Chapter 46: I'm Developing the Fourth-Generation Mecha.

Shao Ye couldn’t wrap his head around it.

The sweet, angel-faced little sister who always played the part of pure innocence in front of him—turns out, she was nothing but a cold-blooded manipulator with a mind like a steel trap. A mastermind lurking in the shadows, using his trust and indulgence to orchestrate schemes that ran so deep, he didn’t know whether to feel betrayed or outplayed.

The doctor, probably noticing the storm brewing behind Shao Ye’s cold stare, didn’t try to shove the harsh truth down his throat right away. Instead, he leaned on a soft, almost syrupy tone like he was handling a ticking bomb.

“Mr. Shao,” the doctor began, voice smooth as a blade hidden in velvet, “whether my assumptions about your sister are correct or not, it’s irrelevant now. That’s the past. What matters is learning how to live your life as it is right now.”

Shao Ye didn’t say a word, his silence cutting sharper than any response could.

The doctor pressed on, unflinching. “The Alliance’s First Hospital has already sent your health report to the Medical Research Institute. If I were you, I’d expect good news soon—they’ll figure out how to restore your gland functionality. Once that’s handled, you’ll be able to release pheromones like any other Omega. You’ll have heat cycles again. And let’s not ignore the fact that your pregnancy symptoms are screaming for a little help. You and your partner’s pheromones syncing up will do wonders for that.”

As he spoke, the doctor casually reached for a match, lighting up the calming incense that had been prepped by the maids beforehand. Smoke curled up lazily, filling the room with the faintly sweet, heady scent of oleander. It wound its way around Shao Ye like an invisible chain, soft but unyielding, binding him to the present, no matter how much his mind wanted to rage or escape.

Shao Ye exhaled deeply, pulling in lungfuls of that strange, soothing scent. Damn, it worked like magic—calm washed over him, dousing the storm of tangled emotions threatening to drown him.

The doctor stood there with that practiced smile, ever the professional. “This calming incense is custom-made to replicate Commander Lu’s pheromones. While he’s away, it should help ease your pregnancy-induced anxiety,” she said, smooth as silk.

Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed his coat, tidied up his lunch container, and headed for the door. But not before throwing in another one of those reminders Shao Ye had grown tired of. “Oh, and Mr. Shao, remember: your physiology lessons are past the basics now. We’re moving into Omega-specific pregnancy education. Tomorrow, a childcare expert will join us for hands-on training. It’d be smart to review the theoretical material tonight. Trust me, it’ll save you some grief later. Sleep well.”

He stared at his retreating figure, stuck in place as if his brain had short-circuited. That damned oleander-scented incense must’ve been working overtime because his nerves finally stopped screaming long enough for him to breathe.

“Ye Li,” Shao Ye called out to the AI assistant, his voice steadier than expected. “Play tomorrow’s physiology lesson video.”

For once, without anyone breathing down his neck, Shao Ye did the unthinkable—he actually focused. He not only watched the videos but took notes like some straight-A nerd. Who was this guy? Certainly not the man who used to scoff at anything resembling responsibility.

The course explained how a baby’s development relied on both parents’ pheromones for a sense of security. Stability from the Omega and presence from the Alpha were critical for healthy growth. Any emotional instability—or worse, thoughts of rejecting the baby—could have devastating effects. Even a flicker of negativity could make the unborn child feel unwanted, leading to detachment or introverted tendencies later.

Shao Ye froze, guilt slamming into him like a freight train. Just hours ago, he’d been grumbling over a stupid craving, thinking, Screw this, maybe I don’t even want the baby. Now those reckless thoughts clawed at him, leaving shame bubbling up like acid in his throat.

Hormones? Maybe.

Or maybe this was something deeper, something raw and maternal, dragging him through the mud of self-reckoning. His hand slid over his stomach, fingers brushing lightly as he whispered to the child growing inside.

It didn’t matter how much it tore him up inside or how damn unbearable it felt—this was his and Lu Zhanxing’s kid. Hell or high water, he was keeping it. Pain be damned, he was all in, already picturing that tiny life and daring the world to try and take it from him.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, baby. I’m not trying to push you away, I swear…” His voice cracked, soft and broken. He bit his lip, trying to ground himself. “I love you. I don’t even know you yet, but I do. Your Alpha dad—he’s not here, but he loves you too. You’re ours.”

*

As the days crawled by, Shao Ye’s routine turned into a grind of etiquette lessons, therapy sessions, and childcare crash courses. The monotony was broken only by Lu Zhanxing’s weekly calls, each one a lifeline. They weren’t anything fancy—just the two of them, talking like ordinary couples, pouring their hearts out across the distance. Sometimes, Lu Zhanxing would press the phone to his lips and speak to the baby through the line, his voice warm and steady. Those moments hit Shao Ye harder than he’d ever admit.

Then came news from the frontlines. The Alliance had used the data Shao Ye provided about the enemy’s third-gen mechs, striking a decisive blow. For a hot second, it felt like a victory.

But war wasn’t that simple. Just three days later, the rebels found a way to override the self-destruct protocols, salvaging most of their forces. Shao Ye’s fists clenched at the thought—so much for the master plan.

Three days to crack the mech’s self-destruct protocol?

The rebels?

On their outdated, cobbled-together network?

You’ve got to be kidding me. We’re firing sabotage code from the top-tier Celestial system.

How in the hell did they block it?

Shao Ye's face twisted into disbelief, his brows furrowed so tight they looked welded together.

When he was embedded with the rebel forces, he'd scoped out every scrap of talent they had. Not much to write home about—just a couple of biochem nerds playing mad scientist. No one capable of pulling off a high-tech hack like this. So, who the hell was propping them up from the shadows?

That’s when Ye Li’s voice sliced through the silence. “Based on my calculations, the one who intercepted the self-destruct program… is Commander Shao herself.”

“Ah Lan?” Shaoye’s shock hit him like a brick to the skull. His eyes went wide, disbelief oozing off him. “She knows how to crack code?”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, he froze. Then his mind betrayed him, replaying what the shrink had said over and over like a broken record:

“High IQ. A master of deception. Razor-sharp logic. Exceptionally creative. A prodigy at learning.”

All clinical. All cold. All Ah Lan.

He’d refused to believe it back then, throwing excuse after excuse to shield her. But now? Every word was slamming into him like a battering ram. The enhanced D serum. The nerve to go toe-to-toe with the Sky System. She hadn’t just been hiding. She’d been playing the long game.

And Lu Zhanxing? The bastard knew. Of course, he knew. He just hadn’t told Shao Ye. He didn’t want to crush him further.

Shao Ye already blamed himself for this whole mess, and if he knew his trump card—his precious self-destruct program—had been reduced to a joke, the guilt would’ve eaten him alive.

But this revelation meant only one thing: Lu Zhanxing’s grim prediction was coming true. This war wasn’t going to be some quick, clean operation. It was a goddamn slow bleed, a drawn-out tug-of-war.

And if that happened? Forget being home for the birth of his kid. He wouldn’t even get a whiff of his Alpha pheromones till the baby was cutting their first teeth.

Not. A. Chance.

Shao Ye slammed his fist onto the table, the crack echoing like a gunshot. Determination burned in his eyes as he made up his mind. He was going to Alice.

The maid led him to the conservatory, a glittering, crystal-walled paradise straight out of a storybook. From a distance, it looked like a castle spun from dreams, shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

Inside, Alice was watering flowers with a care that bordered on obsession. She was nearing forty, but under the canopy of blooms, she looked like a porcelain doll dipped in elegance. Every movement, every tilt of her head, dripped with refinement.

Shao Ye stepped inside, the air thick with the perfume of a thousand blossoms. The rich, heady scent wrapped around him, clawing away the exhaustion and tension clinging to his body. For a moment, he was in another world, some idyllic haven untouched by war.

Butterflies danced through the air, their wings flashing like jewels. A few bold ones flitted to his shoulder, perching there as if drawn to his energy.

Alice set down her watering can, motioning for the maid to prepare tea. With a soft, knowing smile, she turned to him.

“Ah, Ye,” she murmured, her voice smooth and sweet as honey. “Do you like flowers?”

Shao Ye didn’t quite get her point at first. He shrugged and shot back, “Pretty flowers are all too damn delicate. I grew up in the slums—nothing survives there, let alone some pampered plants.”

Alice stifled a laugh behind her hand, her voice teasing but sharp. “I’m asking if you like them, not if you’ve ever managed to keep one alive.”

See, Shao Ye wasn’t the kind of guy to claim he liked anything he couldn’t afford. Life in the gutter taught him one thing: don’t bother dreaming about what you can’t touch. But this time, he paused, gave it a real thought, and said, “Yeah. I like them. White oleanders, especially.”

Alice’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. She pushed a cup of tea toward him, her tone casual but laced with an edge. “You do know oleanders are poisonous, right? Still your favorite?”

“Yeah,” Shao Ye answered without even blinking.

Her brow arched, amused and curious, but she didn’t dig further. Instead, she cut straight to the chase. “You didn’t come here to talk about flowers, did you? You need something from me.”

“I do,” he admitted, voice solid as steel. “I need to get into the Alliance’s Tech Research Institute.”

Alice’s hand paused mid-sip. She set the cup down, her movements slow and deliberate. “The research institute’s under the Defense Ministry’s thumb,” she said coolly. “Everything there’s locked tighter than a vault—takes a committee vote just to breathe inside. And, unfortunately for you, Commander Lu’s off-world right now. I can’t help you.”

Shao Ye didn’t flinch. He didn’t even hesitate. “I want in on the fourth-gen mech project,” he declared, his tone brooking no argument. “I know what’s happening on the frontlines. Both sides are slugging it out with third-gen mechs, but the rebels have new models, boosted by D-serum. Their mental link systems are already ahead of ours. And the rebels? They’ve got no shortage of maniacs willing to die for the cause. They’ll grind us down to nothing if this keeps up.”

Alice listened intently, her Omega instincts more attuned to social power plays than battlefield tactics, but even she could see the logic in his argument.

Shao Ye pressed on, voice tightening with urgency. “The only way we win is if we out-tech them—get fourth-gen mechs on the field before they can adapt. I built the schematics they’re using. I know every flaw, every weak point. I can design something better, but I need a lab. Hell, a team would be even better. If the research institute’s out, fine. Just get me somewhere I can work. Once I’ve got a prototype, I’ll bring it to Lu Zhanxing and get it mass-produced.”

Alice turned away, her posture stiff, her voice low and grave. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking, Ah Ye? Developing weapons outside the Alliance’s jurisdiction isn’t just illegal—it’s treason. If you’re caught, it won’t just be you. The entire Lu family will burn for this.”

The words hit Shao Ye like a gut punch. He froze, stunned, the gravity of it all sinking in like quicksand. After what felt like an eternity, he muttered, voice barely above a whisper, “I… I didn’t know.”