Chapter 55: Farewell, My Lover

With the sleek fourth-gen mech complete and standing as irrefutable proof, convincing the Alliance Council turned out to be easier than anyone could’ve guessed.

In less than three days, Lu Zhanxing had that stamped approval in his hand.

Shao Ye, practically buzzing with emotion, couldn’t hold himself back. He threw himself into Lu Zhanxing’s arms, wrapping around him tight like he never wanted to let go. His voice, soft and trembling with need, spilled out: “When this is all over, you better come back to me. No delays. Promise me.”

His eyes were a mix of longing and desperation, the kind of gaze that clings to your soul. Every word dripped with a raw ache, a lover’s plea barely disguised.

Lu Zhanxing knew. Of course, he knew. Shao Ye wasn’t just worried about being apart—he was terrified of what their prolonged absence might do to their child, the little one who needed the warmth of their pheromones like air.

And damn if that guilt didn’t dig into Lu Zhanxing like claws. It was a weight he carried every second, a responsibility he hadn’t figured out how to stop apologizing for.

“Shao Ye, listen to me,” Lu Zhanxing said, voice low and steady, locking their eyes in a fierce, unbreakable stare. “I’ll be back as fast as I can. And I swear, I’ll do everything to save your sister.”

But Shao Ye’s feelings about his sister were a mess, a tangled knot of resentment and regret. He couldn’t even pick up the courage to call her, to reach out. The promises he’d made once—never to abandon her, never to let her down—had been broken so thoroughly that it made him feel like a fraud, a failed brother.

Lu Zhanxing stroked his face, his touch firm but gentle, as if grounding them both. “Go back,” he murmured. “Tell the team who worked on this mech that their names will go down in Alliance history. I’ll make sure of it.”

Shao Ye nodded, his lips pressed tight, but his eyes were already glistening. “Fine. But you have to promise me—no, swear—you’ll stay safe. You have to come back alive.”

He said it like a command, but the tears in his eyes betrayed him.

They parted after that. Shao Ye boarded the military ship bound for the capital star, his steps heavy, his heart heavier.

Goodbyes always tasted bitter, even when both knew it wouldn’t be long before they saw each other again. But who could guarantee anything in a world like this? Every farewell carried the risk of being the last. Fate wasn’t kind, and everyone knew that.

Every departure had to matter. That way, even if you never made it back, you left no regrets behind.

Lu Zhanxing buried himself in his work, staying sharp and focused until the military factories began churning out fourth-gen mechs at full throttle. Only then did he let himself breathe, let the tension bleed out just enough to remind him he was human.

Back in his quarters—his sanctuary—he shut the door and stood still, scanning the space. No one touched his room but him. Not even cleaning staff.

His gaze landed on the bed, Shao Ye’s side still faintly outlined in his memory. He hadn’t changed the sheets, couldn’t bring himself to. The pheromones had faded, but that didn’t matter. That bed was their little slice of heaven, the echo of moments they’d stolen in a world that never stopped demanding sacrifices.

And for Lu Zhanxing, it was enough to keep him going. For now.

He turned his back and started clearing up the room, every single thing Shao Ye had touched, every damn item, was carefully gathered, one by one. He stashed them away in a spot he deemed safe and out of sight, like some pathetic ritual—so that when the ache of missing Shao Ye clawed at his chest, he could at least cling to these scraps and pretend they meant something.

As he scrubbed the floor, his hand paused mid-motion. In the corner, a crumpled piece of paper stared back at him. His sharp eyes narrowed, a flicker of dread coiling in his gut. Something about it screamed wrong.

Slowly, deliberately, he crouched down, picked it up, and flattened it out.

The moment his gaze landed on the words scrawled across it, his entire expression darkened, shifting like a storm rolling over a calm sea. His eyes, cold and cutting, could’ve sliced the air itself.

"Chemical Castration Agent."

Those bold, taunting words hit him like a fist to the gut, the force of it damn near deafening.

Lu Zhanxing’s gaze turned abyssal, darker than the silence before a hurricane tears through. Fury boiled beneath the surface, threatening to explode.

He snatched up his communicator, voice as low and lethal as a blade dragging across stone. “On the 9th, how the hell did I get back to my dorm?”

The assistant, still stuck on worrying about his boss’s health and reassured by news of his partner’s visit, froze at the question. Panic seeped into their voice.

Had Commander Lu lost his mind?

How could someone forget how they even got home?

But with a shaky breath, they pieced the story together—the blown-off office door, the Special Ops team hauling him back, Li Rui barking orders about clean clothes. Every damn detail spilled out like a confession.

When the assistant finished, Lu Zhanxing arched a brow, his eyes flickering with an unreadable intensity. Shadows churned in their depths, leaving even the air around him tense.

He murmured to himself, low and gravelly: “So it wasn’t a dream.”

His eyes dropped back to the incriminating paper in his hand. The words seared into his mind like a brand, igniting a vicious fire in his gut. His jaw clenched hard enough to grind bone, and without hesitation, he tapped into the Special Ops team chat.

“All of you. My dorm. Now.”

The notification hit the squad like an execution order. A chill ran down every spine. Sweat broke out on foreheads.

This was it. The reckoning they knew was coming.

Yu Mo, wide-eyed and trembling, grabbed his brother’s arm with a shaky voice. “Bro, can I write my will before we go? Just one page?”

Lai Xueluan’s face was ghostly pale, all color drained as she muttered in despair, “I thought… I thought he’d forget. He was swamped with those fourth-gen mechs and too busy with Shao Ye to remember. But no, no, we’re screwed.”

And deep down, every single one of them knew there was no running from this.

Li Rui raised his hand like the spineless coward everyone knew him to be, forcing a laugh as he stammered out, “The, uh... will. I wrote it already. Gotta be prepared, right? Heh.”

The room fell dead silent, but the collective glare that burned into him was louder than any words. If looks could kill, Li Rui would’ve been shredded into a thousand bloody pieces on the spot.

“You goddamn idiot!” someone snapped, their voice dripping with fury. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us earlier that Shao Ye was inside?! Even a one-minute heads-up, and we wouldn’t have pumped that shit into the boss!”

It was too late to scream, too late to fix anything. Damage done. Game over.

Swallowing their panic, the group trudged toward Lu Zhanxing’s quarters like prisoners walking to the gallows. They had all made peace with the fact that tonight, they might just die.

The door creaked open, revealing Lu Zhanxing sitting stiffly on the couch, his face darker than a storm cloud. The guy looked like a volcano about to blow, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. On the table in front of him lay the vial label, glaring back at them, a silent accusation of their colossal screw-up.

Seeing that, the group collectively felt their guts twist. They were already halfway buried.

Lu Zhanxing didn’t bother with pleasantries. His voice was cold enough to freeze fire. “Do I start swinging, or do you lot wanna spit out some pathetic excuse first?”

Yu Mo didn’t even hesitate. With a dramatic thud, he dropped to his knees, clinging to Lu Zhanxing’s leg like a man begging Death itself for a second chance. “Boss! We’ve been through hell and back with you—side by side, life and death, all of it! Spare us this once, I’m begging you!”

Lu Zhanxing let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “You think that’s even remotely on the table?”

The group collectively shook their heads, too resigned to even pretend otherwise.

“Good,” he said with a cold smile, leaning back slightly, his eyes glinting with something razor-sharp. “Since you know what’s coming, we can skip the speeches. Let’s get straight to settling accounts.”

He stood, slow but deliberate, the air around him growing tenser with every move. He rolled up his sleeves with the precision of a man preparing for bloody work, the crack of his knuckles breaking the room’s silence like gunshots.

“Alright, who thought of the brilliant idea? And who brought that shit into play?” His gaze was a blade, slicing through the group.

Every finger shot up, pointing directly at Yu Mo.

“Really?! Selling me out like this?” Yu Mo’s voice cracked in despair, but no one flinched.

Lu Zhanxing’s smirk widened, but it carried no warmth—just venom. “Yu Mo. Of course it was you.”

He stalked forward, each step slow and deliberate, the weight of his presence crashing down on Yu Mo’s trembling figure. By the time he stood over him, Yu Mo looked ready to collapse into dust.

Just as Lu Zhanxing reached for him, a panicked shout broke the suffocating tension. His assistant burst in, breathless and pale.

“Sir! Bad news—the rebels ambushed the ship Madam was on. We’ve lost contact!”

The words hit the room like a thunderclap, shattering every thought.

Lu Zhanxing’s expression froze for a fraction of a second before snapping into sharp, lethal focus. In a blink, he bolted from the room like a bullet fired from a gun, his speed leaving only a blur behind.

The rest of the squad didn’t even pause to breathe—they were on his heels instantly, racing after him.

Fear churned in Lu Zhanxing’s chest, gnawing at him with every passing second. Shao Ye... the thought of him injured—or worse—was unbearable. But what clenched his gut even harder was the haunting possibility: what if that lunatic Shao Lan had him again?

The team stormed into the ambush site, but the rebels were long gone, leaving behind a scene straight out of a nightmare. Flames roared hungrily over twisted wreckage, the air thick with the acrid stench of burning metal and death.

Lu Zhanxing stood frozen, his brain refusing to process the chaos. A deafening roar of static filled his head as his vision blurred.

“Ah Ye…” His voice cracked, trembling under the weight of despair as his knees buckled. In his eyes burned a terror no battlefield had ever given him. He wasn’t just afraid of what he’d lost—he was afraid of the monster he was about to become.

After a relentless search, the rescue team trudged back to report to Lu Zhanxing. "Sir," the lead officer began, his tone flat but his words like a blade, "preliminary scans show no survivors."

The news hit Lu Zhanxing like a fist straight to the chest—hard, brutal, and unforgiving. His breath hitched; his legs wobbled, threatening to buckle right then and there. The man who could command an entire fleet with a glare now looked like he might collapse under the weight of a few words.

If it weren’t for Lai Xueluan steadying him from behind, he might’ve face-planted on the deck. Barely managing to stay upright, he snapped out an order, his voice cracked and trembling, desperate to mask the fear crawling up his spine. "Keep searching! There must be someone left alive!"

The rescue team leader hesitated, his brows knitting in confusion. The infamous Commander Lu, who was all ice and steel on any battlefield, was unraveling before his very eyes. Still, he knew better than to ask questions.

Before he could respond, Yu Mo grabbed him by the arm and dragged him aside, practically hissing in his ear. "Get more people out here, and use every goddamn life detector we have! Do you hear me? This isn’t just some random officer we’re looking for. The Commander’s partner is on this ship—a goddamn genius whose tech might single-handedly turn the tide of this war! You think the Alliance can afford to lose him? Get your ass moving, now!"

"Y-Yes, sir! I’ll double the search crew immediately!" The team leader scurried off, his face pale as he barked orders to his subordinates.

Meanwhile, Li Rui glanced at the holographic screen on his wrist, frowning as an idea clicked. "Boss, don’t you have a tracker in your wedding ring? Why don’t you check Shao Ye’s location? Look, he’s the rebel leader’s brother, right? No way the guy would blow him to bits. Maybe Shao Ye got pulled out of here before the blast. If the tracker says he’s alive, we might still have a shot at finding him."

"Yeah, Boss, Rui’s right!" Lai Xueluan chimed in, eager for anything that might pull Lu Zhanxing out of his downward spiral. "Check the tracker. If Shao Ye’s alive, we can figure this out!"

But Lu Zhanxing stood there like a man gutted, his lips trembling as he stared blankly ahead. The words scraped out of his throat like shards of glass. "The tracker... it says he’s here."