Cen Xie reached out and caught the glasses before they could hit him, setting them aside gently. He placed his hands neatly on his knees, eyes wide and blinking, looking at Ying Zhu with genuine dread.
Ying Zhu, having finished his shout, looked at Cen Xie’s “pitiful” display and found himself at a loss for words.
Cen Xie was equally speechless. On the outside, he looked calm, but internally he was screaming and rolling on the floor in shame.
What was my past self doing? Why was I so embarrassing? Why did I pull such a stupid stunt in front of Ying Zhu???
Ying Zhu slowly calmed down, closing his eyes to think. Those lost memories… What were they really?
The past felt like trees flashing past a speeding car window—blurring, retreating, vanishing. Where did they go?
If he hadn’t accidentally found that first card, he would never have known his world had a hole in it. His memories had melted like ice, turned to water, and evaporated.
The air felt frozen, leaving only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall.
After a long time, Ying Zhu opened his eyes and saw Cen Xie looking at him.
Eye contact. Silence. Things on the tip of their tongues. Words left unsaid. In the end, there was nothing to say.
The world inside the memory cards was like a secret cave where they clung to each other in feverish intimacy. But back in reality, all that remained between them was a vast, hollow blankness.
Cen Xie unplugged the memory card from the splitter and squinted at the serial number etched into the side.
While his men were tailing the Beta seller, they had managed to snap high-resolution photos of his transactions. By zooming in on those photos, Cen Xie could cross-reference the numbers. It didn’t take him long to identify the “upstream” seller who had offloaded this specific card to the middleman.
He summoned Chen Jiu and gave a direct order: “Get me everything on these people. Names, jobs, addresses. I want the full dossiers immediately.”
Chen Jiu nodded and turned to leave. As he pulled the door open, he found Zhou Nan standing right outside.
Zhou Nan was an Alpha. Once a mid-level guard in the Canaan Society, he had eventually transitioned into Cen Xie’s private “guest”—a kept man. Chen Jiu had never liked him; he found Zhou Nan restless and ambitious, refusing to believe an Alpha would truly be content as a powerless plaything.
Zhou Nan offered Chen Jiu a thin smile and brushed past him into the room.
Watching the newcomer, Ying Zhu recognized him instantly. This was the same Alpha he had seen in a car while leaving the headquarters after his first confrontation with Cen Xie. Seeing the man enter so freely, and noting that Chen Jiu didn’t lift a finger to stop him, Ying Zhu understood the nature of their relationship. It clearly transcended the typical boundaries of boss and subordinate.
Ying Zhu watched Zhou Nan for a moment, then indifferently looked away.
“Chairman,” Zhou Nan greeted, seating himself beside Cen Xie with a casual lack of etiquette. “You have a guest?”
Cen Xie gave a curt “Mm” and ignored him. Outside of his heat cycles, he never sought out Zhou Nan; it was always Zhou Nan who showed up to assert his presence.
Zhou Nan’s eyes fell on the pile of memory cards Ying Zhu had brought. “Why so many cards?”
Ying Zhu looked up, glanced at Zhou Nan, then looked back at Cen Xie. Cen Xie was beautiful—so beautiful that his looks transcended gendered preferences. He was the kind of person all genders could appreciate. It would be stranger if an Omega like him didn’t have Alphas surrounding him.
Ying Zhu pulled his gaze back and began packing the memory cards into his wallet.
The atmosphere turned awkward. For some reason, Zhou Nan’s presence made Cen Xie feel a prickle of guilt. He turned to Zhou Nan, his voice sharp: “We’re discussing business here. Leave.”
The word “business” was a hard boundary. Cen Xie had a strict rule: anyone who shared his bed was barred from his inner circle of operations. He kept the two worlds entirely separate. He knew that “love-struck stupidity” was a real risk, but usually, it wasn’t the leader who went soft—it was the subordinates who worried about the pillow talk influencing policy. To prevent Zhou Nan from throwing his weight around in the Canaan Society, Cen Xie had stripped him of all official duties long ago. Now, Zhou Nan was essentially just on an allowance.
Zhou Nan stood up. “I’ll come find you later, then.”
Cen Xie frowned. “Why are you always hanging around here lately?” He spoke with a clear intent to distance himself, his eyes reflexively darting toward Ying Zhu to gauge his reaction.
Ying Zhu didn’t want to hear any more. He stood up and walked to the window, his back to them.
Once Zhou Nan was dismissed, Cen Xie walked up behind Ying Zhu. He opened his mouth, his voice low. “He’s just… the one I use for my heat—”
“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” Ying Zhu cut him off. He turned to face Cen Xie, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. He couldn’t tell if he was annoyed by Zhou Nan’s existence or by Cen Xie’s obvious attempt to placate his feelings. As if they had a “defined” relationship. As if he would be jealous.
“Is there a need for an explanation?” Ying Zhu asked coldly. “What exactly is our relationship?”
The words were like a slap to the face. Cen Xie felt ridiculous for his panicked rush to explain. He let out a cold laugh. “What relationship? A ‘f*cking each other’ relationship, I guess. I was just introducing him, not explaining. What are you getting so worked up for?”
Ying Zhu’s pupils vibrated slightly, a spark of hidden fury in his eyes. He looked away, checked his watch, and turned to leave without another word.
Cen Xie’s face was like frost as he watched Ying Zhu’s retreating back. He didn’t stop him.
…..
Chen Jiu returned shortly with the documents. The basic information was all there: names, occupations, home addresses, and contact info.
In an echo of Ying Zhu’s cautious style, Cen Xie didn’t reveal which specific name he was interested in. He didn’t tell Chen Jiu to pull the surveillance on the others, knowing that isolating one target would make them too conspicuous.
After Chen Jiu left, he retreated to his bedroom and pulled out one specific file.
Li Qingchang. Factory worker. 27 years old. Male Beta.
Cen Xie studied it for a while before tossing it aside and heading to the shower. He planned to find this man personally tomorrow. He couldn’t trust a task like this to his subordinates. He just had to decide: the subtle approach or the brute-force one.
When he emerged from the shower, he found Zhou Nan sitting in his bedroom, sprawled in an armchair by the window.
Cen Xie dried his hair, scowling. “What are you doing here? Who let you in?”
“No one stopped me,” Zhou Nan said. “Your guest finally left?”
Cen Xie was annoyed and didn’t answer. He didn’t know what his men were thinking—just because Zhou Nan had been in his bed a few times, they assumed he didn’t have to follow the rules. The stereotypes about Omegas ran deep; even in his position, people assumed an Omega was inherently soft-hearted and loyal to the Alpha they gave their body to. Ridiculous.
Cen Xie went to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass, and started to drink. Zhou Nan walked over and hugged him from behind, nuzzling against his neck.
Without looking back, Cen Xie reached back, gripped Zhou Nan’s throat, and shoved him away. He took a sip of his drink and said, “How many times have I told you? Don’t touch my neck.”
He turned around, leaning against the bar. “I don’t like dogs that don’t listen.”
Zhou Nan’s face turned pale. Cen Xie was usually cold, but he was rarely this biting.
Cen Xie didn’t stay to manage the Alpha’s hurt feelings. He headed toward his study, calling out over his shoulder, “Be out of my bedroom before I get back.”
As the door clicked shut, the malice finally showed in Zhou Nan’s eyes. He scanned the room, his gaze landing on the files on the table. He noticed one had been set apart. It made him think back to the conversation he’d overheard at the door about memory card transactions.
Zhou Nan looked at the contact information on that specific file and sank into deep thought.
…..
The next morning, Cen Xie went straight for Li Qingchang. He wasn’t in the mood for subtlety anymore.
He drove to the factory and waited until the shift ended. When the workers began to stream out, he quickly locked onto his target. Li Qingchang was average in every way—average height, a face so plain it would be lost in a crowd, and the typical “exhausted laborer” aura.
Seeing the man in the flesh felt bizarre. Knowing this man had “experienced” topping Ying Zhu by reading his memories turned that bizarreness into the sharp, hot anger of being cuckolded.
Cen Xie followed him at a distance until the man turned into a quiet side street. He parked his car and followed on foot into a narrow alleyway.
Cen Xie sped up, catching Li Qingchang from behind. The Beta jumped, thinking he was being robbed, and didn’t resist as Cen Xie hauled him further into the empty alley.
Li Qingchang’s sheer “ordinariness” gave off a non-threatening vibe, making it hard for Cen Xie to stay on high alert. He pinned the man into a corner. “Don’t be scared. I just want to ask you something.”
Li Qingchang realized Cen Xie was an Omega, but Cen Xie didn’t have the “low-status” air most Omegas carried. He looked like someone with rank. “What do you want?”
Cen Xie asked about the source of the memory card sold a few days ago. He didn’t forget to disguise his voice, choosing a different pitch since his real voice was on that card.
Li Qingchang seemed to think for a moment. “I bought it from someone else. A guy who works in a nearby factory. Dealing restricted cards is his side hustle; he has quite a few.”
“Call him,” Cen Xie ordered.
Li Qingchang cooperated, likely realizing resistance was futile. He dialed the number.
“Hey, man. That memory card I bought off you? The double-O one? You got any more?”
“Is now a good time?”
“Okay, I’ll…” He glanced at Cen Xie. “I’m coming over now.”
He hung up and gave Cen Xie the address: a derelict warehouse near the factory. Restricted cards were illegal, so deals always happened in the shadows.
Cen Xie got the address and the seller’s description, then just stood there, staring at Li Qingchang.
The Beta felt a chill run down his spine. “I… should I take you there now?”
“No need.” Cen Xie continued to stare him down. “Turn around.”
Li Qingchang’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move.
Cen Xie let out a small, cold laugh. “Transfer the memory of the last ten minutes to me. Then we’ll act like we never met today.”
Li Qingchang swallowed hard. The overwhelming pressure of a high-level Omega left him powerless to resist; he could only comply.
The activation and deactivation of an artificial hippocampus are controlled by thought. Data already stored in the memory can be transferred to others, but it cannot be deleted by the user themselves. When a memory is transferred or extracted, the data no longer exists in the artificial hippocampus, and the individual’s natural biological memory of the event vanishes along with it.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Cen Xie added. “Transfer the memory of you reading that specific card to me as well.”
This way, Li Qingchang would no longer remember what it felt like to be with Ying Zhu. The thought made Cen Xie feel slightly better. He decided right then that he would eventually track down everyone who had read his memory cards and erase those fragments one by one.
Following Cen Xie’s instructions, Li Qingchang faced the wall and transferred the memories with his back turned. Once the transfer was complete, Cen Xie delivered a swift chop to the back of Li Qingchang’s neck. The man’s strength vanished, and he slumped limply to the ground, unconscious.
That strike would keep him out for at least half an hour; when he woke up, he wouldn’t remember a thing about Cen Xie. After a brief glance at the fallen man, Cen Xie turned and left the alley.
Back in his car, he pulled out his phone, hesitating over whether to call Ying Zhu and update him. After a moment of indecision, he shoved the phone back into his pocket. Better not. Their parting yesterday hadn’t been pleasant.
He rested his forehead against the steering wheel, motionless.
Actually, a suspicion was brewing in his mind: he and Ying Zhu might have actually been in love. Although the memory cards so far were mostly just sex, he could feel a sense of tenderness lingering between them. Knowing himself, he must have trusted Ying Zhu deeply back then—at the very least, he must have felt a profound sense of tolerance and security from the man. Otherwise, he never would have acted so… ridiculous in front of him.
Thinking of the “little flying stick” comment again, Cen Xie couldn’t help but thud his head against the steering wheel twice. Still so embarrassing.
He sat up straight, took a deep breath, and started the car. Checking the navigation to confirm the location of the warehouse Li Qingchang had mentioned, he drove off.
…..
Chen Jiu was out on business when a text arrived. He glanced at it, his brow furrowing slightly.
It was a photo from one of the men he’d sent to monitor the targets—specifically, the one watching Li Qingchang. Among the various photos was one of Li Qingchang standing on a street corner talking to someone the previous night. The person with their back to the camera was tall, likely an Alpha. More importantly, the silhouette looked familiar. It looked like Zhou Nan.
Why is Zhou Nan in contact with Li Qingchang?
Though Chen Jiu didn’t know why Cen Xie wanted these people watched, his instincts told him to report this. He dialed Cen Xie’s number, but it wouldn’t go through—”out of service area.” He headed straight for the Chairman’s building.
Pushing through the construction site, he grabbed a passing worker. “Is the Chairman in?”
“He went out.”
Chen Jiu frowned. He turned to leave but stopped. “Where’s Zhou Nan?”
“Haven’t seen him all day.”
Chen Jiu thought for two seconds and dialed Zhou Nan’s number. Like Cen Xie’s, it was out of the service area.
……
Ying Zhu’s phone rang while he was on the way to Usher Prison. Sitting in the back seat, he answered the call from the unknown number.
“Councilman Ying, our Chairman might be in trouble.”
Recognizing Chen Jiu’s voice, Ying Zhu gestured for his driver to pull over. He ordered the driver out of the car until he was alone. “What happened?”
Chen Jiu explained the situation. “I’m taking men there now, but…”
Ying Zhu knew what he was getting at. If Cen Xie had truly fallen into a trap set by Zhou Nan, the Alpha would likely try to mark him immediately. A marked Omega falls under the complete submission of their Alpha. If Cen Xie were marked, he would become a human weapon—an S-rank human weapon—completely at Zhou Nan’s beck and call.
This was why Chen Jiu was willing to seek help from an outsider. If things reached that point, only Ying Zhu, a fellow S-rank, could handle it.
Ying Zhu grasped the gravity of the situation instantly. Cen Xie’s predicament, Chen Jiu’s fears, the potential fallout—it all flashed through his mind in a heartbeat. “Where is he?”
“I can’t reach him. I suspect there’s a signal jammer. I can only give you the last location where his signal was active. He should be nearby.”
“Send it.”
As soon as he hung up, the text arrived. It was an industrial zone not far from his current location. Ying Zhu got out, rounded the car, and pulled open the driver’s door. He tossed a single sentence to his driver: “Take a taxi back.”
Then, he swung into the seat, pulled a U-turn, and sped toward the industrial zone. His heart hammered against his ribs; S-rank or not, even the strongest warrior could fall to a calculated ambush.
…..
The Warehouse.
Cen Xie had successfully met the man Li Qingchang mentioned. The seller was a low-level Omega; dealing with him was practically child’s play for Cen Xie. He didn’t want to use violence, opting for a lie instead: he claimed Li Qingchang was busy and had sent him to pick up the cards.
The man didn’t seem suspicious. He handed over the card and a pair of VR glasses. “Test it now. Don’t come back saying there’s a problem later; I don’t do refunds.”
Cen Xie didn’t think twice. He plugged in the card, donned the glasses, and hit play.
Within seconds, he let out a blood-curdling scream. His body bucked violently, and he collapsed to the floor like he’d lost use of his limbs, his body twisting in agonizing convulsions.
The man hadn’t given him a sex tape. He had given him a “snuff” memory—the final moments of someone being tortured to death.
The original owner of the memory had suffered inhuman abuse: limbs hacked off, tongue pulled out, eyes gouged, ears severed. With no way to call for help, they had died wailing in pure agony and despair.
Hit by the tidal wave of the victim’s sensory pain and impending death, Cen Xie felt as if his own limbs had been severed. He lost all control over his physical form.
“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”
The screams tore from his throat. Excruciating pain raced through his nerves; for a moment, he truly felt as if he were being cut into pieces.
Zhou Nan stepped out from the shadows. He walked over to Cen Xie, hauling him up from the floor and pinning him in his arms. Cen Xie’s limbs continued to twitch uncontrollably; he was past the point of screaming, his teeth merely chattering in shock.
Zhou Nan leaned into the back of Cen Xie’s neck—the place Cen Xie never let him touch—and bit down hard on the gland. Only after injecting a massive amount of Alpha pheromones did he let go. He pulled a Gland Lock from his pocket.
Click— He snapped it onto Cen Xie’s neck.
……
Ying Zhu searched the area, finally locating the warehouse through his heightened psychic intuition. Inside, he saw several armed men—a coordinated rebellion.
The first thing he saw was Cen Xie, kneeling at Zhou Nan’s feet, trembling. Ying Zhu’s expression froze into a mask of ice.
Seeing the cold fury on Ying Zhu’s face, Zhou Nan let out a chilling laugh.
“You’re too late. I’ve already marked him.”