Chapter 35: It’s Not His Body—It’s His Heart

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

Lu Yao couldn’t help frowning. His tone was as cold and serious as ever, though there was a subtle note beneath it. “Teng, what are you talking about?”

Mr. Teng turned to him. “Your routine medical report didn’t include a pregnancy test. The Federation Intelligence Bureau’s data shows you haven’t done one privately either. That worries us. I’m not sure if you’ve found some way to hide the results.”

He had worked for the Bureau for years, overseeing Lu Yao’s missions without incident. But the growing speculation on the Starnet had left him restless. Aside from the gifs circulating online, he had no intelligence that proved Lu Yao was pregnant. Yet that very absence of evidence only made his doubts heavier.

If the child belonged to Zhou Yunchen, then the General certainly had the power to conceal it from the Bureau.

“You’re missing the point,” Lu Yao said. “Why would you think I’m pregnant?”

Teng hesitated. The sheer confusion on Lu Yao’s face shook his certainty. He asked cautiously, “You… haven’t seen the discussions online?”

“About whether I’m pregnant? No.” Lu Yao’s reply was firm. He paid little attention to the Starnet or the media. Information relevant to his work was gathered and organized by the technical intelligence department before being delivered to his desk. Naturally, such gossip would never make it into the daily reports.

“Well then.” Teng opened a holoscreen and showed him a compiled summary. “In your Steel Titans documentary, netizens found this clip. They think it’s morning sickness.”

Lu Yao stared at the blurry gif in silence.

“The Bureau also confirmed that the alpha beside you was General Zhou Yunchen. Before he appeared at the First Research Base, we had no trace of his secret return. Considering all this, we judged the likelihood of your pregnancy to be over eighty percent,” Teng said earnestly.

“I’m not pregnant. I fainted during mecha testing with General Zhou.” Lu Yao pressed his lips together, then added, “This return of his was mainly to…”

It was probably connected to the abnormal drift of his spiritual core, though that could not be disclosed.

“…to deal with the follow-up to our divorce.”

Relief softened Teng’s features. He leaned back in his chair. “Good. I was worried you might breach your confidentiality agreement with the Bureau. That would have complicated things. It’s a relief you’re not pregnant.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s all. Are you heading home? I’ll take you. I heard you moved? That pre-marriage apartment of yours was very nice—why leave it?”

“For my pet. He needed more space.” Lu Yao knew Teng already had the details of his personal life.

As if to confirm it, the aircraft shifted course toward the hilltop villa.

“Xiao Xu,” Teng called to the suited alpha in the front seat. The man handed him a black rectangular device. “Mr. Lu, I’ll need a blood sample. A verbal denial won’t satisfy the Bureau.”

Lu Yao wasn’t surprised by Teng’s polite words backed by force. He extended his wrist. The sting was mild. Minutes later, readings flashed across the screen.

“HCG and progesterone levels are normal, hormones stable,” Teng said. “Congratulations, Mr. Lu. You’re not pregnant, and you’re in excellent health.”

The tension in the cabin eased at last. Stowing the device, Teng spoke in a lighter tone. “Forgive us. We have to be cautious. Another victim rescued from the CROSS laboratory once signed the same no-reproduction agreement, yet he became pregnant and wanted to keep the child. Because he was an alpha and his husband an omega who had lost his reproductive chamber, we nearly overlooked them. People forget all six sexes can conceive—the odds just differ. When we found out, it took a long time to finally persuade him to give up.”

“Persuade?” Lu Yao echoed. After years of knowing Teng, he didn’t believe the word could come so easily from him. Teng smiled faintly in the sunset. “Yes, a talk. If everyone were as reasonable as you, the Bureau’s negotiations would all be peaceful. Honestly, I’d even be willing to help, since you were the victims.”

“Speaking of that, headquarters has already closed the CROSS laboratory case on Baishan Star. But since you wanted to find the alpha who once marked you, I’ve kept searching. Recently I managed to recover the full personnel list from that operation.”

“Go on.”

“Before the Federation Star Police and military arrived officially, a group of Military Academy students conducting exercises landed first and clashed with the CROSS guards. The distress call must have been theirs. They were from Morningstar Military Academy and Eklan Military Academy. CROSS was formidable, and those young cadets suffered heavy losses. I interviewed all the survivors, and every one of them said they’d never seen you.

“I also gathered the complete roster of the dead and missing. It’s chaotic—some bodies were never found, perhaps reduced to ash by plasma fire. A few of the missing have been found over the years, alphas and betas, but all low-ranking and not matching your description. Do you still want to keep searching?”

Teng had always believed Lu Yao clung to some obsession with the unknown alpha who had marked him during the rescue—perhaps a dependence born of the temporary bond, perhaps hatred for the one who forced it. That was the only reason he could imagine for Lu Yao’s twenty-year search.

But after watching Zhou Yunchen and Lu Yao remain entangled even after divorce, Teng wondered. Did Lu Yao truly want to find that alpha anymore?

So many years had passed. Any passion driven by instinct must have long since faded. And hatred… perhaps that alpha had already dissolved into cosmic dust two decades ago.

The rose-tinted glow of Lus spread across the world as the aircraft entered the plains near the villa. The towering modern skyline faded away, leaving only nature. The soft pink light fell across Lu Yao’s face, but it brought no warmth to the icy ridges. Only solitude.

“I won’t keep searching,” Lu Yao said. “You don’t need to investigate on my behalf anymore, Deputy Teng. If you want to continue the pursuit and find results, just let me know. That will be enough.”

The faint smile on Teng’s face faded into something deeper. Dressed with meticulous care, every crease in his expression carried authority and gravity. Yet Lu Yao pierced straight through the weight and power to the emotions hidden behind them.

Teng studied him for a long moment before smiling again. “All right. If I uncover anything, I’ll tell you. But Chief Engineer Lu, stop calling me Agent Teng. I’ve risen in rank these past years. Everyone calls me Deputy Director now.”

The CROSS laboratory case was the first major investigation of Teng’s career. It had taken him nearly a year to rescue the victims, capture the lab’s director, and deliver a closing report that satisfied headquarters. Yet he had always carried the nagging sense that something was left unfinished. The feeling clung to him like a nightmare he could never shake, no matter how high he rose in office or how much power he wielded. That was why he stayed in contact with Lu Yao, hoping that one day the survivor’s words might reveal some overlooked clue.

The sun was setting as the aircraft descended onto the villa’s rooftop landing pad. Lu Yao stepped out, crossed the courtyard, and headed toward the living quarters. Wind from the departing craft whipped his hair into disarray.

The CROSS laboratory was his nightmare as well. The incurable injuries he bore had all been inflicted there, and whenever memory stirred, his mind filled with nothing but blood and trembling. More than twenty years had passed since, and he seldom let himself remember.

His pheromone stress disorder also traced back to that accident. He had been captured by chance, turned into a test subject, and during his desperate escape had been gravely wounded—covered in blood, blinded, and thrown into estrus. An alpha had temporarily marked him.

It had been misfortune within misfortune. The timely mark had saved him from an even darker fate, but the intensity of estrus, the forced bond, and the agony had all fused together in his memory. It was not a physical wound but a knot in his heart.

The endocrine synchronists said if he ever found that alpha, treatment with pheromones might heal him. But with each year that passed, the hope of such a cure faded, and his calm acceptance grew. After all, pheromones were no miracle medicine, no guarantee of recovery.

He no longer demanded it. He had no intention of settling with an alpha; suppressants were more than enough to keep him steady. Besides, he had two cats to care for—one large, one small.

Inside, Torque came bounding to his knees. Lu Yao scooped the warm, fluffy kitten into his arms, but he saw no sign of the snow leopard. Normally the big cat waited for him near the elevator.

Frowning, he searched the corners, then checked every room on the first and second floor, but the snow leopard was nowhere to be found. Where was his leopard? Heart tightening, Lu Yao hurried back out to the courtyard and opened his personal AI assistant to access the security feed.

From the forest at the foot of the hill, Zhou Yunchen saw a black aircraft sweep across the plain and descend onto the villa’s landing pad. The craft was unfamiliar, but it had clearance to enter the protective field. Which meant Lu Yao must be inside. He had returned.

But Zhou Yunchen had not changed back. Hidden in the dense greenery, using the leaves as cover, he clenched his fists. He had to change back. Otherwise, the moment Lu Yao stepped inside, he would discover the snow leopard was missing. His mind strained with effort, yet even the strongest will could not overcome the mysterious power of the Villeau civilization. His body remained stubbornly human.

Above the hilltop, the aircraft took off again, startling a flock of birds from the canopy. Lu Yao must already have disembarked. Change back… he had to change back.

But the Villeau power refused to obey. Anxiety and panic flooded his chest until he could barely breathe. His hand crushed the bark of the tree he gripped, shards falling away beneath his strength. Veins bulged at his temple as he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, fighting to control himself. Yet his thoughts crashed against each other uncontrollably.

What would Lu Yao think if he discovered the snow leopard was him? Lu Yao had embraced the snow leopard, kissed its forehead, bathed and brushed it, even let it sleep in his bed, never concealing anything before the great cat. He would never have treated a human alpha the same way. Never would he have stretched out those pale, cold feet to press against Zhou Yunchen’s waist and stomach, toes curling against his skin…

Crash. The heavy thud shattered the silence, scattering another flock of birds into the air. A flash of silver-white shot through the forest, darting toward the hilltop with powerful strides.

 

 

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