Bursting Tomato 1

The silenced pistol coughed out a series of muffled thuds, flames licking the air like muffled thunder wrapped in lightning, exploding in her palm.

The situation veered sharply. Caught off guard, Yan Xianchuan instinctively threw herself sideways and rolled off the bed, but the bullets still grazed her head, carving a bloody furrow from cheekbone to temple.

Amid the searing, scalding pain mixed with the acrid reek of gunpowder and smoke, she was one step away from rising off the floor straight into death's embrace.

The near-death crisis made Yan Xianchuan's heart pound heavily. Her eyes suddenly blazed to life, like a miniature navigation beacon stolen from a lighthouse. She stared straight at Lu Mingqiu, pupils contracting into pinholes with excitement. Boundless interest and delight surged from some void, condensing into a thick, murky gaze that wrapped around the gun-wielding woman.

"Quite the surprise, dear wife," she said, flipping up from the ground and lunging at Lu Mingqiu.

The magazine had run dry moments ago. Lu Mingqiu tossed the pistol aside, her thumb pressing the ring on her index finger. A needle-thin anesthetic dart, light as a feather but swift as lightning, split the air.

The other woman's sudden shift in demeanor was like shedding a disguise, or as if she had switched personalities altogether. She couldn't fathom why her power had failed—this person was definitely not an esper—but Lu Mingqiu didn't let it distract her. Her gaze stayed cool, her mind racing.

Apart from the now-useless pistol, she had only a dagger and an electric shock ring. The anesthetic dart had been dodged.

Those were the last weapons she had.

Other weapons were stashed in the bedroom and study. She needed to get to them.

Lu Mingqiu ducked low, sidestepping the grabbing hand, and spun into a side kick. But Yan Xianchuan caught her ankle—not squeezing hard enough to crush it, but holding firm enough that Lu couldn't yank her leg back.

Yan Xianchuan was about to pull her closer when the woman leaped, aiming her other leg at Yan's arm, which would require twisting the captured leg. Yan Xianchuan didn't want to do real damage to her body—if she held this grip, the ankle would snap.

She let go and stepped back twice.

The false affinity and goodwill from the mental power had evaporated the moment Lu Mingqiu tried to invade her mind, but Yan Xianchuan still felt rather fond of her. The memories remained, so the feelings naturally persisted. At the moment Lu Mingqiu unhesitatingly raised her gun to kill her, Yan's affection only grew stronger.

Yan Xianchuan had to admit she was no different from the madmen she scorned and kept at arm's length. She deceived others and herself, repeating the lie "I like an ordinary life; I'm a normal person" hundreds of times, but the truth didn't change.

In an ordinary life, she had no interest; everything seemed lackluster. She was like a corpse just pulled from cold storage, thoughts stiff, expression numb.

But the moment there was danger, bloodshed, she came back to life instantly.

She claimed to hate trouble, but in truth, she feared peeling off the mask of normalcy, feared revealing her true self. She had come to this peaceful society she desired, so she pretended to be ordinary. But a poisonous snake doesn't abandon hunting just because it's caged.

She controlled her strength, sparring with Lu Mingqiu. The latter's technique was far superior. Yan Xianchuan wasn't proficient in martial arts—she could fight, but not like someone formally trained.

She relied purely on better physical conditioning and brute force.

The knife's sharp edge couldn't even break her skin, though her clothes were now hanging in rags. Her sleepwear had been flimsy to begin with, and Yan Xianchuan had no fondness for fighting naked. Enduring the sting of the electric shock, she grabbed Lu's arm with one hand, closed in, seized her shoulder, and with a twist, flung her onto the bed. Then she pressed down, knee against Lu's lower back.

Yan Xianchuan laughed lowly, leaning close to her ear. "Dear wife, can't we just talk?"

Lu Mingqiu went still for a moment, relaxing her tense muscles as if surrendering. In a tone of utter despondency, she asked, "Before you kill me, satisfy my curiosity: who exactly are you?"

"Yan Xianchuan—you know that's my name."

"Facing someone who can't resist, you're still this guarded?" Lu Mingqiu said. "I investigated her. She's timid, scorned by her family. Yan Xianchuan's assessment was only C-class. She couldn't possess your skill or strength."

"I have no reason to lie to you, and I won't kill you." Yan Xianchuan shrugged. "I thought we were getting along well. But that's not quite right—you get along with everyone, after all. Ah, you're acting, aren't you? The superhero trick, like in the movies. You're baiting me, pretending to yield to lower my guard, just like Night Owl sneaking into Bourne's house. Exactly the same—I remember it! Sorry, I digress. I'm who you say I am, just with amnesia."

"Amnesia?" Lu Mingqiu was utterly unconvinced.

"I was also a survivor of the airship attack," Yan Xianchuan said earnestly. "Aside from my name, I know nothing about what this body experienced before. Look, my face is the original—not changed. My brain isn't swapped. My arms, my legs—all properly attached. These are my own parts."

Lu Mingqiu sensed her mental fluctuations carefully. She didn't invade, didn't search memories or try to control—the Lord of Systems' barrier wouldn't retaliate.

She wasn't lying.

Had she been wrong? A coincidence? A misunderstanding?

It became even harder for Lu Mingqiu to believe. After amnesia, a person's behavior instinctively leans toward their truest self, because the body remembers. Someone who can cook remains adept in the kitchen even with amnesia. A non-swimmer doesn't suddenly become a swimmer.

If what Yan Xianchuan said was true, then it proved one thing: the original Yan Xianchuan had been pretending—pretending to be incompetent, pretending to be timid, deceiving everyone.

"Face-to-face conversation is polite, you know. See, I could break your neck, but I haven't," she said, her fingers resting lightly on the other's nape. "Doesn't that prove my sincerity?"

"Now I'm going to let you go, dear wife." The word rolled off her tongue and between her lips, laughter turning to breath that escaped through clenched teeth, her tone as sweet as honey. "I hope we can have a friendly chat."

The pressure and restraint lifted. Lu Mingqiu sat up, looking at her with probing eyes, and froze.

Yan Xianchuan was wearing tattered clothes, propped up on one hand, half-sitting. That didn't matter. What mattered was—she was smiling. Truly smiling. The corners of her mouth curved upward, clearly visible, her eyes brimming with rich interest and curiosity. The dim moonlight shrouded her face in shadow, but those eyes stood out sharply in the dark—like a forged painting, a pair of bright spots, shards of broken glass, a fire captured in a jar.

This was abnormal. Far too abnormal.

In the past week, Lu Mingqiu had never seen her smile or heard her speak so much—like a floodgate opened, pouring out endlessly. Her words seemed clear and logical, but her topics jumped, her speech was rapid, as if her brain moved faster than her mouth—a strange neuroticism. Lu Mingqiu had seen similar behavior, mostly in people who were high.

She hesitated, unsure how to begin.

"You're wondering what to say, right? I have a good topic. Let's talk about you! How about it?" Yan Xianchuan said with a beaming, almost considerate smile. "You asked about my identity, so now I'll ask about yours. Fair, isn't it?"

"Lu Mingqiu. That's my name."

"You know that's not what I asked." Yan Xianchuan's smile faltered a little. "A person in the film industry wouldn't have your skill, strength, or reflexes—not to mention those little gadgets. Oh, right, you also often slip out the window to 'fight crime.' The night view outside must be truly beautiful, irresistible."

She tapped the flower-shaped ring on Lu Mingqiu's slender finger. "What's your secret identity? Don't rush to deny or lie. Friendly talk, remember?"

"I'm a member of a secret organization," Lu Mingqiu said. "I attacked you because I thought you were different from the investigation results and suspected you were a spy sent by another organization to get close to me."

"A secret organization..." Yan Xianchuan edged closer. "Are you recruiting?"

Lu Mingqiu neither retreated nor dodged. Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling. Yan Xianchuan's dark pupils were like two black holes, pulling at her gaze.

"We are," she said.

"How about me?" Yan Xianchuan suddenly stood and spun around, displaying herself like a product. She asked excitedly, "I think I'm quite suitable. Hmm... I'm strong—you've tested that. I'm clever enough. And most importantly, I'm very good at following orders!"

She bounced around like a monkey that had stolen a bunch of bananas, chattering on about her merits—even mentioning she could eat all the cream off a twelve-inch cake, which had nothing to do with anything.

Lu Mingqiu found it hard to believe that last one. It was more absurd than a three-year-old claiming to be a math PhD.

She had no idea what this person was thinking. Facing someone who had just tried to kill her, she held no grudge and even wanted to join their organization. She hadn't even asked what the organization did!

"May I ask why you want to join?" Lu Mingqiu said.

"Because it's interesting," Yan Xianchuan replied.

Interesting...

Lu Mingqiu thought for a long moment. "I agree to let you join, but there are conditions. You'll be under my supervision."

"Fine," Yan Xianchuan said, a fixed smile still at her lips.

"This requires placing a chip in your brain, so we can always track members' movements." After explaining the specifics, Lu Mingqiu added, "You must act according to my instructions and not disobey orders."

"No problem," Yan Xianchuan said with a smile.

Lu Mingqiu couldn't read her. The woman was a real problem. Her cooperation made it even more absurd. Didn't she know that once a chip was implanted, her life was in someone else's hands? Lu Mingqiu could blow her head with a single thought, and yet she was still grinning, not taking her own life seriously at all.

What was this? Trust in her character? Don't be ridiculous.

But Lu Mingqiu couldn't think of a better plan. They seemed harmonious, but in truth, her own life wasn't in her control. Believing someone who said they wouldn't harm her was as laughable as believing the sun would rise in the west.

She had to play along.

"Glad we've reached an agreement. It's already..." Yan Xianchuan looked up at the clock. "Twelve thirty-five. Time for bed."

"...I'll take you to the organization's base tomorrow," Lu Mingqiu said. "You'll need a capability assessment and some questionnaires."

"Fine," Yan Xianchuan said. "You should go. I need to change."

Lu Mingqiu silently walked out of the chaotic room, closed the door, and looked at the empty hallway. She had every opportunity to return to the bedroom for a new gun, but she couldn't guarantee she could kill the woman. At such close range, with such a sudden shot, she had dodged. If she tried again and failed, the situation would spiral out of control.

She dared not gamble. She couldn't die.

This was a neurotic, insane person. Lu Mingqiu strongly suspected she had some mental issues—a normal person wouldn't act like this.

"Is there a medical device?" The door suddenly opened. Yan Xianchuan stood there, pointing at the wound on her head. The blood had stopped seeping; the dried red trail looked like splattered tomato sauce, the curled flesh like a centipede lying across her face. "For the interview, I should look presentable, I recall."

"I'll take you. There's one in the study," Lu Mingqiu said.

They walked through the corridor, one after the other, into the study.

This was Yan Xianchuan's first time there. She had previously respected others' privacy, never going anywhere but the living room and her own bedroom. The study had a shelf of books. In this era of rampant electronic reading, where paper books were nearly extinct and even teaching was projected onto personal portable screens, paper books were something only the wealthy and leisured elite possessed.

She went over to take a look—poetry, philosophy, psychology, history, and several books in languages she didn't recognize. The collection was broad and eclectic.

The unrecognized scripts weren't the universal language; they were surely regional dialects. After the Great Cleansing, the Federation had absorbed all governments and became the sole ruling party, promoting a common language that everyone had to learn. The native languages of former nations were collectively called minority languages. Many elderly people weren't fluent in the common tongue, while the young knew more. But with translators available, language barriers were no longer an obstacle.

Yan Xianchuan clearly didn't understand a word of those minority languages.

"You need to wash the blood off your face first," Lu Mingqiu said, holding up a medical device with a long, flat nozzle. She pushed a box of alcohol wipes across the desk.

Then she raised her hand and tapped a photo frame. A wave of light rippled, and the youthful Lu Mingqiu flipped around to reveal a mirror.

Yan Xianchuan sat in the chair, picked up an alcohol swab, and wiped her face while looking in the mirror. "By the way, what's this organization called? I don't think I've asked."

"Spark," Lu Mingqiu said. Even the smallest flame can burn; even a scattered spark can shed light. Though weak, they can fight against the oppressive darkness. When countless sparks converge, how can they fail to start a prairie fire, to dispel the night? If there is no daylight, then they are the only source of light. That is Spark.

"Of course, outsiders also call us the Resistance."

"I've heard of that!" Yan Xianchuan raised an eyebrow. "I saw it on the news."

The Resistance, as the news anchors called them, was one of the two major terrorist organizations alongside Mechanical Pure Land—both labeled as lawbreakers disrupting people's lives and opposing the government. As for the Holy Healing Church, that lapdog of the conglomerates, the official stance was just an ordinary religion. It was, admittedly, the biggest and most ridiculous joke in this absurdly free society.

People were like fish in a can, seeing only what the controllers wanted them to see. Everything they knew was but the tip of the iceberg of this world, and they were remarkably forgetful.

"What's on the news isn't necessarily true," Lu Mingqiu said, her words sharp now that she'd shed the soft, virtuous mask of her movie queen identity. "It's more about what those above want you to see."

She wasn't actually a mild person. On the contrary, without radical courage, she would never have joined the Resistance.

"Spark's purpose is to fight the conglomerates, to fight the iron wall oppressing the people."

"Your ambitions are quite grand," Yan Xianchuan said. She finished wiping away the dried blood, then leaned in, tilting her head back slightly and closing her eyes.

Under the warm yellow light, her long lashes cast deep shadows, the tip of her nose was rounded, her lips pale. With those eyes full of manic delight hidden, she looked like a delicate doll in a shop window, adored by children, hugged and dressed up.

A harmless contrast. Like a sleeping polar bear—its fluffy body making it look endearing, hardly resembling a creature that could easily snap a victim's spine.

Lu Mingqiu activated the medical device. A blue beam shone on the wound. With the machine's beeping, the damaged flesh healed at a visible rate. The accelerated recovery brought an intense, multiplying itch, as if gnawed by ants. The injected agent converted pain into numb tingling, but the pain exceeded the conversion limit, and the two unbearable sensations fused together.

Lu Mingqiu clearly saw the hint of a faint, ambiguous smile at the corner of the other's mouth.

Was she enjoying this?

A long series of beeps ended. Lu Mingqiu put away the device. "It's done."

Yan Xianchuan opened her eyes, turned her head to check in the mirror, and said in a delighted tone, "Not bad. I can't afford any damage to my face."

"Good night, sweet dreams!" She reached the door, then looked back. "I'm already looking forward to tomorrow."

Lu Mingqiu watched her leave. After a long while, she let go of her tense nerves and exhaled, leaning back in her chair.

This was trouble—this person, this situation—and she had no choice but to accept it.

The next morning, Yan Xianchuan woke up well-rested and came downstairs. A night's sleep seemed to have changed her personality, or perhaps the manic side had temporarily receded. At any rate, she no longer wore that stiff, awkward smile, and Lu Mingqiu felt a faint relief—it suggested the woman's emotional state had stabilized considerably.

But she was no longer as cold as before either. If Lu Mingqiu had to describe it, Yan Xianchuan looked like a well-fed lion resting under a tree, avoiding the scorching sun—a lazy sort of relaxation.

"Good morning," Yan Xianchuan said.

"I've ordered breakfast for you," Lu Mingqiu replied calmly. "After you eat, we can head out."

Yan Xianchuan sat at the table, glanced at the three or four kinds of breakfast, and took a sip of soy milk. "I thought you were supposed to fast for a physical exam."

In her memories—the earliest, pre-life memories—that was the rule. By now, it was probably outdated.

After Hei Ge was attacked, the branch had evacuated and relocated. The organization had many safehouses throughout Nanjin City, unknown to ordinary members.

Stinger had been taken away by Gray Wolf for interrogation. There had been a little device in his head, which was how he'd evaded Lu Mingqiu's search in the first place. Hei Ge had managed to hack into the chip and intercepted its signal, so the Church wouldn't know their mole had been exposed.

Orders came from above: transport Stinger and connect him to a brain-machine interface. As long as his consciousness waves remained active, the device could read his memories.

The new base was beneath a garment factory—another of Spark's holdings.

Last night, Lu Mingqiu had instructed others to prepare the surgical tools and several sets of test questions.

Yan Xianchuan watched as Lu Mingqiu changed her entire appearance, altered her face, and then tossed her an earring. "Cover your face."

Yan Xianchuan put on the earring, feeling a bit disappointed. If she couldn't use her own face, then wasn't last night's treatment wasted?

The car drove for over an hour before stopping. The two entered through the back door of the factory, one after another, and took an elevator down to the underground.

This underground branch looked just like something out of a movie. Yan Xianchuan had watched many superhero and spy films—heroes and villains alike always had their own secret bases.

Black or white walls, empty and spotless corridors—even a fly would slip on them. People in leather shoes walked through, their steps echoing with crisp clacks.

She didn't see a single person along the way.

An organization dedicated to fighting the conglomerates couldn't be small. The only reason she saw no one was that they'd been ordered away. Yan Xianchuan hadn't earned their trust—she knew that well and didn't care. What interested her was Lu Mingqiu herself; she had no attachment to Spark's ideals.

Whatever oppression by the conglomerates, inequality among the people—it had nothing to do with her.

She was led into an operating room and laid on the table. A person covered from head to toe came over without a word and injected her with anesthesia.

The first thing they did here was put a leash on her.

A wise move. She liked it.

Yan Xianchuan dozed off and woke up about ten minutes later, with a new addition in her head. Her brain was already crowded—two chips now. She'd discarded the chip behind her ear; she didn't think she needed it.

After the operation, Yan Xianchuan followed Lu Mingqiu into a spacious, bright, and unusually empty room with a table and two chairs. Lu Mingqiu sat in one, pulled up a floating screen, and sent her several test papers.

"Do these first. After you're done, I have some more questions."

"Five hundred questions... Fine, don't worry. I don't actually like lying," Yan Xianchuan said.

This test wasn't to determine whether she had mental issues—Lu Mingqiu was certain she did. What she wanted to know was whether the woman had dissociative identity disorder. Affluent families lacked warmth; they had no shortage of infighting. The former Yan Xianchuan had no courage to fight, no outstanding skills, and so had been pushed to the margins, mocked, ridiculed, suppressed. The only reason she'd survived was that she was useless enough, posing no threat, so her siblings couldn't be bothered.

It was normal for someone under prolonged high pressure to develop psychological problems, and splitting off a completely different personality to protect oneself was quite plausible. The Yan Xianchuan Lu Mingqiu knew had been cold but self-possessed, strong-willed—completely different from before. She had every reason to suspect.

After the tests, Lu Mingqiu asked several more questions, including the classic trolley problem.

For a person with conscience and reverence for life, this was hard to answer—one life isn't lighter than five; life is priceless, and no one has the right to arbitrarily control others' fates.

Yan Xianchuan barely thought. "That's none of my business." Whether it was one person or five, she didn't care at all. She didn't think life held value or weight that demanded reverence. If someone died before her, her emotions didn't stir. If someone died because of her, she felt no guilt—she might even enjoy it.

Lu Mingqiu: "What if you must choose?"

Yan Xianchuan: "Then save the greater number."

Lu Mingqiu: "Why that choice?"

Yan Xianchuan: "Because there are more of them."

In Yan Xianchuan's mind, there was a personal moral scale. She would refer to the common rules of her social environment, but even when she followed them—like not littering, not spitting—it wasn't because she thought it right, but to blend in. To disguise her abnormality.

She chose the larger group not because it was more worthy, but simply because it had more people.

Severe lack of empathy.

The test results came back quickly. For a psychopath, this was a remarkably standard, remarkably normal set of answers—could even be used as a classroom example. Typical emotional deficiency, skilled at performance, no guilt over wrongdoing. Universal notions of good and evil meant nothing to her; they were no different from each other.

"How do you feel about your own mental health?" Lu Mingqiu asked cautiously, a somewhat dangerous question.

"A little quirk, but overall pretty good. I'm a healthy, ordinary person who loves life," Yan Xianchuan said after thinking a moment.

This morning, she'd retracted her self-assessment from yesterday. Yan Xianchuan insisted she was a person with normal values, at most somewhat indifferent to life and death. She was ordinary, born into an ordinary family, and even after entering the survival game, that couldn't erase her essence.

Having seen so much death, feeling nothing was only natural. If she grieved and suffered and sympathized for everyone who died before her, she'd be the next to die. And then no one would grieve or sympathize for her.

As for that extra thrill—it was just adrenaline. Totally normal. That was that.

She even fed cats! Which player liked small animals as much as she did? She said "thank you" and "please." Weren't those all powerful proofs of her mental health?

Lu Mingqiu: ...

Lu Mingqiu: "It seems you have an accurate view of yourself. No issues. Next, we'll do the capability assessment."

What do you do when a psychopath says they're normal?

—Agree with her.

If everyone treats her as normal, she'll work even harder to pretend she's normal. Like a ghost that hasn't been exposed, mingling with crowds, doing only human things—but once its true nature is revealed, it will immediately go on a killing spree.

The capability test was more complex: shooting, then combat, then a blood draw to check for hidden diseases and the state of her organs.

While Yan Xianchuan was by herself firing wildly with a gun, the doctor came to Lu Mingqiu with the lab report.

"DNA comparison confirms it's the same person."

Lu Mingqiu nodded. "Destroy the report. Don't let anyone find it."

Not dissociative identity disorder, not an imposter. Her story of amnesia was looking more credible. So Yan Xianchuan had always been a psychopath pretending to be useless, and only now after the amnesia had shown her true colors?

Lu Mingqiu's expression was odd; she didn't know how to react for a moment.

Until the doctor relayed the news: the machine used to measure strength had broken down.

Lu Mingqiu: ?

Yan Xianchuan stood amid a pile of parts, her expression calm, even a bit innocent. "This old man told me to use full force."

Lu Mingqiu looked at the doctor. His mouth hung open, eyes wide, wrinkles smoothed out. "This is—this is a 3S-class measuring device! It overloaded and blew apart. Do you know what that means? It's never happened—not once in history! 3S!"

"Doctor, calm down," Lu Mingqiu said.

"Sorry." The doctor took several deep breaths. "But this really... Fine, I'll stop."

"Her strength exceeds 3S," he continued. "The strongest recorded human was General Xavier two centuries ago—he was 2S."

"That means she can stop a car at full speed with her bare hands. And besides her extraordinary strength, look—" The doctor pulled a long knife handle from an inner pocket, pressed a switch at the end, and the blade shot out. He swiped it across Yan Xianchuan's arm. Not a scratch. "Ordinary cold weapons can't hurt her at all."

"Of course, of course, I know most mechanical prosthetics could do the same, but she's purely organic—no modifications whatsoever. Oriole, do you understand?"

"She might be a strength-type esper. I need to run another test for that."

Lu Mingqiu remained silent. The mental fluctuations of espers were completely different from ordinary people—one was a stream, the other a waterfall. It wasn't just about the amount of mental energy; esper minds were more active, more volatile, entirely different categories. But Yan Xianchuan's mind felt ordinary.

"No need for the test," she said. She feared the result wouldn't match the doctor's hopes. This matter couldn't be explained, and the fewer who knew the secret, the better—also for the doctor's safety.

"She is one. Register her directly."

The doctor left the room. Yan Xianchuan looked over. "I didn't know I was an esper."

Lu Mingqiu said flatly, "Because you have amnesia."

A perfect answer. Yan Xianchuan couldn't argue.

Yan Xianchuan: "Is Oriole your code name?"

Lu Mingqiu: "Yes. You should come up with one for yourself too."

A code name... a code name...

"Polite Biscuits."

Meeting the other's suddenly surprised gaze, Yan Xianchuan's expression turned a bit complicated. "Because I'm polite and I like biscuits."

She'd thought of others, but that was the first thing that came to mind. It was like a label, a fate. Anyway, she was used to it.

There was no welcome party or anything like that. Yan Xianchuan went home with Lu Mingqiu. Until she'd fully lowered her guard, Lu Mingqiu intended to keep her away from other members as much as possible.

"I'm going to a film festival award ceremony tomorrow," Lu Mingqiu said on the way back.

"Okay." At a red light, Yan Xianchuan turned to look at a stray dog by the roadside.

"You're coming with me," Lu Mingqiu said. "Your primary task is to protect my personal safety."

"Close protection?"

"Exactly. Never more than a step away."

"Is your work often dangerous?" Yan Xianchuan asked, puzzled.

"Many fans send gifts—you need to check for bugs, cameras, micro-bombs. There are also fans asking for autographs—you need to be wary of any who might be overly radical and cause me harm," Lu Mingqiu said in a tone of habit.

Such a fractured life.

Lu Mingqiu insisted on continuing her movie queen career, surely not for money, nor for fame or power. She was of the Bolov family—things ordinary people could never touch in a lifetime were laid at her feet from birth.

"Is there someone suspicious in the entertainment industry?" Yan Xianchuan said. "Otherwise, I can't figure out why you don't quit."

"The people in the entertainment industry are mostly omegas. They're not as capable as you think," Lu Mingqiu said. "I have other reasons to stay."

"Ah? What's special about omegas? I remember you are one too."

Lu Mingqiu smiled—not warmly, not joyfully, but with mockery. "Yes, I am."

Yan Xianchuan's clever brain told her she should change the subject. "Speaking of which, why did you marry me? My reputation isn't exactly good, and you're... too good."

"An omega who can't bear children naturally loses their value. And the Bolov family doesn't lack for showpieces—the attention the movie queen title brings is nothing to them." Meeting the other's somewhat confused gaze, Lu Mingqiu said, "I had my gland removed."

It took Yan Xianchuan two seconds to recall what that meant.

All three ABO types have glands, but only Alphas and Omegas release pheromones through them. Compared to Betas, the children of Omegas were said to be more beautiful and more intelligent. Before the Great Cleansing, Omegas were often treated as appendages of Alphas—their spoils of war. Now it seemed not much different, still marrying those with greater ability, power, and status—even more specific: third-class citizens and above.

Yan Xianchuan had never smelled the other's pheromones. She'd almost forgotten—forgotten that though they looked the same, they were actually different genders. After all, in this society, everyone used suppressants, and the differences between ABO weren't visually obvious—no significant tall-short-fat-thin markers.

Removing the gland didn't just affect fertility; it caused hormonal imbalances and a host of other issues. Losing an organ out of nowhere—it would be stranger if the body didn't break down. Sustained-release medication was used for treatment.

An omega in the Bolov family was a pretty bargaining chip, a pawn in transactions, an object to be given away and exchanged—not a living person. Upon learning that Lu Mingqiu's gland was damaged and she couldn't bear children, the family naturally discarded her, squeezed out the last drop of value, and shoved her onto another family's waste—Yan Xianchuan.

The law required omegas to marry upon reaching marriageable age, so it served two purposes at once.

"Wow," Yan Xianchuan said with genuine admiration. "Impressive. Courageous. Excellent. Just as expected of you."

"Has anyone ever told you that your compliments sound like a grade-schooler reading a textbook?" Lu Mingqiu paused, a bit at a loss.

"No. I've never complimented anyone before," Yan Xianchuan answered honestly.

"Then how about this: 'Wow! Amazing!'"

Lu Mingqiu: "Not bad."

Yan Xianchuan: "Wonderful!"

Lu Mingqiu: "..."

***

The film festival was uneventful. As a guest presenter, Lu Mingqiu went up to hand out an award; the rest of the time she sat in the audience, wearing a flawless, warm smile throughout. Yan Xianchuan thought she could enter that world record show for the longest time holding a smile—she'd definitely win the championship.

Omegas' appearances were indeed more striking than others'. Perhaps it was because they took more care with their looks, or perhaps because they had better conditions, so they cared more. Possibly both.

But even among them, Lu Mingqiu was the most radiant—her bearing, her face, her slightest gestures were the very embodiment of the word "perfect."

Yan Xianchuan accompanied her to the festival; their seats were side by side, drawing many glances and whispers. Because no Alpha would do such a thing—not only allowing their Omega to keep working but personally coming along to support them. It was rarer than a green sun in the sky.

Everyone was sneaking looks at her as if she were some endangered species on the brink of extinction.

The film festival passed without incident, and Yan Xianchuan gained a new experience—walking the red carpet. This ritual, which had continued for who knew how many years, remained in vogue.

The two were driven home by Su Hong, where they received good news.

From Stinger's memories, they had found a contact of the Holy Healing Church and a small stronghold. They didn't know the identity of the masked man, but the contact was a black-market body-mod doctor through whom Stinger had connected with the Church. The safehouse was on Kuande Street, a bar called Orange.

Stinger's communication devices had all been handed to Mirror, who would disguise them and try to deceive the other side. Mirror had already proactively contacted the masked man, but got no response.

Lu Mingqiu thought for a moment, then said, "Tonight, you'll go find that body-mod doctor. I'll provide backup nearby. If Stinger has been discarded as a pawn, send the signal immediately."