Escort
For the next two days, Qi Ying and Lu Mengzheng engaged in a one-sided cold war.
When delivering meals and suppressants, he didn’t utter a single word, simply placing the items on the conveyor belt, pressing the switch, and walking away.
By contrast, Lu Mengzheng appeared much more proactive than before. Yet even when he invited Qi Ying to play cards, Qi Ying ignored him completely.
Lu Mengzheng switched on the communicator: “Officer, do you really not want to hear my gossip anymore?”
“…”
“About that Beta?”
Qi Ying endured it time and again, but holding his tongue was truly agonizing. Slamming his hand on the communicator, he burst out: “You despicable bastard, I don’t want to hear it! You virgin!”
Lu Mengzheng broke into a hearty, booming laugh.
Ever since Qi Ying started working at Storage Room 105, he had never seen Lu Mengzheng laugh so freely. After being interrogated, instead of being angry, he actually seemed relieved. Well, of course—his retaliation had succeeded; by smearing dirty water all over Qi Ying and turning him into a prisoner just like himself, confined to this monitoring room, he was naturally delighted.
Was it really worth all this just because I ate one of your chicken legs? Qi Ying thought resentfully.
Aside from the stifling boredom of having no one to talk to over these past two days, Qi Ying was worried about another matter: the outcome of the army’s investigation into him. On one hand, he feared the army wouldn’t be able to figure things out and would recklessly buy into Lu Mengzheng’s slander, dragging him off to be executed for treason. On the other hand, he harbored a faint hope that, with the help of the army’s more advanced intelligence network, he might gather a few scattered pieces of his own identity.
In truth, after losing his memory, he had tried to conduct a few investigations himself.
None of his clothes had been preserved due to severe damage. The only thing left behind was a small metal dog tag retrieved from his clothing, which indicated that he was from the Wartime Medical Assistance Department, his name was Qi Ying, and his occupation was an intern doctor.
However, just as Zheng Yaqiao had said, by the time he was finally discharged from the hospital, that NGO organization had already disbanded. Its headquarters had been bombed, and all paper records and electronic files failed to be preserved. The deployed staff had been recruited from all over the world, and without records, even the embassy couldn’t confirm his identity to offer assistance. Most importantly, he was facing various hurdles at the time, including making a living and language barriers. In a chaotic, war-torn country like Jasu with poor communication, he simply couldn’t obtain further help or useful information.
Once he saved up a bit of money, under Ning Jiaxin’s suggestion, he tried posting missing persons notices in newspapers, on television, and online. Yet no one recognized him from the published photos, nor did anyone contact him. He was like a fallen leaf exiled by the wind across this unfamiliar land of Jasu, shrouded in the smoke of war, unable to find his roots.
Thus, he knew very well that for the army to figure out his background in a short time was no easy task. Still, he was caught in a wave of conflicting emotions: he was afraid of death, yet he was also afraid of disappointment.
A day later, before Qi Ying could receive his judgment, he unexpectedly received news first.
He waited all morning until eight o’clock, but the second lieutenant never delivered breakfast. Just as the starving Qi Ying was thinking of making contact, the elevator doors suddenly slid open. Out stepped a group of armed soldiers and two people he didn’t particularly want to see—Zheng Yaqiao and Lu Chengjun.
One a politician, the other a warlord. The former wore a beaming smile, while the latter was cold and ruthless. The two Alphas took long, broad strides in perfect unison, looking as if they were walking down a runway. If these two ever formed an idol group, they’d better name it D.I.S.S.—short for Disgusting, Qi Ying couldn’t help but frown as he imagined it.
“Good morning, Mr. Qi.” Zheng Yaqiao adjusted his glasses with a relaxed expression. “Don’t look so bitter and resentful. You should be a bit happier—I’m here to pay your wages.”
Qi Ying was confused: “What wages?”
“Your salary for working hard these past two weeks,” Zheng Yaqiao answered. “The project timeframe was temporarily cut short, so unfortunately we can only pay you 4,000 Jasu coins. Still, it’s a sizable sum, enough for you to move out of Lanka Lane.”
He couldn’t tell whether the army believed in his innocence or was planning to fire him, until he saw two soldiers unlock the containment cell door and step inside: “What do you mean? You’re taking Lu Mengzheng away?”
“Yes. We plan to escort him to Jilong today.”
“Why?” Qi Ying found this sudden, unannounced change unbelievable. “Aren’t the peace talks on the 2nd of next month? Today is only the 19th!”
Zheng Yaqiao sat down unhurriedly on a nearby chair, his leather shoes peeking out from under his trousers, polished to a brilliant shine: “This is a temporary decision by the government to avoid unnecessary trouble. After all, as you know from public information, those who want to rescue him naturally know the schedule too.”
So does this mean I’m cleared now? I can leave this lonely, cold Storage Room 105, while Lu Mengzheng will be sent to the capital? I no longer have to care for an Alpha’s heat day and night, and I can even get 4,000 Jasu coins?
Even though it was only half the contract amount, he had only spent half the time, so it met his expectations.
Yet facing this miraculous stroke of good luck, Qi Ying found that his surprise far outweighed his joy.
In contrast to him, Lu Mengzheng in the surveillance video didn’t seem surprised by his current situation at all. He merely paused for a second before standing up submissively, letting one soldier point a gun at him while another strapped heavy handcuffs and leg irons onto him.
Although severely tormented by his heat, he still stood straight and tall with squared shoulders, a full head taller than the armed Alpha soldier in front of him. The disdainful posture in his lowered eyes carried a commanding military dignity, making the soldier unconsciously nervous, his finger resting stealthily on the trigger.
The leg irons made of high-carbon steel were specifically designed to restrict movement, so naturally they weren’t as lightweight as electronic anklets; as he walked, they dragged along the floor, emitting dull, heavy clangs. As Lu Mengzheng gradually stepped out of the camera’s coverage, all the surveillance monitors lost their main subject, turning instantly empty and desolate. Qi Ying felt his own chest go hollow along with it, his heart hanging somewhere uncertain, unable to tell whether he felt bad for Lu Mengzheng or simply nervous.
The footsteps drew nearer and louder. Lu Chengjun strode out toward the door, and Zheng Yaqiao stood up to follow behind him.
When everyone walked out to the open area outside the elevator, they happened to see Lu Mengzheng being escorted there as well.
Ever since coming to work at Storage Room 105, Qi Ying’s daily task was to stare at Lu Mengzheng. He probably knew his current height, weight, body temperature, hair length, and every micro-expression better than the man himself. But for some reason, it felt as though the Lu Mengzheng from before was different from the one today. Perhaps it was because he was no longer observing this Alpha through a lens. What was even stranger was that, as Lu Mengzheng walked over, he kept his eyes locked on him the entire time—first a blurry inspection from afar, which then sharpened into a focused, almost tangible gaze that weighed heavily upon him.
Come to think of it, the two of them had spent nearly half a month banter-ing back and forth over the communicator, yet this was the first time Lu Mengzheng was seeing his face clearly. Thus, this total, completely unobscured eye contact was an absolute first.
A wave of guilty self-consciousness welled up inside Qi Ying.
It felt rather awkward.
It felt as though an adult movie actor he frequently fantasized about had suddenly stepped right out of the screen to stand alive and well right in front of him.
Especially that pair of heterochromatic eyes—staring into them for too long produced an surreal sense of pressure. Moreover, he didn’t understand why, with so many people around, Lu Mengzheng insisted on staring strictly at him.
Though he knew the T-shirt he wore was very handsome—printed with a Puss in Boots—and he knew the lensless leather eyeglass clip hanging around his neck made him look like a true trendsetter, and of course he knew his hair was longer than everyone else’s, looking out of place because he hadn’t had time to comb it properly that morning… but still, why look at him?
Just as Qi Ying bit the bullet and tried to dodge this overly direct gaze, Lu Mengzheng offered him a faint smile. But Lu Chengjun quickly stepped over, cutting off the line of sight between the two.
“Major Lu, apologies for the poor hospitality during your stay.”
The electronic anklet on Lu Mengzheng’s ankle unlatched with a click. Unhappily, he withdrew his gaze and let it fall onto Lu Chengjun’s face, pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“Not at all. Your ‘hospitality’ was exceptional.”
Lu Chengjun paid no mind to his sarcastic tone, continuing on his own: “The army will escort you to Jilong. We’ve specially planned the route to ensure your journey is absolutely foolproof.”
The so-called escort was nothing more than an extradition. One could imagine how much preparation the army had made for this trip; they were bound to maintain an ironclad defense. Yet Lu Mengzheng appeared absentminded, a sneering curve remaining at the corner of his mouth: “Thank you. I hope I can make it in time to have tomorrow morning’s breakfast in Jilong.”
Zheng Yaqiao smoothly took over with a smile: “Naturally. Your food, clothing, housing, and transportation have all been properly arranged.”
Lu Mengzheng nodded.
Just now, two S-class Alphas had been locking horns, and the overwhelming pheromones spilling out made everyone around them uncomfortable. Zheng Yaqiao was feeling a bit uneasy himself.
“Seeing Mr. Lu being so cooperative sets my mind at ease. The vehicle is already waiting above ground; we can depart right now.”
As he spoke, he took a few steps forward, but turning around, he saw Lu Mengzheng remaining rooted to the spot, making no move to lift his feet. The soldiers behind him were caught off guard, the muzzle of a gun accidentally bumping against his spine.
Zheng Yaqiao’s smile faded slightly: “What is the meaning of this, Mr. Lu?”
Lu Mengzheng raised his handcuffed wrists, giving them a slight wave: “I can go to Jilong with you, but I want that person to perform the escort.”
Everyone’s eyes shifted in unison, following the direction his wrists pointed.
Qi Ying pointed to himself in utter confusion: “Me?”
The target of everyone’s stares had no sooner pointed to himself than he felt this scene was eerily familiar, and he lowered his hand once more.
The crowd fell silent for a moment before Zheng Yaqiao was the first to react: “Mr. Lu, he belongs to Storage Room 105, and he’s also a local of A’nan. We have no intention of taking him to the capital…”
“He understands my heat conditions best. I’m already used to his care, and besides, I dislike being surrounded entirely by Alphas.” Lu Mengzheng offered his conclusion without room for argument. “Without him, I cannot guarantee that I will arrive in Jilong safely.”
Qi Ying’s eyes widened: “…Wait…”
“Very well, those are minor details,” Lu Chengjun said to Lu Mengzheng with a forced smile. “We’ll let him make the trip. Ensuring your needs are met is our top priority.”
Qi Ying gave a small wave of his hand, asking weakly, “Does anyone care about what I think—”
Lu Chengjun kept his eyes fixed on Lu Mengzheng, but directed his words squarely at Qi Ying: “200 Jasu coins, one way.”
Qi Ying stopped waving his hand: “Then I’m bringing Koukou along.”
“What on earth is a Koukou?”
Zheng Yaqiao gracefully adjusted his glasses, correcting Lu Chengjun: “Koukou is his fish.”
Lu Chengjun knitted his brows, turning to exchange a subtle look with Zheng Yaqiao: “What is that supposed to mean? Can this fish send encrypted telegrams to New Asia?”
“Of course not,” Zheng Yaqiao chuckled. “It’s literally just a fish—the kind you can braise or steam. A fish.”
“Then let him do as he pleases.”
Qi Ying immediately began packing: “400 Jasu coins round-trip, deal!”