When palace physician Wang Yi hurried over, he thought he was in for a grueling all-nighter. He had already been preparing to pack up and head home for the evening when a phone call from the Emperor summoned him immediately to General Gu’s estate. When he asked what was wrong, the Emperor let out an “Ah?” as if he had spoken half a sentence and forgotten what he was even saying, before replying, “Oh, General Gu is critically wounded and dying, get over there quickly.”
Frightened out of his wits, he hurriedly grabbed his gear and rushed right over. Though he was baffled as to why someone on the verge of death required so many inspection instruments, and why only he was assigned to the case, his tentative request to bring along a few assistants was brushed aside by the Emperor—who sounded like he had far more important matters to attend to—with a casual wave of the hand, telling him he could just go alone.
And so, he had dragged himself here, lugging a mountain of diagnostic equipment and grumbling the entire way. Who performs a surgery with only a single lead surgeon anyway?
Arriving at the Gu estate, the butler—who usually loved putting on a grand show for outsiders—was nowhere to be seen. Dr. Wang figured things must be genuinely dire. He swallowed his complaints, feeling like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
As the Emperor’s dedicated inner-court physician, this profession demanded two things above all: absolute loyalty and a sealed mouth.
Perhaps the gravity of the situation was precisely why he had been dispatched alone.
He simply couldn’t let His Majesty down!
Just as Dr. Wang stepped into the Gu estate with heroic, indomitable strides, ready to embrace his weighty responsibility for the night, he caught sight of the butler and several of the General’s subordinates huddled in a corner, peering intently at something while occasionally emitting gasps of “Ooh,” “Aah,” and “Whoa” in a thoroughly unprofessional manner.
He ambled over to ask where the General was, and the subordinates scrambled to stash their screens away. When the butler turned back, his expression still retained a hint of lingering hostility. Upon realizing he was the physician sent from the palace, however, the man instantly reverted to his usual haughty, bootlicking demeanor, politely gesturing toward the stairs.
Dr. Wang was utterly bewildered. Wasn’t General Gu supposed to be on the verge of death? Why wasn’t anyone panicking at all? Could he already be dead?
Yet upon reaching the upper floor, he found Gu Chengyan smoking outside in the hallway, completely intact from head to toe. Dr. Wang asked in astonishment, “General Gu, I heard you were injured?”
Hearing the voice, Gu Chengyan turned his head. “I’m not injured.”
“But His Majesty said you were critically wounded, practically dying!” Dr. Wang stared fixedly at the cigar in the man’s hand. “Have you already used a medical pod? Even so, follow-up treatment is required! Patients are forbidden from smoking and drinking—don’t assume you Alphas are invincible. Put that cigarette out right now, go lie down in the room, I’ve brought all the diagnostic equipment…”
He spun around. “Where’s my equipment?”
His equipment had been left downstairs and hadn’t been carried up yet.
Dr. Wang peered downstairs in disbelief. “No, leaving me to come alone is one thing, but you’re making me haul all that heavy gear up myself, too? What is wrong with your servants?”
The butler, still looking as though he had just suffered a massive psychological shock, finally snapped back to reality and hurriedly summoned the servants to haul the equipment up, while Wei Hai and the others scrambled back to their respective duties.
Dr. Wang gave the General a thorough head-to-toe inspection, finding no visible trauma and clothes completely unblemished. “Where are your medical pod usage logs? I need to assess your condition before starting treatment.”
Gu Chengyan deadpanned, “Actually, it’s His Majesty the Emperor who’s on the verge of dying. You can head back and check on him; it’ll probably happen in the next couple of days.”
Dr. Wang was utterly shocked. “What? Really? But I examined His Majesty just two days ago, and he’s nowhere near his expiration date!” Believing he had stumbled upon some top-secret palace intrigue, he glanced left and right before whispering, “Is there an assassination plot underway these days?”
Gu Chengyan pondered for a moment. “Hard to say. The Empress’s personality might just lead him to murder the Emperor in public.”
Dr. Wang wore an expression of sheer horror, taking a moment to realize that he had apparently been played simultaneously by both the Emperor and the General.
He raged, “General Gu, even if you are a General, please respect me as a physician! Not every ailment can be solved with a medical pod! There will come a time when you need me!”
“Isn’t that time right now?” Gu Chengyan chuckled softly. “As for what I said earlier, go tell it to His Majesty when you get back.”
Indignant, Dr. Wang rummaged through the hoisted equipment to fish out his surgical case. “Just who am I supposed to be treating?”
Gu Chengyan pointed toward the bed in the master bedroom. “The person is inside…”
Before the sentence even finished, Dr. Wang had already charged in. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? We’ve wasted so much time, is the patient even still breathing? Has a sterile environment been arranged in advance?”
Since it wasn’t a critically wounded General Gu, it must be whoever was inside who was on the brink of death. Being summoned alone with such intense secrecy clearly meant strict confidentiality was mandatory.
That was fine! As long as he wasn’t treating some little paramour’s paper-cut and facing threats of “If he doesn’t pull through, I’ll bury you with him!”, anything else was manageable.
The master bedroom was expansive. Dr. Wang navigated two turns before finally locating the bed, taking a deep breath as he stood before it and bracing himself mentally for another all-nighter.
Then he looked closer.
The young person on the bed looked quite young with shallow, faint breathing. Their face was dusted with grime, though their skin tone was evidently very pale—perhaps the result of acute blood loss. Terrified, Dr. Wang pulled back the blanket, silently praying that the lower half of the patient’s body wasn’t entirely missing, because handling that solo would be a genuine nightmare.
Upon closer inspection, however, arms and legs were all intact, and the clothing showed no signs of massive, heavy bleeding. After snipping away the garments to inspect the body from every angle and repeating a pupillary light reflex check three separate times by circling the bed, he finally discovered an abrasion on the chin and a minor burn blister on the wrist.
Dr. Wang (…)
He turned back with trembling apprehension. Gu Chengyan was standing not far away with arms folded, his brows slightly furrowed as his gaze shifted back and forth between the person on the bed and Dr. Wang. Breaking out in a cold sweat, Dr. Wang cursed inwardly—What did I just say?!
Here it was again: treating a paramour’s minor scratch accompanied by that classic “If he doesn’t pull through, I’ll bury you with him!” glare.
A tearful wave of bitter grievance washed over him. I understand. Oh, I understand completely!
“What are you standing around for?” Gu Chengyan asked with heightened sternness.
Dr. Wang turned ashen. Though he hailed from an imperial medical dynasty—with ancestors stretching back generations tending to royalty—and this field assignment had been personally designated by the Emperor, he had impulsively stripped the clothes off the General’s little paramour!
If the patient had suffered severe trauma, that would be one thing, but there was none! Just a barely perceptible scratch and a tiny water blister!
And both were located on completely exposed areas outside the clothing!
Would General Gu let him walk away from this?
My life is over… Dr. Wang closed his eyes in profound despair.
“What on earth are you waiting for?” Gu Chengyan’s voice deepened. “The equipment has already been brought up, start the examination.”
Startled, Dr. Wang snapped his eyes wide open, blinking back and forth in utter confusion as his stutter returned. “H-Huh? E-E-Examination?”
“We’re not doing surgery?”
The General’s expression made it abundantly clear that he couldn’t be bothered to answer.
Without another word, Dr. Wang arranged his instruments and gave the person on the bed a quick cleanup. The grimy little face instantly turned clean and white, revealing quite a handsome young lad upon closer inspection. Noticing a small glass bottle pendant hanging around his neck that didn’t appear to obstruct diagnostics, he left it alone.
From behind came the General’s cold, hard voice: “Give him a comprehensive, all-encompassing examination. Blood, genes, skin, bone… don’t miss a single strand of hair. Also verify his gender—confirm whether he is truly a Beta. Report the results to me once you’re finished.”
After a brief pause, he emphasized: “Leave no anomaly unchecked.”
Noticing the General’s solemn expression, Dr. Wang instantly grew cautious. He had misread the situation earlier, but he wasn’t about to make that mistake twice. This person clearly wasn’t a paramour, but rather some dangerous, malicious spy hiding a mountain of secrets. Naturally, because the stakes were so high, they had called upon someone reliable, tight-lipped, and deeply trusted by the Emperor.
“Understood!” Dr. Wang puffed out his chest and subjected the Beta on the bed to a thorough, meticulous medical screening down to the fingernail beds.
Half an hour later…
Dr. Wang stood holding the medical report with a complex, hesitant expression.
“Look, General Gu, just what on earth did you bring me here to check?”
The General, sitting on the sofa with crossed legs and folded arms, had long since grown impatient, lifting his eyelids at the prompt. “Spill whatever you found.”
“…” Dr. Wang offered a sincere assessment. “Nothing.”
Gu Chengyan looked up at him.
“You can stare at me all you want, but it won’t change a thing,” Dr. Wang said, spreading his hands. “Nothing means nothing. There are zero anomalies with this kid. I know what you were hoping I’d find, but it’s not there—genes haven’t been tampered with, blood is completely clean, nothing like that Omega who infatuated the former bank president. Oh, aside from the residual anesthesia you administered yourself… and not to lecture you, General, but you’re far too brutal. Even for a Beta, you can’t just blast someone like that; dosage matters! That was enough to knock out an elephant, and you used it on a Beta. He’ll be sleeping for at least three days… ahem, anyway, there’s no junk in his system, he hasn’t even popped pills.”
“All in all, theoretically speaking, he poses zero threat to you.”
Dr. Wang cautiously peeked at the General’s expression. “Did you guys grab the wrong person?”
Gu Chengyan shot him a single glance, and Dr. Wang wisely clamped his mouth shut and lowered his gaze.
The General flipped through the inspection report, still appearing somewhat unconvinced. “He’s genuinely a Beta? Not some Omega running on suppressants?”
“Are you watching too many dramas, General Gu?” Dr. Wang let out an incredulous squeak, shrinking back instantly under a glare before returning to a professional tone. “Things like that don’t just slip by. Even if suppressants mask pheromones, they can’t fool diagnostic machinery. While he’s petite and refined, the most crucial detail is—he lacks a gland.”
“Without a gland, he cannot secrete pheromones, and without pheromones, he is a Beta: no rut cycles, unable to smell pheromones, and incapable of being marked.”
Dr. Wang finally seized his moment to act haughty, wearing a condescending look that practically screamed, Where on earth did you learn your ABO biology lessons? Completely forgetting that the General didn’t come from noble stock; citizens from the absolute bottom rungs never had access to such institutional education.
“Rest assured, he is a genuine, authentic Beta.”
Gu Chengyan gazed at Geng Nuo in deep contemplation.
After a moment, Gu Chengyan spoke up: “Then you might as well treat him while you’re at it.”
Treat him? Dr. Wang blinked. Treat what? Cure what?
He shrieked, “Can’t you just have someone dab some alcohol and iodine on it and call it a day? Or better yet, chuck him in a medical pod to sleep overnight and his skin will come out smooth and radiant tomorrow… Don’t glare at me, I’m a dynastically trained imperial physician, this kind of minor scratch doesn’t warrant my personal intervention!”
Gu Chengyan walked over, pinched Geng Nuo’s chin to inspect that bizarre abrasion—wondering how on earth he even managed to injure himself in that particular spot—and asked, “Does he need a tetanus shot?”
Tears streamed down Dr. Wang’s face. You haven’t been listening to a single word I’ve said, have you? Huh?
Gu Chengyan: “Just give him the shot.”
Dr. Wang (…)
Resigned to his fate, he rummaged through his case for the tetanus medication.
As he drew the liquid into the syringe, Dr. Wang couldn’t resist dropping a few extra words: “General Gu, who is this little fellow? Ah, I’m not trying to pry, I just wanted to say people aren’t as fragile as you think. Of course, worrying over someone important isn’t a bad thing, but he’s a Beta! You don’t need to make a mountain out of a molehill, he’s not going to die, his constitution is actually quite robust.”
Gu Chengyan stated coldly, “Who told you he’s an important person?”
Dr. Wang (…) Big brother, is that really the point?
Surveying Geng Nuo’s frail-looking frame with its slender arms and legs, Gu Chengyan’s thoughts drifted as he asked, “Would you classify him as malnourished?”
“I just said his constitution is robust,” Dr. Wang complained speechlessly. “He is not malnourished!”
Gu Chengyan: “Then why is he so short?”
(…) Dr. Wang felt personally attacked, seeing as he was only about five centimeters taller than Geng Nuo. “General Gu, please refrain from directing such personality-based discrimination against us Betas.”
For reasons unknown, the General’s mood was vastly superior to moments ago. Suddenly acting like an excessively fretful parent, he pressed further: “Can he still grow taller if he takes growth hormone injections at his age?”
Dr. Wang rolled his eyes. “He’s developed perfectly fine, no forcing nature is required, and his body is entirely healthy—he doesn’t even have a single cavity. Stop fretting blindly, General Gu, the kid isn’t your porcelain doll.”
Gu Chengyan cast an ambiguous glance downward toward Geng Nuo’s lower half.
That hardly looked like a sign of healthy development.
After offering several hours of unpaid overtime, Dr. Wang was ruthlessly shown the door. The General had zero time to deal with Geng Nuo as a mountain of tasks awaited them next, meaning they wouldn’t have time to return home for many days. Consequently, he left the boy behind at the Gu estate under the watchful care of the butler.
Before leaving, General Gu instructed that once Geng Nuo woke up, he shouldn’t be kept under too tight a leash, but every single move must be monitored, and he was temporarily forbidden from leaving the Gu estate.
The butler nodded in agreement, a flash of strange light crossing the depths of his eyes.
True to Dr. Wang’s prediction, under the influence of the anesthesia, Geng Nuo didn’t wake up until three full days later.
Regaining consciousness with a sluggish haze clouding his mind, Geng Nuo instinctively reached to touch the pendant on his neck, catching sight of the IV needle taped to the back of his hand as the intravenous line tugged along, which instantly reminded him that he was still breathing.
Oh gods, I’m still alive!
Gu Chengyan hadn’t killed him.
So where was he now?
Before he could even revel in his narrow escape from death, Geng Nuo frantically scanned the bedroom. Though he was hooked up to an IV, the surroundings didn’t look like a hospital ward—it was decorated with lavish luxury, easily outstripping the presidential suite Gu Chengyan had maintained at Shark Club.
Struggling to sit up and pushing through an initial wave of dizziness, Geng Nuo ripped the needle out of his hand, paying no mind to the blooming droplets of blood and medication leaking across his skin as he stumbled toward the window.
A massive, boundless estate stretching as far as the eye could see gave him the fleeting illusion that he was still trapped inside Shark Club.
Yet this was evidently a scene entirely distinct from Shark Club.
Standing by the window, Geng Nuo’s brain buzzed with static.
If a gaming prompt were to materialize in the sky right now reading: Ding-dong, dungeon updated, Manor 2 unlocked, please strive to escape once more~, he honestly wouldn’t even be surprised.
Damn heavens, are you toying with me?
Where on earth have they locked me up this time?
Having spent three days bedridden, though sustained by nutritional drips, Geng Nuo’s body felt drained of all strength—far weaker than he had felt after being mounted by Gu Chengyan for an entire day and night. Feeling his legs turn to jelly, he groped his way toward the door. Just as he reached for the handle, the door swung open of its own accord.
Wei Lu stood outside, looking thoroughly startled as he locked eyes with him. “Well, what do you know, you really did wake up. That doctor’s estimate was spot-on.”
Whether from sheer physical weakness or lingering terror, Geng Nuo staggered backward a couple of steps, his face draining of color as though genuinely frightened by the man.
Wei Lu raised both hands defensively to signal zero hostility. “Don’t be scared, I just came back to grab something for the General.”
Glancing past Geng Nuo, he spotted the dripping trail of blood smeared across the floorboards, followed by the fresh droplets still welling from Geng Nuo’s right hand. Alarmed, he quickly pulled the boy back inside. “How could you just yank the IV out yourself? You’ve lost so much blood.” Hurriedly, he helped bandage the wound and pressed down on the bleeding vessel.
Unaccustomed to the physical contact, Geng Nuo tried to retract his hand. “I’m fine.”
The moment he spoke, his throat felt as though it had been dried out for ten thousand years, making articulation an agonizing struggle. It took half a glass of water and a thorough throat-clearing before speech returned to normal.
“Thank you.” Geng Nuo asked Wei Lu, “Where am I right now?”
“You’re at the Gu estate, this is the General’s residence.”
“Why am I here?” What Geng Nuo actually wanted to ask was: Why didn’t General Gu kill me?
“Uh,” Wei Lu scratched his chin, offering a sheepish chuckle before giving him an ambiguous wink. “Well… you know how it is.”
“?” Geng Nuo grew irritated.
These arrogant, overpowered elites were truly infuriating; could they not speak in plain human language for once? Who had the mental bandwidth to play riddle-games right now?
Wei Lu had merely dropped in briefly to fetch an item and check on Geng Nuo in passing. Grabbing his things, he prepared to rush back out, calling out to Geng Nuo on his way toward the exit: “The General probably won’t be back for quite a few days, so just stay put for now. If you need anything, let the butler know.”
With that, he poked his head out into the hallway and bellowed downstairs: “Butler! He’s awake, come keep an eye on him.”
Turning back to Geng Nuo, he added, “You can get acquainted with the staff later. I’ve got work to do, so I’m heading out.”
“Hey, wait!” Geng Nuo lunged forward to grab Wei Lu’s sleeve. “Where are my things?”
“What things?”
“The black cloth bag I was holding.” Geng Nuo gestured with his hands. Wei Lu paused to rack his memory, but came up blank. “No idea. You can ask the butler about it later, I really have to run.”
Three strides later, he vanished around the corridor corner, leaving Geng Nuo with a belly full of unanswered questions.
The butler came upstairs, formally introducing himself with the surname Zhang before immediately falling silent.
The two of them stood in mutual, awkward stillness.
Geng Nuo acutely sensed that Wei Lu’s parting instruction of “If you need anything, let the butler know” had been pure bullshit.
This Manager Zhang clearly held zero affection for him, judging by the sidelong, looking-down-his-nose glare he was currently directing his way.
The butler refused to meet Geng Nuo’s eyes directly, instead lifting his chin and tilting his gaze downward to size him up from head to toe, mentally trashing him from pillar to post.
He simply couldn’t fathom what value this person possessed.
Having watched the surveillance recording secretly preserved by Wei Kong the other day, he noted that after the anesthetic dart struck Geng Nuo from that distance, General Gu had immediately braved the sea of fire to catch him as he fell.
This… this lowly Beta, how on earth did he deserve that?
Granted, the boy had been surrounded by a raging inferno, but even a bad fall wouldn’t have killed him instantly, nor would he have landed on anything life-threatening like a bed of red-hot iron framework.
Why let him hit the floor at all? The General had actually gone out of his way to rush forward and steady him.
Ah, right. He remembered now.
Before firing, the General had noticed this person crying.
A scheming Beta!
Geng Nuo couldn’t care less about the man’s inner theater, politely inquiring nonetheless, “Excuse me, have you seen my bag?”
The butler raised his chin slightly, casting a disdainful glance toward the bedroom interior. “It’s in the bedside cabinet. Just that tattered black bag, right? There’s nothing else of yours in this house, and don’t go touching things at random.” With a final glare, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Geng Nuo stood rooted to the spot, utterly perplexed.
What’s with the blatant condescension?
Using his clever little brain, Geng Nuo reasoned that since this man knew about the black bag, he undoubtedly knew it contained money.
Is he trying to provoke me so I’ll offer up rent, board, and medical fees out of pride?
Not happening. I have zero backbone; if they want to look down on me, let them look.
Shrugging, Geng Nuo returned to the bedroom to retrieve his bag and count his cash.
Phew, not a single bill was missing.
Only then did a genuine sense of surviving the ordeal wash over Geng Nuo, though staying put here was out of the question—who knew what Gu Chengyan might do to him upon returning.
Clutching his bag, he went downstairs, intercepted a passing cleaning maid, and tried to ask where the main gates were. To his horror, the woman let out a terrified shriek, yanked her arm out of his grasp, and bolted away in a panic.
Geng Nuo (…)
What’s wrong with everyone? Am I a ghost?
He went searching for the butler to ask if he could just leave and spare them mutual annoyance, figuring the man would be more than happy to oblige. But after circling the ground floor twice without finding him, he wearily sank into the living room sofa, completely out of breath.
By chance, several daily newspapers rested on the coffee table. Picking one up idly, Geng Nuo discovered that the outside world had been turned completely upside down over the past three days.
The top headline of the front page on the Galaxy Daily from two days prior instantly filled his field of vision—
Shark Club Engulfed in Midnight Fire and Explosion
All Nobles Present Perish
Geng Nuo gasped in sharp intake of breath.
Reading on, the report stated that emergency search-and-rescue operations remained underway at the scene with zero survivors recovered thus far, though it had been definitively confirmed that all thirty-eight nobles in attendance that day had perished.
Staff casualty figures weren’t mentioned; naturally, they weren’t deemed worthy of being counted alongside the nobility.
He wondered if He Fei and those thugs he had locked inside the bungalow had managed to escape their fate. Perhaps when the explosion hit, they hadn’t even stood a chance to flee, ending up burned or suffocated to death inside.
Geng Nuo felt no pangs of guilt; after all, those people hadn’t intended to leave him a living option from the very start.
Reaping what they sowed, nothing more.
That meant… was he genuinely the sole survivor?
A wave of lingering terror washed over Geng Nuo. Realistically, given the conditions that day, he could never have escaped under his own power; he had been just a hair’s breadth away from becoming another nameless corpse whose death toll wouldn’t even be tallied.
His family had no idea where he was working; had the worst happened, no one would have even notified them, and he simply would have vanished from their lives forever.
By a hair’s breadth, he had truly slipped silently out of this world.
So… did that mean General Gu hadn’t intended to kill him at all, but had actually saved him?
Flipping through subsequent issues of the Galaxy Daily, he found no other details. Every section was filled with lengthy eulogies mourning the tragically fallen nobles and praising their historical contributions to society.
Geng Nuo curled his lip. What contributions? Strip away their human skin and they’re just a pack of beasts.
Wait.
An idea struck him, and he began flipping the newspapers back and forth with frantic rustling noises.
Nothing. Truly nothing.
While survivors of the day included more than just himself—at the very least, General Gu and his men were present—not a single syllable mentioned Gu Chengyan anywhere in the coverage.
How was that possible? General Gu’s social standing was far too prominent to be glossed over like this, especially since Shark Club’s premier event that day had been a welcome banquet held explicitly in his honor.
From the moment Gu Chengyan stepped into Shark Club until the day of the disaster, everything had revolved around their shady, unspoken partnership. Regardless of how the narrative spun, Gu Chengyan should have occupied center stage.
Why had disaster struck, yet General Gu managed to scrub himself completely clean from the narrative?
Geng Nuo caught the faint scent of a conspiracy.
He recalled He Fei’s mention of being mere “appetizers”—that he was only fighting the opening battles as a pawn, and Shark Club harbored deeper machinations.
Had those plots been uncovered? Was that why General Gu wiped them out in one fell swoop?
If so, doesn’t that mean I’ve somehow blundered into some terrifying political struggle?
If the families of those dead nobles ever found out there was a living witness like me, how would they react?
Geng Nuo shivered, a sudden flash of intuition striking his brain—
Why did he save me?
I don’t know a thing!
He frantically flipped through the newspaper all over again.
What was the official cause of the fire?
Leaving me alive surely wasn’t meant to make me a scapegoat, right?
Geng Nuo wasn’t particularly literate when it came to dense prose, but he read every single word this time, repeatedly confirming the officially stated cause of the fire: electrical aging in the machinery room, which sparked a line fire that consumed the entire building.
Geng Nuo let out a long breath. Good, it wasn’t caused by the paper shredder I burned.
At least nobody could pin that disaster on him.