It hurt.

  The small boy whimpered softly, one hand clutching the wound on his leg. When he had fallen into this pit, he had scraped his knee badly.

  The smell of wet earth and rotten woods permeated this dark place.

  No one came. He was alone, unwanted, forgotten.

  He looked around the pitch-black cavern, tears blurring his vision. The thought of his parents—gone, leaving him behind—made his sobs come harder.

  It hurts… I’m scared…

  Night had fallen. The darkness in the cave deepened, suffocating. Terrified, the boy curled into a tight ball, trying to make himself small against the oppressive black.

  Then—

  A faint light appeared in his vision.

  It was faint, but in the darkness, it was impossible to ignore.

  His heart pounded with fear, but curiosity tugged him forward. Step by careful step, he crept toward the light.

  There, a figure sat quietly on the ground, back turned to him.

  “…Who’s there?” he called, sniffling, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

  The figure stood and turned. It was another child—about his own age.

  “Who are you?” the other child asked.

  “I—I’m Yan Qing,” the boy answered softly. “What about you?”

  “Why should I tell you?” the other child replied, lifting his small chin proudly.

  Yan Qing’s eyes filled with tears again. He’d already shared his name—why wouldn’t the other boy do the same? The unfairness stung.

  Seeing Yan Qing’s eyes redden, the proud child’s bravado faltered, guilt flickering across his face.

  “Alright, don’t cry,” he said awkwardly. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. My guardian said I’m not allowed to tell others my name.”

  “Why?” Yan Qing asked, blinking.

  “I don’t know! My guardian said so,” the child replied solemnly, imitating the way adults lectured. “I have to listen to him.”

  Yan Qing blinked away tears, then suddenly giggled. “Your face looks funny. You’re so pretty, though.”

  The other child puffed out his cheeks in mock anger. “You’re the weird one!” But the act only made Yan Qing’s tears return.

  “Why are you crying again? I was just pretending to be mad!” the child panicked, fumbling as he tried to comfort him.

  Eventually, Yan Qing’s sobs faded, leaving a heavy silence between them.

  “…Hey,” the child asked hesitantly. “What did you mean by ‘pretty’?”

  Yan Qing thought for a moment. “Pretty means… someone I really, really like when I look at them.”

  The child stared at him, stunned.

  No one had ever said they liked him before. People usually just stared, or whispered “monster” when they thought he couldn’t hear.

  Something inside him stirred, buzzing upward.

  “…You like me?” he asked carefully.

  Yan Qing nodded enthusiastically, smiling brightly. “Yes! You’re so pretty when you smile—like my mom. I like you a lot.”

  The child beamed and stepped closer. “Then… can you keep liking me?”

  “…Mm.”

  Suddenly, Yan Qing clutched his forehead and opened his eyes, the dream dissolving around him.

  He sat up, rubbing his face. That dream again. It had been coming more often lately, growing clearer each time.

  Especially that child.

  In the dream, he could see the child’s face clearly—but once awake, he could never remember what the child looked like.

  Strange.

  It felt like a memory, not just a dream. But no one had ever mentioned another child being there when they found him.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  After thinking for a while and getting nowhere, Yan Qing gave up. He padded barefoot across the cold floor, the remnants of the dream clinging to him”

  It had been two weeks since the incident with Noel. Noel had survived, but now he didn’t even remember his own name.

  Chen had explained it as psychological conditioning: if discovered, Noel’s memories would be automatically wiped.

  Chen had told him to stay out of it. So Yan Qing was left feeling useless, shut out from any answers about the aliens.

  His gaze drifted to the living room.

  Chen was sitting on the sofa, apparently watching TV.

  Even on Yan Qing’s ordinary couch, the golden-haired alien looked elegant—like he was sitting on a million-dollar Italian leather sofa.

  I love you

  The unguarded confession flashed through Yan Qing’s mind, making his face burn.

  Why am I thinking about that?!

  Impossible.

  Yet the more he tried not to think about it, the worse he felt.

  In the bathroom, he stared at his reflection. His eyes flickered with uncertainty, heat, questions he couldn’t answer. He pressed his palm to the cold glass, searching for something in himself.

  If he kicked Chen out now, it would only prove how much Chen had gotten under his skin.

  So he left the problem at home.

  Sighing, he reached for his toothbrush—

  “*&%￥—!!”

  Suddenly, a strange sound echoed from the living room.

  …Ahhh—

  Why did that sound like

  Yan Qing craned his neck toward the living room—

  —and felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

  “What the hell are you doing?! Watching porn first thing in the morning?!”

  In shock, he threw his toothbrush. It landed perfectly on the back of Chen’s head, sticking there.

  Gracefully, Chen plucked it from his hair. “Ah. Caught.”

  “That’s all you have to say? Aren’t you embarrassed?!”

  Yan Qing snatched the remote and turned the TV off.

  Chen shrugged. “It’s educational. I treat it like a textbook.” He paused, eyes narrowing mischievously. “Unless… you were thinking about something else?”

  Yan Qing’s face went bright red.

  “I—I wasn’t! And you should never use porn as education for sex; it’s not even realistic!”

  Flustered beyond recovery, he stammered, “well—I’m going grocery shopping! Don’t follow me!”

  Chen laughed as Yan Qing fled at record speed.

  “Thin-skinned.”

  Chen was content now, living with the one he loved—even if that happiness was as fragile as a bubble, even if Yan Qing insisted he didn’t love him back. Just seeing that stubborn human every day was enough.

  A sharp pain stabbed his side. He pressed a hand to his waist, remembering last night’s raid on a Fenreigan base—a tectonic energy engine, heavy resistance, serious injuries. Recovery would take time.

  Leaning back, Chen activated his bracer. A hologram flickered to life, revealing the face of Teleopea’s Supreme Arms Officer.

  “Chen.”

  “How did the council discussion go?”

  “They approved deploying Yin, Lan, Xiao, and myself to Earth. Shi is also coming as a overseer.”

  Chen scoffed. “How generous.”

  “The High Chancellor is displeased with your extended absence,” Xiao said evenly. “He wants to remind you of your duties as the Star Emperor.”

  “That old thing is still alive?” Chen rolled his eyes. “How unfortunate.”“He has his reasons for acting this way—Earth isn’t exactly a safe place. Besides, you should be calling him ‘grandparent.’ So how can you go around cursing him?” Xiao’s tone carried a hint of disapproval.

  “If cursing alone could kill him, I’d be thrilled,” Chen replied, flicking aside a stray lock of hair with casual disdain. His voice darkened. “You know how I feel about him blocking my proposal to abolish the monarchy.”

  “Yes,” Xiao said dryly. “You do remind me with admirable consistency.”

  “Then don’t pretend to be surprised.”

  Xiao exhaled. “The Teleopean political system has existed for a hundred and forty million years. It won’t collapse because you dislike it.”

  “Spare me the history lecture,” Chen cut in. “They put a Continuation on the throne because I was convenient—and still sane enough to function.”

  “That’s not entirely fair.” Xiao met his gaze. “You survived a dead planet. Even with our genes, no one else could.”

  Chen laughed quietly. “So they break their own law, crown me, and call it a destiny. How I love the hypocrisy.”

  Silence stretched.

  “I was doing fine before they dragged me back,” Chen added flatly.

  “You were feral,” Xiao said without hesitation. “Alone. Surrounded by corpses.”

  Chen shrugged. “Best neighbourhood I ever had.”

  “Chen—”

  “Enough.” His voice sharpened. “This conversation is pointless. How long until atmospheric entry?”

  Xiao glanced at the display. “One star-ring hour.”

  “Good. Cloak before descent. If Yan Qing sees footage on the news, he’ll lose his mind.”

  “…Yes.”

  Meanwhile, at a local supermarket—

  “Tomatoes…”

  Yan Qing paused in the produce aisle, hand hovering mid-air.

  “…He probably can’t eat these.”

  He pushed the cart forward, slower than necessary. Shopping had become an exercise in elimination rather than choice. No tomatoes. No citrus. No processed snacks. Nothing from the vending machines—never again.

  The memory surfaced anyway.

  Blood in the sink. Too bright. Too much.

  Chen had waved it off afterward, smiling like it didn’t matter, like pain was just another environmental inconvenience.

  Yan Qing exhaled sharply and turned his attention back to the shelf.

  He checked labels. Put one item back. Took another. Then hesitated and returned that one too.

  Why stay, if it hurts this much?

  The thought came uninvited—and he shoved it aside just as quickly.

  Chen had answered that question before. Casually. Like it was obvious.

  As long as you’re here.

  Yan Qing tightened his grip on the cart handle. The metal felt cold against his palm.

  People passed him, talking, laughing, arguing over dinner plans. Normal things. Easy things.

  He stared at the tomatoes again.

  “I should get something else,” he muttered, already moving on.

  He didn’t let himself finish the thought that followed. Didn’t examine it and never named it.

  Some things were easier left untouched.