“Major, do you want to take a rest?” the aide Qi Xia asked cautiously.
The past two days, after the major had gone on a mission with the Federal Security Bureau, his mood had become extremely restless.
A few minutes ago, during routine target practice, he had fired ten shots and missed four completely, while the remaining six hadn’t hit the bullseye even once. He began to suspect whether the major had been parasitized by an alien.
“It’s the FSB again…” he ventured carefully.
The major’s relationship with the FSB wasn’t particularly good. Could it really be them again…?
Before he could finish, Lu Xunzhi shot him a glance, and he quickly raised his hand to his mouth in a zipper gesture, confirming that the major hadn’t been parasitized.
Indeed, Lu Xunzhi was irritable. He tossed aside his energy gun, memories of past conversations with his father surfacing involuntarily.
“Xunzhi, I don’t know who your mother really was, but one thing is certain: your eyes did not come from my genes.”
“I was gravely wounded on the battlefield. When I awoke, you were lying beside me, smiling.”
Lu Xunzhi had always known he was brought back from the battlefield by his father; his mother was unknown, and his father had never hidden the truth about his origins.
Some speculated that he was merely an orphan his father had found, but as he grew, the resemblance between father and son became undeniable, and the rumor faded.
Other rumors, however, spread widely: he was a child born from a union between a human and an alien, because of his striking green eyes.
Even though there were cases of genetic mutations producing unusual eye colors, a hybrid of human and alien made such traits a clear mark of mixed blood.
After the Genetic Revolution, the Federation’s policies toward hybrids and mild aliens were relatively lenient, yet racial prejudice still lingered, with extremists firmly believing that aliens were dangerous.
The sudden appearance of a young girl with identical eyes who claimed to be his mother naturally stirred Lu Xunzhi’s thoughts.
He stood lost in thought at the shooting range for a while before donning his uniform jacket and calling a hovercar.
Half an hour later, they arrived at the Federal Security Bureau.
Lu Xunzhi often collaborated with the FSB on missions and held an honorary position there, so he was well known to its personnel.
Upon learning of his arrival, Deputy Director Assistant Pei Qin rushed out, saluted, and said, “Major Lu, what brings you here? The deputy director is still—”
“I’m not here for Fang Jing. What about the alien they brought in two days ago? I want to see her,” Lu Xunzhi interrupted, stating his purpose plainly.
Pei Qin paused, his expression troubled. “Major Lu, this isn’t standard procedure.”
News of the capture of an extraordinary alien had already spread. Many parties were inquiring, and Fang Jing had kept the information tightly controlled. Only because the FSB director had refused to release the alien had she not been taken by another department.
Lu Xunzhi gave him a faint, wry smile. “If I remember correctly, I still hold the title of Special Operations Team Leader here, don’t I?”
This title was given by the director to secure his cooperation; it carried no real authority but sounded impressive.
Pei Qin’s heart sank, but he could only nod obediently. “The director and deputy director are conducting a joint interrogation. You’d better—”
“Interrogation?” Lu Xunzhi frowned, cutting him off, a dangerous look in his eyes.
Pei Qin didn’t know what to say and nodded truthfully. “The alien’s situation is unusual. The director is very interested and even returned from the Roselle Star System specifically—”
Before he could finish, Lu Xunzhi brushed past him like a gust of wind. Pei Qin tried to stop him but was intercepted by Qi Xia, who pressed him gently into a corner, asking what he had eaten that morning.
“What is your true form?”
“A dandelion,” Pu Xin replied.
“And your ability?”
Pu Xin placed her hands obediently on the table, her translucent skin contrasting sharply with the silver-gray surface under the overhead light, veins faintly visible across the backs of her hands.
Identical to a human.
Pu Xin blinked in confusion. “What is an ability?”
The interrogator patiently explained that an ability was the general term humans used for an alien’s special powers, and as some humans had also awakened special powers, the term became generalized.
Just as he finished, he noticed a mischievous glint in her eyes. He recalled that Fang Jing had asked her many standard questions the previous day, likely including inquiries about her ability. She shouldn’t be ignorant.
Blinking playfully at him, Pu Xin said, “When will I get to find my little one?”
Two days ago, following Fang Jing back, she realized the little one hadn’t come along. Fang Jing had promised she could see him if she answered questions properly.
After waiting a whole day, she had grown impatient.
Outside the interrogation room, Fang Jing stood beside the FSB director, a middle-aged man with a square face, his expression stern.
He had already learned the details of the operation two days prior. Now, looking at Pu Xin inside, he frowned slightly. “Didn’t I say not to act before I returned?”
Hundreds of aliens had died, but provoking a violent alien could trigger unrest among alien-rights activists.
Fang Jing calmly adjusted his glasses. “Given the urgency, I acted accordingly. I hope you won’t take offense, Director.”
The FSB director was displeased with his tone, but with such an extraordinary discovery taking precedence over destroying a black-market auction site, even if he wanted to object, he had to measure his actions.
“A dandelion is a very ordinary alien, at the bottom of the food chain. Are you sure it was she who pacified the Purple Mandrake and not some other factor?” the director pressed.
Violent aliens considered almost all life hostile, feeding on flesh to grow stronger, while mild aliens were, to them, merely insects underfoot or occasional treats.
“I’m afraid there is only one possibility: it was her, witnessed by all team members during the operation,” Fang Jing replied calmly.
“Do we know what ability she possesses?” the director asked.
Fang Jing shook his head. “She says she doesn’t know.”
No one believed it; no alien was unaware of their innate ability.
The director, unsurprisingly, didn’t believe her. He snapped, “Since she refuses to cooperate, don’t be polite. Security, ask again. If she still refuses, activate the titanium chains.”
No alien had ever endured the pain of forced psychic extraction by titanium chains.
Fang Jing, aware of his methods, watched Pu Xin play with her chains on the table, refusing to answer further, and frowned. “Director, she’s a mild alien. Using titanium chains on her could cause irreversible harm and may destroy her ability—”
“Fang Jing!” the director shouted, “You’re not in charge here.”
The room froze instantly. The other FSB members exchanged glances, then lowered their heads, pretending to notice nothing.
The director, always authoritarian, didn’t hesitate here either. He took the comm, asking, “What is your ability?”
Pu Xin, still fiddling with her chains, heard the voice but looked up curiously, saw no one, then looked down and shook the chains lightly, answering lightly, “I don’t know.”
Lu Xunzhi, knowing the director’s temperament, understood he was a staunch “aliens-are-dangerous” extremist, indifferent to alien lives and harsh with interrogation. With Pu Xin wearing chains designed to strip abilities, he could have been permitted to use force.
But the delicate, tender alien could not withstand such restraint.
Passing by, he exuded an aura so cold that people instinctively stepped back.
Rushing to the interrogation room, he overheard a shout: “Fang Jing! Are you trying to overturn everything? Hand over the control of the titanium chains!”
“Director, it is written in law not to use titanium chains on mild aliens. You can’t override it!”
“How do you know she’s mild? Even the Purple Mandrake dared not act recklessly around her!” The director was determined to use the chains.
“How can you be sure she’s not mild?” Lu Xunzhi stepped into the room, his slightly annoyed tone silencing both arguing parties.
The director, still frowning, softened slightly. “Major Lu, why are you here?”
Both directors would normally speak loudly to Fang Jing, but they had to consider Lu Xunzhi, a highly decorated Major whose father was one of the Federation’s ten Marshals.
Lu Xunzhi, frustrated, ignored formalities. “I’m here for my mother.”