Chapter 95

Xu Zhangying felt like his nape was burning.

His thoughts blanked out, and he instinctively tried to cover the uneven scars with his hand.

But the next moment, Xu Zhangying’s hand was seized violently. He heard Xia Qing’s trembling voice before him: "Even now, you still refuse to tell me, is that it?"

"You never came looking for me in all these eight years. If you really loved me, how could you treat me like this?"

"Xu Zhangying, did I do something wrong back then? Is that why you resent me so much?"

When Xu Zhangying heard the last sentence, it felt as if something had struck his chest hard. His long-deadened heart throbbed violently, and his vision nearly blacked out as he grabbed Xia Qing’s shirtfront. "No, you did nothing wrong. It’s all my fault. I’m the one who wronged you."

"You're still lying to me even now." Xia Qing shook his head, releasing Xu Zhangying’s hand. He slowly straightened up, his face pale, and let out a faint laugh. "To you, I shouldn’t have woken up at all."

Xu Zhangying stared at the retreating figure, his mind buzzing. Before he could react, he pushed himself up and grabbed Xia Qing’s right hand. The sudden movement yanked at his wound, but he gritted his teeth and held on tightly. "No, I never thought that."

Xia Qing immediately turned around and saw the young man covered in sweat from pain, yet his eyes were fixed on his face, filled with panic. "I missed you so damn much—I just… I failed you."

As he spoke, Xu Zhangying seemed to remember something. He looked down at the hand he was holding, trembling as he traced the long, winding white scar. His eyes burned:

"I was ill back then, not in my right mind. All I did was weigh you down. I'm the one who cut your hand. It’s me… I didn't have the face to see you."

-

---

May 2014, Beijing.

"Didn’t you hear what the doctor said? I need to undergo omega pheromone therapy. Why are you still hanging onto me?"

The northern sunlight streamed through the double-layered glass, illuminating the mess on the floor of the small rented apartment. Xu Zhangying, standing in the center of the living room, felt as if a fire raged in his chest, eating away at his sanity. The entire room was filled with an overwhelming, oppressive pheromone presence, keeping his nerves on edge every second.

The beta, unaffected by all of this, stood quietly beside him and said calmly, "I’ll go with you."

"You’ll go with me?" The prime alpha seemed to find this laughable. He sneered, "Didn’t you understand what the doctor said? I need to bond with a compatible omega. What are you going to do there?"

Xia Qing replied, "I’ll go with you. After your treatment, we’ll break up."

Xu Zhangying nodded, as if he understood. But the next second, he kicked the coffee table in front of him violently, his eyes dark with fury as he spat out word by word, "You’re truly despicable, Xia Qing."

"You’re ill right now," Xia Qing said softly, looking into his eyes. "I won’t hold it against you."

The moment those words fell, the tension in Xu Zhangying’s mind tightened further, nearly suffocating him. He paced the living room like a caged animal. When he reached the window, he kicked over the stacked easels leaning against the wall. But his rage and regret seared like boiling oil, torturing him unbearably. He sank to his knees and began smashing the framed oil paintings and sketches one by one.

That day, Xia Qing was wearing a blue shirt. He stood behind Xu Zhangying and said, "Take your medicine first."

As soon as he spoke, Xu Zhangying hurled the frame in his hand violently. It shattered against the wall, knocking the pills and water cup from Xia Qing’s grip.

But the next moment, Xu Zhangying, lost in uncontrollable fury, suddenly realized something was wrong with the painting he had just destroyed. He scrambled up to look for it.

The frame was already bent, the sketch inside ripped beyond recognition—almost no trace of a face remained, save for a fragment in the lower right corner bearing the date "2007.9.20." Amid the sea of shredded paper at his feet, he couldn’t tell which pieces belonged to that particular drawing.

A surge of raw panic and grief crashed over him. Xu Zhangying reached out desperately to touch the torn paper, then turned anxiously to look at Xia Qing.

But all he saw was the beta kneeling on one knee, picking up scattered pills from the mess.

Those were imported prescription drugs, with a strictly fixed weekly dosage. They had to take a bus halfway across Beijing to get them. In the fourth year after Ye Xin’s death, they couldn’t afford to waste even a single pill.

Bathed in warm-toned sunlight, the young prime alpha felt like he'd been thrown into an ice-cold void. His entire body trembled. A few seconds later, he smashed the frame in his hand onto the ground again, shattering it completely. Wood fragments went flying as Xia Qing looked up at him, stunned. In the silent room, Xu Zhangying strode wordlessly to the sofa, yanked on a random T-shirt over his bare torso, and made straight for the door.

But the next second, his wrist was grabbed in a vice-like grip.

"You can't go out," Xia Qing said. "Your body temperature is too high. The suppressants you just took—too many of them—didn’t work. I’ll go buy new ones for you."

Xu Zhangying turned his head to look at Xia Qing and said coldly, "If I go apply to marry an omega, will you still follow me?"

"Xia Qing, what I need is an omega’s pheromones. You’re a beta—I can’t smell you. I told you—it’s over. We’re done."

The 20-year-old Xia Qing was pale, but his grip on Xu Zhangying’s hand didn’t loosen in the slightest. He shook his head. "You can’t go out."

"Let go," Xu Zhangying snapped, his anger flaring as he struggled violently, yanking hard to pull his hand free, but Xia Qing’s grip was like iron—no matter how hard he yanked, he couldn’t break free.

With his heart rate and body temperature soaring, Xu Zhangying felt his vision blur. He snarled, "Let me go! Xia Qing, I’ve had enough! Why won’t you just leave me alone?"

But the more agitated he became, the calmer the beta before him seemed, as if he had completely detached from his emotions. Xia Qing tightened his grip and began dragging him back into the room.

From past experience, Xu Zhangying knew he was about to be locked in the bedroom again. For some reason, a wave of dread crashed over him.

If he didn’t leave now, it would all be too late.

Suddenly, his hand brushed against something on the windowsill. The next second, he saw bright red blood dripping onto the scattered papers on the floor, like ink that wouldn’t dilute.

Xu Zhangying stood rooted, stunned. Xia Qing clutched the wound on his right hand, blood pouring out in rivers. A few seconds later, the beta switched to pressing his left hand against the artery in his right wrist.

The cut was long. Xu Zhangying hadn’t seen so much blood in a long time. He stood there like a statue, his mind blank.

*Clang.* The paper cutter in Xu Zhangying’s hand fell to the ground.

Hearing the sound, Xia Qing looked up. Both his hands were covered in blood—the wound was deep, probably severed a tendon, and no matter what he did, the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Yet his expression as he looked at Xu Zhangying was unnervingly calm, as if nothing more than a bowl had shattered on the floor.

"It’s fine," Xia Qing said. "Don’t be afraid. Go to your room first. I’ll take care of this in a moment."

Xu Zhangying moved.

His eyes fixed on the blood on Xia Qing’s hands, he took two steps back, then averted his gaze.

He didn’t grab bandages or even call 911.

Instead, Xu Zhangying began yanking open drawers, rummaging through them frantically, leaving Xia Qing—who was losing more and more blood—standing bent over, the blood pooling into a small puddle on the floor.

Soon, Xu Zhangying found his ID card. He grabbed a few bills, his movements frantic yet methodical. He even stuffed a couple of clothes into a backpack—but left his phone and suppressants behind.

"Xu Zhangying," Xia Qing called out, his voice trembling as he gripped his wrist. "Listen to me. Don’t go out."

Xu Zhangying walked past him as if the world had gone silent—he heard nothing. Not even when he put on his shoes, pulled open the door, and stepped outside did he even look Xia Qing’s way.

In a way, that was the last time he ever saw Xia Qing.

By the time he was 24, the "Xia Qing" he saw speaking at the LSA conference in the news was no longer *his* Xia Qing.

So it was strange—why was it the 16-year-old Xia Qing who woke up? Xu Zhangying had always nursed a guilty, unspeakable fear: he truly didn’t deserve to see the 20-year-old Xia Qing. He would never be forgiven.

"I was a real piece of work back then. I didn’t even think about what would happen to you if no one helped stop the bleeding. All I cared about was ripping myself out of your life. I didn’t think you’d be the one to receive the notice and rush to the accident site. I knew nothing—I had gotten off the train midway because my pheromones went out of control. I left you standing outside that tunnel for four days and nights, searching every corpse for me. So your memory loss isn’t your fault."

"All of it was my fault. It’s unfair that you woke up and still like me." Xu Zhangying clutched that hand, choking back tears. "The truth is, I should stay out of your life now. Every mistake was mine. Your secondary gender was your own path—it had nothing to do with me."

"And look, once I was gone, your life improved. So we shouldn’t—"

Before he could finish, Xu Zhangying felt himself dragged into a hug. "You’ve held onto something so minor for so long? If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve missed that scar entirely."

A terrifying tremor spread through Xu Zhangying's chest, and the next second, he saw those amber eyes—identical to the ones in his memory.

"Are you sure you don’t know why I differentiated?" Xia Qing kneeled by the bed, hands resting on Xu Zhangying’s neck, staring into his eyes.

"I," Xu Zhangying opened his mouth, then said firmly, "I’m sure."

"You can’t lie to me after this," Xia Qing leaned their foreheads together. "We agreed on this a long time ago. Artemisia was there too, remember?"

Xu Zhangying’s gaze remained locked with Xia Qing’s, but his fingers curled slightly at his sides. "Okay."

Xia Qing smiled faintly, kissed Xu Zhangying’s eyelids, then without a word guided him back onto the bed. After checking that the wound on his abdomen hadn’t reopened, he redid the buttons on his white shirt.

Once the shirt was fastened, Xia Qing lay beside Xu Zhangying, gently wrapping an arm around his neck and murmuring, "Why did they remove the gland for Pheromone Disorder? Are you taking hormone medication now?"

Xu Zhangying deflected, saying it was an accident from a later case, then tried to steer the conversation by mentioning other work-related achievements. But between his emotional exhaustion and injuries, he soon drifted into sleep—missing the moment Xia Qing opened his eyes and stared at his sleeping face.

This was the face of a mature man, entirely different from the boy in his memories—more defined features, sharper contours, brows slightly furrowed even in sleep. Yet, he loved every fragment of Xia Qing, no matter which one.

His speech wasn’t the same, his expressions weren’t the same, his personality wasn’t the same.

He lied now, became reserved, was steadier.

But he was Xu Zhangying.

Xia Qing reached out and, in the end, lightly touched his hair.

Xu Zhangying stayed in the hospital for three more days. The so-called National Special Criminal Unit was bustling with activity, while those excluded—like Zhao Yang and the others—had plenty of time to visit him.

Xia Qing usually stayed by his side around the clock, but his status meant he couldn’t remain idle for long. Soon, state agents arrived in Hong Kong to meet with Xia Qing privately—partly to confirm his safety, partly to assess whether his functional memory had any chance of recovery.

Put simply, functional memory was whether Xia Qing could still conduct research—much like muscle memory in amnesia patients. It was a type of memory separate from narrative recollection.

Xia Qing had dissociative identity disorder (DID), but whether before or after the onset, or even during personality switches, he retained his functional memory—and didn’t gain any new skills. Many people with multiple personalities acquired abilities their other identities lacked—like one American case where three identities included a teacher, a carpenter, and a mechanic, each with skills the others didn’t possess.

But Xia Qing’s multiple personalities were simply different versions of "Xia Qing" at different ages and with different memories. This might be why his functional memory remained intact—"Perhaps because, even in the face of immense trauma, Xia Qing never imagined becoming someone else, only returning to the past." That insight came from Tang Youning.

Tang Youning only appeared when Xia Qing vanished—no one knew how he sensed it, but the moment Xia Qing disappeared, he’d materialize out of nowhere.

While Qi Feng was mixing a bowl of tong sui, Tang Youning jumped into the conversation.

Zhao Yang, with a detective’s sharp eye, frowned and cut straight to the point. "Wait, Pink Lunatic, why are you so scared of the current Xia Qing? Like a mouse seeing a cat."

The "Pink Lunatic," dressed in a powder-blue leisure suit, leaned over Xu Zhangying’s bed and feigned ignorance. "I’m not! What nonsense are you spouting?"

Qi Feng pulled out his phone. "Oh, Xia Qing says he forgot some documents and is coming back."

Tang Youning immediately stood up. "Senpai, I just remembered I have something urgent on set—"

Qi Feng: "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

Tang Youning: "That’s cheating!"

Xu Zhangying lay on the bed peeling an orange while Tang Youning dramatically collapsed onto the bed and whined, "Everyone bullies me, the outsider!"

Zeiss, propped against the windowsill with his arms crossed, remarked, "Aren’t you the fiancé? How are you an outsider?"

Xu Zhangying patted Tang Youning’s head. "How did Mei Mingxuan let you off? Judging by his demeanor, I thought he’d at least flay you alive."

Tang Youning lifted his mixed-race face and said aggrievedly, "Because I really am the clueless sucker here. I invested so much money, only for the final scene—along with the female lead—to get blown up. Now I can’t recover a single cent of my investment. They kept digging until they uncovered my bio dad. Anyway, it has nothing to do with me. He and my fifth uncle seem to be done for."

Tang Xinyi, Tang Youning’s father, ranked fourth in the family. Xu Zhangying couldn’t help but laugh when he heard Tang Youning’s words. "Before, Tang Xinrong was your seventh uncle, and your dad is fourth. Damn, four, five, seven. Tang Yingshao and Tang Youan’s dad is third and barely clinging to life. How many sons does your grandfather still have left to wreck?"

Tang Youning actually counted on his fingers. "Eldest aunt is dead. Second, sixth—shit, only two left—ow, that hurts!"

Xu Zhangying smacked Tang Youning’s forehead. "Are you an airhead? Actually counting them out loud? You’re a suspect, you know? Your whole family is a bunch of cult members. Did you really think they’d skip you?"

Tang Youning clutched his forehead and whined, "Then what am I supposed to do? They never invited me to their side gigs—not that I’d have gone even if they did! Anyway, it’s not just the sons. If my dad’s generation all die out, my second brother will take over."

Zhao Yang was utterly amazed. "You’ve got a pretty progressive view on family for a lunatic."

"All bastards think like this," Tang Youning said dismissively, eyeing the orange in Xu Zhangying’s hand. "I’m just a Superior Alpha, so I say whatever I want."

"Damn impressive," Qi Feng remarked admiringly.

"Hold on," Zhao Yang suddenly realized something. He pointed around the room. "Xu Zhangying, a former Superior Alpha; you, a wastrel Superior Alpha; that guy over there, an elite Superior Alpha; and the psycho Superior Alpha who just left. Shit, is this some kind of Superior Alpha factory? Is the one-in-300,000 probability for real?"

"Fuck off. Who are you calling psycho?" Xu Zhangying tossed the orange to Tang Youning and glared at Zhao Yang. "Since when do psychos work for the government?"

Zhao Yang smirked knowingly. "Got it. You can talk trash about anyone else, but not a word about your lover."

Then, glancing at Tang Youning happily munching on the orange and then at Zeiss, who had a dark expression as he stared at Tang Youning, Zhao Yang decided to steer the conversation. He bluntly asked, "Hey, Tang, what was your name back at City No. 1 High? How’d you even fall for Xu Zhangying?"

"I’m not telling. I’ll wait until Senior remembers me on his own," Tang Youning said, shaking his head playfully.

Zhao Yang rolled his eyes. "So even now, Xu Zhangying has no idea who you are—come on, half the school had a crush on him back then. How could he possibly remember you? I don’t recall you at all either. With a face like yours, that’s just weird."

"You people are all so shallow. Even if I stood right in front of you, you wouldn’t recognize me," Tang Youning enunciated clearly.

Qi Feng chimed in, "But Xu Zhangying didn’t recognize you either."

Tang Youning: "That’s different. Senior is special."

Xu Zhangying, long accustomed to Tang Youning’s antics, was playing Candy Crush on his phone while hooked to an IV drip. Amid the barrage of "unbelievable" sound effects, he said without looking up, "Tang Youning, do I still owe you money?"

Tang Youning immediately turned to him, feigning hurt. "Don’t be like that. I love being the creditor."

"Go to hell," Xu Zhangying retorted. "I don’t want to be the debtor either. I’ll pay you back once my worker's comp comes through."

Zeiss finally couldn’t take it anymore. "So what exactly is your relationship?"

Xu Zhangying and Tang Youning both looked up at the AGB Inspector, who had spoken out of nowhere. They exchanged a glance, then tilted their heads in unison and said, "Fiancés."

Zeiss wore an expression that screamed, "Why am I even talking to these lunatics?" He asked, "If you’re a legitimate fiancé, why are you afraid of Xia Qing?"

Tang Youning: "I’m not afraid of him!"

Zhao Yang, tired of the circular conversation, frowned and cut straight to the point. "Then why the hell did you even get engaged to Xu Zhangying?—And Xu Zhangying, what’s wrong with you? Weren’t you madly in love with Xia Qing? Why’d you agree to this?"

Xu Zhangying kept swiping at his game, thinking for a moment. "It was a joke. Westerners act like these promises actually matter, though. If it weren’t for Laura and the others, I’d have forgotten. When was it again? Tang Youning said if I lived to thirty, I’d marry him. So I agreed."

Tang Youning murmured, "It was when you got hurt at 23, Senior. I was really scared back then."

While Qi Feng and the others were clueless, Zeiss knew exactly what incident he was referring to.

Zeiss fixed his gaze on Xu Zhangying and asked coldly, "Why did you agree?"

Xu Zhangying studied Tang Youning’s face for a moment before answering, "It's not like I was ever going to get married anyway. It’s just an empty promise. No harm in agreeing, right? You shouldn’t date carelessly, but marriage is just a social contract and ritual humans artificially created. As long as you have a household register, you could even make it official with some random homeless guy on the street."

"Wait a minute," Zhao Yang, who was stunned, was the first to react. "I can understand Tang Youning's impressive take on family, but Xu Zhangying, when did you develop such twisted views on marriage? Holy shit—so you don’t even want to marry Xia Qing?"

Xu Zhangying scratched his head: "Nah, I don’t. When I was little, I asked my parents what marriage was. My dad said you could marry a good friend if you wanted to live together, and my mom said you could marry someone if you wanted kids—then the state would *let* you have them. But now there’s no birth permit anymore, so there’s even less reason to marry. Marrying just for the sake of marriage—isn’t that *totally* backwards?"

"No wonder A-Xin still hasn’t married my old man," Zhao Yang mused. "But you two really are just an alpha and a beta, can’t have kids anyway, so it doesn’t matter whether you marry or not."

Qi Feng, however, looked up at Tang Youning: "Don’t you like A Ying? Doesn’t hearing this upset you?"

"It does, but I’m used to it," Tang Youning said, resting his head on Xu Zhangying’s bedside and blinking. "When I first met Senior, he was hung up on Xia Qing. What can I do? I was just a little late."

Xu Zhangying peeled another orange and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. "Shut it, you’re *king* of nonsense."

Zeiss rubbed his temples. As a bicultural intellectual, all he could see was the ridiculous drama unfolding before him. He asked, "Then, Mr. Tang, how would you define your own position?"

Tang Youning took the orange out of his mouth, thought for a moment, and answered seriously: "The side piece."

Xu Zhangying, who was drinking water, nearly choked to death. Tang Youning immediately handed him a tissue with a grin. "Even though Senior likes Xia Qing the most, after all these years, it’s not like he doesn’t like me at all. Like, if I died, he’d definitely be sad."

"Love has its order, and there’s nothing you can do about it," Tang Youning said philosophically, shrugging. "But people aren’t machines. If you work hard at homewrecking, you can eventually succeed. As long as you make progress, it’s not wasted effort."

Despite choking, Xu Zhangying still managed to smack Tang Youning’s forehead hard, warning him against casually talking about life and death.

Zhao Yang said flatly, "So the reason you’re scared of Xia Qing now is because you’re the third wheel afraid of the original, huh?"

Tang Youning replied, "I’m not scared of him."

Qi Feng said, "Xia Qing is here."

Tang Youning clicked his tongue. "Crying wolf twice doesn’t work."

But as soon as the so-called 'elite alpha' finished speaking, he saw Qi Feng, Zhao Yang, and Zeiss all staring in unison toward the hospital room door. In an instant, Tang Youning broke out in a cold sweat. He turned slowly and saw the young scientist in a pitch-black suit standing silently at the entrance, watching him.

"Senior, shit—just remembered a crew emergency!" Tang Youning blurted, leaping to his feet.

Xia Qing stepped aside expressionlessly, and Tang brat bolted out like the wind, still gripping the orange.

Zhao Yang raised an eyebrow and said to Qi Feng, "See? No matter how free your views on marriage are, the third wheel will always fear the original. That’s just the truth."

Xia Qing sat in the chair Tang Youning had just vacated, calmly observing Xu Zhangying.

Xu Zhangying fidgeted with his phone, then the blanket, before finally pulling out another orange and grinning at Xia Qing. "Xia Qing, want an orange? I’ll peel it for you."

Qi Feng leaned against Zhao Yang’s shoulder and murmured thoughtfully, "It’s strange. Tang Youning likes A Ying, but he acts nothing like Xia Qing."

Zhao Yang scoffed. "It’s obvious. That lunatic has been a die-hard Xu Zhangying fanboy since childhood. Who knows what version of him he even likes?"

Unfortunately, Tang Youning ran off too quickly to hear the breaking news from Xia Qing—news that implicated his family.

With Zeiss, Zhao Yang, and the others present, Xia Qing explained that the national criminal task force, with the highest-level support from the Ministry of Public Security, had swiftly captured over half of the criminal team behind the No. 10 killer. The team was divided into two roles: hackers operating from the Philippines, Thailand, India, and other countries, and mercenaries fleeing outward from Taiwan and Macau.

The information held by the hackers was the most critical, providing the deepest insights into Life in the past 15 years worldwide.

And first among these revelations was a weird, allegorical Messiah tale.