Top-Tier Omega: Chasing Alpha to the Crematorium – Chapter 38

Jiejie, Please

The night hung low, city neon lights flickering past the window.

Inside room 1808 of the Cloud Sea Hotel, mottled light and shadow projected against the walls.

            

Zhan Nansheng sat on the sofa, a glass of red wine in her hand, swirling it gently. A triumphant smile played on her lips, as if she could already see the image of Wu Lan thoroughly dominated beneath her.

“Wu Lan, let’s see if you can escape the palm of my hand this time,” she murmured, her tone brimming with confidence.

She had no idea that Wu Lan had already seen right through her plan.

            

Standing outside the hotel, Wu Lan looked up at the window of room 1808, a glint of coldness flashing through her eyes.

The corners of her lips curled up slightly as she whispered, “Zhan Nansheng, since you insist on playing, I’ll play with you to the bitter end.”

She stepped into the hotel, and the elevator began its steady ascent.

            

Wu Lan’s expression remained calm, but her fingers tapped out an unconscious rhythm against the handrail, as if she were calculating something. When the elevator stopped on the eighteenth floor, a meaningful smile spread across her face.

Arriving at the door of room 1808, she raised a hand and knocked.

“Come in, it’s unlocked,” Zhan Nansheng’s languid, seductive voice drifted from inside.

            

Wu Lan pushed the door open to find Zhan Nansheng sitting on the edge of the bed, wineglass in hand, looking every bit the picture of lazy allure.

Zhan Nansheng’s gaze swept over her, carrying a hint of provocation. “Right on time, I see.”

Wu Lan did not answer. She merely shut the door behind her and walked slowly toward Zhan Nansheng.

            

Her gaze was cold and unfathomable, piercing enough to see through everything.

Zhan Nansheng felt slightly unsettled beneath that stare, but she quickly adjusted her mood. Laughing, she stood up, walked right up to Wu Lan, and offered her the glass of red wine. Her voice was laced with temptation. “Wu Lan, tonight… you’re mine.”

Wu Lan looked down at the wine, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. “Eldest Miss, are you certain you can handle the consequences?”

            

Zhan Nansheng let out a soft laugh, her tone daring. “What, are you scared?”

Wu Lan chuckled. She took the wineglass, took a sip, and then suddenly locked her hand around the back of Zhan Nansheng’s neck. She leaned down and crushed her lips against Zhan Nansheng’s. Caught entirely off guard, Zhan Nansheng was forced to swallow the mouthful of red wine.

She had heavily drugged the wine beforehand. Now, caught in her own trap¹, Zhan Nansheng soon felt her body gradually losing its strength.

            

Even so, she clearly felt she held the upper hand. Her eyes remained provocative, and she even found the mood to tease, “What, an Omega like you wants to take the initiative?”

Wu Lan supported her weight and walked her toward the bed. “Eldest Miss, rest assured. I will certainly make tonight unforgettable for you.”

The moment the words left her mouth, a terrifyingly oppressive pheromone instantly flooded the room.

            

“You’re not an Omega!”

Zhan Nansheng’s face paled in an instant, her eyes wide with shock. “You… you’re actually an… an Enigma²?”

Enigmas were an exceptionally rare existence. Not only were they immune to Omega pheromones, but they could also dominate and mark Alphas—even capable of making an Alpha conceive.

            

This sudden reversal sent a flash of panic through Zhan Nansheng’s eyes. She quickly forced herself to remain calm, warning, “Wu Lan, don’t try anything crazy! If you dare mark me, I won’t let you off!”

Wu Lan chuckled lightly, a teasing edge to her voice. “Eldest Miss, since you extended such a passionate invitation, it would be terribly rude of me not to honor your meticulous arrangements.”

Zhan Nansheng tried to struggle, but the drug had already rendered her limbs useless.

            

She gritted her teeth and cursed, “You bastard! Let me go!”

Wu Lan remained entirely unmoved. Her fingers gently stroked Zhan Nansheng’s cheek, trailing down her jawline to her neck. The heat from her fingertips made Zhan Nansheng’s body shudder involuntarily.

“Wu Lan, you… you wouldn’t dare!” Zhan Nansheng spat through clenched teeth.

            

Her breathing hitched, her eyes burning with rage and defiance. She tried to use the very last of her strength to push Wu Lan away, but her arms simply flopped down, limp, as if all the power had been siphoned from her bones.

Wu Lan let out another low laugh. Her fingers slid down Zhan Nansheng’s shoulders. Gripping them firmly, she pressed her down onto the bed, maneuvering her into a prone, humiliating position.

Zhan Nansheng’s body jerked. Her chest heaved violently, a flicker of raw panic finally breaking through.

            

“Let me go… you lunatic!”

Her voice trembled. Her legs kicked out, trying to strike her captor, but Wu Lan suppressed her with effortless ease.

Wu Lan pressed a knee between her legs, pinning her firmly against the mattress, rendering her entirely immobile.

            

“Eldest Miss, your body is much more honest than your mouth.” Wu Lan laughed softly, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of Zhan Nansheng’s waist. The warmth of that touch caused Zhan Nansheng to involuntarily go rigid.

Her breathing grew increasingly erratic. A faint, humiliating flush crept across her cheeks.

“You… shut up!” Zhan Nansheng ground her teeth, trying to use whatever scraps of reason she had left to fight off her body’s physical response.

            

But her body betrayed her, melting uncontrollably beneath Wu Lan’s touch. Every caress against her skin felt like a spark igniting a flame, making her shudder without consent.

“Wu Lan, I… I won’t let you get away with this…” Zhan Nansheng’s words came out broken, threaded with heavy pants.

Wu Lan looked down at her with a mocking smirk. She hooked a finger under Zhan Nansheng’s chin, forcing her to meet her eyes.

            

“Eldest Miss, your body has already surrendered. Why keep pretending to be so tough?”

A flash of intense shame crossed Zhan Nansheng’s eyes. Her lips trembled as she tried to retort, but she found she could no longer form a complete sentence. Her body was spiraling completely out of control. A low moan slipped past her lips despite her best efforts. The moment she heard her own voice, Zhan Nansheng’s face drained of color, utterly mortified.

“You… you bastard! I’ll kill you!”

            

“Eldest Miss, you’re enjoying this too, aren’t you?” Wu Lan chuckled, her voice a soft whisper directly beside Zhan Nansheng’s ear.

The rush of hot breath against her skin made Zhan Nansheng tremble violently. All she could do was hurl furious insults to cover up her pathetic state. Wu Lan laughed softly, lowered her head, and bit gently into the gland at the back of Zhan Nansheng’s neck, sealing away all her curses.

Her teeth pierced the skin, and a massive surge of Enigma pheromones flooded Zhan Nansheng’s system.

            

Overwhelmed by the sheer force of the pheromones, Zhan Nansheng’s body seized. Her eyes snapped shut, her chest rising and falling drastically as she was swallowed by an all-consuming tide of pleasure. She shook uncontrollably for a long time before slowly beginning to calm down.

When Zhan Nansheng finally recovered from the suffocating crest of that high, she lifted her head to hurl another curse—only to see Wu Lan casually dangling a small recording device in front of her face.

Wu Lan’s tone was ice-cold. “Eldest Miss, my life is worthless. But if you want the entire Star Alliance to see you looking this enticing, by all means, go tell your father.”

            

Zhan Nansheng shook with rage, her words hissing through clenched teeth. “You animal!”

Wu Lan chuckled. She reached out, pinching Zhan Nansheng’s chin to force her to maintain eye contact. “Eldest Miss, I told you long ago: don’t provoke me.”

Just then, Wu Lan’s communicator rang.

            

She answered the call, listened to a brief report, and replied coldly, “Understood. Inform the Bureau immediately. Surround the Lakeheart Courtyard at the Ming Ancestral Home. The show is about to begin.”

Hanging up, Wu Lan glanced down at Zhan Nansheng, who was still lying on the bed panting heavily. She smiled. “Eldest Miss, I have official business to attend to, so I’ll be taking my leave. Oh, and remember to take your medication. If you get pregnant, I won’t be taking responsibility.”

“Get out!” Zhan Nansheng shrieked, her voice cracking with fury.

            

“Hahahaha…”

Wu Lan let out a delighted laugh, turned, pushed the door open, and left without a single backward glance.

Zhan Nansheng lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, grinding her teeth. “Wu Lan, just you wait…”

            

“I swear I’ll kill you!”

---

Ming Rui stood at the entrance to the Lakeheart Courtyard, her cold gaze sweeping over the familiar architecture.

Swallowing her nerves and anger, she strode into the courtyard. Her mother, Ming Yuandai, was already waiting by the door. Seeing her daughter, a trace of deep worry appeared on Ming Yuandai’s face.

            

“Rui-rui, are you sure you want to do this?” Ming Yuandai asked softly, unease lacing her voice.

Ming Rui nodded, her eyes resolute. “Mom, there’s no turning back now. My cousin’s matter cannot be delayed any longer. I have to find out exactly what Doctor Gong did to her.”

Ming Yuandai sighed and gently patted her daughter’s shoulder. “Alright. I did as you asked and found an excuse to send your grandmother away. Doctor Gong’s lab is in the backyard. Be careful.”

            

Without another word, Ming Rui led several of her trusted subordinates straight toward the back of the estate.

Doctor Gong’s laboratory was situated in the deepest recesses of the Lakeheart Courtyard. Normally, besides Old Madam Ming and Ming Yu, almost no one dared approach it.

Standing before the heavy iron door, Ming Rui took a deep breath and pushed it open.

            

The lighting inside was dim. A pungent scent of chemical reagents hung heavy in the air.

Doctor Gong was standing in front of a complex piece of machinery. Hearing the noise, she slowly turned around, the same faint, detached smile plastered across her face.

“Section Chief Ming Rui. A rare guest indeed,” Doctor Gong said smoothly, looking entirely unbothered by the intrusion.

            

Ming Rui sneered, her gaze cutting into the doctor like a knife. “Doctor Gong, I’m here to ask you one question—what exactly did you do to my cousin?”

Doctor Gong raised an eyebrow, her tone placid. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, Section Chief Ming. Admiral Ming Yu’s health has always been my responsibility. I am merely fulfilling my duties.”

“Duties?” Ming Rui’s voice spiked, a flash of fury in her eyes. “Are your ‘duties’ subjecting her to brutal training? Or secretly implanting a Mental Imprint in her head?”

            

Doctor Gong’s expression shifted slightly, but she quickly recovered her composure. “Section Chief Ming, you must be careful with such accusations. Illegally implanting a Mental Imprint is a severe crime. Why would I ever do such a thing?”

Ming Rui sneered again and waved her hand. Her subordinates immediately stepped forward, surrounding Doctor Gong completely.

The doctor’s face finally changed. She took a step back, a hint of warning entering her voice. “Section Chief Ming, what are you doing? Using unauthorized torture is illegal!”

            

“Illegal?” Ming Rui’s voice was frigid. “Doctor Gong, you consider yourself a genius, don’t you? Tell me, wouldn’t it be quite interesting if a genius doctor suddenly turned into a blithering idiot?”

Doctor Gong’s face turned deathly pale. She clearly hadn’t expected Ming Rui to threaten her so directly.

Her fingers trembled slightly, a note of panic creeping into her voice. “You… you can’t do this!”

            

Ignoring the protest, Ming Rui said coldly, “I’m giving you one last chance. Tell me the truth. Otherwise, I wouldn’t mind letting you personally experience the taste of your own ‘experiments’.”

Fine beads of sweat broke out across Doctor Gong’s forehead. Her eyes darted back and forth between Ming Rui and the grim-faced subordinates. Finally, she gritted her teeth and muttered, “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

Ming Rui waved a hand, signaling her men to step back and give the doctor some breathing room.

            

Doctor Gong took a deep breath. “Admiral Ming Yu had a Mental Imprint implanted when she was a child. It was Old Madam Ming’s order. Her personality was too soft, too weak. She did not meet the requirements to be the Ming family heir, so the Old Madam had me put her through a series of training programs and modifications.”

Ming Rui’s hands clenched into fists, her nails biting deep into her palms.

Suppressing her raging anger, she demanded, “What exactly is this Mental Imprint?”

            

“The Mental Imprint is a psychological suggestion technique,” Doctor Gong explained. “Through repetitive hypnosis and intense stimulation, specific convictions are planted deep within the subconscious. Admiral Ming Yu was implanted with the belief that she ‘must become strong and revive the Ming family.’ This conviction deepened as she grew, eventually becoming a lifelong obsession she can never shake.”

A pang of profound heartache flashed through Ming Rui’s eyes. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the agony Ming Yu had endured as a child.

She glared at Doctor Gong, her voice trembling slightly. “And the training… what was that?”

            

Meeting Ming Rui’s murderous gaze, Doctor Gong guiltily averted her eyes. “The training… was to make her resilient. We used electric shocks, drugs, and hypnosis, forcing her to confront extreme, terrifying scenarios over and over until she could completely control her emotions. Until she was no longer cowardly, and her Mental Strength and tolerance reached an absolute peak.”

Ming Rui slammed her fist into the wall with a heavy thud. The words were squeezed through her teeth. “How… how could you dare treat her like that!”

Doctor Gong, startled by the violent reaction, hurriedly defended herself. “It was the Old Madam’s order! I was merely the executor!”

            

“The executor? You think that absolves you of responsibility?”

Doctor Gong fell silent. Seizing the moment while Ming Rui was consumed by her emotions, the doctor’s finger subtly pressed a button on the console behind her, broadcasting an emergency distress signal.

Ming Rui caught the subtle movement instantly. She waved her hand, and her men seized the doctor.

            

“Take her away!” Ming Rui ordered coldly, then turned to her trusted aide. “Confiscate all experimental data and video logs. Send them to my cousin immediately. If she isn’t there, hand them to Song Qingpei.”

The aide nodded and swiftly began packing up the laboratory’s hard drives and files.

Ming Rui stood aside, watching with glacial eyes as Doctor Gong was dragged out.

            

“Section Chief Ming, the Old Madam won’t let you get away with this!” Doctor Gong shouted furiously as she was hauled toward the door.

“Let her come find me, then,” Ming Rui sneered. “No one is saving you today.”

Doctor Gong’s face went completely white. She hadn’t expected Ming Rui to be so unyielding. After she was dragged away, Ming Rui stood alone in the lab, taking a deep breath to force her raging emotions back down.

            

When Ming Rui stepped out of the laboratory, the cold night wind brushed her cheeks, carrying a biting chill.

Her fingers tightly gripped the copied data drives and footage seized from the lab. A storm of unending anger and grief churned in her chest. She couldn’t fathom the suffering her cousin had been subjected to—all on the direct orders of Old Madam Ming.

Just as she was preparing to leave, hurried footsteps echoed in the distance.

            

Ming Rui looked up. Old Madam Ming was marching furiously toward them, a massive entourage in tow. Her face was dark as a thunderhead.

Several Ming family guards marched behind her, clearly prepared for a confrontation.

Ming Rui’s heart sank. She knew this was not going to end peacefully.

            

Old Madam Ming stopped in front of Ming Rui, her gaze sweeping over her like a blade. Without warning, she raised her hand and delivered a vicious slap across Ming Yuandai’s face. The sharp crack echoed loudly in the quiet night. Ming Yuandai staggered back, a red, swollen handprint instantly blooming on her cheek.

“Mom!” Ming Rui cried out, rushing to support her mother.

“Shut your mouth!” Old Madam Ming barked, glaring at Ming Rui with icy fury. “You have truly grown utterly lawless! Who gave you the audacity to bring people into Doctor Gong’s lab? To illegally detain her? Do you think there’s no one left in the Ming family who can discipline you?”

            

Ming Rui forced her anger down and met her grandmother’s gaze. “Grandma, I only wanted to find out the truth about my cousin. You know better than anyone what Doctor Gong did to her, don’t you?”

Old Madam Ming’s expression shifted, but she quickly masked it. “Ming Rui, stop this nonsense at once. Ming Yu’s affairs are not for you to interfere with. Release Doctor Gong immediately, and then get out of my sight and reflect on your actions!”

Ming Rui refused to back down. She stared straight at the matriarch, her voice ringing out clearly. “My cousin shouldn’t have been your tool! She is a human being, not a puppet for you to use to revive the Ming family!”

            

Old Madam Ming’s face turned livid. She raised her hand again, ready to strike Ming Rui across the face.

However, right at that moment, a chaotic clamor of footsteps rushed toward them.

Dozens of officers in Federation Bureau of Investigation uniforms stormed into the courtyard, completely surrounding the island. Leading them was a tall woman—the FBI Director, Wu Lan.

            

Walking right behind her was a richly dressed woman: Zhan Qi.

Seeing them, Ming Rui furrowed her brow, an ominous premonition rising in her chest. She hadn’t contacted the FBI. Why were they here?

Old Madam Ming realized something was terribly wrong as well. Her gaze flicked between Wu Lan and Zhan Qi, finally locking onto Zhan Qi. Shock and fury flared in her eyes.

            

“Zhan Qi? Why are you here?”

Zhan Qi let out a triumphant laugh. “Old hag, long time no see. What, surprised to see me?”

Old Madam Ming’s face grew even uglier, but decades of political survival kept her from breaking. She simply swept her gaze over the gathered crowd before settling on Wu Lan. “Director Wu, what is the meaning of bringing your people to surround my Lakeheart Courtyard in the middle of the night?”

            

Wu Lan stepped forward, offering a polite smile. “Old Madam Ming, we received a distress call from Doctor Gong claiming that Section Chief Ming Rui of our Bureau was illegally detaining her and attempting unauthorized torture. We must investigate this matter.”

Hearing this, Old Madam Ming nearly lost her footing. She clearly hadn’t expected the situation to escalate like this.

Her mind raced, quickly connecting the dots. Her voice trembled with rage. “You… you planned this all along. Doctor Gong is your operative, isn’t she?”

            

“Just figuring that out now? Too late!” Zhan Qi gloated, her eyes brimming with malicious delight. “You damned old hag, did you really think you could control everything forever? It’s high time your hypocritical mask was ripped off.”

Old Madam Ming’s face turned completely ashen. She swayed on her feet, looking as though she might collapse at any second.

“You… you venomous woman! What exactly are you trying to do?”

            

A flash of madness crossed Zhan Qi’s eyes. She lunged forward, her voice turning sharp and piercing. “What am I trying to do? Damned old hag, do you remember my daughter?! That good child killed by your Ming family! And you let that cheap mistress take her place! Today, I finally get to avenge my daughter! I will make all of you pay!”

Her voice echoed into the night, carrying endless resentment and agony.

Old Madam Ming looked white as paper, clearly struck where she was most vulnerable.

            

Just then, a hurried set of footsteps approached.

Ming Yu strode into the courtyard with a squad of her own guards. Her expression was stern, a trace of confusion in her eyes.

She clearly had no idea what was transpiring.

            

“Grandma, what’s going on here?” Ming Yu asked quietly, stepping to Old Madam Ming’s side.

The Old Madam looked at her with profound guilt, her voice tight with panic. “Ming Yu, you… why are you here?”

Ming Yu frowned. “I received word that something was happening here, so I came to check.”

            

Zhan Qi sneered, her gaze thick with mockery. “Ming Yu, you’re just in time. Today, I’ll let you see exactly what kind of person your precious grandmother truly is!”

Ming Yu turned to Zhan Qi, her tone dropping in temperature. “What do you mean by that?”

Zhan Qi didn’t answer her. Instead, she looked at Wu Lan. “Director Wu, it’s time to reveal the truth.”

            

Wu Lan nodded. She pulled a file from her coat and handed it to Ming Yu. “Admiral Ming, these are the experimental logs and video recordings we recovered from Doctor Gong’s laboratory. You can see for yourself exactly what Old Madam Ming and Doctor Gong have been doing to you all these years.”

Ming Yu took the file. As her eyes scanned the data, the color drained from her face.

Her fingers trembled slightly, a look of utter disbelief shattering her composure. “What… what is this?”

            

Old Madam Ming looked pale and exhausted, her voice feeble. “Ming Yu, I… I did it all for your own good… I only wanted you to become stronger, to be able to shoulder the responsibility of the Ming family…”

“Hahahaha… you damned old hag, you really know how to make excuses! If you’re so capable, why didn’t you step up yourself? The Ming family has done nothing but wicked deeds, your bloodline deserves to be cut off!”

Zhan Qi’s cold laughter cut through the night wind, her mocking words stabbing directly at Old Madam Ming.

            

The matriarch’s face was chalk-white. Her fingers gripped her walking cane with white-knuckled desperation, as if it were her only support.

At that moment, Ming Yu’s voice cut through Zhan Qi’s raging tirade like ice. “Enough!”

She didn’t speak loudly, but it carried an undeniable, absolute authority.

            

Everyone’s attention snapped to her.

Ming Yu looked at Zhan Qi, her voice low and freezing. “Madam Zhan, I understand your resentment. But this is a private feud between you and the Ming family. Mobilizing national forces for this is a blatant abuse of public power.”

Zhan Qi sneered. “Ming Yu, save your posturing. Did you think you could just stay out of it? You’re nothing but a pawn in that old hag’s hands, a puppet on a string!”

            

Ming Yu’s expression flickered, but she forced it back into a calm mask.

She looked away from Old Madam Ming, her gaze finally landing on Ming Rui, who was standing to the side, overwhelmed with guilt. A flicker of worry crossed the Admiral’s eyes.

Ming Rui’s voice broke on a sob. “Cousin, I’m sorry… I had no idea they set up a trap… I only wanted to help you…”

            

Ming Yu swallowed the agony tearing through her chest and spoke softly. “Ming Rui, you don’t need to blame yourself. I know you did it for me.”

Hearing that, Ming Rui’s tears flowed freely, falling in absolute silence.

She knew it. Her cousin was still protecting her, just like always. Everything she had done was worth it.

            

True to form, Ming Yu turned back to Wu Lan. Her voice was unyielding. “Director Wu, Doctor Gong conducted illegal experiments. All of Ming Rui’s actions were authorized by me. If you are going to investigate, then investigate me as well.”

Wu Lan frowned, her response entirely bureaucratic. “Admiral Ming, whatever actions you take are of no concern to me. But Ming Rui is an officer of the Bureau. By acting without authorization, she violated protocol. We must take her in for review. If you have any objections, you may take them up with the President.”

Ming Yu’s eyes flashed cold. “I will.”

            

“Admiral Ming, apologies for the disturbance tonight. We will be taking our leave.”

Wu Lan nodded and waved her hand, signaling her agents to take Doctor Gong and Ming Rui away.

Zhan Qi shot one last, gloating look of pure disdain at Old Madam Ming before turning on her heel to follow Wu Lan out.

            

Ming Yu stood where she was, looking across the distance at Old Madam Ming. A storm of complex emotions raged in her eyes.

Old Madam Ming seemed to have aged a dozen years in a matter of minutes. Attempting one final, desperate struggle, she said brokenly, “Ming Yu, I… Grandma truly did it for your own good…”

“Grandma, have you ever… had even a shred of genuine affection for me?”

            

Ming Yu looked at her, finally asking the question she had buried in her heart countless times but never dared to voice.

Old Madam Ming’s body went rigid. Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, nothing came out. There was only a suffocating silence.

Ming Yu said nothing more. She turned and walked away.

            

Watching Ming Yu’s desolate figure retreat into the night, Old Madam Ming stood frozen. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, her head bowed in absolute silence.

As the crowd dispersed, the atmosphere over the Ming Ancestral Home turned suffocatingly oppressive.

Ming Yuandai stood to the side, her face pale, her eyes wide with worry.

            

She looked at her mother and whispered, “Mom, what do we do now? Ming Rui is…”

Old Madam Ming raised her head, a cold gleam returning to her eyes. “I will find a way to deal with Ming Rui’s situation. The most important priority now is Ming Yu. We cannot let her fall.”

Ming Yuandai nodded, but the unease in her heart refused to settle.

            

She knew how stubborn Ming Yu could be. After learning she had a Mental Imprint forcibly embedded in her mind, there was little chance she would ever forgive Old Madam Ming.

---

At the same time, Song Qingpei was pacing frantically around the manor.

She sat down on the sofa in the study, tightly gripping the experimental data and video logs Ming Rui’s people had delivered. Unease and bewilderment flooded her chest.

            

She knew these files held the secrets to Ming Yu’s past, and she was about to uncover them all.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the first video file.

On the screen, a small, frail Ming Yu was shoved into a pitch-black room.

            

The girl looked to be only around ten years old. She still had the soft, round cheeks of childhood, but her eyes were filled with nothing but terror and helplessness.

Her small hands gripped the hem of her shirt as she cried out, her voice trembling, “Grandma… Grandma… I’m scared…”

Song Qingpei’s heart seized violently.

            

That was a young Ming Yu. Her voice was so childish, so fragile—a complete stranger to the cold, domineering Admiral she knew now.

In the video, the heavy door slammed shut behind the child. The room was plunged into absolute darkness, save for a few pairs of glowing green eyes flickering in the corners.

Wolves. They were slowly advancing through the dark, emitting low, guttural snarls.

            

Ming Yu’s screams echoed through the dark. She pounded frantically on the door in sheer despair. “Let me out! Please, let me out!”

But there was no answer from the other side.

Ming Yu’s screams eventually broke into exhausted sobs. She curled into a tiny ball in the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, as if that could somehow protect her.

            

Song Qingpei’s fingers dug into the armrest of the sofa, her knuckles turning white.

She couldn’t begin to fathom how a ten-year-old child had survived such abject terror.

The subsequent videos only grew more horrific.

            

Ming Yu locked in a tiny confinement cell, suffocated by absolute pitch-black and absolute silence.

Her fingers scratching desperately against the walls, trying to find a single sliver of light, all in vain.

“Grandma… Mama… I was wrong… please let me out…” Ming Yu’s voice grew fainter and fainter, until it became nothing but silent weeping.

            

Song Qingpei couldn’t bear to keep watching, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the screen. She knew this footage was only the tip of the iceberg. Ming Yu’s childhood was far crueler than she had ever imagined.

“Trash! The weak don’t deserve to live!”

Doctor Gong’s voice rang out coldly from the speakers, like a sharpened blade systematically carving away Ming Yu’s true nature, molding her into the exact shape they desired.

            

The video transitioned. Ming Yu was brought to a mech training ground.

She was still so small, but the childhood innocence had been entirely stripped from her eyes, replaced by a glacial, unyielding resolve.

She was ordered to pilot a mech through a dense meteorite field. The route was littered with lethal hazards; a single mistake meant the machine would be destroyed and she would be killed. Ming Yu’s fingers gripped the control stick in a death grip, fine beads of sweat breaking out across her forehead.

            

A flicker of fear passed through her eyes, but she instantly crushed it down.

The mech wove through the rocks. Ming Yu’s breathing grew harsh and rapid, but she never loosened her grip on the controls, fighting desperately to maintain the mech’s balance. Suddenly, a massive meteorite hurdled straight toward her. A flash of panic hit her, but she aggressively yanked the controls, dodging the rock by a hair’s breadth.

Her heart hammered wildly, her chest heaving, but she didn’t stop. She kept flying forward.

            

Her gaze grew colder and colder, as if every drop of emotion was being forcibly drained from her soul.

The Ming Yu in the recordings gradually grew stronger. Her eyes emptied of all feeling, turning her into a hollow shell. In battle, she showed absolutely no fear of death, brushing past the reaper’s scythe in countless brutal engagements.

Step by agonizing step, she forged ahead, becoming the Federation’s youngest Admiral at a remarkably early age.

            

The world only saw her as a peerless genius. No one knew the torment she had suffered in the dark.

Long after the video ended, Song Qingpei sat there, unable to calm her racing heart.

She finally understood why the untouchable, high-and-mighty Admiral Ming Yu had crashed onto the Garbage Planet half-dead. Fighting with such a suicidal disregard for her own life, it was a miracle she had survived this long.

            

Song Qingpei sat in heavy silence, suddenly feeling entirely lost.

Just then, the study door was pushed open.

Ming Yu walked in. Her face was ashen, her eyes shadowed with profound exhaustion.

            

Her gaze landed on the projected video logs, and a swirl of complex emotion flashed across her face.

“You… you know everything?” Ming Yu’s voice was low and hoarse, sounding as if it came from very far away.

Song Qingpei looked up at her. She opened her mouth to say something, but in the end, she merely nodded.

            

Ming Yu lowered her eyes and let out a bleak, hollow laugh. “My past… is just this pathetic.”

“Don’t think like that,” Song Qingpei rushed to say. “None of this was your fault.”

Not her fault?

            

Those words felt like a sudden lifeline. A desperate urge seized Ming Yu—an urge to rip her entire soul open and bare everything to Song Qingpei, the good and the horrifying alike. She desperately wanted Song Qingpei to accept the complete, unbroken truth of who she was.

Pain flashed through Ming Yu’s eyes as she confessed in a ragged voice, “Qingpei, Mengmeng was actually just my cowardly, weak side. My amnesia back then… it was only because I was on the verge of a total breakdown under the pressure, and my subconscious chose to escape. And all that talk about hypnosis—I had a Mental Imprint forced into me. How could I ever be so easily hypnotized? That was all just an excuse I used to lie to you, and to lie to myself.”

“In reality, I’m just weak, hypocritical, and evasive. A piece of trash who doesn’t even have the courage to face her true self.”

            

Song Qingpei was deeply shaken to hear Ming Yu degrade herself so viciously. Thinking back to the footage she had just witnessed, her shock quickly melted into overwhelming heartache. Regardless of whether it would work, she tried to get through to her.

Her voice was gentle but firm. “Ming Yu, you don’t need to do this… Whether it’s Mengmeng or the you standing here right now, both are a part of you. You don’t have to deny yourself, and you don’t have to run away. Being weak isn’t terrifying. What’s terrifying is not daring to face yourself.”

A flash of agony twisted Ming Yu’s eyes. She asked hoarsely, “Qingpei, do you still love me?”

            

Song Qingpei’s throat tightened. Countless memories flooded her mind—Ming Yu’s coldness, her emotional distance, the humiliation and pain she had caused her. They were like thorns buried deep in her heart. She had loved her deeply once, she had never denied that. But she was also terrified. She had finally started to drag herself out of the dark, and she was terrified of plunging back into that misery.

Added to that was the vast, seemingly uncrossable chasm of their social statuses.

Song Qingpei took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. “Ming Yu, the past is in the past… let’s just be friends…”

            

Before she could finish, Ming Yu lunged forward and pulled her into a desperate embrace. “No…” Ming Yu choked out. “I don’t want to just be friends. Qingpei, I’m not asking for your love anymore… I’m just begging you to stay. Stay by my side. Please?”

Song Qingpei’s heart gave a violent lurch. She looked at Ming Yu, her eyes swarming with conflicting emotions.

She opened her mouth, but her throat was so dry no sound came out.

            

Seeing her silence, Ming Yu tightened her arms around her. Her voice broke on a sob as she begged in a low whisper, “Qingpei, I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve you… but I only have you and Song Song now. I can protect you both now. Let’s just live together, okay? Stay with me… please? I’m begging you…”

Her voice dropped lower and lower, until it was nothing more than an agonizing whisper against her ear. “Jiejie…”

At the sound of that word, Song Qingpei’s pupils dilated. It felt as if her heart had taken a physical blow.

            

Her mind instantly flashed back to the helpless, dependent Mengmeng on the Garbage Planet—the girl who trusted her completely, who followed her around calling her “Jiejie.” In that split second, the two versions of Ming Yu overlapped completely.

Song Qingpei’s fingers trembled. Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her hands and pressed them against Ming Yu’s back.

Her voice was incredibly soft, yet it carried an undeniable resolve. “Okay…”

            

Ming Yu looked as if she couldn’t believe her own ears. She pulled back slightly, looking down with desperate, trembling hope. “Really?”

Song Qingpei nodded, her eyes filled with profound emotion. “Really.”

She didn’t know where their future would lead, but in this moment, she wanted to give them both a chance.

            

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