Chapter 32: Baby, Miss Me?

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

Lu Yao opened the work files Deus had pushed to him. The pale blue glow of the display reflected in his eyes. “I’ll keep working. This is my focus.”

Mo Feng felt a wave of helplessness. He shifted his posture, leaning sideways against the back of the sofa, supporting his head with one hand. “Of course. We’re the manufacturing department, not the entertainment industry. Traffic and attention have never been part of quarterly KPIs, but… but…”

He couldn’t help but sit up straighter, facing Lu Yao. “Just thinking about Jiang Wei feeling a sense of small-time triumph after finally surpassing you in one thing… It makes me so angry.”

“Even now, he still has something beyond me. You don’t need to be upset in your own mind,” Lu Yao said calmly.

Mo Feng suspected Lu Yao was trying to comfort him, though he had no proof. But… was there really anything Jiang Wei had that Lu Yao didn’t? Education? Net worth? Annual salary? IQ? None of it. Even in marriage and divorce experience, Lu Yao had more than Jiang Wei.

“What does he have that surpasses you? Is there some secret between you two I don’t know about?” Mo Feng noticed a fleeting blankness on Lu Yao’s face.

As expected, Lu Yao had just spoken casually, fabricating a clumsy comfort to calm him down. Lu Yao said, “I suppose… height and weight.”

Mo Feng coughed violently. Yes, that was it. Jiang Wei, a male Beta, indeed exceeded Lu Yao in height and weight. He realized he had overestimated Lu Yao’s emotional intelligence.

Lu Yao glanced at Mo Feng strangely. “And… you don’t need to worry. The documentary crew has military advisors assisting with the script. If they had wanted the style of the Jaeger Industries documentary, they could have done that from the start—but they didn’t choose that direction.”

Mo Feng thought Lu Yao had put all his emotional intelligence into his IQ. “And? I don’t quite understand. Our direction is different, so what? Does that guarantee we’ll do better than Jaeger?”

“It’s not about better or worse.”

Even after work ended, Mo Feng kept thinking about Lu Yao’s words. He still had no clear understanding, only waves of anxiety. He suggested going to dinner with Lu Yao, but Lu Yao said he wanted to go home to spend time with Torque. Lately, he had slightly neglected the little cat because of the snow leopard, and Torque had even stopped eating.

Mo Feng had no choice but to turn and find Chang Jian. They arranged to meet at a vegetarian restaurant. With Lu Yao absent, Mo Feng invited his boyfriend, Cheng Cheng, to join. During the meal, Mo Feng recounted his conversation with Lu Yao to Chang Jian, hoping for his insight.

Chang Jian first glanced at the young alpha college student beside Mo Feng. Handsome, muscular, exuding youthful energy—compared to their veteran colleagues, he carried an unmistakable innocence.

Cheng Cheng smiled shyly, understanding the meaning in Chang Jian’s gaze. “You talk, I’ve signed an NDA with Mr. Mo, nothing I say will go out.”

Only then did Chang Jian speak. “I’ve seen the Jaeger Industries documentary. It’s well-made. Hard to say it’s not good.”

“But ‘it’s not about better or worse’?”

“It’s not completely unrelated. At least in terms of objective production quality, you can’t fall short of them,” Chang Jian said. “But that shouldn’t be a problem. Li Yan and Wang Chuanshan’s professional skills are trustworthy. As for the core themes… Cheng Cheng, have you seen Blazing Chronicles?”

Cheng Cheng thought for a moment. “No.”

Mo Feng frowned, digging the name out from memory. “It’s a very old film. I only saw it once in my parents’ media collection. It mixed monster warfare, interstellar exploration, and mecha chasing space pirates. The protagonist ultimately sacrifices himself heroically for an ideal.”

“Do you think Star River Craftsmen is very similar to Blazing Chronicles?”

“If you mean the explosion-heavy scenes, yes, very similar. Lu Yao’s documentary probably won’t waste that much ammo.”

“Sure, that’s one aspect,” Chang Jian pressed. “But what about the core pursuit of ideals? Do you feel the similarity there?”

“Heroic sacrifice, fearless idealists? A little. That’s very classic, not surprising.”

Chang Jian smiled. “Yes, very classic. Classic to the point of cliché. I’m sure Lu Yao noticed it too. Strong sensory stimulation combined with deep, raw emotional impact is enough to trigger intense emotional responses. Mo Feng, you spend every day immersed in commercial projects and advertising; this stuff almost becomes part of your soul.”

Chang Jian, Mo Feng, and Lu Yao worked in very different fields, and their daily routines shaped their thinking. Their perspectives naturally differed.

“Is that bad? I think it’s effective. Effective enough to almost become an artificial law.”

“It’s not bad, just too old-fashioned. Heroic sacrifice, fearless idealists…” Chang Jian explained, “I’m not saying idealists are bad. Humans must have ideals. Just like your ideal is to sleep next to a young, sunlit, athletic college alpha. You work toward that ideal, eventually succeed, and both your body and mind are satisfied. A very perfect ending.”

It was blunt. Cheng Cheng lowered his head to his bowl, embarrassed that an omega could make an alpha feel shy. His spoon clinked against the bowl’s edge with a crisp sound. Mo Feng glanced at him. “You don’t like the food here?”

Cheng Cheng hesitated. “Ah… no, I mean… a little. The dishes are too plain. My protein intake isn’t enough.”

“There’s a barbecue place next door. You should try it. I like their lamb chops. After you eat, pack some up and bring it home for me to try tonight.”

After sending Cheng Cheng off, Mo Feng fell into thought. “Outdated…”

“Star River Craftsmen weaves a false sense of ideals with exquisite skill. The emotional impact can move many people—but false is still false. Only a few will immerse themselves in such illusions. The so-called unity of the masses, humanity’s life-and-death stakes…”

The phrase sparked Mo Feng’s thinking. “Only humans a hundred years ago would have believed that was a life-or-death moment.”

More than a century ago, humans first encountered the alien beasts emerging from the Elyon Void. Their overwhelming aggression and advanced technology swept across dozens of planets, leaving bloodshed everywhere. It was the Federation’s first real war against a nonhuman civilization, and doomsday pessimism ran rampant.

The Federation declared a state of emergency, mobilizing all military forces to combat the alien beasts, vowing to exterminate them. Countless thrilling battles and selfless warriors were told and retold. But the alien beasts were impossible to kill completely.

The Federation’s territory was vast, spanning millions of planets and still expanding. The worlds ravaged by alien attacks were just a tiny fraction. The beasts were powerful, but not unbeatable.

Thirty years later, the state of emergency ended. In regions far from the void, human life returned to normal. Time stretched long, space extended almost infinitely, and the fear of alien attacks faded. A hundred years later, most humans regarded the alien wars as untouchable history.

If a distant star exploded, destroying the dozen planets orbiting it in a catastrophic event, would ordinary humans millions of light-years away even notice? No. For an ordinary human, the collapse of a star system was just an extra bright, cold star in the night sky above.

Only the news and media carried the faint embers of the event, occasionally igniting excitement in humans living in peaceful regions.

Chang Jian said, “Jaeger Industries used a commercial mindset to organize this publicity. Their choice doesn’t surprise me. As for Steel Titans, as long as Lu Yao thinks the script direction is fine, all we can do is hope the documentary’s content doesn’t become boring because it’s too profound. But to be honest,” Chang Jian admitted, “that’s what worries me most.”

Mo Feng felt anxiety rise. “Yeah, what if Lu Yao tries to tell a dry joke, and no audience gets it?”

Over the next few days, Zhou Yunchen noticed that as soon as Lu Yao got home from work, he would disappear, holding Torque. On the first day, he didn’t think much of it. On the second day, he began fidgeting restlessly. On the third day, following the scent, he found Lu Yao’s location and tapped and scratched at the door.

It was the space partitioned off in the garage. Zhou Yunchen knew that a few days prior, Lu Yao had brought many experimental devices from the base and stored them there. So Lu Yao was working. But he was working on mecha, not living creatures. Torque, the little white cat, wasn’t part of his research. At most, he could offer meows and smooth fur. Even the snow leopard could do that—and better: he could warm Lu Yao’s feet or serve as a pillow. Thinking of this, the snow leopard continued to paw at the door in indignation. After several seconds, the door opened. The snow leopard’s paw swiped against Lu Yao’s leg. “Ow—”

Lu Yao grabbed the snow leopard’s paw and pulled him up. The standing snow leopard was almost as tall as Lu Yao. The big cat’s warm, damp breath brushed Lu Yao’s face.

“Did you miss me, huh?” Lu Yao asked.

“Ow!”

Lu Yao’s expression relaxed as he reached out, ruffling the fur at the back of the snow leopard’s neck with a gentle purr, guiding him into the laboratory. Torque sprawled on the floor, panting as if he had just finished an intense chase, lacking even the energy to open his mouth and protest against intruders.

Snow leopard crouched nearby, eyes glinting with disdain. What a fragile little cat. But as soon as Lu Yao put the snow leopard down, he immediately scooped up Torque again.

“Meow~” The little white cat’s cry twisted and turned, full of plaintive sorrow. Snow Leopard tried to reclaim Lu Yao’s attention. “Miu~”

Lu Yao ignored him, turning to place Torque on a wide black strip on the workbench. The strip was about twice the width of Torque and had a rough surface. Its purpose was unclear. Lu Yao picked up a long stick with a feather attached. A cat teaser?

He fed Torque a small treat and waved the stick, enticing Torque to reach out a paw. Pressing a button on the workbench, the black strip beneath Torque suddenly started moving.

“Meow!”

Torque yelped and scrambled, running along the moving strip, with the feather stick dangling just ahead. This was… a cat treadmill? As a small cat of healthy weight, Torque didn’t really need extra exercise to stay fit.

Snow leopard watched, puzzled, when the lab’s light screen displayed a live 3D motion capture of Torque running. Lu Yao shook the feather stick with one hand while recording data on the screen with the other, adjusting the animation based on the motion capture. Zhou Yunchen peered closely at the display. Slowly, a question mark formed in his mind: “?”

Under Lu Yao’s hands appeared a set of precise mecha schematics. From their shape, only a cat could fit into this mecha. Master Lu… do you even make mecha for your cats?

 

 

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