was dead, as though it had been shut down for years. Zhou Yunchen tried, “Could you bring us some drinking water?”

“I am glad to serve you,” the AI replied. “New guest, you may call me Oasis.”

As it spoke, the robot’s indicator blinked green. It glided to the corner to fill the cup with water. Relieved that the base still functioned, Zhou Yunchen continued, “I also need towels, a basin, cushions, blankets, and pillows. Raise the room temperature.”

He worried Lu Yao’s overheated body would react badly to sudden coolness. Half-conscious, Lu Yao seemed to sense what was coming. He clutched Zhou Yunchen’s neck and murmured feverishly. With the external dangers gone, his instincts told him the greatest danger now was the man holding him. His voice shook, soft enough that Zhou Yunchen had to bend his head to catch it. Hot breath brushed his ear as the words spilled out. “I want… the snow leopard… the snow leopard…”

Zhou Yunchen blinked. “What?” How could the snow leopard help him now?

Yes, Lu Yao had always liked curling up with his two cats during estrus, hugging them to calm his restless moods. Sometimes he buried his face in their fur or squeezed them to vent his emotions. Back then, before the snow leopard revealed his true identity, Zhou Yunchen had burned with envy even while secretly savoring the thought. But now—now there was no way a cat could replace an alpha.

“The snow leopard… cat…” Lu Yao rasped, his voice cracked with sobs. He thumped his fist weakly against Zhou Yunchen’s shoulder with no more force than Torque’s kitten punches.

Author’s Note:
Two wishes, fulfilled at once.

 

 

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