Top-Tier Omega: Chasing Alpha to the Crematorium – Chapter 30

Mark Me Completely

The Alpha pheromones belonging to her instantly filled the room.

Song Qingpei’s rationality shattered. She slammed her hands down on Ming Yu’s shoulders, violently flipping their positions and pinning her hard against the bed. Like a mother wolf backed into a desperate corner, she finally bared her fangs.

            

Ever since recovering her memories, Ming Yu had never felt such intense fluctuations in Song Qingpei’s pheromones. Instead of being frightened, the overwhelming presence overstimulated her. Her own Omega pheromones spilled outward in an instant, growing overwhelmingly rich.

Driven by sheer instinct, she wrapped her arms around Song Qingpei, rubbing against her embrace as she sought to be soothed.

Shameful words spilled unbidden from her lips. “Hold me…”

            

With those two damp, needy words, Song Qingpei completely lost her mind and pressed Ming Yu firmly beneath her.

Ming Yu’s body trembled faintly in her hold, her fingers digging fiercely into Song Qingpei’s shoulders. Kisses landed along the side of her neck, carrying an irresistible heat that sent Ming Yu’s heart racing and her breathing spiraling out of control.

Her mind dissolved into chaos. Under the relentless assault of desire, whatever reason she had left crumbled away, leaving behind nothing but an all-consuming craving for Song Qingpei.

            

“Qingpei…” Ming Yu’s voice was hoarse and soft. “Mark me… completely mark me…”

Her voice seemed to carry some dark magic. Unable to stop herself, Song Qingpei dragged fervent kisses down Ming Yu’s lips, over her collarbone, into the hollow of her neck, inching lower and lower…

Ming Yu trembled beneath her, practically melting into a puddle of spring water. The bone-deep pleasure was so intense she could scarcely hold back her moans. “Ngh, mmm…”

            

She clung tightly to Song Qingpei’s neck like a drowning person clutching a lifeline. Her rough voice was laced with an undeniable tremor. “Qingpei… I… I want you. I want to belong to you completely.”

As Ming Yu began to tear at her clothes, Song Qingpei couldn’t help but open her eyes and look down at her.

The woman pinned beneath her was a mess of disheveled clothing and flushed cheeks. The corners of her narrowed eyes brimmed with intoxicating submission. Yet, reflected in those very pupils, Song Qingpei saw herself—saw herself equally drowning in lust.

            

What… what am I doing?

If she entangled herself with Ming Yu again just like this, how would she face herself when she finally sobered up?

At the very last second, Song Qingpei’s rationality flared to life. She stopped dead. Disorientation flashed through her eyes before reason came crashing back into place.

            

Shoving Ming Yu away, she stumbled to her feet and lunged for the nightstand.

Through ragged breaths, Song Qingpei snatched up a syringe of inhibitor and injected it straight into her own body without a second thought.

Instantly, the icy liquid swept through her veins, entirely extinguishing her already faint pheromones.

            

Abruptly cut off from the soothing aura, Ming Yu stared at her in sheer disbelief, looking as though a bucket of freezing water had just been dumped over her head.

She blinked in a daze. “…What are you doing?”

In that moment, Song Qingpei had lost every trace of her usual calm composure. After all, she had genuinely been moved by lust this time—trying to claim that Ming Yu had forced her hand would be an utterly untenable excuse.

            

She averted her gaze, refusing to look at Ming Yu, and kept her voice low. “I… I can soothe you, but I cannot completely mark you.”

Hearing her say that left Ming Yu feeling sickeningly suspended in mid-air. What little reason she had left was long gone. Verging on a complete breakdown, she demanded, “Why? What exactly do you want me to do?”

Song Qingpei sighed wearily. “We have absolutely no feelings for each other anymore. I don’t want us to keep making the same mistakes.”

            

A spark of anger flashed through Ming Yu’s eyes. “I know my own heart now!” she shot back. “I care about you!”

Her mind now entirely clear, Song Qingpei replied with firm resolve. “No, you’re just unwilling to accept defeat, and the pheromones are messing with your head. Ask yourself—can you truly accept everything that happened while you were amnesiac?”

Ming Yu fell silent.

            

Watching her muteness, a flicker of pain crossed Song Qingpei’s heart.

She took a deep breath and said evenly, “We have never viewed each other as equals. After losing your memory, you could only rely on me, so the moment you got it back, you tossed me aside without a second thought. Yet the very things you viewed as a humiliating stain on your life were the days I cherished most.”

When Ming Yu still didn’t speak, Song Qingpei let out a bitter laugh. “You see? We don’t even share a mutual understanding, so how can we possibly talk about love?”

            

Ming Yu had no rebuttal. She just stared at Song Qingpei, completely lost.

Seeing her look like that, Song Qingpei dropped her earlier coldness and let out a long sigh. “Ming Yu, I accept your apology. I shouldn’t have deliberately humiliated you before. For Song Song’s sake, let’s just be friends. I will soothe you as we agreed, I just hope that you…”

Her gaze drifted down to Ming Yu’s rather unspeakable lingerie. With a highly complicated expression, she picked up a discarded robe, draped it over her shoulders, and said helplessly, “Stop doing foolish things like this.”

            

In a split second, Ming Yu’s humiliation peaked. She felt like an utter joke.

Shoving Song Qingpei aside, she fled the room in a panic.

Ming Yu practically smashed the door to her own bedroom shut and leaned back against the wood, her body trembling faintly.

            

Her fingers lightly brushed across her lips, as if she could still feel Song Qingpei’s lingering warmth.

An overwhelming wave of shame and frustration violently slammed into her fierce pride, instantly cooling her previously fervent pheromones. She never could have imagined that the heat cycle she had been fundamentally unable to suppress would be forcefully smothered in such a manner.

Furious, Ming Yu stripped off the obscene lingerie and viciously threw it into the trash can.

            

She showered and climbed into bed.

But the moment she closed her eyes, Song Qingpei’s words echoed in her ears.

We have no feelings for each other anymore. I don’t want us to keep making the same mistakes.

            

Ask yourself—can you truly accept everything that happened while you were amnesiac?

We don’t even share a mutual understanding, so how can we possibly talk about love?

…

            

Now that she had calmed down, she actually began to seriously ponder what Song Qingpei had said. Yet even after careful consideration, she couldn’t help but scoff disdainfully¹.

She didn’t understand why Song Qingpei was so obsessively fixated on dragging up old history and harping on the past.

Those pathetic, wretched days were indeed a humiliating past she never wished to speak of again. She rejected weakness and dependency. A lifetime of survival had taught her that only the strong could dictate their own fate.

            

She had sacrificed so much to reach her current position. Why on earth should she regress to living that kind of life on the Garbage Planet again?

She was capable of providing a vastly superior life for them now. She was willing to accept Song Qingpei. Why couldn’t their family just live well together? Why did she have to stir up trouble by agonizing over such trivial, insignificant details?

Ming Yu didn’t understand, nor did she want to.

            

With a stubborn kind of paranoia, she convinced herself that her methods were simply flawed; that was the only reason she hadn’t gotten the desired result from Song Qingpei.

At that thought, she sank into deep contemplation, carefully reviewing her past actions.

When they had first reunited, she had resorted to threats and bribery. Song Qingpei had seemingly compromised, but quickly began resisting, and Ming Yu had even taken a slap to the face. The facts proved that path was a dead end.

            

Later, she had tried making friendly gestures to ease the tension between them, but Song Qingpei had remained entirely unmoved.

Right up until today, when she hadn’t hesitated to proactively offer herself up for… physical desires.

Ming Yu’s ears flushed slightly at the memory, but her sharp mind caught the critical difference.

            

Even though Song Qingpei had rejected her again today, her pheromones had reacted. Her emotional state had clearly undergone a massive shift, and even her final words had been spoken with a gentle, almost pitying tone.

What was the difference?

Song Qingpei clearly wasn’t someone obsessed with lust, otherwise she wouldn’t have stopped halfway through.

            

Ming Yu frowned in thought. Suddenly, a name flashed through her mind—

Mengmeng.

That was it. Combining everything Song Qingpei constantly brought up about the past, Ming Yu had finally grasped the crux of the issue.

            

What Song Qingpei cared about was the image of the person from when she had lost her memory—the one called Mengmeng.

She fell into deep thought.

Since all her other methods had failed to make Song Qingpei change her mind, she might as well try a different approach.

            

---

The next day, by the time Ming Yu came downstairs, Song Qingpei was already busy in the kitchen.

Song Song was sitting at the dining table, her small hands clutching a glass of milk, her little face brimming with anticipation.

Ming Yu walked over to the table, gently patted Song Song’s head, and said softly, “Good morning, Song Song.”

            

Song Song tilted her head up, eyes sparkling, and answered happily, “Mommy, good morning!”

Hearing the voice, Song Qingpei glanced back at Ming Yu, a flicker of surprise crossing her eyes. She hadn’t expected Ming Yu’s attitude to remain so mild after what had happened last night.

She withdrew her gaze and said neutrally, “Hold on, breakfast will be ready in a minute.”

            

Ming Yu smiled faintly. She walked over to Song Qingpei’s side and asked quietly, “What are you making?”

Song Qingpei paused for a second before answering, “Black Tiger Fish Noodles.”

A trace of awkwardness flashed across Ming Yu’s face at the mention of the dish, but she quickly smoothed her expression back to normal. She even added, “Is there any for me?”

            

Faced with a question like that, Song Qingpei really couldn’t bring herself to say no. She gave a vague nod.

“Go keep Song Song company. It’ll be done in a second.”

Ming Yu nodded, turned back to the table, and sat beside her daughter.

            

She looked at Song Song, her eyes full of tenderness. “Song Song, how about Mommy takes you to school today?”

Song Song’s eyes lit up instantly. She nodded with delight. “Okay!”

Walking over with breakfast in hand, Song Qingpei caught their exchange. Confusion surfaced in her eyes, but she quickly reined it in.

            

Setting the freshly made Black Tiger Fish Noodles on the table, she said softly, “Let’s eat first.”

For once, the atmosphere at the dining table was wonderfully harmonious.

Song Song’s little mouth babbled endlessly, occasionally drawing genuine laughter from both Ming Yu and Song Qingpei.

            

Ming Yu placed extra food in Song Song’s bowl while gently answering her every question. Song Qingpei ate her breakfast quietly, only occasionally looking up at Ming Yu with complex emotions swirling in her eyes.

After a brief silence, Ming Yu took the initiative to speak. “Qingpei, what you said last night… I’ve thought about it seriously.”

Song Qingpei’s hand stilled slightly. She smiled. “It’s good that you’ve figured it out. Let the past remain in the past.”

            

Ming Yu, who had absolutely no intention of letting anything remain in the past, didn’t rush to contradict her. Instead, she played along. “I know you’ve always cared about the past. I will give you a satisfactory answer.”

Her wording was ambiguous. Song Qingpei gave her a puzzled look, not entirely grasping her meaning.

But Ming Yu didn’t elaborate. She stood up and looked at her daughter. “Song Song, are you ready? It’s time to go.”

            

Song Song jumped up excitedly, ran to Ming Yu’s side, and grabbed her hand. “Ready!”

“Qingpei, let’s go drop Song Song off together.”

Song Qingpei, who had assumed Ming Yu was taking her alone, was caught off guard again. But under Song Song’s expectant gaze, she couldn’t refuse. She had no choice but to follow them out the door.

            

Ming Yu and Song Qingpei dropped Song Song off at school together, the car ride filled with constant laughter.

Sitting in the back seat, a blissful smile stretched across Song Song’s face. She wheedled, “Mama, Mommy, you have to take me together tomorrow too!”

Ming Yu looked back with a smile and promised gently, “Okay.”

            

Song Qingpei’s gaze occasionally swept over Ming Yu and Song Song’s interactions, and her heart couldn’t help but soften just a fraction. Though the relationship between her and Ming Yu was still fraught with tension, for Song Song’s sake, she was willing to set aside her grievances for the time being.

After dropping Song Song off, Song Qingpei prepared to head to work alone.

But Ming Yu insisted, “I’ll drive you.”

            

Song Qingpei wanted to refuse, but thinking about Ming Yu’s behavior last night and this morning, she assumed the woman had finally come to terms with everything. In the end, she nodded.

The two got into the car, and silence fell over the cabin.

Ming Yu’s fingers mindlessly stroked the edge of the window. Every so often, she would steal a glance at Song Qingpei’s profile, trying to glean some hint of emotion from her expression.

            

Song Qingpei, however, kept her eyes fixed out the window, her face entirely unreadable.

With nothing but the hum of the engine and the occasional rush of wind filling the space, the atmosphere turned somewhat oppressive.

Finally, the hovercar pulled up to the company entrance.

            

Song Qingpei unbuckled her seatbelt. Just as she was about to step out, Ming Yu suddenly spoke. “Qingpei, I…”

Song Qingpei paused and turned back, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Ming Yu opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something, but ultimately just shook her head and forced a tight smile. “Nothing. Be careful on your way in.”

            

Song Qingpei nodded, pushed the door open, and stepped out.

Watching her retreating back, an indescribable sense of loss surged up in Ming Yu’s chest.

She took a deep breath, preparing to start the engine and leave, when she suddenly saw Song Qingpei stop in front of the building.

            

Not far away, a familiar figure was walking toward her.

Dressed in a sharp professional suit and wearing a bright, radiant smile, it was none other than Murong Ruixue.

“Qingpei!”

            

Murong Ruixue waved with a smile. Spotting Ming Yu in the car nearby, she asked in surprise, “Did Admiral Ming bring you?”

Song Qingpei nodded, her gaze involuntarily darting toward Ming Yu inside the vehicle.

Following her line of sight, Murong Ruixue’s eyes met Ming Yu’s. She smiled and offered a wave in greeting.

            

Ming Yu managed to force a stiff smile and nodded back, but a bitter wave of jealousy roiled in her chest.

Watching Song Qingpei and Murong Ruixue walk into the company chatting and laughing, the naturally flowing intimacy between them stung her eyes fiercely. Once upon a time, Song Qingpei had treated her exactly like that—gentle, considerate, as though there had never been a barrier between them.

But now, everything had changed.

            

With an incredibly complicated mess of emotions, Ming Yu ordered the driver to take her to Military Headquarters.

Stepping into her office, Ming Yu immediately shifted into a state of pure professionalism, flipping through the planning documents for the new advanced military academy.

It wasn’t long before Song Xihan walked in carrying a file. “Ming Yu, Marshal Lin wants you to go over.”

            

Ming Yu nodded.

“From the looks of it, Zhan Nansheng already went crying to the Marshal,” Song Xihan warned. “Be careful.”

Standing up and smoothing out her military uniform, Ming Yu replied evenly, “I know.”

            

She stepped out of her office and walked down the long corridor toward Marshal Lin Pinghai’s office.

Her pace was steady, her expression composed, as if she were heading to nothing more than a routine debriefing.

Arriving at the Marshal’s door, Ming Yu knocked lightly.

            

“Come in,” came Lin Pinghai’s low, commanding voice.

Ming Yu pushed the door open. Lin Pinghai was seated behind his desk, reviewing the establishment files for the advanced military academy. His brows were slightly furrowed in thought.

“Marshal.” Ming Yu stood before the desk and delivered a crisp salute.

            

Lin Pinghai looked up. Seeing Ming Yu, a faint smile touched his face, and he gestured to the chair opposite him. “Have a seat.”

Ming Yu sat as instructed, resting her hands on her knees, her gaze calmly fixed on Lin Pinghai.

Setting the file down, Lin Pinghai folded his hands on the desk. His tone was mild. “Ming Yu, the preparations for the advanced military academy are progressing well. You’ve worked hard.”

            

“I am merely doing my duty,” Ming Yu replied smoothly.

Lin Pinghai nodded, then smoothly pivoted the conversation. “However, I hear you transferred two of Zhan Nansheng’s most capable subordinates away? Lin Qi and Jiang Ze?”

Ming Yu’s expression didn’t waver. “Yes, Marshal. Establishing the advanced military academy requires talent from all sectors. Lin Qi and Jiang Ze possess extensive experience in military training and strategic planning. Their inclusion is crucial to the academy’s foundation.”

            

Lin Pinghai frowned slightly, a touch of exasperation in his voice. “Ming Yu, I understand your reasoning. But Zhan Nansheng’s reaction has been quite explosive. You know full well her father is the President. Letting things escalate to such a bitter standoff might not be to your advantage.”

Ming Yu’s gaze remained utterly placid, carrying a thread of unquestionable resolve. “Marshal, Lin Qi and Jiang Ze’s capabilities perfectly match the academy’s requirements. Transferring them was a decision made with the broader picture in mind.”

Lin Pinghai sighed. “Ming Yu, I know you have always stuck to your principles, but sometimes, a blade too rigid will easily snap². You should give Zhan Nansheng a little face. We are all colleagues here; there’s no need to make relations so hostile.”

            

Ming Yu remained silent for a moment. Then she lifted her chin, her eyes unwavering. “Marshal, I understand what you mean. However, the establishment of the advanced military academy concerns the very future of the military. I cannot compromise on personnel just to appease personal relationships. If Zhan Nansheng objects to the appointments, she is free to file a formal grievance through the proper channels. I will respect the military’s final ruling.”

Lin Pinghai stared at Ming Yu, a complex look flashing through his eyes.

He shook his head helplessly, his tone tinged with resignation. “You really are as stubborn as ever. Once you set your mind on something, nine bulls couldn’t drag you away from it³.”

            

Ming Yu’s eyes flickered, but her calm returned an instant later.

“Marshal, if there is nothing else, I will return to my work.”

Lin Pinghai nodded. “Go on. But I still hope you can manage to get along with Zhan Nansheng and try to ease the tension between you.”

            

Ming Yu stood up, turned, and left the office.

Once outside the Marshal’s door, her internal state was nowhere near as tranquil as she appeared.

She knew Lin Pinghai’s words carried weight; the influence of Zhan Nansheng’s father was not something to be underestimated. Yet, she had no intention of backing down. Though she certainly harbored personal motives for transferring those two, their abilities were undeniably top-tier and essential to building the academy. Her conscience was entirely clear.

            

Returning to her office, Ming Yu sat back in her chair and resumed reviewing her files.

However, a knock soon sounded at the door again.

“Come in,” Ming Yu said evenly without looking up.

            

The door swung open, and Song Xihan stepped inside once more.

Catching the faint signs of exhaustion on Ming Yu’s face, a flash of concern crossed her eyes. “How did it go? What did the Marshal say?”

Ming Yu shook her head. “Nothing of consequence. He just asked me to smooth things over with Zhan Nansheng.”

            

Song Xihan raised an eyebrow. “So what’s your plan? Keep going head-to-head to the bitter end?”

Ming Yu didn’t answer. She only allowed a faint, cold smile to curve the corners of her lips.

Understanding her perfectly, Song Xihan changed the subject. “By the way, is your heat still not over? You look terrible.”

            

Ming Yu nodded calmly. “Mm, it’s fine for now.”

Song Xihan frowned, her worry evident. “You can’t keep going like this. A heat cycle already drains a tremendous amount of energy from the body. Pushing yourself this hard… you’re going to collapse sooner or later.”

Ming Yu didn’t engage, merely lowering her head to continue scanning her documents.

            

“You really are impossibly stubborn.”

Song Xihan sighed before continuing, “Actually, that’s good timing. I had something I wanted to talk to you about regarding Murong Ruixue.”

At that name, Ming Yu’s interest flared instantly. She looked up. “Speak.”

            

When mentioning Murong Ruixue, Song Xihan’s tone carried obvious admiration. “Ming Yu, I really think Murong Ruixue is an exceptionally rare talent. The Blue Sea Group she works for possesses immense strength in mech repair and R&D. If we could recruit her as an instructor for the advanced military academy, it would be a massive boon for our related departments.”

Ming Yu’s brows knitted together. She tapped her fingers lightly against the desk, seemingly deep in thought.

A moment later, she gave a short nod. “Acceptable. But we must conduct a background check first. The faculty of the advanced military academy must be proven absolutely reliable.”

            

Hearing that, Song Xihan couldn’t resist teasing her. “Given that she’s your ‘romantic rival,’ I’d imagine you’ve already investigated her down to the bottom of the ocean, right? Do we really need another background check?”

Ming Yu’s frown deepened, her tone threading with displeasure. “Don’t spout nonsense. How much do you actually know about her?”

Noticing Ming Yu’s seriousness, Song Xihan wiped the smile from her face.

            

After a moment’s thought, she answered honestly, “We graduated from the military academy in the same year. She truly is gifted at mech repair. She joined the Blue Sea Group right out of school, and I’ve heard her performance there over the past few years has been stellar. But… I don’t know much about her personal background.”

Listening to Song Xihan’s explanation, Ming Yu’s brow remained tightly locked. After a pause, she murmured, “Let’s hold off for now. Wait until Ming Rui finishes looking into her.”

Song Xihan nodded. Though inwardly curious, she didn’t press the issue.

            

She knew Ming Yu was meticulously cautious. If she requested a delay, she certainly had her reasons.

After seeing Song Xihan out and finishing the paperwork on her desk, Ming Yu finally allowed herself to relax, only for the image of Song Qingpei and Murong Ruixue laughing together to force its way back into her mind.

She had to do something.

            

Her thoughts from the previous night solidified. Since Song Qingpei loved the amnesiac version of her, then she would just revert to that state. The only problem was that pulling off those clingy, whining affections while fully conscious was genuinely a challenge for her.

But… After hesitating for only a moment, Ming Yu preemptively contacted Li Man.

As soon as she finished her duties, she went straight to see her.

            

When Ming Yu walked in, Li Man gave a wry smile. “Admiral, you’re here rather early?”

Ming Yu skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the point. “Li Man, regarding what I asked you on the phone. Have you found a way to let me return to my amnesiac state?”

Faced with such a convoluted demand, Li Man frowned. “You mean… reverting to your amnesiac state without it impacting your normal life?”

            

Ming Yu nodded with steely conviction. “Correct. It cannot interfere with my work.”

Li Man set down the medical chart in her hands, her expression turning serious. “Admiral Ming, that request… is quite difficult. I can connect you with a professional psychologist who specializes in this field. She might have some recommendations.”

“Acceptable,” Ming Yu agreed.

            

Li Man picked up her phone and dialed a number.

A gentle woman’s voice answered. “Hello, Doctor Li?”

“It’s me, Doctor Lin,” Li Man said. “I have a patient here with a rather unique situation who may need your help.”

            

The doctor on the other end didn’t seem perturbed by the vague description. “Alright, send her over. I can make time whenever you arrive.”

Hanging up the phone, Li Man looked at Ming Yu. “Doctor Lin is an expert in the field of psychological hypnosis. We can try consulting her. But I must warn you—hypnosis is not omnipotent, and it may carry unexpected side effects.”

Ming Yu nodded, electing to proceed.

            

Li Man sighed. “Very well. I’ll accompany you.”

The two of them drove to the hospital where Doctor Lin worked.

Throughout the ride, Ming Yu’s emotions were a tangled mess. She had no idea if hypnosis could truly regress her to the state before her memories returned, but she knew it was her only chance.

            

When they arrived at the clinic, Doctor Lin was already waiting.

She was a middle-aged Omega with a mild aura and eyes that radiated a reassuring strength.

She smiled at Ming Yu, her voice gentle. “You must be Ming Yu. Doctor Li has already given me a brief overview of your situation.”

            

Ming Yu nodded. “Yes, Doctor Lin. Do you have a solution?”

Doctor Lin gestured for Ming Yu to sit. “Hypnosis can indeed help you regress to past memories, but the prerequisite is that your subconscious must be willing to accept the alteration.”

Ming Yu fell silent for a moment before nodding. “I understand. I am willing to try.”

            

Doctor Lin smiled softly. “Good. Let’s begin.”

Ming Yu lay back in the hypnosis chair, advanced monitors connecting to her head. As she closed her eyes, Doctor Lin’s soft voice drifted into her ears.

Her consciousness gradually blurred, as if she were stepping into an unfamiliar world.

            

Within that world, she saw the self from before her amnesia—the powerful, confident, fearless Ming Yu. She stood high above, looking down upon everything, as though the entire universe rested in the palm of her hand.

Yet, as the hypnosis deepened, she also saw the self from after her amnesia—the fragile, dependent, and almost subservient Mengmeng, whose eyes reflected nothing but Song Qingpei.

The two identities continually clashed in her mind, locking into a silent war.

            

A splitting headache ripped through Ming Yu. She wanted to flee, but found there was nowhere to run.

Just then, Doctor Lin’s voice resonated through the void. “Ming Yu, try to accept them. They are both parts of you. Only when you truly accept yourself can you find inner balance.”

Ming Yu’s breathing slowly evened out. The image of Song Qingpei surfaced in her mind.

            

The Song Qingpei who had once treated her with unending tenderness; the Song Qingpei who now treated her with cold detachment.

Doctor Lin’s voice remained soft and soothing, carrying a magical cadence that slowly guided her into profound relaxation.

“Ming Yu, close your eyes, take a deep breath… Relax your body, relax your mind… Now, I will give you a keyword. Whenever you hear this word, you will enter a post-hypnotic state, returning to the self you were when you lost your memories. You can immerse yourself in that state, but you can also control when you wake up at any time.

            

“That keyword is—Meng.”

Ming Yu’s breathing sank into a steady rhythm. Her body relaxed entirely.

Her consciousness began to haze over, as though wrapped in a thick, soft fog.

            

Doctor Lin’s voice continued to echo beside her ear: “When you hear the word Mengmeng, you will forget that your memories have recovered. You will return to how things were. But remember, you can wake up whenever you wish.”

Images from her amnesiac days rose to the forefront of Ming Yu’s mind—

The version of herself that Song Qingpei called Mengmeng.

            

A gentle smile unknowingly curved onto her lips, as though she really had traveled back to those days.

Doctor Lin spoke softly, “I will awaken you now, but the keyword has already been embedded in your subconscious. Whenever you utter that command, the hypnosis will trigger, helping you enter the state you desire.”

Ming Yu slowly opened her eyes. A trace of disorientation lingered in her gaze, but clarity quickly followed.

            

Doctor Lin smiled. “Remember, hypnosis is merely a tool. True change relies on yourself. You can enter that state whenever you choose, but you must also learn to control it.”

Ming Yu nodded. A strange sensation settled in her chest, as if she had cleanly split into two personalities. Through that keyword, she could regress to her amnesiac state, yet she could also awaken instantly, snapping back into her original self.

She had found the perfect method to rebuild her relationship with Song Qingpei.

            

Suddenly, she was eagerly anticipating Song Qingpei’s reaction.

After leaving the hospital and parting ways with Li Man, Ming Yu couldn’t resist calling Song Qingpei.

Song Qingpei’s slightly confused voice came through the speaker. “Ming Yu?”

            

Ming Yu took a deep breath. “Qingpei, can you come home early tonight?”

Silence hung on the other end for a moment before Song Qingpei’s soft reply finally arrived. “Alright, I’ll try to get back early.”

Hanging up the phone, Song Qingpei stared down at the tools in her hands. Ming Yu’s voice kept echoing in her mind—it had sounded as though she were anticipating something, which only made Song Qingpei anxious.

            

Was Ming Yu plotting something crazy again?

Recalling the outfit Ming Yu had worn last night, Song Qingpei felt a headache brewing. Shaking her head to dispel the distracting thoughts, she refocused on the mech repair work in front of her.

Standing off to the side, Murong Ruixue sharply detected Song Qingpei’s distraction.

            

Raising an eyebrow, she asked with a teasing lilt, “Qingpei, was that Admiral Ming? Have you two made up?”

Song Qingpei’s hands paused briefly. “We’re just friends.”

Murong Ruixue clearly wasn’t satisfied with that answer. She was about to press further when Song Qingpei abruptly changed the subject.

            

“Ruixue-jie, there’s a problem with this mech’s energy system. We need to hurry up and get it fixed.”

Seeing that, Murong Ruixue had no choice but to suppress her curiosity, nodding as she began to diligently guide Song Qingpei through the process.

They worked together with practiced synergy, their movements as fluid as if they had partnered countless times before.

            

However, as the repairs drew them deeper into the machinery, the physical distance between them inevitably shrank.

Murong Ruixue suddenly leaned close. A faint, sweet fragrance wafted from her breath, curling around Song Qingpei’s nose. Song Qingpei’s body stiffened minutely, and she subconsciously took a half-step back to put some space between them.

But Murong Ruixue seemed entirely oblivious to her discomfort, keeping her focus locked on instructing her.

            

“This area needs a little more adjustment. The energy transmission isn’t stable enough.”

Murong Ruixue’s voice brushed right against Song Qingpei’s ear, carrying a wisp of warm breath.

Forcing down the awkwardness, Song Qingpei nodded and continued working.

            

Just then, Murong Ruixue suddenly reached out and grasped Song Qingpei’s wrist. Her expression was deadly serious. “Qingpei, wait. This part requires a more precise calibration.”

Song Qingpei froze instantly.

The warmth of Murong Ruixue’s palm seeped through her skin—a touch entirely impossible to ignore.

            

Instinctively, she tried to pull her hand back, but Murong Ruixue only tightened her grip.

Song Qingpei jerked her head up to look at Murong Ruixue, only to find the woman staring deeply back at her. The burning heat in her eyes could hardly be concealed. Recalling the things Murong Ruixue had said previously, Song Qingpei’s heart seized. She felt an unprecedented wave of pressure.

She opened her mouth, trying to find something to say, but Murong Ruixue beat her to it.

            

“Qingpei, I have feelings for you.” Her voice trembled slightly, as if she were desperately suppressing the emotion welling up inside her. “If there truly is no possibility left between you and the Admiral… could you… consider me?”

Song Qingpei was dumbstruck. She hadn’t expected Murong Ruixue to confess so directly.

Her mind went completely blank. For a long moment, she had no idea how to respond.

            

“Ruixue-jie, I…” Song Qingpei’s throat was dry. “Right now, I only want to focus on my work. I don’t want to think about relationships.”

The light in Murong Ruixue’s eyes dimmed instantly. She released Song Qingpei’s wrist and forced a bitter smile. “I understand, Qingpei. Don’t feel pressured. I just… wanted you to know how I felt.”

A knot of complicated emotions tightened in Song Qingpei’s chest. Watching Murong Ruixue force a smile made her feel guilty, but she knew she couldn’t offer the woman any false hope.

            

She took a deep breath, her tone laced with apology. “Ruixue, I’m sorry. I…”

Murong Ruixue nodded, her smile remaining brittle. “It’s fine, Qingpei. We’re still friends, right?”

Song Qingpei nodded, though a heavy weight settled over her heart.

            

She knew that the dynamic between her and Murong Ruixue had subtly shifted. They could never return to the uncomplicated partnership they had shared before.

Just then, Murong Ruixue’s light-terminal chimed.

She glanced down, saw that it was a message from Li Man, and immediately made an excuse to step away.

            

Walking to a secluded corner, she opened the message.

It was short and to the point: Find a way to drive a wedge between Song Qingpei and Ming Yu. Do not let them reconcile under any circumstances.

A complicated gleam flashed through Murong Ruixue’s eyes. She deleted the message and walked back.

            

“Qingpei, the repairs on this mech might take a while longer,” Murong Ruixue said, her voice dripping with artificial concern. “If you have somewhere to be, you can head out first. I can stay and work the overtime alone.”

Song Qingpei hesitated, then shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll stay and help you finish it.”

Murong Ruixue pressed, “But didn’t Admiral Ming ask you to go home early? Don’t worry about me, I can handle it alone.”

            

Song Qingpei’s brow furrowed slightly. She checked the time and realized it was already much later than she had anticipated.

She hesitated, but ultimately pulled out her light-terminal and sent Ming Yu a message: Sorry, the mech repairs aren’t finished yet. I’ll probably be working overtime until late.

At that exact moment, Ming Yu received the message, and her mood plummeted straight into the abyss.

            

She took a deep breath, fighting down the surge of irritation, repeatedly reminding herself not to get angry.

She marched into the bathroom and took a hot shower, trying to forcefully cool her temper.

When she finished, Ming Yu changed into comfortable sleepwear, walked over to her own bed, hesitated for just a second—and then turned on her heel and walked straight into Song Qingpei’s bedroom.

            

She lay down in Song Qingpei’s bed. Surrounded by that familiar scent, an inexplicable sense of security washed over her.

Ming Yu closed her eyes. “I don’t believe you won’t come back today.”

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