Chapter 3: The Grind Forward and the Slow Burn of Emotion

The plan had been simple—cut straight to the docks in the slum zone. Quick, clean, no fuss. But Shao Ye’s three-day coma had dragged their schedule into the mud.

Now, pushing ahead, they were on a collision course with Alliance checkpoints. The stolen Academy car—an outdated gas guzzler—was dead in the water halfway there, its tank coughing up nothing but fumes. At least it had a stash of nutrient packs, or surviving out here in this godforsaken wilderness would’ve been a death sentence. Out of options, the two had no choice but to slog through mountain paths on foot, aiming for the harbor.

Lu Zhanxing was the first to break the silence, his voice sharp and clinical: "Every dock on Imperial Star is locked tighter than a miser’s purse by Alliance forces. And tickets? Real-name verification. Heading there is like handing them our necks."

Shao Ye smirked, exuding cocky confidence born of hard-won experience. "Who said anything about buying tickets? The lowest fare to the slum zone is 800 Alliance credits. Do you even know what 800 credits can buy in the slum zone?”

Lu Zhanxing didn’t. Hell, he didn’t even know how much a credit was worth. For someone raised in the cocoon of privilege, his world started at a million Stellar credits and went up from there.

The math was simple, though: 1 Stellar credit equaled 100 Alliance credits, with purchasing power wildly varying between star systems. Of the eight systems under the Alliance, the Imperial Star was the crown jewel, its economy lightyears ahead.

The Alliance spans eight star systems, each with its own place in the grand scheme, but let’s be clear: the first star system doesn’t just sit at the top by accident—it earned it. This is where the capital thrives, the beating heart of innovation and wealth, a powerhouse of cutting-edge tech and unmatched economic muscle.

The eighth star system isn’t far behind, a rival in ambition and progress, standing as a testament to raw, unapologetic development.

The rest? They’re playing catch-up in the shadow of these two titans.

The slum zone? It wasn’t even on the map—far worse off than the bottom-rung Eighth System.

Shao Ye’s 800 credits were peanuts in Lu Zhanxing’s world, barely 8 Stellar credits. But in Shao Ye’s? It was a fortune.

"800 credits," Shao Ye continued, tone casual, like he was reading off a grocery list. "That’s a month of busting my ass in the black factory. Eleven-hour shifts. Every. Single. Day."

His voice might’ve been indifferent, but the words hit Lu Zhanxing like a freight train. Black factory. Eleven hours a day. A month’s pay. Each syllable carved out a grim picture of Shao Ye’s reality.

At 21, Shao Ye had clawed his way to this moment, dragging his sister along through a hellscape unimaginable to someone like Lu Zhanxing. Survival wasn’t just a challenge—it was a full-contact bloodsport.

And yet, Shao Ye wasn’t broken.

Lu Zhanxing couldn't shake the growing pity gnawing at him for Shao Ye. It wasn’t just sympathy—it was the undeniable realization that this Omega was cut from an entirely different cloth than everyone else.

People have their neat little boxes: Omegas are supposed to be fragile, delicate, the picture of grace and domestic virtue—helpless little things who thrive on being coddled.

But Shao Ye? He shattered that stereotype into a million useless pieces.

He was the anomaly Omega. No softness, no fragility. He’d knock an Alpha on their ass without breaking a sweat.

Manners? Forget it.

He cursed like a sailor and carried himself like someone who had nothing to prove and even less to lose. While other Omegas clung to safety nets, Shao Ye had learned to become one—for himself and for others.

Lost in thought, Lu Zhanxing barely registered Shao Ye’s next words: "Like hell I’m wasting 800 credits on a damn ticket. We’re getting on that ship my way. Money’s better spent on a new gun for my sister. She’s crazy about weaponry."

Lu Zhanxing blinked. “Your sister…likes weapons?”

Shao Ye’s sister, barely out of her teens, had been a gangly girl of 14 when they’d last seen each other. Cakes, dolls, and childish hobbies seemed more her speed. But weapons?

“Why not?” Shao Ye shrugged. "Girls who turn out Omega need to know how to defend themselves. Otherwise, the world’ll chew ’em up."

They talked as they walked, banter filling the growing dark. The beam of their flashlight barely cut through the oppressive blackness. Then, out of nowhere, Shao Ye missed a step.

One second he was on solid ground; the next, gravity yanked him toward a sheer drop.

“Shit!” he yelped, scrabbling for something.

Lu Zhanxing’s reflexes kicked in, his hand locking onto Shao Ye’s backpack with unflinching precision. The flashlight tumbled into the abyss, swallowed by the kind of void that didn’t bother returning echoes.

Shao Ye clung to dangling roots and vines, his voice shaky with panic. "Lu—Lu-ge! Don’t you dare let go!"

With a grunt of effort that seemed absurdly effortless, Lu Zhanxing hauled him back to safety—one-handed, like it was nothing.

Shao Ye hit the ground trembling, adrenaline coursing through him. Relief surged through him in waves, leaving him flat on his back and gasping. "Holy shit. Thanks, Lu-ge. Really. That was…close."

Once he’d caught his breath, Shao Ye stood, a grin tugging at his lips. He gave Lu Zhanxing’s bicep an experimental squeeze, his tone laced with admiration and disbelief. "How the hell do you get this strong? Seriously. What’s your secret?"

"Push-ups and pull-ups," Lu Zhanxing replied matter-of-factly.

Shao Ye snorted. "No way. I work out too, but my arms still look like noodles compared to yours."

The truth gnawed at him. Maybe it was his Omega biology screwing him over—an invisible wall he couldn’t punch through. He hated admitting it, but the raw strength gap between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas wasn’t just a myth.

Lu Zhanxing must’ve seen the flicker of defeat in his eyes. His voice was gentle, almost kind. "Don’t beat yourself up. You’re stronger than most Omegas I’ve ever met."

Shao Ye let out a bitter laugh, his gaze dropping. "Doesn’t matter. Even the strongest Omega can’t win against an Alpha. What’s the point?"

His words hung in the air, heavy with resignation.

The stillness between them stretched like a taut wire, before Lu Zhanxing finally broke it, his voice low and deliberate: “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, nothing will touch you.”

“Huh? Wha—” Shao Ye jolted, startled, looking up at him as though he’d just snapped awake from a dream.

Lu Zhanxing turned his head slightly, a faint flush betraying his discomfort, but his words hit like hammered nails: “Didn’t you say I’m impressive? You even call me Brother Lu. From now on, if anyone messes with you, you come to me. I’ll handle them—personally.”

“Re-really?” Shao Ye stammered, his voice trembling as tears welled up, blurring his vision.

Two lifetimes. That’s how long it had been since Shao Ye had felt the protective weight of someone’s care.

In his first life, he hadn’t even been given a fighting chance. Dumped in a trash bin on a freezing winter night, his newborn cries ignored by the parents who discarded him like garbage. By sheer luck—or misfortune—a scrap-collecting woman had found him and taken him in. But not out of kindness. No, she raised him like a commodity, penning him in a filthy dog kennel until he was worth enough to sell. By the time she traded him away for a few thousand bucks, he was a wide-eyed toddler who had barely begun to walk.

At first, his buyers were decent enough. But then the barren couple, long desperate for a child, managed to conceive naturally. Overnight, Shao Ye became an inconvenience, a bad investment. They tried to return him, but the scavenger woman refused, sparking a battle so fierce the police intervened. In the end, Shao Ye was carted off to an orphanage—a fresh layer of hell.

However, this was the beginning of another unfortunate life.

At the orphanage, there was no love, no kindness. Just beatings, bullying, and the gnawing ache of neglect. He scraped his way through school, clawing out a place at a university. Even then, life showed no mercy. He juggled grueling part-time jobs with grueling studies, surviving on scraps of hope.

His only companion? A stray dog he’d taken in, a pitiful creature as unwanted as himself.

Just when things seemed to turn—when he’d graduated and landed a job, ready to rewrite his life—a car crash snuffed out every spark of progress.

And now?

This second chance at life?

It started the same way the last one ended: harsh, merciless, and unrelenting. Except this time, he had a younger sister, his only tether to this world.

And then there was Brother Lu.

“Don’t be afraid,” Lu Zhanxing had said. “I’m here.”

It was just a sentence. Fleeting, ordinary. Yet to Shao Ye, it felt like the first drop of rain on scorched earth.

No one had ever said those words to him. No one had ever dared to make such a promise.

The sheer weight of it left him trembling, overwhelmed by something he hadn’t dared to dream of: someone willing to stand by him, even for a moment.

Lu Zhanxing’s voice broke through again, firm yet calm: “I swear. As long as I’m around, no Alpha will touch a single hair on you.”

Shao Ye’s throat tightened, his chest heaving with suppressed emotion. He tilted his head back, staring at the sky to keep the tears at bay. “Strange… We’ve been walking toward the North Star this whole time. How could we have gotten lost?”

“The North Star?” Lu Zhanxing frowned. “You mean the brightest one up there?”

“Yeah,” Shao Ye replied automatically.

“That’s not the North Star,” Lu Zhanxing said flatly. “That’s the Alliance’s space station—the central hub of the Skyscape System.”

Shao Ye froze, the absurdity of his mistake dawning on him like a slap. Right. This wasn’t Earth. There was no North Star here.

“What exactly is this North Star?” Lu Zhanxing pressed, his tone curious but edged with suspicion. “I’ve got a decent grasp of the star systems, and I’ve never heard of it.”

“I…” Shao Ye floundered, his mind scrambling for an excuse. “I—I must’ve remembered wrong. Never paid attention in geography class.”

Lu Zhanxing didn’t let it go. His eyes narrowed, cutting through Shao Ye’s flimsy lie. “You seemed pretty damn sure of yourself. People don’t cling to something like that unless they know it’s true. So, what aren’t you telling me?”

Shao Ye’s breath hitched. Could he know?

No, that was impossible. No one would believe the truth, not without thinking he’d lost his mind.

Desperate, he latched onto a half-truth. “It’s from a fairy tale,” he said quietly. “The brightest star in the night sky is the North Star. Beneath it lies a forest of snow and moonlight. Lost children who follow the star will always find their way home.”

Lu Zhanxing went silent, his face unreadable.

Guilt gnawed at Shao Ye’s insides. He hated lying, especially to someone who’d offered him kindness. But what choice did he have?

Hearing this explanation only twisted the knife in Lu Zhanxing's chest, his concern for Shao Ye cutting deeper than he wanted to admit.

Shao Ye, hardened by years of scraping by at the gritty bottom of society, carried a lifetime of raw, unpolished wisdom. He was meticulous, a man who left no detail unchecked, no precaution unmade. And yet, in the quiet corners of his soul, he still clung to the foolish, fragile hope of a fairy tale. Not the fantasy itself, but the dream of something real: a place to call home, a hearth where warmth wasn’t a stranger.

The thought gripped Lu Zhanxing. It hit him like a flash fire in his chest, an unrelenting ache to pull Shao Ye into his arms, to crush him against the strength of his body and let his embrace speak the words he couldn’t yet say.

But reason pulled hard against impulse. They barely knew each other—strangers bound by circumstance, not yet by trust or shared history. The distance between them wasn’t wide, but it was enough to stay his hand.

For now.

Lu Zhanxing finally spoke, his voice softer than before. “Fairy tale or not, you still believe in it, don’t you?”

Shao Ye blinked, startled by the unexpected shift in tone.

“It’s not the star you believe in,” Lu Zhanxing continued, his gaze heavy with unspoken emotion. “It’s the idea of home. You want to go home more than anything, don’t you?”

The words pierced through every defense Shao Ye had. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t even move.

Lu Zhanxing stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper but unyielding in its strength. “It’s okay. We’ll find our way home. Together.”

“But…” Shao Ye’s voice cracked, his guilt spilling over. “I don’t even know how to get us out of here. I’ve dragged you into this mess. The supplies are running low, and it’s all my fault—”

“Stop,” Lu Zhanxing interrupted, his tone calm but commanding. “We’ll rest tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll get us out of these mountains. I know the terrain.”

For the first time in two lifetimes, Shao Ye felt the faintest flicker of hope. He wasn’t alone anymore. Not entirely.