Top-Tier Omega: Chasing Alpha to the Crematorium – Chapter 77

Scheduling the Surgery

Early morning sunlight filtered through the French windows, spilling into the dining room. Ming Yu held onto the banister as she slowly made her way downstairs.

She had tossed and turned all night. The discomfort in her stomach had left her with barely any sleep; faint dark circles showed under her eyes, and her lips were dry and slightly pale from dehydration.

            

As she entered the dining room, her gaze was instantly drawn to the food on the table—a bowl of steaming white congee, and beside it, a plate of fresh, crisp cold tossed cucumber¹ sprinkled with a few white sesame seeds.

This simple combination made Ming Yu’s heart tighten. She could not help but think back to when she was pregnant with Song Song.

Did Qingpei prepare this specially? Ming Yu thought, with a near-wishful hope. She still cares about me, doesn’t she?

            

“Are you up?”

Song Qingpei’s voice came from the direction of the kitchen. Ming Yu looked up to see her walking out, carrying two glasses of milk.

Song Qingpei wore simple loungewear, her hair tied back in a loose, casual knot. Faint dark circles also lingered under her eyes; she clearly had not rested well either.

            

“Mmh,” Ming Yu replied softly, her gaze shifting to the food on the table. “Is this…”

“Butler Su prepared it.” Song Qingpei set the milk on the table, her eyes flickering. “Eat a little, at least. Otherwise, your stomach won’t be able to take it.”

Ming Yu felt inexplicably disappointed. She nodded, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

            

She picked up her spoon, scooped a small mouthful of congee, and put it in her mouth.

The warm rice porridge slid down her throat, surprisingly failing to trigger any reflux. She then picked up a piece of cucumber. The sour and salty taste, with a hint of sweetness, bloomed in her mouth, instead easing her morning discomfort.

The two of them ate their breakfast in silence, the only sound in the dining room the occasional soft clink of utensils.

            

Ming Yu could feel Song Qingpei’s gaze resting on her from time to time. Yet whenever she looked up, Song Qingpei would quickly avert her eyes, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating.

The arrival of this child had ultimately disrupted their relationship, breaking through Qingpei’s previous coldness and resentment. Yet the problems wedged between them remained sharp, impossible to resolve easily. For a time, she did not know whether she should be glad or worried.

They lapsed into a long silence once more, neither of them knowing what to say.

            

Until Song Song’s cheerful voice broke the quiet.

“Mommy, Mama, good morning!”

The little girl bounced and skipped into the dining room in her neat school uniform, her backpack swaying on her back.

            

“Good morning, Song Song,” Ming Yu said, forcing a smile.

Song Song approached, her big eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. She keenly sensed the unusual atmosphere in the air, a confused expression appearing on her small face.

“Mommy, are you feeling unwell?” Song Song asked, tilting her head. “Your face is so pale.”

            

“Mommy is fine. I just didn’t sleep well last night,” she replied softly, her gaze unconsciously glancing toward Song Qingpei.

Song Qingpei cleared her throat and urged helplessly, “Song Song, hurry up and head to school, or you’ll be late.”

“Oh…” Song Song answered obediently, though her eyes still darted back and forth between the two of them.

            

Butler Su appeared at the doorway of the dining room right on cue. “Little Miss, the car is ready. Shall I take you to school today?”

Song Song looked at Ming Yu, then at Song Qingpei, and finally nodded. “Okay.” She turned slowly. “Mommy, Mama, I’m going to school now!”

“Be careful on the road,” the two said in unison.

            

Song Song reached the door, then suddenly turned around. “And don’t fight anymore, okay!” She let out a sigh as she spoke, looking exactly like a little adult who had worried herself sick over her parents.

Without waiting for a response, she ran out after Butler Su.

The dining room fell back into an awkward silence.

            

Ming Yu mechanically stirred the congee in her bowl. Once again, she felt Song Qingpei’s hesitant gaze, making her feel as though she were sitting on pins and needles.

“I… I should head to the military academy.” Ming Yu set down her spoon, preparing to rise.

“Wait,” Song Qingpei said suddenly, her voice slightly dry. “What you said last night…”

            

Ming Yu’s body froze.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to look up and meet Song Qingpei’s eyes. “Qingpei, I am serious. This child… should not become your shackle.”

“That is not what I meant.” Song Qingpei frowned, saying with difficulty, “I’m only… are you sure you want to do this?”

            

“What other choice is there?” Ming Yu let out a bitter laugh, her voice barely a whisper. “Would you willingly stay for the sake of a child? What about your adoptive mother? Will you… truly not resent me?”

Song Qingpei’s lips trembled, a flash of pain crossing her eyes.

She lowered her head, falling silent.

            

“You see?” Ming Yu’s voice carried a tired, understanding weight. “Don’t make things hard on yourself, Qingpei. I won’t blame you, and I certainly don’t want… you to hate me.”

She stood up, her chair scraping sharply against the floor.

The moment she turned to leave, Song Qingpei suddenly grabbed her wrist.

            

“When you go to the hospital…” Song Qingpei’s voice was so quiet it was almost imperceptible. “Tell me. I will go with you…”

Ming Yu’s back suddenly went rigid.

She did not turn around, but Song Qingpei could see her shoulders trembling slightly.

            

“Okay.”

In the end, Ming Yu uttered only that single word. She gently slipped her hand from Song Qingpei’s grasp and walked toward the door without looking back.

Song Qingpei watched her retreating back, her fingers still suspended in mid-air, holding the shape of her grip.

            

The sound of a hover car starting up outside finally brought Song Qingpei back to her senses.

She looked down at her breakfast, which was almost completely untouched, and suddenly lost her appetite.

Ming Yu’s reaction just now had left a suffocating tightness in her chest. When those words—“I will not keep it”—had left Ming Yu’s lips, Song Qingpei had almost blurted out, “Keep the child.” But reason had stopped her. What right did she have to say that? She could not even guarantee whether she herself could stay, so how could she offer Ming Yu false hope?

            

Just as Ming Yu had said, their relationship had long since been hanging by a thread.

She could not accept Ming Yu without reservation, nor could she pretend that all the deception had never happened. Even if she did stay, the deep-seated problems between them would remain unresolved. And she could never give up on her adoptive mother.

Perhaps… this truly was a better choice for both of them.

            

Yet at the thought of the child, she still could not help but feel distressed, and Ming Yu must be feeling even worse—after all, her body and mind would suffer more trauma.

At this moment, her resentment toward Ming Yu lost much of its ground.

---

When Ming Yu stepped through the gates of the military academy, the discomfort of morning sickness still lingered in her stomach.

            

But she had no time to dwell on it now. Zhan Nansheng was back, and that news immediately put her on high alert.

She walked straight toward Zhan Nansheng’s office, her footsteps echoing down the empty corridor. The door was left slightly ajar, and through the gap she could see Zhan Nansheng with her back to the door, sorting through documents, her military coat draped carelessly over the back of her chair.

Ming Yu lightly tapped on the door, the sound startling the person inside.

            

As Zhan Nansheng turned, the heavy dark circles beneath her eyes immediately caught Ming Yu’s attention. It seemed Wu Lan’s situation was even worse than she had imagined.

“What a rare guest, Chancellor Ming,” Zhan Nansheng said, squeezing out a stiff smile. “What brings you here so early in the morning?”

Ming Yu closed the door behind her, the click exceptionally sharp in the enclosed space.

            

She walked over slowly and sat down opposite the desk. “You have seen Wu Lan.”

It was not a question.

Zhan Nansheng said sarcastically, “Chancellor Ming, you certainly are well-informed!”

            

Ignoring the provocation, Ming Yu asked directly, “How is her condition? Did she say anything?”

Her direct attitude irritated Zhan Nansheng. “Ming Yu, what exactly is the relationship between you and Wu Lan? What are you two secretly plotting? Why… why does Wu Lan trust you so much?”

From her tone, Ming Yu sharply picked up on a vital detail: Wu Lan must have told Zhan Nansheng something, but Qingpei’s true identity remained unexposed. Otherwise, Zhan Nansheng would not have asked such a question.

            

Realizing this, Ming Yu feigned calm and asked, “What did Director Wu actually tell you?”

Zhan Nansheng sneered, “What does that have to do with you?”

“Zhan Nansheng, must you still fight me at a time like this?”

            

Their gazes clashed, and Zhan Nansheng was the first to back down.

She slumped back into her chair. “She told me to pass a message to you.”

“What is it?” Ming Yu pressed instinctively.

            

Zhan Nansheng stared at her, demanding, “But first, I want to know what exactly you two are up to.”

Ming Yu paused, then spoke slowly, “This is a private matter between Director Wu and me. You had better ask her yourself.”

“Ming Yu!” Zhan Nansheng suddenly lunged forward, slamming into the desk so hard it shifted. “Right now, you are the one asking me for a favor. If you won’t tell me what you’re doing with Wu Lan, I’m afraid I can’t tell you what she said.”

            

Hearing her threat, Ming Yu felt a brief flicker of panic.

But she quickly realized that Zhan Nansheng hadn’t obtained any useful information; otherwise, she wouldn’t be so anxious. And her worry for Wu Lan didn’t seem feigned—she was likely more worried about Wu Lan than Ming Yu was.

In this clash of wills, she could not let her opponent see her weakness.

            

With that in mind, Ming Yu suppressed her anxiety and turned toward the door. “Suit yourself.” Her voice was light, almost indifferent. “In any case, Wu Lan’s life…” She intentionally paused just as her fingers brushed the door handle. “…is in your hands.”

The cool metal of the handle chilled her skin. In her mind, Ming Yu silently counted down: Three, two, one—

“Wait!” Zhan Nansheng’s voice was filled with unconcealed urgency. “FY-0719. She said you would understand.”

            

Hearing this, Ming Yu’s back instantly went rigid.

That was a personnel code for the starship Feiyun. Why would Wu Lan suddenly bring this up?

She maintained her posture with her back turned, but her voice leaked a trace of tension: “Is there anything else?”

            

Zhan Nansheng replied, “No. She only told me to give you that, saying you would find a way to get her out.”

Ming Yu fell silent, pondering Wu Lan’s underlying motive.

Zhan Nansheng could not wait any longer and demanded anxiously, “What on earth is FY-0719?”

            

“Lieutenant General Zhan, I appreciate you sharing this with me. Rest assured, Director Wu will be fine.”

Ming Yu did not answer her. Having spoken so ambiguously, she turned and walked out.

Like an unsheathed blade, she seemed in a hurry to do something.

            

“Ming Yu! Stop! Explain this clearly!”

Zhan Nansheng chased her to the doorway, only to watch Ming Yu’s straight back disappear around the corner.

Furious, she slammed her fist against the doorframe, feeling like a clown who had been taken advantage of for free².

            

Ming Yu forced down the shock and suspicion in her heart, leaving the military academy with her usual calm expression.

She could not show any abnormality. Zhan Nansheng might still be watching her from the shadows, and the Presidential Palace’s informants were everywhere. She had to act with caution; not a single step could go wrong.

Therefore, under the pretext of a routine inspection, she headed directly for the Feiyun, which was currently berthed at the military starport.

            

The Feiyun was one of the most advanced warships in the Federation, belonging to Ming Yu’s direct fleet. Security here was incredibly tight, and no unauthorized personnel could get anywhere near it.

The moment Ming Yu stepped onto the bridge of the Feiyun, the warship’s officers were already lined up, waiting.

“Salute!”

            

Dozens of soldiers raised their hands in unison, the sound of military boots clicking together crisp and uniform.

Ming Yu scanned the crowd expressionlessly, her gaze sharp. Today, she wore a sharp, deep blue military uniform, the general’s stars on her epaulets gleaming coldly under the lights, each step carrying an unquestionable authority.

The Captain stepped forward quickly and said respectfully, “Admiral Ming, the entire crew of the Feiyun is ready. Please conduct your inspection.”

            

Ming Yu nodded slightly, her gaze searching the crowd without leaving a trace.

Wu Lan’s secret code would not point to this place without reason. There had to be a clue.

She walked slowly past each row of soldiers, occasionally stopping to ask about their training, but her mind was entirely on the subtle anomalies—a certain soldier’s breathing pattern, a tremor in their fingertips, or even an evasive glance.

            

Until she saw, in the crowd—

A thin soldier stood at the very end of the row, the brim of her cap pulled down low, almost obscuring half of her face. While her stance appeared standard, the hand she raised in salute was trembling slightly—a sign of extreme tension.

Ming Yu paused mid-step, then walked straight toward her.

            

Noticing where the Admiral’s gaze had landed, the Captain immediately barked, “Raise your head!”

The person slowly raised her face, revealing a pair of familiar eyes.

Murong Ruixue!

            

Ming Yu’s pupils contracted sharply, but her expression remained cold and impassive.

She stared at her, her voice dropping low. “Serial number.”

The person’s throat bobbed, her voice intentionally deepened. “Reporting, Officer. FY-0719.”

            

Ming Yu said nothing, merely staring at him—no, her.

This Black Kite member who should have been detained in the Bureau of Investigation, and later escaped prison and disappeared, had actually disguised herself as a soldier and sneaked into her fleet?!

Ming Yu remained calm on the surface, her fingertips gently rubbing the cuff of her uniform as she continued the inspection process.

            

As she walked past the final row of soldiers, the heels of her boots tapped out a steady rhythm on the floor, but she paused imperceptibly when passing Murong Ruixue.

“At ease,” she commanded suddenly, her voice sharp as an ice-cold blade.

The sound of unified movement rang out through the entire cabin.

            

Ming Yu turned to the Captain and said slowly, “Regarding this inspection, I have the following feedback.” She paused, then added with a casual air, “Have FY-0719 come along to take notes.”

The Captain’s eyes flashed with a hint of surprise, but he quickly snapped to attention. “Yes, Admiral.”

When Murong Ruixue was brought into the Captain’s quarters, the sound of the metal door sealing shut behind her made her shoulders shudder almost imperceptibly. Ming Yu stood with her back turned, positioned before the observation window, her silhouette framed in cold, metallic light.

            

“Admiral Ming, it has been a long time,” Murong Ruixue said softly, her voice tinged with wariness and exhaustion.

Ming Yu turned around, her eyes fixed coldly on her. “You have quite the nerve, daring to infiltrate the Feiyun fleet.”

Murong Ruixue looked at her with a complex expression. After a long pause, she said, “Director Wu said you would come. She told me to wait for you here.”

            

Although she knew clearly that all of this was Wu Lan’s arrangement, Ming Yu could not help but feel astonished.

Given everything Wu Lan had done, how on earth had she managed to convince Murong Ruixue to trust her and follow her orders so obediently?

Ming Yu narrowed her eyes, her voice turning icy. “Murong Ruixue, you actually put your faith in the FBI Director who locked you up? Don’t you find that laughable?”

            

“Because… we share the same goal.” Murong Ruixue did not expand on her dealings with Wu Lan, keeping her explanation vague. “Director Wu guaranteed that in order to save Song Qingpei, you would eventually compromise and let her leave with me. We struck a deal, each taking what we needed.”

Ming Yu’s pupils contracted sharply.

Wu Lan had actually struck a deal with the Black Kite long ago?!

            

She had even anticipated all of this, guessing that Ming Yu would let Song Qingpei go.

She had even arranged for Murong Ruixue to meet her here in advance!

It made her spine go cold.

            

Ming Yu suppressed the anger rising in her chest and asked coldly, “What else did Wu Lan say?”

Murong Ruixue fell silent for a moment before replying honestly, “Nothing else. Director Wu used to interrogate me constantly about the whereabouts of Murong Xia, but I refused to speak even on pain of death. Later, she proposed a condition—she would convince you to let Song Qingpei leave with me, allowing her to meet my teacher, Murong Xia.”

“She arranged our prison break and told me to wait for you here.” As Murong Ruixue spoke, her expression suddenly darkened. “I just didn’t expect that something would happen to Li Man during the operation.”

            

Hearing her mention Li Man, Ming Yu’s expression changed slightly. After all, Li Man had been her military doctor for several years; it would be a lie to say she felt absolutely nothing. But it was only a momentary lapse of attention. Thinking of everything that had happened recently, Ming Yu’s thoughts were quickly pulled back to Wu Lan.

With one link locked inside another like this, it was hard not to suspect that all of this was carefully arranged by Wu Lan.

Perhaps even Wu Lan’s arrest was her entering the game herself in order to achieve her purpose.

            

Wu Lan had calculated everything. What exactly was she plotting?

If Marshal Song had not repeatedly guaranteed that Murong Xia held no malice toward Song Qingpei, Ming Yu might have begun to waver in her decision to let her go.

But things had progressed to a point where there was no turning back.

            

If she kept Qingpei here, President Zhan Li would never let her go.

Ming Yu took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.

“Murong Ruixue,” she said coldly. “I can let you take Song Qingpei away, but you must guarantee her safety.”

            

Murong Ruixue was startled, seemingly not expecting Ming Yu to be so decisive. “You… are really willing to let her go?”

A flash of pain crossed Ming Yu’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, hard mask. “As you wish.”

Murong Ruixue stared at her in disbelief. After a long pause, she could not help but ask in a quiet voice, “Admiral Ming, you went to such great lengths to oppose us just to keep Qingpei by your side. Why are you suddenly…”

            

“That is none of your concern,” Ming Yu cut her off, her voice icy. “Remember, do not get any ideas about Song Qingpei. She is my wife, and no matter where she is, that will never change.”

Hearing the jealousy in her voice, Murong Ruixue sighed. “Rest assured. Right now, my only desire is to bring Qingpei back safely, fulfill the task my teacher gave me… and Li Man’s dying wish.”

“Continue to wait here. I will arrange for Qingpei to meet you as soon as possible, and send you both away.”

            

Having said this, Ming Yu turned and prepared to leave.

But just before she pushed the door open, Murong Ruixue suddenly called out to her, “Admiral Ming, are you truly willing to give up on Qingpei just like this?”

Ming Yu’s footsteps paused, but she offered no answer as she pushed the door open and walked out.

            

The lighting in the corridor was blindingly bright. Countless thoughts flashed through Ming Yu’s mind. She was indeed unwilling, but she had to accept the fact that Song Qingpei was about to leave. In any case, she had to ensure Qingpei’s safety and respect her choice. She had promised her, and she could not break her word this time.

Even if… the price was letting her go.

And before leaving, she still had one important thing to do.

            

She had to help her lover sever all ties and worries, so she could leave in peace.

Ming Yu was lost in thought, the words she had heard this morning echoing in her ears: “When you go to the hospital… tell me. I’ll go with you…”

She should fulfill this wish of Qingpei’s. After all, this child belonged to both of them.

            

Ming Yu instinctively rested her hand against her lower abdomen, whispering softly, “I’m sorry…” Her hand then clenched into a tight fist, her nails almost digging into her palm. After a long silence, she gritted her teeth and dialed her communicator.

The call connected.

After a lengthy silence, she spoke with great difficulty. “Qingpei, I… have scheduled the surgery. I will wait for you at the First Military Hospital.”

            

---