Erwen woke once again from yet another sleep.
He turned over and got out of bed, walked into the bathroom, and turned on the shower, letting the icy water pour over his body.
The clock had just passed 4 a.m. Outside, the world was completely still. Erwen slowly cupped some water and pressed his face into it.
He had been having a lot of dreams lately.
It had been a long time since he last saw Lock. The younger female was about to graduate and was extremely busy. He usually stayed near the school and came home every so often, but Erwen had deliberately avoided him.
Yet in his dreams, Lock appeared frequently.
In the dreams, the beautiful youth spoke in a soft tone, his limbs delicate, but his strength and force were in no way slow. Erwen found himself gasping, staring into the youth’s eyes, holding his neck, and calling his name, but the name he called was not Lock. It was… Qu Xia.
It had been a long time. The army stationed on the junk planet had withdrawn, leaving the planet a desolate wasteland. That strategist had gone completely silent, seemingly turned to ashes in the artillery fire.
Yet in Erwen’s subconscious, Lock’s figure seemed to overlap with that lazy, long-gone strategist. He looked at Lock’s delicate face, yet called out the name of the strategist who had died long ago.
The empire’s most disciplined, self-restrained admiral found himself acting like this in a dream. He closed his eyes, expressionless, and reached under the water to wash himself.
He cleaned his body carefully, making sure not a trace of scent remained, before leaving the bathroom.
The clock read 4:30 a.m. The whole city was still asleep, yet Erwen felt no drowsiness. He hurriedly fastened his uniform belt, meticulously wrapping himself to restore his usual cold and strict demeanor, then stepped up to the shooting room.
He gripped his firearm and aimed at the moving light spots on the wall.
Sparks flew from the barrel. After two loud shots, both hit ten points.
Erwen fired a few more times, each shot landed perfectly in the center.
The admiral’s light-spot targets moved extremely fast, nearly matching the speed of a starship. With such shooting results, he was fully capable of returning to the battlefield.
Erwen entered a report into the light-brain: “Dynamic vision recovered approximately 90%. Long-distance aiming unhindered. Capable of executing war deployment tasks.”
With his eyesight improving, the upcoming military operations could now be scheduled.
………………
Qu Xia finished organizing his data and walked into the Conference Room of the Stellar Group.
Five interviewers sat at the back, reviewing Qu Xia’s resume.
The young man’s résumé was somewhat unusual. Before high school, he had accomplished nothing, and his grades were mediocre. But after entering university, he rose suddenly, completing his studies in an extremely short time and producing impressively rich experimental results.
Qu Xia spoke confidently, attributing his achievements to Sylph’s patient guidance, which had inspired his interest in scientific research, introduced him step by step into the world of science, and helped him achieve success.
To make the logic sound, Qu Xia exaggerated Sylph’s teaching ability, praising him as unmatched in the scientific community, the top authority in education, unrivaled by anyone. The interviewers nodded repeatedly, acknowledging the young man’s growth.
Meanwhile, back in the Central University lab, Sylph sneezed, looked at the students’ pitiful graduation papers, and thought about how Qu Xia had breezed through two top-tier papers. He rubbed the student’s head hard and scolded: “You people, can’t you learn from Qu Xia? Let me win effortlessly one more time.”
After several rounds of interviews, Qu Xia passed smoothly. His exceptional potential impressed the interviewers so much that they immediately offered him a position, afraid that such a promising talent would slip away.
Qu Xia signed his name on the employment contract and handed it back.
The interviewers collected the documents and reminded him, “You can also choose a nickname.”
The Stellar’s employees were spread across the globe, even in desolate regions like Pamir. Due to language and accent differences, many employees used an easy-to-call nickname.
Qu Xia paused for a moment, then signed: “Qu Xia.”
It took him a month to adapt to work and daily life, after which he smoothly integrated into the group. His colleagues knew that although the newly arrived young female had not yet awakened, he was cheerful, had a cute little set of sharp teeth, and was highly skilled. He quickly became someone his coworkers would ask for advice.
That winter, Qu Xia took a half-month leave.
He told others he was visiting relatives on Pamir, but in truth, he rented a small apartment on the outskirts of the main planet, turned the heater to full, hoarded a lot of food like a winter hamster, and bought the latest cooking robot. Then he settled in, waiting quietly for his second awakening.
The second awakening for male zergs was not easy; many even died during it. But Qu Xia was not worried. He had read the related papers and was confident he would get through it safely.
The first few days went exactly as he expected. His mind felt foggy, he began having intermittent fevers, muscles ached and felt weak, and he was chilled all over. He could do nothing but lie in bed pretending to be a cocooned dumpling.
The robot faithfully cooked according to its preset rules, measuring every spice exactly, neither more nor less and delivered meals to Qu Xia each day. He had no energy to judge the robot’s cooking, so he ate blindly with his eyes closed.
By the third day, his symptoms worsened. He could barely eat and felt nauseous.
Qu Xia lay weakly in bed, watching the robot slide in with the meal. He could already imagine its taste with his eyes closed. He waved feebly, “I’m not eating. Take it away.”
The robot responded in its cold mechanical voice, ⟦ Sir, judging by your bodily functions, I recommend you finish this meal and take the nutritional supplement.⟧
Qu Xia pulled the covers over his head, clearly resisting.
The robot set the meal on the table and slid away.
Qu Xia opened his eyes under the covers and began to miss another kind of taste.
He missed his chef.
Erwen never cooked at home. He was an Admiral of the Empire, someone above the rules. Since the death of his original male lord, no male Zerg had ever forced him to cook, except during the hardships on the wasteland planet.
Yet despite so many years without touching a stove, his cooking had not declined. Even simple cabbage and meat tasted exquisite. The meat slices were coated in a thin layer of sauce, and with a simple clear soup on the side, Qu Xia felt almost heavenly happiness.
But from now on, he would likely never taste it again.
Qu Xia sniffled and buried his face in the pile of blankets.
Over the next two days, he grew even more drowsy, dazed, sleeping seventeen or eighteen hours a day. In the rare moments of clarity, he aimlessly scrolled through the light-brain.
With a splitting headache, the words on the screen twisted like ants, refusing to register in his brain. His fingers poked and jabbed, and unintentionally, he dialed a number.
Erwen’s.
In the military office, the Admiral looked at the incoming call with surprise.
Lock had been deliberately avoiding him, and he did not dare see Lock. In this unspoken agreement, they had not spoken by phone for a long time.
Erwen got up and left the office, lowering his voice: “Lock?”
Qu Xia mumbled and blinked groggily, his gaze vacant as he stared at the screen.
Erwen repeated, “Lock?”
He could not hear Lock’s reply, only faint, broken sounds.
Qu Xia murmured, “Sir…”
His mind was a blur, trying to choose between “Sir Housekeeper,” “Sir Chef,” or “Sir Laborer,” and in the end only managed a simple “Sir.”
Erwen paused slightly.
Lock was used to calling him Admiral, never “Sir.”
Erwen asked, “Are you sick? Where are you?”
Lock’s voice sounded off. He frowned. “Do you need me to come get you?”
“Mmm, I’m fine.” Qu Xia curled up completely and, without preamble, added, “Sir, I really want to eat the food you make.”
Erwen’s eyebrows jumped.
Lock had never eaten his cooking. Why would he suddenly say that?
He felt something stirring in his chest, but reason held it down. Lock was a young female without parents, growing up alone on the junk planet. Erwen softened his voice: “Alright, what do you want to eat?”
He no longer bothered to hold back around Qu Xia. The boy’s voice, soft and tinged with tears, sounded as if he were enduring immense pain. Erwen asked gently, “Lock, where are you? I’ll come to you. You need care.”
Qu Xia began to wake up a little.
He shook his head, mumbling vaguely, “No need. I’ll be fine soon.”
Then he hung up the phone.
If he had said another word, he would not have been able to hold back the sobs in his voice.
A sick person is sensitive. Qu Xia, pampered and spoiled, had never endured much hardship. Erwen was reliable, and he could no longer resist wanting to go back to the spacious room in the villa and sleep.
—Then Erwen would realize he was male, find out he was the one from the junk planet, and make him go collect trash.
Qu Xia took a deep breath and decided to endure it.
The second awakening didn’t last long. Half a day later, everything returned to normal. Qu Xia climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to look in the mirror.
He tidied his messy hair, and the moment he raised his eyes, his expression turned indignant.
Why! He was supposed to become a tough guy!
He had read many shared experiences of awakenings: people usually grow taller, their eyebrows and eyes sharpen, full of the charm of a mature man. But he…
The reflection in the mirror had grown taller, and his cheeks looked slightly more mature, roughly from 17 to 18, but still retained some baby fat. Qu Xia pulled down his face, making several expressions at the mirror, barely finding a trace of handsome nobility.
He smiled brightly, but the next second, that feeling vanished.
Qu Xia: “……”
He stormed out of the bathroom in frustration, deciding never to trust a mirror again. Then he logged into his light-brain, intending to cancel his lease and withdraw from leave.
It was then he noticed Erwen had called several times.
The message interface showed over ten messages, all from one person. The Admiral had abandoned his usual quiet, reserved demeanor, filling the screen with words. He first asked, 【 Lock, where are you? Do you need help? 】
【 Should I send someone to pick you up? 】
Later, his tone grew impatient, and he added sharply, 【 Answer me. If I don’t get a reply before dinner, I’ll have the tech division locate your light-brain. 】
But after that, his voice suddenly softened.
Erwen asked,【 Lock, are you upset with me because I’ve been distant recently? 】
The Admiral wasn’t very good with children, especially a child who had entangled him in dreams in ways beyond ordinary affection. He had never spoken in such a soft tone before, his words were usually orders and scolding. But then he realized, if Lock was avoiding him, the fault must be his.
He had been the one to let improper thoughts arise about Lock first, then coldly ignored him for no reason. Children from the junk planet were especially sensitive. The mistake was his from the start; he shouldn’t have spoken that way.
………………
Qu Xia didn’t understand. He wasn’t angry at all, yet he still scrolled down, reading through all the messages.
At the very end, Erwen sent a photo of the kitchen at home. By the sink, fresh green leaves were stacked, red meat lay on the cutting board. He had taken the photo through his light-brain, and inadvertently captured the lace trim at the corner of his apron.
Qu Xia immediately thought of the images from the junk planet, Erwen in disarray.
A male who had just undergone the second awakening always had strange impulses. He remembered the chest and abs from that time, and felt a little warm.
Qu Xia kept scrolling. Finally, Erwen wrote: 【Don’t be mad. Come home, I’ll cook for you.】
