Top-Tier Omega: Chasing Alpha to the Crematorium – Chapter 83
by Little PandaFinally Reunited
“The Zhan and Qin families are finally at odds!”
Murong Xia’s withered finger swiped across the holographic projection. The chaotic scenes from the Zhan family’s wedding were being broadcast in real time, and her pale face flushed with excitement. “Qingpei, our chance is here!”
Song Qingpei stood before the projection, watching her with a complicated expression.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked in a low voice.
“Go see Marshal Qin Mian.” Murong Xia began to cough violently, prompting the medical robot to immediately inject her with a sedative. “Qin Mian is highly ambitious. He’s always coveted the presidency, and now he needs allies… cough, cough…”
Murong Ruixue stepped forward quickly to support her. “Teacher, your body…”
Before she could finish, Murong Xia waved her hand, her eyes burning as she looked at Song Qingpei. “…I’m fine. We don’t have much time. We must persuade Qin Mian to cooperate with us as soon as possible…”
Song Qingpei couldn’t help but ask with concern, “But Qin Mian is a Marshal of the Federation, after all. Will he really agree to cooperate with us?”
“He will,” Murong Xia said, suddenly grabbing Song Qingpei’s wrist with surprising strength. “Tell him… the Black Kite can help him bring down Zhan Li and win the presidential election…”
Gazing at the obsession flickering in her eyes, Song Qingpei thought of her little aunt, whose fate remained unknown. After a long silence, she said resolutely, “Alright, I’ll go.”
Seeing her agree, Murong Xia let out a sigh of relief. “I’m counting on you, Qingpei.”
Hearing this, Murong Ruixue couldn’t help but say, “Teacher, let me go with her.”
Murong Xia wasn’t entirely at ease letting Song Qingpei go alone either, and was about to agree when Song Qingpei beat her to it. “You stay and take care of Auntie Murong. Don’t worry, I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
Murong Ruixue wanted to say more, but looking at her frail adoptive mother beside her, she ultimately agreed.
Song Qingpei talked with Murong Xia in greater detail, drawing up a preliminary plan for the negotiations with Qin Mian.
Three days later, she set out alone in a small starship disguised as a merchant vessel, heading toward the V System under Qin Mian’s jurisdiction.
The interstellar journey was long. Looking out at the sea of stars alone, Song Qingpei realized how busy she had been lately, constantly rushing to keep up and forcing herself to accept everything. Now that she finally had a moment of quiet, a wave of melancholy and loneliness washed over her.
She missed her daughter.
And… Ming Yu…
Over these long months, her longing had only intensified, and her feelings had become clearer.
The past conflicts and pain seemed trivial in the face of this bone-deep yearning. When she recalled the image of Ming Yu entering the operating room with a deathly pale face, and the look of mixed determination and reluctance as she watched her leave, she couldn’t help but regret not trying to save that unborn little life.
Song Qingpei’s heart felt increasingly complex and filled with an unbearable, aching sourness.
Yet, given the current chaotic situation, any reunion seemed painfully distant.
Song Qingpei let out a soft sigh and tried to steady her thoughts when the alarm system suddenly blared.
She quickly looked at the screen. A small warship without any identification code was approaching at a staggering speed.
Who was it?
She immediately activated the defense systems, her finger hovering over the weapon trigger.
Static crackled through the communication channel before a familiar voice came through: “Qingpei, it’s me!”
That voice—
Song Qingpei’s pupils contracted. The face that appeared on the screen was Wu Lan’s familiar face, though she looked much thinner than in her memory.
“Wu Lan?!” Her voice nearly cracked. “How’re you here—”
“Let’s board first,” Wu Lan interrupted, her tone urgent. “We’re being tracked.”
By the time the two vessels completed docking, Song Qingpei had already rushed to the hatch.
The moment the hatch slid open, the first person she saw wasn’t Wu Lan, but a sullen Zhan Nansheng, holding a laser gun and looking extremely tense and hostile.
“Lieutenant General Zhan?” Song Qingpei took half a step back in surprise.
Zhan Nansheng sneered. “What, surprised to see me?”
Song Qingpei froze. Recalling the news of the pair fleeing their wedding not long ago, she didn’t know how to react.
Sensing the tension, Wu Lan quickly stepped between them, subtly pressing down on Zhan Nansheng’s gun hand and whispering, “Nansheng, let’s go inside first.”
Under Wu Lan’s soothing touch, Zhan Nansheng reluctantly holstered her laser gun. She glared coldly at Song Qingpei, then lifted her chin arrogantly and stepped through the hatch.
Song Qingpei was utterly speechless. She looked at Wu Lan in confusion and murmured, “What is going on here?”
Wu Lan waved her off, saying hurriedly, “It’s complicated. I’ll explain later.” With that, she caught up with Zhan Nansheng and took her hand. “Eldest Miss, are you tired? Do you want to rest first?”
Zhan Nansheng’s expression softened considerably toward Wu Lan, and she gave a reserved nod.
The three of them walked further into the cabin one after another.
Song Qingpei watched Wu Lan’s intimacy with Zhan Nansheng in astonishment, noting that Zhan Nansheng didn’t throw off Wu Lan’s hand either. The delicate atmosphere prompted her to make the sensible choice to remain silent.
They entered the lounge, where the air was so tense it could almost be wrung out like a wet cloth.
Zhan Nansheng sat in the corner, her gun never leaving her hand. Wu Lan stood in the middle, her gaze shifting between the two, while Song Qingpei pretended to study the route map intently, though she was actually observing the bizarre pair out of the corner of her eye.
“Would you like something to drink?” Song Qingpei tried to break the silence.
“No,” Zhan Nansheng spat out, rejecting the offer coldly. “Who knows if you’ve poisoned it.”
Wu Lan cleared her throat. “Eldest Miss, Qingpei—”
“Heh, calling her so intimately,” Zhan Nansheng said snidely.
Wu Lan looked at her helplessly, caught between amusement and exasperation. “Eldest Miss, must you get jealous over absolutely everything?”
Zhan Nansheng snorted, acting entirely proud and stubborn. “I don’t care. You’re not allowed to speak up for her from now on.”
“Fine, fine, fine, I’ll do whatever you say. Stop throwing a tantrum.”
The sheer indulgence in Wu Lan’s tone made Song Qingpei’s eyes widen in sheer disbelief.
In her memory, Wu Lan had been almost universally impatient with Zhan Nansheng. What on earth had happened to cause such a complete turnaround in their dynamic?
Song Qingpei couldn’t help but look at Wu Lan, who gave her a meaningful glance. Instantly realizing this wasn’t the time for a real chat, Song Qingpei fell silent, ignoring Zhan Nansheng’s provocation.
Zhan Nansheng, thoroughly satisfied by Wu Lan’s capitulation, softened her expression. “Wu Lan, why did we board her ship anyway? Where are we even going?”
Instead of answering directly, Wu Lan spoke evasively, “Eldest Miss, we need to lose your father’s trackers first. Why don’t you get some rest? We’ll talk about everything once you wake up.”
Zhan Nansheng’s eyelashes fluttered. “I don’t—”
Before she could finish, Wu Lan swept her up in her arms. “Alright, let’s get you some rest.”
“You… bastard…”
Zhan Nansheng grumbled, but she stopped resisting.
Song Qingpei stared wide-eyed, watching them leave, unable to catch her breath for a long while.
This sudden change was simply too surreal.
She sat alone in the lounge, quietly processing what she had just witnessed, unable to shake her shock for a long time.
Her instincts told her that Wu Lan’s affectionate display hadn’t been entirely genuine. What was she actually planning?
As she pondered, her thoughts drifted to her previous suspicion. The tone of that mysterious contact who had messaged her was incredibly similar to Wu Lan’s. She began to waver—was it really her?
Should she just confront Wu Lan directly and lay her cards on the table?
But if she was wrong, would she beat the grass and startle the snake1, only to put herself in danger?
Time slipped away as she wrestled with her thoughts, unable to make up her mind. She let out sigh after sigh, until a familiar, teasing voice sounded from behind:
“What is it? Why the long face?”
“You…” Song Qingpei started, but stopped.
Seeing her conflicted expression, Wu Lan chuckled. “Alright, Zhan Nansheng is asleep. We can have a proper talk now. Ask whatever you want.”
Song Qingpei hesitated briefly, then tested the waters. “What’s going on between you and Zhan Nansheng?”
“It’s a long story.” Wu Lan massaged her temples, a complex mix of emotions flitting through her eyes.
Seeing that Wu Lan didn’t want to expand on the subject, Song Qingpei dropped it. Although she was curious about the shift in their dynamic, she was far more interested in confirming if Wu Lan was the mysterious contact. Yet, she still didn’t dare speak too rashly.
Then Wu Lan locked eyes with her, scanning her face before speaking sincerely. “Qingpei, you look… much better than I expected. It seems Ming Yu has protected you well.”
At the mention of Ming Yu’s name, Song Qingpei’s heart seized.
It had been three months, and not a single moment passed without her thinking of the woman who had given up everything for her.
“Do you know how Ming Yu is doing? How is she?” she asked urgently.
“Don’t worry. Ming Yu is a Federation Admiral, after all. Zhan Li wouldn’t dare lay a hand on her lightly.” Wu Lan paused, then added, “But she detained Chen Duo, which might make things difficult to resolve…”
Song Qingpei looked up sharply. “Chen Duo? Why would she—”
“To help me,” Wu Lan sighed, explaining further. “Chen Duo was ordered by Zhan Li to assassinate me, but Ming Yu helped me escape. To buy us time, she had no choice but to detain him.”
Hearing this, the answer in Song Qingpei’s heart became crystal clear. She couldn’t contain herself. “Wu Lan… the person who was messaging me… it was you, wasn’t it?”
Wu Lan didn’t deny it this time and nodded.
“Why?” Song Qingpei asked in shock.
“Because you’re President Rong’s only daughter. And because… when you were little, I used to hold you and teach you to call me jiejie.”
“Qingpei, do you still remember me?”
As she spoke, Wu Lan uncharacteristically lost some of her composure, her voice cracking slightly with emotion.
Song Qingpei stared at her, completely stunned. Unable to recall any such memories, she shook her head mechanically and asked in bewilderment, “Who are you?”
Hiding her disappointment, Wu Lan smiled. “It’s normal that you don’t. You were barely a year old back then, after all.”
In the face of Song Qingpei’s utter confusion, Wu Lan went into detail, explaining her identity once again. Over the years, she had worked undercover at Zhan Li’s side—partly to seek out news of Song Qingpei, and partly to bide her time and gather strength to clear President Rong’s name.
“Fortunately, heaven didn’t fail me. I’ve finally found you.”
Song Qingpei was utterly dumbfounded by what she heard, unable to recover from her shock for a long time.
Fortunately, since she had already suspected Wu Lan was the mysterious contact, her instinctive trust in her allowed them to bridge any awkwardness quickly, giving way to the comforting realization that they could now rely on each other.
Song Qingpei couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “Wu Lan, it’s so good to have your help.”
Wu Lan smiled. “Alright, let’s leave the reminiscing at that.”
Suddenly turning serious, she took out four sections of the Interstellar Route Map. “Qingpei, did Murong Xia tell you about the decoder?”
“Yes,” Song Qingpei said quickly. “Auntie Murong told me about the decoder.”
As she spoke, she retrieved a crystal chip. The moment the chip was brought close to the four map sections, a sudden transformation occurred.
The decoder suddenly emitted a blinding blue light as the crystal chip began to vibrate at a high frequency. To Song Qingpei’s astonishment, the two objects magnetically snapped together, projecting a holographic star map in midair.
“It requires biometric authentication.” Wu Lan frowned. “Qingpei, you try.”
Without a second thought, Song Qingpei pressed her palm against the projection.
In the next instant, the projection cleared her credentials. The star map began to rapidly reorganize, with countless points of light connecting to form lines, ultimately converging on a set of unfamiliar coordinates.
“The coordinates for Planet Blue Tree!” they exclaimed in unison.
After a long moment, Wu Lan was the first to recover, her excitement palpable. “This is incredible. As long as we find the coordinates of Planet Blue Tree’s star system, we can retrieve whatever your mother left behind.”
Overwhelmed by the sudden influx of information, Song Qingpei felt in a daze. “Auntie Murong originally wanted me to see Qin Mian to discuss cooperating against Zhan Li. What should we do now?”
Wu Lan pondered for a moment. “How about this: I’ll go meet Qin Mian. You contact Ming Yu immediately and have her escort you to Planet Blue Tree. Once we have what your mother left behind, we’ll plan our next move.”
After a brief hesitation, Song Qingpei contacted Murong Xia in Wu Lan’s presence and explained the situation. Following a brief discussion, they agreed to Wu Lan’s proposal.
Hanging up the communicator, Song Qingpei couldn’t help but ask with concern, “What about Zhan Nansheng…?”
Understanding her concern, Wu Lan smiled, putting on a relaxed front. “Don’t worry, I can handle her. You go find Ming Yu first.”
Song Qingpei could only sigh. They had only just reunited, yet they had to part ways in such a hurry.
After exchanging a few more words, Song Qingpei led Wu Lan to the control room, where Wu Lan departed in the backup vessel.
Once her starship settled into a stable flight path, Song Qingpei calmed herself down. With a trembling finger, she risked dialing the number she had thought of day and night, her heart instantly pounding against her ribs.
Ming Yu, are you alright?
The moment her communicator vibrated, Ming Yu’s fingertips trembled.
It had been a long time since she had lost her composure like this.
Ever since Song Qingpei left, she had forced herself to remain calm and rational, operating like a precise machine without a single moment of laxity. Yet now, a single unfamiliar number completely shattered her hard-won self-control.
Could it be her?
She took a deep breath and swiped to accept the call.
The holographic projection lit up, and Song Qingpei’s face materialized before her.
Ming Yu’s breath caught for a split second.
It had been three months.
She had traced this face in the hologram in the dead of night, heard her low, raspy voice in her dreams, and envisioned their reunion countless times.
Yet, when the person she had yearned for day and night was actually standing in front of her, she couldn’t utter a single word.
It felt as if something was blocking her throat, tight and aching with a sharp sourness.
“Ming Yu,” Song Qingpei was the first to speak.
That single call made Ming Yu’s heart squeeze tightly.
“Are you… alright?” She finally found her voice, asking the simplest, most restrained question she could manage.
Song Qingpei’s eyes drifted over her exhausted face, softening as she spoke in a gentle, low voice. “I’m fine.” She paused, her tone turning raspy. “…And you?”
Ming Yu almost laughed.
They had been separated for so long, had endured so much, and yet, upon meeting again, they could only test the waters with such fragile caution, as if terrified of breaking something.
“I’m doing well,” she replied softly, keeping her surging emotions tightly reined in.
Suddenly, Ming Yu wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her, to verify that she was real and not just another hallucination.
But she couldn’t.
Standing between them were transmission signals, Zhan Li’s relentless manhunt, and a mountain of unresolved mysteries and dangers.
“Ming Yu, I need to see you,” Song Qingpei said, pausing before adding, “There are many things I have to tell you in person.”
Ming Yu’s fingertips clenched slightly.
Her reason told her this was dangerous.
Zhan Li’s eyes and ears were everywhere; every move she made could be under surveillance.
But looking into Song Qingpei’s eyes—those eyes she had dreamed of, filled with restrained longing—she found she couldn’t bring herself to refuse. More than anything, she wanted to tell her lover in person that their baby was still alive.
“Alright,” she heard herself answer. “Give me the coordinates. I’ll come find you.”
Song Qingpei read off her coordinates. Ming Yu noted them down, her fingers trembling slightly beneath the desk.
“I’ll be there as quickly as possible,” she promised quietly, but couldn’t help asking, “…Are you sure it’s safe?”
Song Qingpei’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second.
Ming Yu knew her too well. That tiny shift in expression meant she was hiding something.
“Safe for now,” Song Qingpei finally replied, her voice very quiet. “But if I don’t arrive on time…”
“You will make it on time,” Ming Yu interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll wait for you.”
The transmission suddenly began to flicker as the signal degraded.
“Qingpei?” Ming Yu stood up abruptly.
Song Qingpei’s figure grew blurry in the projection, her voice coming through in fragments: “Bad signal… I’ll wait for you…”
The communication cut out completely.
Ming Yu frozen in place, her palms icy cold.
Slowly sinking back into her chair, she absentmindedly rested her hand against her abdomen.
“…Baby, we’re going to see Mama,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. “Very soon. We’ll see her very soon.”
Two hours later, a small starship disguised as a civil transport vessel quietly departed the Central Star System.
Ming Yu sat in the co-pilot’s seat while Lieutenant Lin steered, casting worried glances her way from time to time.
“How much longer?” Ming Yu asked the exact same question for the third time.
“One hour and forty-two minutes,” Lieutenant Lin answered. “Admiral, you should get some rest.”
Ming Yu shook her head, her eyes fixed firmly on the star map.
Suddenly, her communicator vibrated once more.
Ming Yu practically lunged forward to answer it. “Qingpei!”
However, it wasn’t Song Qingpei’s voice that came through the receiver, but a burst of harsh static followed by her panicked, hurried warning:
“Ming Yu, don’t come! It’s an ambush—”
The call was cut off instantly.
Ming Yu’s face drained of color instantly.
“Hurry!” She grabbed Lieutenant Lin’s arm. “Accelerate immediately!”
“But—”
“Hurry!”
Lieutenant Lin complied without delay, and the starship carved a sharp arc through the void of space.
Yet, they were already too late.
They reached the designated coordinates and waited for two hours, but there was no sign of Song Qingpei.
“Trace the source of that transmission immediately!” Ming Yu’s voice was raspy, barely recognizable. “Do a full-spectrum scan! I want the exact coordinates of her last signal!”
Lieutenant Lin’s fingers flew across the control panel. “I’m tracking it now, but the signal was intentionally jammed. It’ll take time to decrypt.”
“There’s no time!” Ming Yu stood up abruptly, only for a sharp spasm in her abdomen to turn her vision black, forcing her to lean heavily against her seat.
“Admiral! You need—”
“I’m fine,” Ming Yu gritted out, the words squeezing through her teeth. “Contact the Third Fleet immediately using the highest level of encryption. Tell Morris to take his men and blockade the border jump points right now.”
This was no ordinary ambush. To precisely predict her flight path and sever Song Qingpei’s communications…
“Zhan Li,” she spat, each syllable dripping with icy chill.
Lieutenant Lin sucked in a breath. “Are you saying the President…”
“No one else has the authority to orchestrate a deployment on this scale.” Ming Yu’s fingernails scraped against the console, leaving pale gouges in the metal. “Send people to investigate his recent troop movements immediately, especially—”
A violent fetal movement caught her breath, forcing her to double over and press her hand hard against her belly.
“You need a doctor!” Lieutenant Lin reached out to support her, only to be pinned in place by Ming Yu’s fierce glare.
“I’m fine,” Ming Yu gasped, cold sweat already soaking her back. “Investigate it now. I want results within three hours.”
“But your body…”
“Go!” Ming Yu barked, but she was immediately seized by a wave of severe dizziness.
She stumbled back two steps, her back slamming heavily against the cabin wall. In the next second, Lieutenant Lin’s terrified shout began to fade, sounding as if it were coming from behind a thick pane of glass.
Ming Yu’s vision blurred. She struggled to raise her hand to show she was alright, only to find her limbs as heavy as lead.
Qingpei… Her lips parted soundlessly as her fingertips reached out in a futile grasp at the empty air. As darkness swallowed her vision, only a single thought remained in her mind—
She absolutely couldn’t collapse when Qingpei needed her most.
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