Chapter 149: He Lay on His Back in the Stairwell
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
In the month following the Ancient Earth Research Exhibition and Symposium, extraterrestrial guests gradually departed from Capital Star—but StarNet remained ablaze with discussions of Ancient Earth’s former glory.
The popularity of the speakers who had presented at the symposium skyrocketed to unimaginable heights. Search engine traffic for terms like “how to major in Ancient Earth studies” surged, even surpassing the newest album released by the current pop sensation.
On interstellar social platforms, discussions of humanity’s once-brilliant civilization were just as fervent. Though ancient Earth had long perished, humanity still took pride in its legacy.
Some groups attempted to invite Lin Xu for commercial lectures. Others, more brazen, had traveled all the way to the Ancient Earth Natural Science Museum. The museum’s artifact management team had already removed unrelated visitors from the restricted staff area five times—and once, someone had nearly broken into Lin Xu’s office.
Under the mounting pressure of Lin Xu’s barely restrained temper, Curator Zhao had no choice but to grant him leave, allowing him to work from home. With his superior’s permission secured, Lin Xu didn’t linger. He grabbed Yuanxiao’s cat carrier, turned, and walked straight out of the office.
On the flight home, his terminal chimed with a notification. He switched to audio playback, and the smooth voice of a news anchor filled the cabin.
“This station has learned from the Capital Star police department that Rolson was found dead this morning in his detention cell. The official cause of death was determined to be cardiac arrest. Rolson, a federal Class I fugitive and former head detective of the Capital Star police, was scheduled to stand trial in three days at the Supreme Court of Capital Star. Legal experts had predicted a sentence exceeding three hundred years.”
Cardiac arrest?
Lin Xu switched the flyer to autopilot and opened the terminal’s news page. The article contained only one image: Rolson strapped to a stretcher as medics and officers prepared to transport him to a hospital.
Despite having lived on Capital Star for several years, it was Lin Xu’s first time hearing of someone dying from cardiac arrest. With the current state of medical technology, treating heart conditions was laughably simple. Before being declared a fugitive, Rolson had undergone regular physicals and rehabilitative treatments as a police officer. It made no sense that he’d die of heart failure now. Someone had silenced him.
Raindrops began to strike the front window of the flyer with sharp pats. As the craft entered the Cacamorra Plains, the rain thickened into a hazy curtain of mist.
Killing Rolson had likely been no different to the perpetrator than discarding a useless pawn—like putting down a stray mutt that wouldn’t stop barking.
The media campaign Lin Xu had arranged through Metz to pressure the court into issuing a sentence of exile or death was now meaningless. He shut off the terminal and stared silently into the curtain of rain.
Under automated guidance, the flyer began to descend. The thrusters dispersed the moisture with a blast of heat. Once grounded, Lin Xu scooped up the soundly sleeping Yuanxiao from the passenger seat. Hunching his shoulders to shield the little one from the cold rain, he dashed inside.
Since the arrival of autumn, temperatures on the plains had begun to drop. The moment Lin Xu entered the house, he waved a hand to ignite the fireplace. The sudden flare startled the two rabbit-cats curled up beside the hearth, who leapt up and bolted under the sofa in a panic.
The heat from the flames slowly warmed the stone platform above the fireplace. Lin Xu tested the temperature, then pulled a small blanket from the sofa, folded it, and laid it down on the platform. By the time he placed Yuanxiao on top, the blanket had already absorbed a comforting warmth.
Yuanxiao didn’t open his eyes. He let out a soft whimper in his sleep, curled his tail around himself like a pillow, then tucked his wings over his face to block the light in the room. Within moments, he was snoring again.
Lin Xu planned to head upstairs to grab a book and read nearby—just in case Yuanxiao rolled over in his sleep and tumbled into the fireplace. But he hadn’t made it halfway up the stairs when a communication request came through.
He glanced at the caller ID, then paused and answered the call without going any farther. Instead, he sat down right there on the stairs. From this angle, he could still see the fireplace and Yuanxiao snoozing soundly atop it. With a bit of distance between them, Lin Xu could speak softly without waking him.
The person on the other end of the call didn’t speak right away. They simply watched Lin Xu, who was quietly staring off-screen, as if lost in thought. They didn’t interrupt the moment, just looked calmly at the face they hadn’t seen in so long.
“Chiu-wuu…” Still asleep, Yuanxiao sneezed in his dream. Lin Xu finally blinked and turned to the screen. Heinrich.
Heinrich was dressed simply in a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. A standard black military coat was draped over his shoulders. His silver hair, usually combed neatly for drills and marches, hung loose, damp strands clinging to his forehead. Behind him was the porthole of the Victoria and the pitch-black infinity of space. But his casual state softened some of the coldness.
“Are you heading to bed?” Lin Xu asked.
“Mm. Things are relatively quiet here,” Heinrich replied. “Small-scale skirmishes, one after another. I can’t fully step away from work—but I have more free time now. I happened to catch your symposium presentation on StarNet.”
“The symposium…” Lin Xu looked down, thoughtful for a moment. In the end, he didn’t mention to Heinrich that the speech had been entirely unplanned. Lin Xu had a general idea of what caused this so-called “accident.” The seminar was practically a high-level diplomatic event, and there were only a few people in the entire Empire who could tamper with something so openly. One of them was the emperor—who had also appeared at the event “by accident.”
What Lin Xu didn’t understand was how forcing him to give an impromptu speech could benefit the emperor. The emperor hadn’t shown any signs of disappointment, as if Lin Xu’s successful speech had ruined some plan.
“Did you want to comment on my report?”
“No, I don’t have any thoughts,” Heinrich replied. “I just wanted to see you… to hear your voice.”
They were on different planets, and although they often kept in touch through messages, the StarNet signal in the border region was frequently unstable. It was hard for Heinrich to find a chance to video call Lin Xu.
His voice sounded thick and sincere. Lin Xu’s dark, inky lashes trembled slightly. He didn’t respond right away but leaned sideways against the staircase wall, the back left side of his head resting against it. He tilted just enough to show his shoulders and neck to the alpha on the other side of the screen.
“Look.”
Lin Xu was still fully dressed in a gray, semi-turtleneck sweater. It was just a relaxed posture—but even from light-years away, Heinrich felt a wave of sweet, heated energy wash over him.
Raindrops from earlier had soaked Lin Xu’s black hair, and it still hadn’t dried. His hair clung in strands, which should have been cold to look at—but in the heat of the dreamlike moment, it became damp and alluring instead.
And yet Lin Xu remained pale and cold, his features sharp and precise. Like a blade, he cut through the dreamy haze clouding the minds of anyone who dared to draw near. Heinrich’s breath caught. A moment later, he snapped himself out of it, yanked the military coat from his shoulders, and laid it over his lap to cover something silently.
There might have been a hint of a smile on Lin Xu’s lips—or maybe there hadn’t been anything at all. Before Heinrich could get a clear look, Lin Xu tapped the holographic screen and shifted positions. Now he was lying back on the stairs, head tilted downward and body stretched out over several steps.
“You’ve seen it. Got anything to say?” His black hair fanned loosely on the floor, and the holographic screen hovered a few steps away. His pale gray eyes were fully visible. From that angle, Heinrich could also see the little dragon snoring on the fireplace mantle, and the two rabbit-cats curled in the corner.
He didn’t have space—or the right—to say anything else. He could only shove the restlessness in his heart back down into silence.
“Ahem,” Heinrich pressed down on the military coat, coughing twice to cover the strain in his voice. “I’ve formed a few guesses based on the mercenary fleet travel map you sent me earlier.”
“And?” Lin Xu’s lazy, husky voice immediately tightened, like a bowstring being pulled taut.
“Do you remember, on our way to ancient Earth, Zhou Pingbo and I told you that besides the banquet assassination, several ancient Earth scholars had also died under suspicious circumstances?”
“Yeah.”
Back then, they’d all assumed the attacks were connected—that the Star Pirates who’d targeted Heinrich were somehow linked to the scholars’ deaths. But now, it appeared the attack on Heinrich and the Abyss Fleet had come from the Rememberers organization, while Marianna’s death had been due to secrets leaked from the G398 mining planet. So… did the other victims know something too? Something threatening enough to get them silenced?
“The wreckage locations of the archaeological fleet heading to the Abatis Galaxy and the sociology team traveling to the Dionysus border zone overlapped with the mercenary fleet’s travel route.”
Lin Xu furrowed his brows after a moment’s thought. “I remember the reports said the archaeology shipwreck was caused by natural phenomena, and the sociology team ran into rebel forces.”
“Guy and Alonso have… a lot of rebel-related data,” Heinrich said, trying to force himself into a businesslike posture. “The rebels call themselves the Dawn Front. They’re tightly organized. When the sociology team was attacked, there weren’t any rebel forces recorded near the scene.”
“So the mercenaries staged the attack and blamed it on the rebels…” Lin Xu murmured. “But why target sociology researchers in the Dionysus region? They don’t study ancient Earth or Ark Fleet history—how could they pose any threat to the Empire?”
Heinrich replied, “I heard their research focused on the early population boom and interstellar colonization patterns in the Dionysus sector. There’s been long-standing academic confusion about that, and no one’s ever had a truly convincing theory. Alonso told me that this recent unrest in the region might also be connected to—”
“Mr. Lin!” a sudden shout interrupted them.
Lin Xu looked toward the door. Arnold had just rushed in, looking anxious. The moment he saw Lin Xu lying sprawled on the stairs and Marshal Chu on the holographic screen, he froze—but only for a second.
“Marshal!” he said, hastily saluting. Lin Xu calmly rolled upright and patted the creases from his clothes. Heinrich turned his attention to Arnold. “What happened?”
Arnold had the code and key to Lin Xu’s home, but he would never barge in unless it was urgent. “It’s something on StarNet. Someone’s accusing Mr. Lin, it’s just—” Arnold rushed forward, tongue stumbling as he fumbled to open his terminal and pull up the StarNet news page for Lin Xu to see.
The headline was splashed in bold:
“Shocking! A Famous Scholar Staged His Own Scandal Just for Fame!”
The infamous tabloid’s logo made Lin Xu raise a brow. Arnold realized it wasn’t a great source and quickly switched to a more reputable media outlet. Though the article wasn’t on the front page, it had only been published an hour ago—and its views had already surpassed the day’s political headlines.
“Renowned Ancient Earth Scholar Accused of Academic Misconduct—Over Twenty Industry Experts Sign Joint Letter of Accusation.”
What was this? Lin Xu’s frown deepened with every word. He scrolled through the page and into the body of the article.
“Multiple sources accuse Dr. Lin Xu of fabricating references, falsifying data, and violating lab regulations to produce counterfeit artifacts…”
At the same time, Heinrich—still in the border zone—had pulled up the article himself. A blizzard of accusations exploded onto the screen, each one cutting like a blade.
Arnold added, “Mr. Lin, I first saw a post about it on the Capital Star University forum, about four hours ago. Then the major news outlets started publishing reports an hour later…”
This Title is available for faster chapter releases through paid Patreon membership. Any proceeds go to keeping the website running. Check it out HERE.
