Top-Tier Omega: Chasing Alpha to the Crematorium – Chapter 61
by Little PandaConfession
When Ming Yu returned home, the hour was already late.
She pushed open the door to find Song Qingpei sitting on the sofa, anxiety etched across her features. At the sound of the door, she looked up immediately, anticipation flashing in her eyes.
“Ming Yu, is there any news about Auntie?”
Meeting her gaze, Ming Yu shook her head with difficulty. “News from the Military High-Level Prison isn’t easy to obtain. I’ve already sent people to investigate, but it will take time.”
Song Qingpei’s eyes dimmed instantly. She lowered her head, fighting to suppress the disappointment and anxiety welling up inside. She knew Ming Yu had done everything she could, yet the image of her aunt suffering in prison lingered in her mind. Drawing a deep breath, she told herself not to rush, not to add to Ming Yu’s burdens.
“I understand…” Her voice was hoarse, a strained smile pulling at her lips. “Thank you.”
Ming Yu walked over and took her hand. Song Qingpei’s fingers were ice-cold, and Ming Yu’s heart clenched. She studied her face carefully; her distant, drifting expression made it obvious she was preoccupied.
“Qingpei, what’s wrong?” Ming Yu’s voice was gentle, yet carried a hint of probing.
Song Qingpei’s body stiffened slightly. Her eyes flickered, and she avoided Ming Yu’s gaze.
Her heart was in turmoil. Li Man’s words pressed down on her like a heavy stone. She didn’t know whether she should tell Ming Yu about Li Man’s identity, yet she feared Li Man would be arrested just like Murong Ruixue.
After a long hesitation, she finally said in a low voice, “N-nothing.”
Her voice was so soft, almost as if she were talking to herself.
Ming Yu didn’t press her. She simply patted her back and murmured, “It’s getting late. Go rest.”
“Mm.”
Song Qingpei responded almost inaudibly and got up to head for the bedroom.
Ming Yu followed. Only after entering the room did she realize Song Qingpei was sitting on the edge of the bed in a daze, as though her soul had been drawn out of her, as though she had forgotten what to do next.
This woman had been so vibrant and full of life just days ago, yet in a few short days she had become like this. The sight twisted Ming Yu’s heart. She had never been good at honeyed words; seeing this, she could only suppress her anguish and walk over to pull her into an embrace.
“Qingpei, sleep for a while.”
Song Qingpei was indeed exhausted. Leaning into Ming Yu’s arms, her anxiety eased a little. But it was only temporary. Inside, she was still struggling, still tormented by contradiction.
As the night deepened, Song Qingpei finally fell asleep against Ming Yu, worn out.
Ming Yu gently laid her on the bed, tucked the covers around her, and quietly watched her sleeping face, her brows faintly furrowed, a trace of worry in her eyes.
She turned and left the room, softly closing the door, then took out her communicator and dialed Ming Rui.
“Ming Rui, was there anything unusual about Qingpei today?”
Ming Rui’s voice came through, puzzled. “Cousin, Qingpei-jie was restless all day, as if something was weighing on her mind. Oh, right—Li Man came by today, saying it was for a physical follow-up, but something about her felt off.”
“Li Man?” Ming Yu’s gaze turned icy, the corner of her mouth curling into a cold smile. “So it was her.”
Ming Rui was baffled. “Cousin, what’s going on? Is there a problem with Li Man?”
Ming Yu didn’t explain. She simply said coolly, “Nothing. Keep her company for the next two days; don’t let her be alone. Once I’m finished with the military academy opening, I’ll handle this.”
After ending the call, Ming Yu’s expression grew even darker.
She stood in the corridor, gazing out at the pitch-black night sky, a faint unease stirring in her chest.
The Black Kite remnants had indeed begun to move.
Busy with the military academy’s affairs, Ming Yu left the house early the next morning.
When Song Qingpei woke, she found Ming Rui already sitting in the living room.
Seeing her come downstairs, Ming Rui immediately brightened and greeted her warmly. “Qingpei-jie, good morning! Cousin asked me to keep you company so you wouldn’t be bored alone.”
Hearing this, Song Qingpei immediately understood Ming Yu’s intention—she was probably afraid Song Qingpei might act on impulse and do something irreversible.
She forced a smile and nodded. “Thank you, Ming Rui.”
The two of them stared at each other, making sporadic conversation, the morning passing with agonizing slowness.
In the afternoon, Li Man came again, just as expected.
Ming Rui saw Li Man and, recalling last night’s call from Ming Yu, grew wary. She deliberately asked, “Military Doctor Li, what’s wrong with Qingpei-jie’s health? Why are you visiting so often?”
Song Qingpei, whose mind was still reeling from a string of sudden blows, flashed a look of panic. She was terrified that Li Man’s identity would rouse Ming Rui’s suspicion.
But Li Man was clearly a seasoned operative; otherwise she wouldn’t have infiltrated Ming Yu’s side for so long. She smiled naturally. “The Admiral’s heat period is approaching, and Miss Song’s pheromones aren’t very sensitive…” She didn’t finish the sentence, giving Ming Rui a knowing look.
Ming Rui suddenly understood. Afraid of hurting Song Qingpei’s feelings, she hurriedly said, “Ah, that—I get it, I get it. That… privacy, right? You two go ahead with the exam, don’t mind me, hahaha…”
Song Qingpei hadn’t expected Li Man to use her status as a low-grade Alpha as cover. For a moment, she didn’t react at all.
“Miss Song,” Li Man finally prompted her. “I need to run a few more tests before I can prescribe the right treatment.”
Seeing her silent, Ming Rui assumed she was embarrassed. Having grown familiar with each other, she joked, “Qingpei-jie, don’t hide your illness from the doctor. My cousin’s happiness still depends on you.”
Song Qingpei was in no mood for jokes. Coming to her senses, she quickly said to Li Man, “Military Doctor Li, come with me.”
Once again using the physical follow-up as an excuse, the two of them gained a chance to be alone.
After the door closed, Li Man’s expression turned grave at once.
“Qingpei, have you decided?” Her voice was low, tinged with urgency. “We don’t have much time. You must decide quickly.”
The internal struggle nearly broke Song Qingpei.
She clenched her hands tightly, her voice trembling. “Li Man, don’t push me… I really don’t know what to do right now…”
Li Man looked at her, a flicker of reluctance in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by resolve.
She said quietly, “I know you’re in agony, but this is your only chance. My teacher, Murong Xia, wants to speak with you personally. She has something very important to tell you.”
Hearing Murong Xia’s name, Song Qingpei froze.
She could more or less guess that this legendary leader of the Black Kite organization would urge her to leave. As for what she would say, it would likely concern clearing the name of her mother, the former President she had never met, and seeking revenge.
To say it might sound heartless, but she had almost no memories or feelings for her biological parents. The goals that Black Kite fought for could not convince her to abandon everything and leave. The person she cared about had always been her aunt alone. She only wanted to know how she could save her aunt.
While she stood there in stunned silence, Li Man had already produced a small communicator and quickly connected an interstellar video call.
On the screen appeared a haggard middle-aged woman. Her complexion was pale, yet her gaze remained sharp, carrying a sickly frailty.
“Hello, Qingpei…” Murong Xia’s voice was hoarse, exhausted and pleading. “I am Murong Xia, the leader of Black Kite, and an old friend of your mother’s. I know this is difficult for you to accept, but I must see you in person. There is something very important I must tell you face to face.”
Song Qingpei looked at Murong Xia on the screen. She hadn’t expected the legendary leader of Black Kite to look so frail.
Her voice carried surprise. “Are… are you well?”
Murong Xia let out a bitter laugh, her voice weak. “I don’t have much time left. Qingpei, I’ve been waiting for you, waiting for you to come back and see me one last time. As for your aunt, I’ve also been trying to find a way. She is the person I love most. I will never give up on her.”
Song Qingpei’s heart gave a violent lurch. She hadn’t expected Murong Xia and her aunt to be lovers.
Her voice couldn’t help but tremble. “Do… do you truly have a way to save my aunt?”
“Yes, I have a way.” Murong Xia nodded, her gaze firm. “But you must come back to see me so that we can plan in detail. Qingpei, you cannot hesitate any longer. I truly do not have much time.”
Song Qingpei’s heart fell into turmoil once more.
Seeing her still hesitate, Li Man said urgently, “The day after tomorrow, the day of the military academy opening, we will send someone to extract you. This is the last chance. You cannot hesitate any longer!”
Thinking of her aunt suffering in prison, Song Qingpei finally gritted her teeth. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”
A trace of joy crossed Li Man’s face. She quickly cut the connection and said in a low voice, “Remember, you must be careful. Don’t let anything seem out of place. We will arrange everything.”
Song Qingpei nodded mechanically, a bitter ache in her heart.
She had agreed on impulse. Now, calming down and thinking of Ming Yu and Song Song, guilt surged through her like a tide, her heart twisting as if carved by a knife.
After seeing Li Man out, Song Qingpei sat alone on the living room sofa in a daze.
Ming Rui, seeing her looking so lost, didn’t dare ask too much. She only left after receiving a call from Ming Yu and saying goodbye to Song Qingpei.
Song Qingpei continued to sit there in a daze.
It wasn’t until Song Song’s cheerful laughter came from the doorway that the oppressive atmosphere was broken.
“Mama, I’m back!” Carrying her little backpack, Song Song bounced inside like a lively little rabbit.
Seeing Song Qingpei on the sofa, she immediately threw herself into her embrace, nuzzling her face affectionately.
Song Qingpei came back to her senses and hugged Song Song with a forced smile. “Baby, were you happy at school today?”
Song Song nodded vigorously, her eyes bright and sparkling. “Happy! Today the teacher taught us to draw. I drew a picture to give to Mama!”
Saying this, she carefully pulled a drawing from her backpack and handed it to Song Qingpei.
Song Qingpei took it. The picture showed their family of three—she and Ming Yu holding Song Song’s hands, all of them wearing happy smiles.
Her nose stung, and her eyes reddened.
“Mama, what’s wrong? Don’t you like my drawing?” Song Song noticed her unusual reaction and asked worriedly.
Song Qingpei quickly shook her head, her voice choked. “I like it. Mama likes it very much. You drew it wonderfully, baby.”
Song Song’s face turned red from the praise, breaking into a big smile, utterly delighted.
For the rest of the afternoon, Song Qingpei played with Song Song for a long time. She had never been as patient as she was today, playing all sorts of childish games with her and listening to her chirp about the fun things at school.
Time flew by, impossible to catch.
In the blink of an eye, it was almost ten in the evening. Song Qingpei stroked Song Song’s head and forced down her reluctance. “Song Song, it’s late. Time for bed. Shall Mama tell you a bedtime story?”
“Okay!” Song Song said happily.
A sharp pain pierced Song Qingpei’s heart. She hugged Song Song and carried her to her room, patiently telling her stories.
Once Song Song finally fell asleep, Song Qingpei gently laid her on the bed, tucked her in, then quietly stood by the bedside, gazing at her peaceful sleeping face, her heart full of reluctance.
She silently said to Song Song in her heart, Baby, Mama is sorry, but Mama must go save Auntie. When Mama comes back, she will definitely make it up to you.
After leaving Song Song’s room, Song Qingpei returned to her own room and sat on the bed, lost in thought.
Outside the window, the night was deep, the silence so profound it made her heart panic.
She looked toward the door, longing for Ming Yu to return quickly, yet dreading the conversation that would follow.
Ever since Murong Xia had given her a thread of hope, Song Qingpei’s heart had been pulled in two directions without cease.
On one side was the stable, warm home with Ming Yu and Song Song; she couldn’t bear to leave this hard-won happiness. Yet on the other side, her aunt’s miserable plight hung over her heart like a sharp blade. Every time she thought of it, heart-wrenching pain spread through her entire body, making it impossible to sit by and do nothing.
She also didn’t know whether she should tell Ming Yu about going to see Murong Xia.
She knew Ming Yu would stop her, but having learned her lesson from last time, she didn’t want to hide it either. Time passed second by second. Song Qingpei paced back and forth in the room, her heart conflicted and restless.
It wasn’t until very late that Ming Yu finally returned.
Ming Yu opened the door and saw Song Qingpei still awake, somewhat surprised. “It’s so late. Why aren’t you asleep?”
Song Qingpei looked at her, opened her mouth, but didn’t know what to say.
Seeing her pale face, her once-bright complexion now wilted like a frostbitten eggplant1, her entire bearing radiating a despairing lethargy, Ming Yu’s heart ached terribly.
“Qingpei, don’t worry too much. I’ll find a way regarding your aunt. You need to take care of yourself. Don’t make me worry.” Ming Yu pulled Song Qingpei onto the bed and gently patted her back to comfort her.
Several times Song Qingpei was on the verge of speaking, but ultimately said nothing.
Seeming to sense her hesitation, Ming Yu uncharacteristically didn’t press her. She simply said gently, “Don’t think too much. Rest first. Everything will pass.”
Saying this, she turned off the lights, held Song Qingpei tightly, and rested her chin in the hollow of her neck, nuzzling.
Song Qingpei felt moved, but even more so, guilty.
Time slowly passed.
Song Qingpei’s inner torment grew. She stared at the ceiling, unable to stop memories of her past with Ming Yu from surfacing. The two of them had weathered countless storms to get here; the trust they had built with such difficulty left her waging a war within herself.
She couldn’t drag this out any longer.
Finally, Song Qingpei took a deep breath, slowly opened her eyes, and sat up.
“Ming Yu,” she said, her voice trembling as it broke the silence. “There’s something I must tell you.”
As if she had been waiting for this, Ming Yu immediately sat up as well and turned on the bedside lamp. The dim light illuminated her face, which was full of concern, yet her posture holding Song Qingpei remained unchanged.
“What is it?”
Song Qingpei lowered her gaze, avoiding Ming Yu’s eyes, her fingers tracing restless patterns on the quilt.
“It’s about Auntie,” she began with difficulty, her voice growing hoarser. “People from the Black Kite organization approached me. They said they can clear my mother’s name and save Auntie… as long as I go with them to see Murong Xia.”
She paused here and looked up at Ming Yu, her eyes full of trepidation.
She saw Ming Yu’s face turn deathly pale in an instant, her lips trembling, opening and closing as if she wanted to speak, yet no sound came out for a long time.
In that moment, their roles seemed to reverse.
Afraid of being misunderstood, Song Qingpei explained incoherently, “Ming Yu, I struggled for so long too… I shouldn’t have decided this on my own, shouldn’t… abandon you and Song Song. But… I really can’t stand by and watch Auntie suffer. I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I truly have no other way.”
By the end, she was nearly sobbing.
Song Qingpei had almost never shed tears in front of Ming Yu. Ming Yu immediately panicked.
She pulled Song Qingpei into a fierce embrace, her arms trembling from the force. They pressed together tightly, almost able to feel each other’s breath.
“You can’t go. It’s too dangerous.” Her voice was choked, revealing boundless panic. “I promise you, I will find a way to save Auntie. Don’t take this risk, alright?”
Song Qingpei leaned into her arms, trying to comfort her, but how could her own heart be calm?
“Ming Yu, I know you’re doing this for me, but if I miss this chance, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
“Murong Xia says she has a way. I want to try, and I want to know about my mother too. This is my responsibility as well.”
“I promise you, I’ll be careful. I’ll come back safely.”
Every word seemed meant to convince Ming Yu, and to convince herself.
Ming Yu gripped her shoulders with both hands, staring straight into her eyes, her own filled with anxiety and reluctance. “If something happens to you, what about me? What about Song Song?”
A sharp pain lanced through Song Qingpei’s heart. She didn’t dare meet Ming Yu’s gaze. “I can’t bear to leave you either, but I… can’t give up on Auntie, or I’ll never be at peace for the rest of my life.”
“Take good care of Song Song and wait for me, alright?”
“I’m begging you, Ming Yu, believe me, alright? I will come back.”
Ming Yu looked into the resolve in Song Qingpei’s eyes and knew she could no longer easily change her resolve.
Her heart was bitter. After a long silence, she finally nodded slowly. “Fine. I believe you. But you must promise me you’ll protect yourself and come back soon.”
Joy flooded Song Qingpei’s eyes. She nodded forcefully. “I promise.”
“Thank you, Ming Yu, really, thank you!”
She had never felt such gratitude toward Ming Yu. At this moment, all the pain Ming Yu had once caused her was soothed. The trembling in her heart was impossible to suppress; it seemed that, in this moment, she truly fell in love with Ming Yu all over again.
And Ming Yu drew her close once more, as if using all her strength to keep her from slipping away.
“Qingpei, can you stay to attend the military academy opening ceremony with me before you leave? It means a great deal to me. I want you by my side.”
Thinking of the effort Ming Yu had poured into the academy, thinking of how hard-won their journey had been, Song Qingpei finally agreed. “Alright. I’ll accompany you.”
“Qingpei…”
Ming Yu cupped Song Qingpei’s cheeks in both hands, her fingertips trembling slightly. Her gaze was deep and scorching, filled with unspeakable, complex emotion, as if trying to etch Song Qingpei’s face into her heart.
Song Qingpei’s breath hitched. Before she could react, Ming Yu’s lips descended.
The kiss was fiercer and more possessive than ever before, as if pouring every ounce of feeling into it. Ming Yu’s lips sealed tightly over hers, her tongue prying open her teeth, delving deep, greedily drinking in her breath.
Infected by Ming Yu’s emotions, Song Qingpei clasped the back of Ming Yu’s head, responding to her passion.
Their breaths intertwined, rapid and chaotic, as if trying to fuse their very souls. Ming Yu’s hand slid from Song Qingpei’s cheeks to her nape, pulling her close with force. Their bodies pressed together, leaving almost no space between them.
The kiss lasted for a long time, until both were nearly breathless, before they finally parted slightly.
Ming Yu’s forehead rested against hers, her breathing still ragged, her eyes growing darker.
Her fingers gently traced Song Qingpei’s lips, her voice low, hoarse, and trembling. “Qingpei, don’t… don’t leave me.”
Song Qingpei’s heart gave a violent lurch, her eyes instantly moistening.
She reached out to touch Ming Yu’s cheek, her fingers meeting slightly cool skin. A sour ache welled up inside. She knew how cruel her decision was to her.
But she… had no other choice.
“Ming Yu…” Her voice was choked with guilt and reluctance. “I’m sorry… I promise you, I will return as soon as I can.”
Ming Yu said nothing more. She only held her tighter, her arms gripping with such force that Song Qingpei nearly felt pain, but she didn’t struggle. She only quietly breathed in that familiar scent.
After a long while, their breathing gradually steadied, exhaustion rolling over them like a tide.
Song Qingpei leaned against Ming Yu’s chest, listening to her steady heartbeat. Her eyelids grew heavy; the accumulated fatigue and tension finally seemed to ease.
Ming Yu gently stroked her hair, yet her gaze grew increasingly dark.
She lowered her head to look at Song Qingpei, who was gradually falling asleep in her arms. The possessiveness and resolve in her eyes nearly spilled over. Her fingers lightly traced Song Qingpei’s cheek, and she murmured:
“Qingpei, I will never let you leave me and Song Song.”
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