The starship flew at high speed through space. Ji Chenxi leaned back in his seat, idly fiddling with his lightbrain.
“How is it?” Chi Zhuo asked as he brought a small piece of cake to Ji Chenxi’s lips.
Ji Chenxi ate it without hesitation, his hands still moving slow and steady as before. “Pretty strong defense system. I couldn’t break through it from long range.”
“If it’s too troublesome, we can take it slow and attack it bit by bit.”
Ji Chenxi shook his head. “I want a quick fight, a quick finish. The hardest part is probably locating it and opening the defense system. I tried taking control of all the mechanical lifeforms in that base—there was a response, but I couldn’t truly break through.”
He frowned slightly as he spoke. “Is it because of the defense system… or did those machines actually change their internal structure?”
The reason Ji Chenxi chose to handle the Cocoon Organization himself this time was threefold: the organization itself was a hidden danger, second was letting those people take advantage of the time to set up the wedding arrangements, and third—using this as an excuse to go out traveling was his real goal.
So this trip really had to be finished quickly.
“The Prince deliberately left Wu Xiang and the others behind this time. Is it so he can use this absence to carry out another purge on the noble families and powerful officials? If we go back too early, those people might not even have started acting yet.”
Ji Chenxi had been thinking, but paused slightly when he heard that. Then he laughed. “So you think I’m the one who’s in a hurry to go back?”
Chi Zhuo wiped off a bit of cream from the corner of Ji Chenxi’s mouth. “Aren’t you?”
There really were people who could see things so clearly, yet still insist on asking out loud. Ji Chenxi raised a brow and smiled. “No. I am in a hurry to go back. Best case, I want everything wrapped up in three to five days.”
“So urgent—what are you rushing back for?”
“To feed my cat.”
Chi Zhuo chuckled and opened his lightbrain. A holographic screen instantly appeared in front of Ji Chenxi. It showed all the tourist spots suitable for travel around the Morning Star base expansion area. Each location was marked on the map, with one or two small pictures and a few lines of description. The markings were divided into four colors—red, orange, yellow, and green—with red being the rarest and green the most common.
Ji Chenxi casually clicked on one red and one green location. As expected, the red one was more to his taste, and even the guides and descriptions were much more detailed.
The man who had just said he was in a hurry to feed his cat turned back to Chi Zhuo with a pure, harmless expression full of anticipation. “How many places can we go to~?”
After showing Ji Chenxi that, Chi Zhuo pulled up another option.
This time, Ji Chenxi’s eyes lit up—it was the interstellar exploration team he had once fought hard to get into but never managed to join.
“This one lasts three months, it’s a bit long, but Your Highness can consider it.”
Ji Chenxi stared at the two slots in silence for a long moment, then looked back at the travel map again. In the end, he chose a yellow-marked destination.
“We’ll go here.”
It was a planet famous for roses—also known as Rose Planet. When it was first developed, it was extremely popular with tourists. But over time, a whole planet full of red roses wasn’t so rare anymore. Plus, since everything on the planet was roses, food had to be imported, making the cost of living extremely high—comparable to a first-tier star. Gradually, it went from a hotspot to a place only couples went to when they couldn’t think of anywhere else.
Chi Zhuo looked slightly surprised. “Are you sure? I thought you’d prefer somewhere newer or more spectacular.”
Ji Chenxi had grown up in a rose manor himself. Even if he liked roses, he wouldn’t treat them as anything particularly romantic like others did. So… was he choosing this place because Chi Zhuo liked it?
Chi Zhuo said, “You can pick somewhere you like.”
Ji Chenxi opened Chi Zhuo’s guide for Rose Planet, searched a bit on his lightbrain, and quickly expanded the plan. He even booked their accommodation in advance.
While doing all that, he answered, “I like it. Since it’s a trip for the two of us, it should be somewhere we both like. It doesn’t need to be too exciting or dramatic. Just walking around together and basking in the sun is already relaxing enough.”
After finishing everything, Ji Chenxi finally looked up at Chi Zhuo with a smile. “If Brother Chi Zhuo has other ideas, you can tell me.”
“So this is you compromising for me.”
“Yeah, yeah. Rare chance, don’t miss it.”
Chi Zhuo couldn’t help but laugh, and in the end, he didn’t object.
The Cocoon Organization was currently leaderless. If not for the fact that most of its members were modified humans and machines, it would have already fallen apart. In truth, even leaving it alone wouldn’t have been a problem—but Ji Chenxi was worried there might still be hidden experts inside, or that some research genius could take control.
Cutting grass without removing the roots only lets it grow back in spring. Better to wipe it out completely from the start.
And things turned out exactly as he expected—the organization still had backup measures.
The defense system alone was full of traps. Breaking into the base felt like attacking an impregnable fortress. For a moment, Ji Chenxi even wondered if Chen Xing had already prepared for him not coming back.
The gate’s defense didn’t hold him for long. After precise calculations, he finally cracked the system that would trigger attack mode if the wrong password was entered.
As the doors opened, a massive laboratory-like base lit up with harsh white lights. The people who came with him immediately formed a protective circle around him, afraid that the moment the door opened, lasers or artillery would fire out.
Ji Chenxi didn’t rush in. Instead, he first ran a full scan of the interior. From the start, he’d already sensed this lab couldn’t just be shut down directly—indeed, several rooms contained toxic gas and unstable modified humans. With strong spiritual power and scanning equipment working together, he pushed aside his guards and entered first.
Chi Zhuo followed closely behind. The others were about to move too, but Ji Chenxi raised a hand, signaling them to wait outside.
They hesitated, but didn’t dare disobey.
“Your Highness came in to find something.”
Ji Chenxi nodded. “I really can’t hide anything from you. I am here to find something.”
At this point, since they were already here, the fastest way would have been to eliminate everything left behind and seal the place off. The fact that Ji Chenxi insisted on going deeper meant he was after data.
“In fact, this data involves you too. I just want to confirm if it’s real.”
“Me?”
Ji Chenxi gave a soft “mm.” “Over thirty years ago, there was a lab that created a 3S alpha experimental subject. But the experiment ended in failure—the subject went out of control and killed everyone in the lab. So I was wondering… what happened to that runaway subject in the end? And where did the omega researcher who was pregnant with his child go? Did they all die, or did they escape?”
Chi Zhuo frowned. He wasn’t foolish, and many things were already connecting in his mind.
SSS and SS-level individuals weren’t that common. If they were, there’d be no need to hide them.
The head of the Chi family knew Chi Zhuo’s spiritual strength. After all, he had been tested when returning to the family. That complicated gaze at the time, and the way the matter was forcefully suppressed afterward, all told Chi Zhuo one thing—an SSS level appearing was abnormal, especially when his mother was only an inferior omega.
Chi Zhuo had long suspected that woman might not be his biological mother. But no matter how he investigated, nothing ever came up. And genetically, he wa* the Chi family head’s bloodline. A case with no flaws… eventually had to be dropped.
He didn’t expect it to come up again today.
“Arbriana. The youngest genius researcher mentioned in that log. If she wanted to alter someone’s genetic sequence, it wouldn’t be difficult. The real question is—how did she make sure you could withstand that power?”
“So Your Highness is curious.”
“Not really. I don’t have that much curiosity about everything. I just think you might be that child, so I paid a little more attention. But honestly, no matter what your real identity is… you’re still my alpha.”
After all, people created from drugs and experiments rarely lived long. What Ji Chenxi was really worried about was whether Chi Zhuo had hidden dangers in his body—especially since he had previously been exposed to forbidden drugs. And those drugs… were from Chen Xing. There was no way they didn’t have research records.
“Ji Chenxi.”
Hearing his name suddenly, Ji Chenxi paused slightly and looked at Chi Zhuo with mild confusion.
Then he was pulled into a kiss.
The cool touch on his lips made Ji Chenxi instinctively touch Chi Zhuo. When they finally separated, he smiled. “Alright, I get it now. You just wanted to kiss me.”
The rest of the work went quickly. Ji Chenxi had already broken the machine systems of Chen Xing earlier, and after retrieving all research data, he packed everything and handed it over to Chi Zhuo.
Bai Han, who worked under Chi Zhuo, was a talented individual. Ji Chenxi also didn’t forget his own labs—since he had free time anyway, he might as well study how to break forbidden drugs and extend the lifespan of modified semi-experimental subjects.
He scheduled the data for the research institute to be sent a month later. After ordering his troops to maintain the illusion that they were still attacking Cocoon, the commander of the army simply ran off with his alpha.
Rose Planet was just as Ji Chenxi had imagined—mild weather, fragrant flowers. They booked a small villa with a large rose garden and released their spirit forms to play on their own.
The snow leopard, having spent years rolling around in the spiritual domain crushing ice roses, naturally wasn’t afraid of ordinary roses and went off chasing butterflies with the black mamba.
Meanwhile, Ji Chenxi and Chi Zhuo enjoyed the local hot springs and rose-themed afternoon tea before finally starting their sightseeing.
Boating, picking flowers, making rose tea, cooking rose dishes—Ji Chenxi found it surprisingly relaxing to do slow, simple things under warm sunlight.
After half a month, it seemed like tourist season had arrived, and the rose garden launched a “Flower King” blind box game.
Though called a blind box game, the top three prizes were already fixed—various rose-themed ornaments and plushies. Not particularly expensive, but rare and highly sought after. This year’s theme featured feline beasts and roses, with cute cat-and-rose badges and ornaments that instantly attracted tourists. Almost everyone who came to Rose Planet wanted to try it.
Ji Chenxi found it interesting—not the prizes, but the game itself.
It looked like piloting a starship to compete for flowers, but in reality, the “starship” was a transparent ball over a meter tall. Two people had to get inside and control it together. These balls could bump others away or get bumped themselves. To put it bluntly—it was bumper ball racing for flowers.
And the space inside the ball was tight, meaning couples playing together would inevitably end up pressed close.
Damn, such scheming—he likes it!
But it was a bit childish. Definitely not really something a mature adult like him should play.
Ji Chenxi turned to look at Chi Zhuo, ready to move on with their plan for the day—only to see Chi Zhuo staring at the top prizes.
The prizes weren’t just ornaments and plushies, but medals shaped like snow leopards, tigers, lions, black panthers, and other big cats, all decorated with rose elements. The craftsmanship was exquisite. Chi Zhuo was looking at a snow leopard medal in particular.
It even had diamonds embedded in it—shiny and beautiful.
Ji Chenxi paused, then immediately dragged Chi Zhuo over to register.
“You want to play this?” Chi Zhuo asked, a little surprised.
“What? Brother Chi Zhuo thinks it’s childish? It looks really fun. Come on, play with me~”
With Ji Chenxi’s coaxing, they quickly signed up and entered the bumper ball.
The ball was different from normal starships—it was made purely for entertainment, with weak flight control and easy to get knocked around. Even strong winds could send it drifting.
Even though they were both skilled pilots, they still got bumped and tossed around with the crowd.
At one point, Ji Chenxi and Chi Zhuo slammed right into each other. Ji Chenxi didn’t hesitate—he leaned in and kissed Chi Zhuo on the cheek.
The crisp sound rang out, and Ji Chenxi successfully saw Chi Zhuo’s ears turn red. Of course, no matter how red they got, his expression remained unchanged.
The more they played, the brighter Ji Chenxi’s eyes became. He even laughed out loud.
Alright. He admitted it. He really did like these childish things.
At first, Ji Chenxi and Chi Zhuo were just playing for fun. But soon, they mastered the rhythm and started dominating the game. Chaos erupted as bumper balls were knocked flying everywhere. By the time everyone reacted, the flower king was already in Ji Chenxi and Chi Zhuo’s hands.
There were even pairs of alphas teaming up to win prizes, so their combination wasn’t unusual. Some people, after noticing their looks, quietly admired their beauty and quickly steered away, afraid their omega partners might get charmed away.
After winning, Ji Chenxi didn’t avoid the crowd. Instead, he kept playing casually while Chi Zhuo followed his lead, only careful not to let the flower king get damaged.
After securing first place, they went to the prize counter.
Ji Chenxi confidently opened a blind box and got a black panther medal. He then looked at the staff with hopeful eyes.
The staff softened immediately. “Is something wrong?”
Ji Chenxi pointed at the display screen showing the snow leopard medal he wanted.
The staff hesitated. “We can’t just give it out, it’s against the rules. How about you try again?”
He tried again—and got a golden lion medal.
Still, Ji Chenxi said nothing. Just stared again.
The staff: “…”
Completely defeated by that beautiful alpha’s gaze, the staff finally broke the rules, blushing as she handed over the snow leopard box.
Ji Chenxi accepted it happily and thanked her sweetly several times, making the girl blush even more—only to see him immediately hand the box to the black-haired man beside him.
Staff girl: “?”
Something felt… off.
After handing it to Chi Zhuo, Ji Chenxi thanked her again and left, pulling Chi Zhuo along.
The staff watched their interlocked fingers and finally felt her heart give out completely.
Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters. (๑>ᴗ<๑)
