“This is the contract. Take a look.”
Qi Ying reached out to accept it, but the military officer across from him had no intention of handing it over, merely turning the tablet screen around to face him directly.
After two seconds of a standoff, Qi Ying sheepishly drew back his fingers and sat back in his chair. “Sorry, I’m a bit nearsighted.”
The officer stared at him expressionlessly, reluctantly extending his arm a bit further.
“…”
Qi Ying took a deep breath and recounted the shiny rank badge on this Alpha’s shoulder strap, ultimately choosing to swallow his grievance. He shifted a short distance toward the edge of his seat, craning his neck to read the numerous rules he would need to abide by over the coming month.
— Ensure no accidents occur in Storage Room 105. Upon delivery after 30 days, its status should remain identical to when it was taken over.
— Maintain absolute confidentiality regarding the conditions inside the storage room. Any violation of confidentiality terms shall be treated as treason, facing up to the death penalty.
Qi Ying suspected the officer who drafted the document had been dispatched to Jasu from Western Europe and possessed only a half-baked understanding of grammar; otherwise, the entire text wouldn’t be so cryptic and difficult to grasp. However, he guessed that no matter what was inside this warehouse, they likely didn’t want outsiders knowing about it—or at least, they didn’t want him finding out before signing the contract.
— Write a work log. Everything that transpires in Storage Room 105 must be recorded in meticulous detail and submitted before 24:00 daily.
Qi Ying pointed at this clause and asked, “What if nothing happens? I mean, it’s a warehouse—it’ll be sitting there quietly most of the time, right? What am I supposed to record?”
The officer sat as rigid as a wheat stalk. He lowered his eyelids to look at Qi Ying for a moment before answering slowly, “If there’s nothing to record, write ‘None’.”
“Ha…” Qi Ying let out an awkward laugh. “Right, yeah, then I’ll just write ‘None’. But… I wanted to ask, what usually happens?”
The officer tapped the tablet onto the table and handed over a stylus. “You’ll find out once you start working.”
Truth be told, Qi Ying wasn’t even that eager to know.
He wasn’t a local of Jasu and remained indifferent to the war situation here. Unless a missile detonated right over his head, whether he was serving the troops of Jasu or the New Asia Republic wasn’t a question he needed to consider. As for what was in the warehouse, it was nothing more than grain, munitions, or high-performance weapons; staying in the dark was actually safer. It was only for a month anyway—keep a close eye on the front gate, and he could earn 8,000 Jasu yuan. During wartime, that was a handsome sum of money.
At this thought, Qi Ying accepted the pen readily. As he set it to paper, his right hand trembled out of habit, and he discreetly used his left hand to steady it before signing. Once the signature was completed, the officer quickly snapped the protective cover shut, printed out the signed contract, and handed him a stamped copy.
The air drifted with the scent of ozone produced by the printer. The Alpha officer stood up and glanced down at his wristwatch. “I’ll give you one hour to pack your things. A vehicle will pick you up and take you to Storage Room 105.”
Qi Ying hadn’t expected it to be so fast. Hastily standing up alongside him, he nearly tripped over a chair leg. “Uh… do you need my home address? I live at…”
The officer, who had already walked to the doorway, paused slightly in his tracks. His fingers holding the tablet tapped against the leather surface of the protective case, signaling that a thorough background check had already been conducted on him—to the military troops right now, he was virtually no different from a transparent person.
Qi Ying felt a bit uncomfortable inside, but he guessed the information held by the military troops was likely limited; after all, he himself lacked self-knowledge. He was someone whose memories had been stripped away by war, like a mirror shattered by an artillery shell. He couldn’t piece together his social network or past experiences, retaining only procedural memories related to knowledge and skills. Because of this, that fleeting discomfort vanished in an instant.
So, he snapped to attention and flashed a smile. “Yes, sir!”
As a Beta, Qi Ying’s looks were quite outstanding. A head of fleece-like curls, slightly longer than those of most men, refused to stay tame; tied back halfway behind his head, it lacked a sense of rugged masculinity and leaned more toward soft beauty, leading him to often be mistaken for an Omega. The young officer stole another glance at him, but ultimately said nothing more, turning to leave.
An’an City was situated further south in Jasu. It was hot and humid for most of the year, with only November being relatively mild; however, due to the impact of war, a faint, lingering scent of gunpowder always floated in the wind.
Qi Ying rode his little electric scooter home, whistling merrily along the way. He had heard that this mode of transportation had long since become rare in other developed areas, replaced by faster, newer models of motorcycles. But An’an City had narrow roads and a dense population, making electric scooters far more convenient.
In under twenty minutes, he rode out of the military zone and returned to his cramped dwelling located on Lanka Lane.
This neighborhood was dark, dilapidated, and a mixed group of people, looking not much different from a slum. Yet the rent wasn’t cheap—because it was right next to the military troops’ encampment, it at least maintained basic jurisdiction and patrols, offering a degree of security. Thus, despite the extremely high population density, it could still command a monthly rent of 250 Jasu yuan. If he weren’t on the verge of being unable to afford rent, Qi Ying wouldn’t have been in such a rush to find a job.
In fact, six months ago he had held a fairly stable job at a bar. Selling alcohol wasn’t particularly glamorous, but he was the sales champion every quarter and did exceedingly well. The boss was like a living Buddha, not only providing three meals a day but also not minding that Qi Ying lacked a residency permit, never withholding wages and offering a steady income. But as the tension between the military troops and the New Asia Republic grew increasingly strained recently, most entertainment activities in the city had ceased, leaving him currently unemployed.
He didn’t have many things to pack. Soon, he had packed up fish food, daily necessities, and a change of clothes. Driven by a stereotypical image of the southern suburbs as a desolate, godforsaken wilderness, before zipping up his suitcase, he stuffed inside two decks of playing cards for entertainment, lemon mint candies, a few packs of instant noodles, and a bowl for making the noodles.
With five minutes remaining, Qi Ying cradled his fish tank and dragged his suitcase to stand by the roadside.
The bedsheet on the neighbor’s clothesline never seemed to dry, giving off a sour, damp odor. The window facing the street was sealed tight with newspaper, allowing only the sounds of the legless man inside watching adult films with groans and gasps to be heard. Qi Ying took a few steps further away, pulled out his phone, and messaged his friend Ning Jiaxin.
[“Jiaxin, I’ve finished signing the contract. I thought the competition would be super intense, but it went smoothly. I’m heading to Storage Room 105 right away.”]
Ten seconds later, Ning Jiaxin replied: [“Congrats! I knew you could do it!!!”]
Ning Jiaxin was one of Qi Ying’s few friends here. After getting injured two years ago, Qi Ying had gradually become acquainted with Ning Jiaxin, who was also hospitalized at the time. Ning Jiaxin was a generous and warm-hearted Omega whose father was a secretary in the Senate, but she personally hadn’t picked up any political airs, having been well-protected by her family.
It was also with Ning Jiaxin’s help that Qi Ying had begun a new life. Even with this recent bout of unemployment, upon finding out, Ning Jiaxin had actively helped him search for a new job, bringing him the news three days ago that Storage Room 105 was recruiting a warehouse manager.
A monthly salary of 8,000 for a warehouse manager, with food and lodging provided, was incredibly tempting despite the workplace being far off in the southern suburbs. On one hand, Qi Ying had a few doubts; on the other, he was skeptical about whether he could even land the job.
But Ning Jiaxin comforted him, saying trying wouldn’t cost him a piece of flesh, so he came for the interview anyway.
The process went extraordinarily smoothly, dispelling some of his concerns. The military troops were generous with money to begin with, plus they wanted to recruit a Beta. As everyone knew, Betas possessed the advantage of being immune to pheromone interference. During wartime, healthy Betas were basically all drafted into the military; Qi Ying had only escaped the draft because he had suffered an injury and couldn’t hold a gun, making him somewhat of a scarce talent nowadays.
Therefore, Qi Ying felt this monthly salary of 8,000 was well deserved.
[“When I get back, I’ll buy you dinner,”] Qi Ying replied.
“Sure! But let’s squeeze a meal out of Zhuang Jiming first. He’s back from his business trip, so I was thinking we could all eat together.”
Qi Ying caught a whiff of something unusual: [“Ooh, preparing to bring him to meet your inner circle? You planning to say yes to him?”]
[“He’s been pursuing me for half a year now, and we’ve been getting along pretty well so far.”]
Qi Ying felt a bit worried: [“Doesn’t his family do business with New Asia? Can your dad really agree to that?”]
Ning Jiaxin replied: [“I feel like my dad already knows a little (shh emoji). He probably feels that with the war situation uncertain right now, it’s good if I have connections to the other side. With cover on both ends, he’s turning a blind eye anyway.”]
[“That makes sense.”]
[“Enough about me, make sure you stay safe out there! After all, it’s the military over there,”] Ning Jiaxin added a final reminder. [“Don’t get into arguments with the military troops, they’re super unreasonable.”]
Before Qi Ying could reply, a black off-road vehicle kicked up a cloud of earthy dust and pulled up right in front of him. The driver’s door swung open with a bang, and a soldier who looked much younger than the officer who interviewed him stepped down.
“Are you Qi Ying?”
“That’s me.” Qi Ying put away his phone, lowered the luggage handle, and lifted the suitcase with one hand. “Can I put this in the trunk?”
The soldier walked to the back of the vehicle with a blank face, pressing the trunk button while scrutinizing him. “What is that in your arms?”
Qi Ying answered, “A fish tank.” Then added, “I only poured a little bit of water in, and there’s a lid. It won’t spill in your car.”
The soldier stood dazed for a moment, lowering his head to confirm once more on his tablet whether the photo matched the person in front of him. “Mr. Qi, you are going there to work, not on a vacation.”
“I know…” Qi Ying explained, “but if nobody feeds it for a month, Koukou will starve to death. Oh, my fish is named Koukou… Besides, it won’t affect my work.”
The soldier showed a hesitant expression for the first time. Young as he was, he clearly couldn’t handle an experienced slippery fellow like Qi Ying.
Qi Ying tucked the stray hair falling from his curls behind his ear, squinched his eyes, and smiled. “And I recall the terms didn’t say pets aren’t allowed.”
It was as if the soldier had found a justification for keeping his job; only then did he shift his body toward the driver’s seat. “Then please get in. But I can’t guarantee it can stay in Storage Room 105.”
Qi Ying climbed into the back seat, holding the fish tank. A thin layer of water sloshed inside, casting a lively spot of light onto the roof of the car.
It was an hour’s drive to the southern suburbs, and no one spoke first. The further south they went, the closer they got to the site of the last bombing. Ruins and charred rubble lined the road, where many refugees could be seen rummaging through piles of trash for medicine and food—though more often than not, they only found mud and torn scraps of paper.
The fountain on the central avenue had long since dried up. Qi Ying stared for a moment at the collapsed sculpture of the victory flag.
“Coco?”
“What?” Qi Ying didn’t react at first.
The soldier asked again, “Your fish—it’s named Coco?”
“Oh,” Qi Ying said. “It’s Koukou. Third tone.”
The soldier frowned in confusion. “Which character?”
“Kou…” When trying to use ‘Kou’ in a word, Qi Ying realized his uncultured brain only held a very vulgar phrase, so he had no choice but to say, “The ‘kou’ that means mouth.”
“Why call it that?”
Qi Ying stared at the latest model of suppressant patch on the back of the young soldier’s neck. “No particular reason, really. Maybe… I just thought it was funny how its mouth keeps opening and closing.”
The soldier glanced at him through the rearview mirror, only to find Qi Ying looking right back at him, making him hurriedly turn his gaze away.
Qi Ying guessed the soldier must think he was a weirdo. In truth, he couldn’t explain the reason himself either. It was just that after losing his memory, he often dreamt, but couldn’t remember anything upon waking up. Only once after waking did he remember writing on paper—he couldn’t see the paper, only the motion. In the dream, his hand hadn’t been injured yet, so it didn’t tremble, and the strokes were a vertical line, a horizontal-vertical hook, and a horizontal line.
If it was a number, it might be “12”; as a Chinese character, it looked more like “口” (kou). Qi Ying had no clue, only a headache whenever he thought about it.
Later, when he picked up a little carp struggling in the sewage of the vegetable market, he casually gave it this name, Koukou. Qi Ying felt that it must like this name quite a bit—whenever it heard it, it would crowd against the glass, wagging its tail at him and blowing bubbles with an aba-aba sound.
Half an hour later, the vehicle stopped outside the guard post of the southern suburb base. The soldier showed his credentials, and the guard post requested a check and registration. The window beside Qi Ying’s face lowered, and a tall Alpha military officer outside passed a tablet through: “Write down your name, age, gender, items brought, and the name of any traveling companions.”
Qi Ying carefully set the fish tank aside, took the tablet, filled it out for a bit, then looked up: “Um… there are no human companions, but do I need to write down a traveling pet?”
The Alpha’s face wore the exact same dazed expression as the soldier just had. “What pet?”
Qi Ying pointed at the fish tank and blinked. “A fish.”
The Alpha remained silent for two seconds. “Write it down.”
Soon, the tablet was back in the Alpha’s hands. He was deeply suspicious of the fact that Qi Ying was a Beta, because Qi Ying was indeed quite pretty, and much paler than the average Jasu local. Thus, he inspected the back of Qi Ying’s neck.
“What’s that strap around your neck?”
Qi Ying’s finger traced from the back of his neck to the front, pulling up a small piece of brown cowhide. “Sir, it’s a neck-hanging glasses clip.”
“Then where are your glasses?”
“I don’t have glasses.”
A suspicious look appeared on the officer’s face.
“Oh, it’s a fashion style. It makes light-colored clothes look less plain,” Qi Ying explained. “This is very popular in the capital. Don’t you think it looks very retro?”
“…” Uncommittally tapping the grip of his gun, the officer ordered, “Take it off.”
Qi Ying lowered his head and reluctantly handed the glasses clip to him. The Alpha inspected it back and forth for a while, then reached down and pressed around the location of Qi Ying’s gland, finally accepting the reality that he was just a Beta.
He handed the glasses clip back and glanced at the tablet. “What word is censored here?”
Qi Ying didn’t understand and leaned his face over to take a look. “Oh, that’s not a censored word—that’s Koukou.”
The soldier in the driver’s seat seemed to have completely accepted this premise, calling out loudly, “Report, Sir! His fish is named Koukou!”
“…”
The officer’s composure failed for a split second, his fingers sliding back onto the gun grip to rub it. Qi Ying judged that this might be an habitual action for him to suppress his emotions. However, after checking the trunk, he still magnanimously waved his hand. The barrier raised slowly, and the car drove deeper into the base.
The setting sun sank in the west, a massive orange sun hanging over the mountaintop. The sign at the end of the road indicated a right turn, but the off-road vehicle drove straight to the left, into what felt like an undisclosed military restricted area where even bird calls grew scarce. After driving for about twenty minutes, they finally stopped at a tall, mottled iron gate. The vegetation here was lush and extremely concealed, with machine guns densely mounted on the electric fence and electronic eyes swaying from time to time.
The guard at the gate quickly stepped forward and held a brief conversation with the soldier driving the car.
A moment later, the soldier came over and opened the car door, gesturing for Qi Ying to step out.
“I can only bring you this far. You can follow him inside.”
Qi Ying was so sleepy he felt lightheaded, the collar of his hoodie slanting to one side to reveal a small, lighter-colored scar on his collarbone. Holding his fish tank and dragging his suitcase, he bade farewell to the young soldier. “Thank you.” He paused, then offered the most sincere wartime blessing: “Stay safe.”
A flush rose on the soldier’s ears. Before leaving, he leaned in and whispered, “Mr. Qi, if others don’t ask, don’t bring up the fish on your own initiative.”
Upholding this principle, Qi Ying successfully passed through two security checkpoints. As long as others didn’t ask, he absolutely wouldn’t bring up whether the fish could be brought in on his own. As a result, it was green lights all the way, with no one meddling in unnecessary business.
Finally, he was led into a dome-shaped building. From the outside, it didn’t even look as big as a barn, but the elevator kept descending, signaling a vast underground space.
“Um, hello…” Qi Ying felt like he was about to dive straight into the center of the earth, yet the elevator showed no intention of stopping. Looking at the only four unlabelled buttons inside, he asked, “Which floor are we going to?”
“Almost there, Mr. Qi.” The man in the suit adjusted his glasses. “You can call me Zheng Yaqiao. I am your contact for the upcoming month.”
This person was a bit strange—not wearing a military uniform, looking less like someone from the army and more like a politician. But Qi Ying withdrew his gaze and didn’t ask further.
The weightless sensation brought by the elevator came to an abrupt halt. Qi Ying followed Zheng Yaqiao out of the elevator. The interior was brightly lit and completely deserted. After walking through a corridor decorated with fake flowers and grass, a room suddenly appeared—crammed with display screens, so many it was eerie.
Soon, Qi Ying realized these screens came from cameras at different angles, all aimed at the exact same space.
Qi Ying felt puzzled by their stop here. “Mr. Zheng… where is Storage Room 105?”
Zheng Yaqiao gave a faint smile. “This is Storage Room 105.”
Qi Ying unconsciously hugged his fish tank tighter. “I don’t quite understand…”
“Most people assume Storage Room 105 is an armory, but it isn’t,” Zheng Yaqiao explained unhurriedly, seemingly having anticipated Qi Ying’s reaction. “105 is a containment cell. The reason it isn’t called a prison is because the person locked up here hasn’t stood trial. Of course, Mr. Qi, you don’t need to overcomplicate things or make any moral judgments. In short, this place is used to temporarily detain individuals useful to the military troops and Jasu.”
Perhaps the person locked in here was very useful, but Qi Ying knew he himself was useless. He knew plenty about keeping watch over a gate, but nothing about keeping watch over a person. After all, a gate wouldn’t sprout legs and run away, but a human would.
He heard himself ask in a daze, “But… what am I supposed to do?”
“It’s like this—it’s actually quite simple…” Zheng Yaqiao held Qi Ying’s shoulders and guided him down into a chair directly facing the screens. He pointed at one of them. “Do you see him? That Alpha.”
Qi Ying cast his gaze over, only then noticing that within the heavily monitored space sat an iron frame bed, and on it sat a person with his head bowed, seemingly sleeping against the wall. Due to long-term confinement, his hair had grown somewhat long, falling down to cover part of his features, but it wasn’t hard to tell he had a tall, sturdy build, the muscles visible outside his white tank top looking fierce and formidable. This was, in all probability, an S-class Alpha.
“This is the person who is useful to us. Actually, you don’t need to truly guard him, because he’s wearing electronic shackles that will sound an alarm the moment he leaves the containment cell. Furthermore, the base is filled with electronic eyes and guards; if things get out of control, weapons will naturally shoot him dead.” Zheng Yaqiao paused for a moment. “So we invited you here mainly to be responsible for his meals, daily routine, and health management. I remember during the interview you mentioned you used to be a doctor, possessing knowledge and experience in medical nursing.”
No wonder when he had talked about other past experiences during the interview, the interviewer had seemed disinterested, only raising his eyelids to look at him when the medical profession was mentioned. However, Qi Ying had quickly steered the topic away then without going into detail, because he didn’t retain much memory—he had only learned his name and identity from a nameplate he carried with him, and talking too much would expose him.
Qi Ying remained silent for a moment, only feeling that pies truly didn’t fall from the sky for free. This 8,000 yuan felt a bit hot to hold.
“Does he have some kind of difficult, incurable illness?”
“No, he’s very healthy…” Zheng Yaqiao slowed his speech. “Mm… to be precise, he’s much healthier than ordinary people. Before coming to Jasu, he underwent rigorous military training and was injected with a new type of agent designed to boost combat effectiveness. But as far as we know, this agent simultaneously increases discomfort during the heat period.”
Zheng Yaqiao said regretfully, “It’s just that we don’t fully understand the ingredients of this agent yet, so we’re worried he might display extreme behaviors—such as violence or self-harm. You know Alphas of this type naturally have trickier heat periods to deal with to begin with… Fortunately, you are a Beta, so you shouldn’t be affected.”
“…”
Qi Ying really disliked this tone when spoken to—as if a Beta’s life were worthless. Even if he wouldn’t be affected by pheromones, getting beaten up by an Alpha who looked so thick-set all over would still kill him dead.
Seeing Qi Ying’s anxiety, Zheng Yaqiao replied at the opportune moment: “Actually, it’s just for a month. We’re merely taking precautions just in case. Perhaps he’ll be shipped out before you even run into his heat.”
Qi Ying asked, “Shipped where?”
Zheng Yaqiao smiled, seemingly finding it a silly question. “In a month, he will be escorted to Jilong to stand trial. By then, you can take your wages and leave. But if you back out now, according to the contract, you’ll have to pay five times the penalty for breach of contract.”
“…You’re really great at small talk…” Qi Ying nipped his desire to retreat in the bud and shrugged helplessly. “Fine, but why me? It shouldn’t be hard for you to find military doctors, or other soldiers for this.”
“A very good question.” Zheng Yaqiao rubbed the space between his brows, wearing a face that defied simple explanation. “You should know the situation on the eastern front is in a stalemate. Most of our soldiers and military medics are at the front lines, leaving us short-handed. As for the soldiers left behind, most are Alphas—they can’t control their pheromones well and always make a complete mess of things. Your predecessor, he…”
Facing Qi Ying’s clear, searching gaze, Zheng Yaqiao swallowed back the words “was severely injured” and revised it to: “He resigned.”
“Besides, we conducted a background check on you. Two years ago, you worked in the Wartime Medical Assistance Department, under a loosely structured international medical NGO. The department’s headquarters was bombed two years ago, the files weren’t preserved, and the organization has dissolved. After you were injured, you had no place to call home, and it was our Jasu that took you in. You’ve lived quite comfortably here these past two years, and we currently need talent like you.”
Qi Ying fell silent for a moment. Although he disliked having his past recited like a prized collection by others, he had to admit the man was entirely correct. “Then what are my specific duties?”
Zheng Yaqiao straightened up, satisfied. “In this control room, you can see him, but he can’t see you. There’s an intercom in the room, so you can learn his needs. All you have to do is deliver meals and medicine through the small hatch at set times daily, observe him, and handle things swiftly if he loses control. We will provide you with plenty of suppressants—the latest model.”
“Understood.”
Taking it all in, Qi Ying felt it wasn’t too big of a problem. Usually, under conditions of nutritional deficiency, a heat would even be delayed in coming on; it was very likely this Alpha would spend the next month smoothly.
“Your break room is in the inner chamber, and three meals a day will be delivered together.” Zheng Yaqiao glanced at his wristwatch. “My phone number is on the sticky note, and the operating instructions and logs are all on the computer. You can study them carefully in a bit. Any other questions?”
Qi Ying set the fish tank onto the table. “No other questions for now.”
“Very good.” Zheng Yaqiao nodded in appreciation. “Oh, your fish looks nice. What do you plan to do with it?”
“I plan to… do what with it?”
Zheng Yaqiao was sending a message on his phone and didn’t look up: “Braised, steamed, or in a soup?”
“…It’s my pet.”
“Oh… sorry…” Zheng Yaqiao spoke rapidly, but continued typing with his head down, looking not the least bit apologetic. “Then if you have any questions, feel free to contact me anytime. I still have a meeting…”
Qi Ying followed Zheng Yaqiao to the door and suddenly asked, “I have one more question, though I don’t know if I should ask.”
“Let me hear it first.”
“What’s this Alpha’s name?” Qi Ying explained, “I need to address him somehow…”
Zheng Yaqiao finally stopped what he was doing and raised his head, narrowing his eyes at him for a moment without speaking.
Qi Ying was good at reading the room and took the initiative to bail him out: “It’s okay, if it’s inconvenient, forget it. I don’t strictly need to know—”
“Lu.” Zheng Yaqiao interrupted him. “Lu Mengzheng.”
He adjusted his glasses once more and smiled faintly. “However, it’s best if you don’t reveal your name, address, or other such information to him. It’s not quite safe. Of course, this is just a tiny personal suggestion of mine.”
[1]Author’s Note:
Sorry everyone, this plot idea cut in line, so I’m starting completely from scratch! I really need bookmarks, comments, and bullet comments—the full support combo!
This … Continue reading jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3396874_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3396874_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });
References[+]
Author’s Note:
Sorry everyone, this plot idea cut in line, so I’m starting completely from scratch! I really need bookmarks, comments, and bullet comments—the full support combo!
This book isn’t going to be very long, just something written to unwind, so it might not be super logical (sliding down to apologize).
It’s about two bizarrely hilarious guys, 1v1 pure romance/both virgins, each other’s first loves, with a few custom ABO world-building rules—please don’t take it too seriously!
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