NASA Fifth Division, Manhattan Office

  “I don’t know anything!”

  The assistant, Noel, was timid by nature. Cornered against the wall and questioned like this, his entire body trembled uncontrollably.

  “Then why did you go into my office?” Yan Qing asked, clearly dissatisfied with the answer.

  Noel tried to shrink himself as small as possible, as if he could disappear that way. “I—I was just putting documents there!”

  Chris grinned maliciously, like a delinquent bullying a classmate back in high school. “Oh? Then why was Yan Qing’s computer still on?”

  “I really don’t know…” Noel looked on the verge of tears, his small eyes glistening as if he’d been truly wronged.

  Seeing him like this, Yan Qing almost felt like he was the bully.

  Forget it. There will be time to question him later. If it really comes to it, I can always have Chen use contact-based neural sensing to make Noel ‘tell’ the truth.

  With that thought, Yan Qing decided to stop pressing him. “All right. I was just asking. It’s nothing.”

  “But he still hasn’t explained what he was doing in your office!” Chris clearly wanted to keep pushing.

  Knowing Chris’s temperament all too well, Yan Qing shot him a glare—effective enough to shut him up immediately.

  “If I offended you just now, I’m sorry,” Yan Qing said to the still-shaking assistant.

  Noel didn’t seem to hear him at all.

  His gaze drifted, vacant, fixed on some unknown point in space. Both hands clutched at his chest as his body suddenly went rigid.

  Yan Qing and Chris had just begun to register that something was wrong when, the very next second, green liquid spilled from Noel’s pale lips.

  His frail body hit the floor with a dull thud.

  “Hey! Are you okay?!” Chris dropped to a crouch, lifting him anxiously. “Yan Qing—what’s wrong with him?!”

  Yan Qing was just as shocked, but he’d already pulled out his phone and dialed emergency services.“NASA, Manhattan branch, seventh floor—we have someone suffering an acute cardiac event!”

  “Hey—how do you know it’s a heart attack? Don’t just say things!” Chris asked nervously.

  “Don’t you think this smells like blood?” Yan Qing said grimly, eyes fixed on the green liquid.

  After a chaotic scramble, Noel was rushed by paramedics to the nearest hospital. Yan Qing and Chris followed.

  Outside the emergency room, Noel’s wife—summoned by Chris—was sobbing, distraught over her husband’s uncertain condition.

  “Did you know Noel had a heart condition?” Yan Qing asked gently.

  The emergency physician had just confirmed it was an acute heart attack.

  She shook her head through tears. “He’s only thirty-four. He takes such good care of himself—he even had a full checkup last year. Everything was fine. How could this happen so suddenly…?”

  “These days, heart attacks are happening younger and younger,” Chris blurted out. “Lots of people in their thirties—”

  “How could this be… !”

  His words only made her cry harder.

  “Chris,” Yan Qing snapped, shooting him a sharp look.

  Was this man trying to help, or make things worse?

  Realizing his mistake, Chris rushed to recover. “That’s not what I meant—plenty of people walk out of surgery just fine, the survival rate is—”

  “Chris,” Yan Qing cut in firmly, “can you file an incident report with Division Five about Noel?”

  Chris winced, nodded, and left at once.

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  Yan Qing sighed and turned back to the woman. “He’ll be fine, ma’am.”

  She nodded weakly, clutching her tissue.

  “Why are you here?”

  A familiar voice sounded above him.

  Yan Qing looked up and met a pair of golden eyes.

  “Then why are you here?” he shot back. “Weren’t you supposed to be in your office?”

  “I came to find you,” Chen said calmly.

  On Yan Qing’s right wrist, the bracelet Chen had given him—a disguised global positioning device—rested against his skin. The previous one had been lost in the underground laboratory incident.

  Chen’s gaze flicked briefly to the woman beside Yan Qing. His brow twitched. “And this is…?”

  “She’s Assistant Noel’s wife,” Yan Qing explained. “He was rushed into emergency surgery due to a heart attack.”He turned to her. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  “It’s all right,” she said, wiping her eyes.

  Yan Qing stood and gestured for Chen to follow.

  They rounded a corner into a quieter wing of the hospital.

  “What exactly is going on?” Yan Qing stopped and fixed Chen with a hard stare.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want to know why you were staring at the earthquake news, why the weather’s been so abnormal, why someone hacked into my computer, and why Assistant Noel had green blood,” Yan Qing said evenly.“I know you understand what’s behind all of this. So tell me.”

  A helpless smile touched Chen’s lips.

  At times like this, Yan Qing could be extraordinarily stubborn. Once he decided he needed an answer, he would dig until he reached the bottom—or worse, from Chen’s perspective, he would go looking for answers himself.

  Sometimes, complete secrecy only put him in greater danger.

  Chen sighed softly and answered, one point at a time.

  “I was watching the earthquake news because something about it felt wrong. The abnormal weather patterns are the result of someone deliberately disrupting Earth’s natural cycles. The person who accessed your computer is likely connected to that.”

  “And Noel?”

  “The green blood was likely caused by a compound interfering with hemoglobin function,” Chen said carefully. “It resembles a metabolite from a highly addictive substance used in my world. That suggests Noel may have been working for them.”

  Yan Qing absorbed this, then asked, “The extraterrestrials you mentioned before?”

  Chen nodded. “They’re called the Fenreiga.”

  “Don’t tell me they’re trying to take over Earth.”

  “Not just Earth,” Chen said evenly. “They want to drain this planet—and eventually this entire solar system—to rebuild an interstellar military force. Earth is only the first step.”

  Yan Qing let out a breath through his nose. “Ambitious,” he said flatly. Power and domination—ancient, repetitive. He didn’t dwell on it.

  “Yan Qing,” Chen said, his tone sharpening just a fraction, “don’t get involved in this. Trust me. I’ll handle it.”

  Yan Qing didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted past Chen, toward the blank wall at the end of the corridor.

  “Earth isn’t your responsibility,” he said at last. It wasn’t an accusation. Just an observation. “So why take it on?”

  Chen smiled, unguarded. “Because I like your world.”

  Yan Qing stilled.

  “That’s… not a reason,” he said quietly. “You’ve only been here a short time.”

  Chen didn’t argue. “Because Earth gave birth to the person I love,” he said instead. “So I like it too. In your language—I believe it’s called loving the house because of the person.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  Yan Qing looked away first.

  “Chen,” he said, voice tight but controlled, “you don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

  “I want to,” Chen replied gently. “Because I love the person standing in front of me.”

  Yan Qing closed his eyes.

  Just for a second.

  “That’s enough,” he said—not loud, not sharp. Final in a different way. “You’re crossing a line.”

  Chen didn’t move. Didn’t interrupt.

  Yan Qing continued, carefully, as if choosing each word kept something intact. “This situation is already complicated. You pushing it further doesn’t help.”

  “I’m not asking you to decide anything,” Chen said calmly. “Only to know how I feel.”

  “That’s exactly the problem,” Yan Qing replied. His voice didn’t rise, but it thinned. “You say things like that as if they don’t change anything.”

  He turned away, shoulders tense. “If this continues,” he added, not looking back, “we’re going to have problems.”

  It wasn’t a threat.

  It was a boundary—fragile, hastily drawn.

  Then he left.

  Almost too quickly.

  He didn’t understand why his chest felt tight, or why walking away felt less like control and more like retreat.

  What was he supposed to do with Chen…?

  “Yan Qing, I’ve taken care of it.”

  He ran straight into Chris near the exit.

  Yan Qing didn’t slow, didn’t answer—just brushed past him and headed for the hospital doors.

  Chen’s gaze shifted to Chris.

  The two locked eyes.

  Only for a moment.

  Long enough.

  Chris felt it then—a pressure, precise and contained. Not a voice. Not words. Just intent.

  A warning.

  Teleopean royal bloodlines possessed mental capacities far beyond contact-based neural sensing. Proximity was optional. Thought alone was sufficient. The very name Teleopea came from telekinesis—a legacy written into blood.

  What Chen had done wasn’t an attack.

  It was a test.

  “Huh? Yan Qing—where are you going? Wait for me!” Chris called, jogging after him.

  As he followed, Chris glanced back once.

  Chen was already gone.

  Chris slowed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His expression stayed casual—almost careless.

  But something in his eyes had shifted.

  Subtle.

  Unreadable.