Chen ordered Xiao to remain aboard the ship as backup. He wanted Yan Qing to stay there too—safe, removed from Earth’s chaos—but one sentence from Yan Qing ended the argument.

  “I want to go home.”

  So Chen brought him.

  Before they disembarked, Chen said, “You should at least be able to protect yourself.”

  “New York isn’t that bad,” Yan Qing said, still glued to Pluto through the viewport. A once-in-a-lifetime sight deserved to be recorded properly.

  “I don’t want you knocked out and dragged away again,” Chen replied. “Next time I won’t act recklessly. I’ll just bring my warship. It has a ‘heavy hammer’ system that can destroy a planet in 0.24 star-ring seconds, and also—”

  “Don’t even think about Earth,” Yan Qing snapped, finally turning to glare at him. “Or I’m kicking you out.”

  Chen smiled, annoyingly serene.“Either way, get a weapon.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Yan Qing waved him off.

  Then his arm was caught—gripped hard.

  Yan Qing looked up.

  Chen’s smile had subtly changed. Still pleasant, still gentle—yet something underneath it made Yan Qing’s spine prickle.

  “If something happens to you, Yan Qing,” Chen said, voice steady, eyes frighteningly serious, “there will be consequences.”

  Yan Qing’s brain supplied a vivid mental image: alien fleet, Earth burning.

  He whacked Chen in the forehead.

  Chen blinked, expression collapsing into bewilderment.“Why did you hit me?”

  “Because you sound like a melodramatic teenager,” Yan Qing said irritably, flexing his knuckles. “And your skull is way too hard.”

  Chen rubbed his forehead, frowning.

  Yan Qing exhaled and put a hand on Chen’s shoulder.“If you’re trying to say you’re worried, stop doing it in the most extreme way possible. And you’re the impulsive one—you’re the idiot who ran into a trap without thinking.”

  If they’d wanted to kill you instead of merely ambushing you… you’d already be dead, Chen thought, but didn’t say.

  What Yan Qing said did sharpen the question that had been nagging at Chen since the lab:

  So someone—someone powerful—had protected Yan Qing.

  But why?

  Yan Qing was brilliant, yes, but his background was ordinary. Why would anyone high enough to influence a black-site facility choose to shield him?

  Chen’s eyes narrowed, a thin edge of predatory light passing through them.

  New York — 10 kilometers from the city center

  “I want that gun.”

  Yan Qing placed cash on the counter.

  The shop owner squinted at him. “You have a permit?”

  Yan Qing pulled a card from the inner fold of his wallet and flashed it, smiling politely.“Can I buy it now?”

  He walked out with the firearm and headed straight to Chen.

  When he stopped in front of him, Chen’s gaze dropped to Yan Qing’s waist—the newly purchased semi-automatic.

  “I didn’t know you could use that.”

  “You told me to get a weapon,” Yan Qing said. “My grandfather hunted. I grew up going with him.”

  “To humans, it’s a weapon,” Chen said, “but it won’t harm us. What will you do?”

  Yan Qing’s eyes glittered with mischief. “Didn’t you already prepare the answer?”

  Strong and fragile. Decisive—yet absurdly soft-hearted. Brilliant in his field, oblivious outside it… until, suddenly, he wasn’t.

  A contradiction.A magnet.

  Chen smiled, indulgent. He opened his right hand.

  “Tungsten alloy rounds. Nineteen-millimeter diameter. When did you figure it out?”

  Yan Qing’s smile widened. “Guess.”

  “Clever.” Chen stepped in—

  And before Yan Qing could react, Chen swept him up in both arms.

  “Hey—what the hell?!” Yan Qing yelped, embarrassed and furious.

  “I’m taking you home.”

  Moonlight painted Chen’s fully extended wings in sharp shadow—one wing spread nearly three meters wide.

  Yan Qing swallowed. “You’re not—”

  The roar of wings cut him off.

  A hard gust slammed into his face, and then the ground dropped away.

  They were already in the air.

  “Do we have to fly?!” Yan Qing demanded.

  “It’s faster,” Chen said lightly. “And I’ve never flown on Earth before. I want to see what it feels like~~~”

  Yan Qing’s expression went flat.

  Of course that’s the real reason.

  But as he adjusted, he looked down.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Night draped the city in thick ink. Only scattered lights pierced it, tiny flames refusing to die.

  It was… beautiful.

  Without realizing it, Yan Qing hooked his arms around Chen’s neck, pulling closer.

  Warmth touched Chen’s throat.

  Chen’s mouth curved upward.

  “Yan Qing.”

  “Mm?”

  “Our weakness is the left eye,” Chen said calmly—too calmly, as if discussing the weather. “It’s the most fragile point. Behind it is the neural region that controls vital function. Destroy it, we die. Then expose the body to high-energy radiation for three hours—erase any possibility of regeneration. That is how my kind should be handled. Remember it.”

  Yan Qing lifted his head, staring. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Chen looked down into his eyes—deep, steady, and unbearably gentle.

  “Because if I lose control again,” Chen said, “and I try to hurt you…”

  His voice softened further.

  “…then you do that.”

  Yan Qing’s chest tightened.

  Chen had been careful since that day. Too careful.Strong enough to force anything—yet he never truly forced Yan Qing into anything. He yielded, adjusted, waited.

  Yan Qing reached up and cupped Chen’s face with a weary affection.

  “I’m a law-abiding citizen,” he said, half exasperated, half helpless. “I can’t do something that cruel, so…”

  His fingers suddenly pinched Chen’s cheek hard.

  “Anytime. Anywhere. You behave. No going feral.”

  “It hurts!”

  “You’re lying,” Yan Qing snapped. “You were full of holes and didn’t complain. Now you’re screaming over this?”

  They bickered in midair, absurdly domestic—until Chen’s gaze locked on something far on the horizon.

  He cursed under his breath.

  “What?” Yan Qing asked.

  “The underground facility is on fire.”

  “Then we go.”

  “I need to put you somewhere safe first—”

  “No time.” Yan Qing cut in. “We go now. Don’t waste time worrying about me.”

  Chen clenched his jaw. His tail flicked, and he banked sharply, diving toward the blaze.

  The sky above the facility was stained blood-red. Flames danced like mad performers, heat licking upward through thick smoke.

  That was what greeted them.

  “How are you going to handle this?” Yan Qing asked, turning to Chen.

  Chen’s face looked calm. But his hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

  He drew a slow breath and forced a thin smile back into place.

  “It means I’ll be staying on Earth longer,” he said. “This fire didn’t start by itself. Lian likely started it. This place is valuable to humans—burning it is a waste. Which means it’s deliberate.”

  Yan Qing nodded grimly. He knew exactly how valuable this lab was.

  “You have to find him?” Yan Qing asked at last. “You can’t just… leave it?”

  Chen’s smile faltered, tired and thin.

  “This isn’t only personal,” he said. “Lian’s existence means the succession conflict isn’t finished. It’s law. Our law.”

  “But you said he’s only half Teleopean.”

  “I reviewed all of the facility’s records before we returned to the ship,” Chen said. “Forty-three percent. Still enough to qualify as a successor.”

  Yan Qing exhaled. “Then we go back to my place. And we try to contact Lanice. I don’t know if they got out safely.”

  Chen nodded, even though everything in him wanted to tear Lian apart immediately.

  Because he could already hear the sirens closing in.

  3:15 a.m. — A residential district in New York

  Back at Yan Qing’s apartment, he called Lanice right away. Relief washed through him when he heard they were safe—already back at Tom’s.

  [What do we do now?] Lanice’s voice was low on the other end.

  “Chen will stay on Earth until he finds Lian,” Yan Qing said, staring at the news footage—cornfield, fire, the underground lab site. “For now… we watch and wait.”

  [Alright. The army already issued recall orders,] Lanice said. [We’ve been reassigned to an army base in Los Angeles. We report next week. Once we’re there, I’ll send you contact details. If you need anything—call.]

  “Got it,” Yan Qing said. “Thanks, Lanice.”

  [Be careful,] Lanice added after a pause. [You, especially.]

  “I will. Bye.”

  Yan Qing hung up and sank back, exhausted. Forty-eight hours felt like a lifetime.

  “I think… I should leave you for now,” Chen said quietly.

  He said it, but his eyes stayed on Yan Qing—reluctant, hungry, unwilling.

  Yan Qing didn’t answer immediately.

  “Then where would you go?” he asked finally.

  “…I don’t know.”

  Yan Qing sighed.“Ok, then. But you can stay here until you figure it out.”

  Chen didn’t answer.

  He only looked at Yan Qing’s eyes—those black, shining eyes that pulled at something deep and violent in him—and lifted Yan Qing’s chin gently.

  Yan Qing felt warmth press against his lips.

  Then something soft slid into his mouth.

  “Hey!” Yan Qing shoved at Chen’s jaw, startled and angry. “What are you doing?!”

  Chen didn’t answer. His hand drifted to Yan Qing’s waist, slow and deliberate.

  Yan Qing jerked back, grabbing his arm and forcing distance between them.

  “Don’t mess around, Chen.”

  Chen straightened. His gold eyes swirled with light.

  Yan Qing stared too long—got trapped in that gaze.

  And Xiao’s earlier words surfaced like a knife:

  He hasn’t said anything to you yet, has he?

  Yan Qing swallowed.

  He told himself, not for the first time, that keeping Chen around was simply practical—two years of savings sunk into feeding this alien and his ridiculous food blog deserved a return, and Teleopean technology was not something a scientist could walk away from lightly.

  “I crave everything about you, Yan Qing,” Chen murmured, fingers tracing Yan Qing’s cheek as if mapping it into memory.

  Yan Qing’s face went hot. Anger, embarrassment and something he did not want to scrutinise tangled together.

  “You—”

  A soft laugh cut through the tension.

  “Did Xiao tell you,” Chen said, finally dropping the mask, “that I like you?”

  Yan Qing’s face flared red. He shoved Chen away, standing abruptly.

  “You and me—absolutely not.”

  “Why not?” Chen asked, genuinely puzzled.

  Yan Qing was terrible with feelings.Even his relationship with Xiaowen had started with her making the first move.

  But he knew rejection should be gentle, so—

  “You’re a Teleopean. Your genetics are different from mine at the molecular level. That means we can’t produce viable offspring.”

  He powered forward, professor mode engaged, determined to “explain it properly.”

  “You can fly, I can’t. You’re male, I’m male—”

  He stopped, frowned, then asked quietly, “You are… male of your specie, right?”

  “We don’t have a gender the way humans define it,” Chen said thoughtfully. “But by your standards—more or less so.”

  He blinked. “Do you want me to take my clothes off and show you?”

  “No! Absolutely not. I believe you,” Yan Qing said instantly, horrified. Then he paused and frowned harder. “Where was I?”

  “You’re male, I’m male,” Chen supplied, looking pleased.

  “Right,” Yan Qing said, exasperated. “Men and men can be together in human society, but not everyone wants that. Like me. I prefer women. And your culture and mine don’t share anything. Statistically, cross-cultural relationships have higher divorce rates—”

  Chen watched him with amusement, enjoying the animated flush in Yan Qing’s face.

  Yan Qing didn’t realize Chen was letting the words go through him like wind.

  “So,” Yan Qing demanded at last, “did you understand what I said?”

  “I understood,” Chen said, smiling. “But you missed one thing.”

  “What—”

  Chen reached out and hauled Yan Qing into his arms with ease.

  “Hey—!” Yan Qing struggled.

  A hand pressed the back of Yan Qing’s head, forcing his face against Chen’s chest.

  A steady thrum pulsed beneath his ear, warm and relentless, like a war drum softened by skin.

  Chen’s heart.

  “Do you hear it?” Chen’s voice reverberated through bone and muscle, softer than usual, almost tender. “We have something in common.”

  His brain turned to mush. His hand, still gripping Chen’s sleeve, forgot to let go.

  Yan Qing’s lips parted. Nothing came. He looked away, then back again, caught in the silence he couldn’t seem to break.

  “Yan Qing,” Chen said softly, voice like intoxicating wine, “you don’t have to accept my feelings now. You don’t have to do anything. But… you can allow me to like you.”