Chapter 58

I'm about to catch you.

Weirdly rattled by those eyes on the screen, Wen Ran jumped back before he even realized it — and cracked the back of his head into a coworker's nose. The guy let out a yelp.

"Sorry, sorry…"

Another coworker laughed. "What's with you? It's not like he's coming for you."

"Right? Look at you. Told you pulling all-nighters messes with your head."

Wen Ran forced a smile, slipped out of the crowd, and dropped into his chair at the Computer. Sat there a minute, blank. Then he pulled himself together and turned his attention to the dense wall of parameters.

The simulation tests and evaluations went fine. Next up: wind tunnel. This time Wen Ran was mainly on the wing leading-edge design. He was still just an assistant engineer, but he and a few others at his level had already been pulled into projects under the senior engineers' lead.

This industry's whole thing is low tolerance for error and sky-high standards. Doesn't matter how shiny your grades were in school — once you're in, you start from scratch. Wen Ran knew he was only middling on talent compared to the top of the field, but with interest and focus, he'd somehow lucked his way through test after test these past two years. Had a few results he could actually point to.

Earlier this year, Wen Ran had designed an upgrade plan for a conical twisted-wing configuration. Estimated 5.9% more lift in cruise, 7% more range. Normally improving those two means sacrificing some supersonic performance — but the final tests showed the supersonic coefficient dropped by less than 0.8%.

A genuinely innovative technical upgrade. But it never got used. The League's Military Headquarters got wind of it, came straight to the Company, and bought out Wen Ran's design files outright.

Leadership was bummed about losing the tech, but from then on, people started calling this quiet, smart omega "Engineer Li" — Wen Ran was happy about it too, of course, but not because of the bonus or anyone else's approval. It just felt like, in some way, he'd gotten to take part in fighter design after all. A dream come true, sort of.

"Should just need a few tweaks on the model and we're good to test, right? Wind tunnel's next week, same lab near the Air Force Base." A coworker packed up his Computer as he talked. "Let's just hope Military Headquarters doesn't swoop in and steal this one too. Hard enough to get an upgrade out the door, honestly."

"Oh come on — could you maybe be positive for once?"

After an all-nighter, nobody had the energy for more chat. They said their goodbyes and drifted out of the workspace to catch up on sleep. Wen Ran grabbed some food from the convenience store at the Subway station, leaned against the wall eating, and pulled out his Mobile Phone to search: why do I keep getting dizzy and nosebleeds?

Frequent dizziness and nosebleeds — five key leukemia symptoms you need to know!

Common symptoms and signs of brain tumors include headache, dizziness…

…

Feeling like he was about to drop dead any second, Wen Ran quietly closed his phone and decided booking a physical was the safer move.

Got home, washed up, and Wen Ran face-planted into bed. City S ran warm — still hot in October. Remembering he'd been out all night, he felt totally justified reaching for the remote and clicking on the AC.

Before crashing, he sent Zhou Zhuo a message saying he'd come in for his shift tonight. Didn't wait for a reply. Eyes shut, he sank into sleep under the wheeze and rattle of the old air conditioner.

When he woke up it was already evening. Wen Ran stared at the ceiling, zoned out for a minute, then dragged himself up, splashed some water on his face, grabbed his keys, and headed out. Same as always — gave the deadbolt an extra turn before leaving.

On the way to the Subway, he messaged Zhou Zhuo again: Save me an employee meal, thanks.

Zhou Zhuo: Why should I?

Despite that, Wen Ran still got his employee meal at the bar — Zhou Zhuo rolling his eyes the whole time. He ate, then smartly changed into his uniform and got to work. Zhou Zhuo stalked around like a mean supervisor, nitpicking everything, doing his best to make the whole staff miserable.

Finally he came over to Wen Ran. "You pulled an all-nighter and you're still here? What, you wanna drop dead? Took me over a year to put some weight back on you — have a little self-respect."

"Self-respect what?" Wen Ran wiped down the table. "You're just scared I'll croak in your bar and mess up business."

Zhou Zhuo hissed through his teeth. "If I die young, it's definitely your fault. Should've never recognized you seven years ago."

Wen Ran patted his shoulder with the hand that'd just been holding the rag. "Don't say that."

Their reunion was fate, plain and simple. It was Wen Ran's second month at the small Hospital — he could get out of bed and walk around on his own now. Stuck in the ward all day was boring, so he'd often go down to the little Garden to read or zone out. That's how he met a little girl who liked to swing there and sing.

Within a few days she'd sung through every song she knew, and asked if Wen Ran could teach her a new one. He was in a bind — couldn't remember the words to pop songs, and the nursery rhymes he knew, she already knew too. In the end, all he had left was that lullaby from the Orphanage.

"The blue sea is the sky for the fish, the child sleeps in the clouds and dreams…"

"The seaweed is a soft pillow, the moonlight is a distant lamp…"

"Gege, your singing kinda sucks. Never mind." The girl cut him off, unable to take it anymore.

Wen Ran rubbed his nose. "Oh. Okay."

Then a voice came from behind him. "Did you grow up in an Orphanage?"

Before Wen Ran could turn around, the girl beat him to it, indignant on his behalf. "Why are you insulting people!"

"That's an insult? And I wasn't even asking you — what's your problem, go play somewhere else." The Alpha looked at Wen Ran as he turned around. A teardrop mole under his right eye. He paused. "Are you Little Tree?"

Wen Ran stood up. After a long moment, he nodded, voice hesitant. "Xiaozhuo?"

Eleven years later, the playmates from the Orphanage recognized each other again. Wen Ran learned Xiaozhuo's life after being adopted had been a total mess — mother dead, father a gambler who'd tried to sell his own son to pay off debts more than once. In the end Xiaozhuo had run off with a relative to another city, dropped out before finishing high school, and started running with the streets.

And the reason he was at this crummy little Hospital was the same — his father had beaten him half to death over gambling debts. A passerby had dragged him to the nearest place for emergency care. He'd hung on for a few days, and ten minutes ago, finally died.

"Good riddance. Otherwise he'd just sue me for not paying support." Zhou Zhuo lit a cigarette. "No business being a dad, no business being a person. Better to reincarnate fast — good for everyone."

Not daring to weigh in, Wen Ran just nodded along.

He hadn't expected Xiaozhuo's story to mirror his own — both of them living broken lives for the first dozen-plus years, and both getting a fresh start at this same little Hospital.

"You remember at the Orphanage, I was always hungry, so you'd split your food and snacks with me — and then you got diagnosed with malnutrition."

"Don't remember that." Wen Ran thought for a long time, couldn't recall. "I just remember you beat up the kids who bullied me."

Zhou Zhuo flicked some ash, frowning. "Your thinking's off. How come you only remember what people did for you and skip over what you did for them? You're gonna spend your whole life feeling like you owe people and owe them gratitude."

A straightforward observation, but Wen Ran sat with it for a long time. Staring at the swing swaying in the sunlight, something in him loosened.

"Oh, right — that Alpha's been coming by a lot lately, asking if you're in. Seems decent. You interested?"

Wen Ran, confused. "Who?"

"The Alpha who's been ordering White Lady for you for like six months straight! Sends you flowers and gifts on every holiday, even though you never take them." Zhou Zhuo was exasperated. "Forget it. So many people hit on you, not remembering is normal. Here's his card — he asked me to pass it along."

He tucked a business card into Wen Ran's shirt pocket. "Checked him out — pretty well-known lawyer. Think about it."

"Not interested. Don't really like lawyers." Wen Ran folded the rag in half, kept wiping the table. "Feel like they'd just clean out my savings."

Zhou Zhuo rolled his eyes hard. "You're insane. He's a legit lawyer, who's gonna care about your pocket change? Just spend the rest of your life with those busted airplanes, why don't you."

Wen Ran smiled, hesitated a moment, then asked: "Any news lately? About my mom."

Zhou Zhuo had been helping him track down Li Qingwan all these years, but all they could confirm was that she'd last appeared in the Capital City over a decade ago. Before vanishing, she'd bought a bus ticket to another city — and never gotten on. Just like that, gone.

"If I had something, you think I wouldn't tell you?" Zhou Zhuo's expression got more serious. "Same thing as always — get your head right. Don't get your hopes up."

Wen Ran nodded, head drooping. "I know."

Ten-thirty. After handing off his shift, Wen Ran went back to the locker room, counted his tips twice, folded them, and pocketed them. His uniform needed a wash at home, so he just wore it out the back door and headed for the Subway.

He actually wanted to stop by Blue Glass, but it'd definitely be closed by now. Tomorrow.

The last Subway car was empty. Wen Ran didn't look at his phone. Just leaned against the seat back, bored, watching the in-car TV play the same hair-growth ad three times. Then the screen cut — and the righteous, stirring opening theme of the military news channel kicked in.

"The Northern Theater Command joint campaign has ended in victory. Aside from stationed units, all participating forces have begun withdrawing. A post-war conference will be held tomorrow, with theater commanders and commanding officers attending as representatives…"

Wen Ran stared at the North Theater Command footage on the screen, so focused he didn't even notice his stop. Only when the doors chimed and slid open did he snap back, get up, and step out.

Off the Subway, into the Little Alley lit up by one streetlamp after another. Night wind blew in from behind, slipping under his collar. The hair on his arms stood up all at once. Wen Ran hunched his neck, suddenly nervous for no reason. He stopped, slowly turned to look back — nothing there. Just a few cars streaking past the alley's far end.

He turned back around, picked up his pace, and stepped out of the alley. Shops still open and street stalls pulled him back into the noisy world. Passing the fruit shop he always went to, Wen Ran ducked in and bought a few apples.

Apples in hand, he walked into the building's corridor. The orange motion-sensor light flicked on. Wen Ran jogged up the stairs, found his key, slid it into the lock, and turned.

A clean click. His hand froze mid-turn.

The key only made it halfway around — and then wouldn't budge. The door was open.

He'd definitely given the deadbolt an extra turn before leaving. Couldn't have been wrong about that.

Mind blank, Wen Ran looked over at the door across the hall. His neighbor was a truck driver, mostly out on the road — gone for at least half a month at a stretch. If he remembered right, the guy had left four days ago. Wasn't home.

The sensor light went out. Everything sank into silent black. Wen Ran swallowed, slowly pulled the key out, gripped the handle, and eased the door open just a crack. Even being careful, the old wooden door still let out a sharp, ugly creak. Wen Ran held his breath.

He leaned toward the gap. Where the familiar smell of his own home should have been, clear Alpha Pheromone covered everything — like an invisible hand reaching out of nowhere and closing around his throat.

He couldn't even smell his own Pheromone. Like a real Beta. Wen Ran couldn't remember the last time he'd caught a whiff of Pheromone at all. He'd brushed past thousands and thousands of people, but in this whole world, there was only one person he'd ever been able to recognize by scent.

The apartment was dead quiet. Wen Ran straightened up mechanically, pulled the door open. In the dark, he could hear faint voices from downstairs. He stepped inside. The Alpha Pheromone rolled in like a thick fog, swallowing him in an instant.

The living room curtains were paper-thin. A faint light filtered through, half-hiding, half-revealing, sketching out the dark figure standing in the middle of the room. Wen Ran reached for the wall by the door, his cold-sweat fingertips finding the switch and tapping on the low-wattage light.

Bang —! The moment the light came on, a draft through the hall slammed the door shut. Wen Ran flinched hard. His gaze locked onto the Alpha leaning against the kitchen cabinet across the room, arms folded. His eardrums throbbed with his own heartbeat.

Gu Yunchi wore an Army tactical uniform, all his shoulder patches and arm badges stripped clean off. His hair was clean and loose, unstyled, head tilted slightly as he looked at him.

"You're back."

He spoke. The first words in years. So casual, like the most familiar everyday greeting. But Wen Ran felt a thousand fathoms of undercurrent buried in that voice — deeper than it used to be — rushing in to crush him.

Wen Ran stared wide-eyed at that face half-hidden in shadow, expression unreadable. He opened his mouth. His voice came out thin and hoarse, throat tight. "How are you here?"

A soft click of the tongue, like mild displeasure. Gu Yunchi took his hand off the cabinet edge and answered a different question. "You've lost weight."

The calmer he was, the more panicked Wen Ran got. The key's teeth dug deep into his sweaty palm. Voice shaking, he asked again: "Why are you here?"

Gu Yunchi didn't answer. He straightened up and walked over, step by step. The old floorboards groaned under each footfall.

Dim light slowly carved across his face — like a dawn-dusk line chasing across ten thousand miles, from the barren, far-stretching Northern Theater Command to this little room. From one blurred, faceless goodbye to another, all the way to today, seven long years later.

The Alpha's hair was neither short nor long, framing clear brows and eyes. Those eyes were still deep black, bottomless — sharper, more solemn than in his youth. His face was unreadable, calm and unhurried, but the weight of his gaze nearly crushed Wen Ran.

"I'm here to honor our marriage contract."