It was a living coffin—no exaggeration.
Even Xing Bi and the other top-tier bioroids of Yun City couldn’t find a single weak point in the lab’s defenses. They couldn’t even make enough noise outside for those inside to hear.
After securing Donglin’s Symbionts and handing them over to the military, Qiu Shi walked into the exhibition hall with Colonel Yu, holding up an IV bottle.
Xing Bi happened to be coming out and froze at the sight of him, eyebrows knitting together. “What’s this?”
“My ribs aren’t broken,” Qiu Shi said. “Enhanced durability really makes a difference.”
“You’ve got internal bleeding,” Xing Bi said.
“Hence the IV,” Qiu Shi said. “I never said I wasn’t getting treated.”
“Where’s the med van?” Xing Bi asked.
“Outside,” Qiu Shi tilted his head toward the entrance.
Xing Bi took the IV bottle from him.
“Thanks,” Qiu Shi said. “Should’ve grabbed the stand too.”
“Lin Sheng,” Xing Bi grabbed his arm and started dragging him out, “take Colonel Yu inside to assess the situation.”
“Got it,” Lin Sheng replied.
“What the hell?” Qiu Shi tried to shake free but failed, getting yanked all the way back to the exhibition hall’s entrance without even stepping through the side door leading to the lab.
“Hospital,” Xing Bi didn’t let go.
“Checking things out won’t kill me!” Qiu Shi argued. “Li Feng’s in there—he might be dying!”
“I thought you hated that corrupt official?” Xing Bi shot him a look. “Why the sudden urgency?”
“You—” Qiu Shi glared back.
“Are you…” Xing Bi started.
“Your ancestor!” Qiu Shi snapped.
“Impossible. You’re too young. If anything, I’d be yours,” Xing Bi said.
Qiu Shi laughed despite himself, but the urgency returned quickly. “Li Feng can’t afford to die right now. You get that, right, ancestor?”
“He won’t,” Xing Bi said. “If you’re this worried about him, you should know he doesn’t take risks. He wouldn’t have entered the lab without a plan. And he wouldn’t have locked it down if he thought he’d starve in a day.”
Qiu Shi fell silent.
Xing Bi turned to look at him.
“Xing Bi,” Qiu Shi suddenly grinned.
“What?”
“You’re answering for me again.”
“Not this time.”
“Are you f*cking jealous?”
“Group comms are still on.”
“Shit—” Qiu Shi panicked, fumbling for his earpiece, only to find it off. “Your ancestor!”
Xing Bi laughed.
Despite his protests, Qiu Shi was hauled back to the med van and rushed to the hospital.
It was the same ward he’d stayed in before. The moment he was inside, machines whirred to life, scanning and measuring every inch of him before he was finally deposited onto a bed, surrounded by beeping monitors.
This time, his ribs weren’t broken—just cracked. His stomach was bleeding, and there were minor injuries everywhere. In the past, this would’ve meant two or three months of bed rest—though Qiu Shi had never stayed down even half a month for broken ribs before.
Now, his recovery speed was drastically improved. The doctor ordered two days of rest.
Qiu Shi recognized this doctor—one of Curator Wu’s lab assistants.
Thankfully, Donglin had chosen to strike at night. Otherwise, the lab would’ve been packed with even more trapped staff.
“Get some sleep,” Xing Bi said.
“How?” Qiu Shi stared at the ceiling light. “I’m not tired. Even if I were, I couldn’t sleep. My brain’s going insane—no idea what it’s even thinking about.”
“Pick one thought,” Xing Bi sat by the bed, watching him. “I’ll talk it out with you. Might help clear your head.”
“Why would anyone build a lab that can’t be opened from the inside?” Qiu Shi said. “Even if it’s to contain bioroids, you shouldn’t trap yourself in there too.”
“It’s to stop bioroids from getting out,” Xing Bi said.
Qiu Shi blinked. “Did I get it backward?”
“Yeah.”
“How long can bioroids survive without food, water, or supplements?” Qiu Shi turned his head.
“Never tested it. A long time,” Xing Bi said. “But given enough time, they’d still die.”
“This thing’s never been activated before, right?” Qiu Shi said.
“Right,” Xing Bi smiled. “Just a last-resort safety measure.”
“And it is a safety measure,” Qiu Shi scoffed. “Just not the way Li Feng’s using it—as a panic room.”
“There’s some food in the lab. Not much, but enough to last,” Xing Bi said. “Even if fighting breaks out, if Li Feng wants to live, he’ll outlast everyone else.”
“He might even manipulate the others into killing each other to save supplies,” Qiu Shi said.
“Mm.” Xing Bi chuckled.
“He can finally get some sleep,” Qiu Shi murmured.
“Yeah,” Xing Bi squeezed his hand. “You should too. Once the victory propaganda starts, you won’t get another chance.”
The propaganda was necessary—especially now, with both Mr. Long and Li Feng missing. Yun City couldn’t afford chaos.
“Heroes return, peace reigns,” Minister Liu sat by Qiu Shi’s bed.
Qiu Shi had no idea how long he’d slept. Felt like less than an hour.
“Don’t make me talk,” he said. “I really can’t.”
“No need,” Minister Liu said. “Just some photos. Others will do the talking. The remaining Squad Two members are back today—they’ll be photographed too.”
“Half of Squad Two’s dead,” Qiu Shi frowned. “Don’t overdo it. None of them chose to be heroes. They didn’t even choose to die—they just had no other option.”
“Some things can’t be helped,” Minister Liu said. “People need to see the enemy’s terror and know we have strong heroes. And…”
He glanced at Xing Bi. “We need bioroids to participate. Starting now, we must normalize coexistence. These bioroids are allies. Protectors.”
“Line up some second-tier ones,” Xing Bi said.
“The squad leaders should still take the front,” Minister Liu said.
“Mm.” Xing Bi nodded.
Minister Liu was one of Li Feng’s people and now the one steering Yun City’s course. Though reluctant, Qiu Shi had no choice but to cooperate. If Li Feng were here, he’d have done the same—and been equally unable to refuse.
This hero role? Qiu Shi was stuck with it.
Thankfully, Minister Liu’s propaganda approach was flexible. Whether standing or lying down, Qiu Shi could be a hero. Standing, he was humanity’s undying warrior. Lying down, he was humanity’s blood-soaked champion.
The propaganda machine moved fast. By the time Qiu Shi woke from a post-photo-shoot nap, it was already midnight. Peering out the hospital corridor window, he saw the results: a massive billboard now displayed the heroes’ new promotional images.
Rows of soldiers and their imposing commanders. Ultra-lethal bioroids and their stern-faced captains. And the undying heroes of Squad Two—now reduced from ten to five—alongside their bedridden, eyes-closed captain.
Seeing Squad Two’s transformation—from a full unit shouting battle cries to a somber half—left Qiu Shi with an indescribable feeling.
Not quite sorrow. Just the stark realization of how much had changed in so little time.
“Why are you up again?” Xing Bi pushed open the hospital room door.
“Because I’ve slept enough,” Qiu Shi started to stretch but winced as his stomach protested. He lowered his arms and turned to Xing Bi. “How’s Donglin?”
“Under control. For now, all access from Donglin is managed by Yun City,” Xing Bi said. “Mayor Luo’s been brought back. Minister Liu’s secretary stopped by earlier—you’re needed for a small internal meeting soon.”
“Where?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Yun City’s military base.”
“Was the base relocated from the old one too?” Qiu Shi asked.
Xing Bi smiled. “No, it was built later. No living coffins.”
“Why hasn’t the General shown himself?” Qiu Shi frowned. “Will he be at this meeting?”
“Not sure,” Xing Bi said. “We’ll find out when we get there. A car’s coming for you in an hour.”
“You’re not going?” Qiu Shi had started unbuttoning his hospital gown but froze mid-motion, glancing over sharply.
“I am.”
“Good.” Qiu Shi stripped off the gown and inspected his stomach. The massive bruise had already faded significantly.
“Afraid to go alone?” Xing Bi leaned against the wall behind him.
“I’m not afraid of anything. But if you weren’t there,” Qiu Shi said, “this meeting would have zero bioroids present. They can’t just trot us out for battles and propaganda. bioroids have to be part of these critical decisions about Yun City’s future—not just as silent attendees, but as voices that matter.”
Xing Bi laughed softly before saying, “You’ve changed, Qiu Shi.”
“What else could I do?” Qiu Shi picked up the clothes Minister Liu had sent over and sighed.
Just as Xing Bi opened his mouth to respond, Qiu Shi turned. “I’ve changed. And then what?”
“What ‘then what’?”
“Sentiments like that usually come with a follow-up. What did they even teach you in school?” Qiu Shi said. “‘You’ve changed, you’re not the certain someone I loved anymore…'”
“Pretty sure that wasn’t in the curriculum,” Xing Bi said. “Did you dig up some ancient romance novels from the old man’s stash?”
“F*ck off,” Qiu Shi grinned. “Never read ’em. Barely know any characters. Just figured that’s how the line goes.”
“You’ve changed, Qiu Shi,” Xing Bi closed the distance between them, cupping his face. His lips brushed Qiu Shi’s cheek as he murmured, “But no matter how you change, it’s always just right—always exactly what I love.”
The warmth of Xing Bi’s breath, the faint vibration of his voice against Qiu Shi’s skin—it all felt like feathers grazing, soft and soothing.
Qiu Shi tilted his head and captured Xing Bi’s lips, one hand sliding around his back.
Xing Bi’s palms settled on Qiu Shi’s spine, trailing down to his waist.
Qiu Shi’s fingers explored the stiff fabric of Xing Bi’s uniform—standard issue for bioroids, annoyingly rigid. He tugged at the hem, trying to slip underneath, only to remember it was a f*cking jumpsuit.
By the time he finished fumbling, Xing Bi had paused the kiss, as if waiting for him to finish his exploration.
“Goddamn it.” Qiu Shi shoved Xing Bi back, yanked the zipper down, and shoved the fabric aside to finally get his hands on bare skin.
“This uniform’s terrible,” Xing Bi muttered. “Who designs winter gear that requires stripping just to kiss?”
Qiu Shi burst out laughing.
“Shh—” Xing Bi pulled him closer, reclaiming his lips.
A shrill alarm blared from the machines behind them.
Footsteps pounded down the hallway toward the room.
Qiu Shi shoved Xing Bi away and scrambled into his clothes. By the time the nurse burst in, he was hunched over with one arm halfway into a sleeve. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Xing Bi—already fully dressed, zipped up, and innocently gazing out the window.
F*cking bioroid reflexes.
“What’s wrong?” Qiu Shi asked the nurse.
“Captain Qiu,” she checked the monitors, “your heart rate triggered an alert. Are you feeling any discomfort?”
“…No,” Qiu Shi said. “Just getting dressed. Heading out soon.”
“Your body still needs rest. Avoid strenuous activity,” she said, running a scanner over his injuries. “No abnormalities detected. Probably just the movement from getting up and changing clothes.”
“Right.”
Once she left, Qiu Shi ripped off the heart rate sensor stuck to his chest. “F*cking thing.”
Xing Bi chuckled, fingers circling Qiu Shi’s wrist. “It was racing.”
“Yeah, well,” Qiu Shi said, “unlike you, I don’t have an off switch.”
“Jealous?” Xing Bi teased.
“Ever heard of solidarity?” Qiu Shi yanked on his pants and jacket. “Humanity’s greatest virtue.”
The military vehicle waited punctually in the hospital’s restricted lot. Qiu Shi and Xing Bi climbed in to find Minister Liu already seated inside.
“Colonel Yu is waiting,” Minister Liu said. “We’ll begin as soon as we arrive.”
“Mm.”
“Donglin’s been secured smoothly,” Minister Liu added. “We’re hoping Mayor Luo might still have useful intel, but…”
“He’s not talking?” Xing Bi asked.
“No. Defiant,” Minister Liu said. “But he asked to see Qiu Shi. Maybe you can break through.”
“Can he open the lab?” Qiu Shi asked.
“…Doubtful he’d know that.”
“Then don’t waste time on him,” Qiu Shi said. “Lock him up and move on.”
“Qu Shen’s reviewing archives for lab schematics,” Minister Liu smiled. “Nothing yet. Until then, we can spare a few minutes for Mayor Luo.”
Qiu Shi’s impression of Mayor Luo had never been favorable—a smarmy hypocrite who’d tried to brainwash him alongside his great-grandmother.
Compared to that, even Li Feng’s brand of honest scheming felt refreshing.
Yun City’s military base radiated an atmosphere worlds apart from the inner city’s celebratory hero-worship. Armed patrols stood vigilant, and the moment their vehicle entered the perimeter, Qiu Shi felt the weight of unseen scopes tracking them.
Deep inside the mountain complex, they entered a small interrogation room where Mayor Luo’s voice drifted out:
“What we want and what Yun City wants are fundamentally different…”
“You want death,” Qiu Shi said, stepping inside. “We’ll deliver it soon enough.”
“Qiu Shi,” Mayor Luo turned with a smile. “We meet again.”
Qiu Shi ignored the greeting, dropping into the chair opposite.
Mayor Luo’s ankle was shackled to the bolted-down seat.
An interrogation room, then.
Minister Liu and Xing Bi didn’t follow—likely observing from next door.
“You asked for Qiu Shi,” Colonel Yu said. “You have ten minutes.”
He exited, sealing the door behind him.
“You do carry yourself more like a leader than Qiu Yu ever did,” Mayor Luo remarked.
“Don’t speak ill of the dead,” Qiu Shi said. “Without you, he wouldn’t have suffered those twenty-odd years—or died for nothing.”
“He wanted a broader world. True freedom,” Mayor Luo said. “This era simply wouldn’t allow it.”
“And you?” Qiu Shi asked. “What do you want?”
“To kneel to no one,” Mayor Luo said. “Not even Yun City. The world beyond is vast, yet Yun City’s vision stretches no further than its walls. If we’re to collaborate, we must look beyond…”
“Just say it straight—you want to team up with the symbiotes to dominate the world,” Qiu Shi interrupted him.
“What you see are just the symbiotes,” Mayor Luo whispered. “You don’t see what’s behind them.”
“The symbiote boss,” Qiu Shi said.
Mayor Luo laughed. “It’s the glorious era of the past, the eyes that have witnessed centuries…”
The words sounded insane, but Qiu Shi suppressed his irritation and pressed further: “Whose eyes?”
“You won’t understand now. Maybe you will later,” Mayor Luo said. “On that day, you’ll regret it…”
Qiu Shi could tell this man wouldn’t say anything useful—he was just wasting time. He stood up, grabbed Mayor Luo’s head, and slammed it onto the table.
With a dull thud, Mayor Luo fell silent.
“Write your ancestors’ poetry,” Qiu Shi muttered as he walked out of the interrogation room.
In the small meeting room next door, Colonel Yu and the others didn’t seem bothered by Qiu Shi’s rough behavior. They probably knew that despite Mayor Luo’s hypocrisy, he was indeed tough.
“This meeting is just for the few of us here,” Minister Liu said. “The fact that Li Feng and Mr. Long are trapped is currently being kept strictly confidential. For now, all matters requiring Mr. Long’s involvement will be handled by me.”
“The establishment of defensive lines and stationed troops in the surrounding areas will also continue,” Colonel Yu said. “Following Li Feng’s original plan, since we can’t get anything out of Donglin right now, establishing contact with the lab is the most pressing issue.”
“All personnel related to the lab have been detained to ensure no leaks,” Minister Liu said. “But these people wouldn’t know anything either…”
“Does the General know?” Qiu Shi asked. “Why hasn’t the General made any statement so far?”
Minister Liu didn’t answer, glancing at Colonel Yu instead.
“I want to speak with the General,” Qiu Shi said.
“Now might not be the right time,” Colonel Yu said.
“Does the General even exist?” Xing Bi asked.
Minister Liu looked at him. “Why do you suddenly ask that?”
“When I first arrived in Yun City,” Xing Bi said, “this place was still a mining area. Since then, I’ve never seen the General. During the cleanup of the bioroids, I didn’t see the General. When Lu Rang’s head was cut off, I didn’t see the General. When I requested to seal my memories, I still didn’t see the General…”
Xing Bi stared at Minister Liu and Colonel Yu. “No one has ever seen the General in person. Not any generation of the General.”
“Who’s Lu Rang?” Qiu Shi asked.
“The headless statue on the mountain by the city gate,” Xing Bi said. “First-generation covert guard, commander of the bioroids, one of the founders of Yun City.”
“No one knows where the General is,” Minister Liu said. “I mean… in person.”
“Can we call him?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Yes,” Colonel Yu said.
“Didn’t you just say now isn’t the right time?” Qiu Shi narrowed his eyes.
Colonel Yu didn’t answer, only glancing at Xing Bi.
Qiu Shi understood the meaning behind that look. Xing Bi’s words had all but outright stated that the General didn’t exist. At this point, there was no point in hiding it anymore.
The General’s call was quickly connected and projected onto the nearby wall.
Though it was nighttime and presumably rest hours, the General didn’t seem to be preparing for sleep. His clothes were neatly worn.
“General,” Minister Liu began, “there’s a situation we need to report. Mr. Long and Li Feng are both trapped in the lab.”
“Trapped?” The General looked in Minister Liu’s direction.
“People from Donglin infiltrated the inner city, attempting to kidnap or assassinate Li Feng and Mr. Long,” Minister Liu said. “Li Feng locked down the lab.”
The General fell silent.
“That lab can’t be opened now, and communication is cut off,” Qiu Shi said. “Do you know how to open it?”
“That’s the base’s lab, with the highest level of security,” the General said. “Once lockdown is initiated, it cannot be opened.”
“Not even if the threat is neutralized?” Qiu Shi asked. “Doesn’t the highest level of security come with the highest authority to override it?”
The General didn’t respond, as if lost in thought.
Everyone waited quietly, but the General remained motionless, the image frozen like a still frame.
“General,” Colonel Yu spoke up, “do you have any—”
“Once lockdown is initiated, it cannot be opened…” the General said. “Override requires a code, but…”
The General’s communication suddenly cut off.
“Call again,” Minister Liu said. “But what?”
The call reconnected, and the General was still seated at his desk.
“General, you mentioned earlier that override requires a code,” Minister Liu continued. “What’s the code? Where is it?”
This time, the General didn’t remain silent for long. He answered quickly: “Memory missing.”
These four words were completely unlike the General’s usual manner of speaking. Qiu Shi frowned, almost certain now that the General wasn’t a real person.
“Can you contact Li Feng?” Xing Bi asked. “Can your call connect directly to the lab?”
“No,” the General said. “During lockdown, communication signals cannot penetrate. Requires… gap… original…”
The image distorted as if experiencing interference, and the General’s voice became fragmented. Then the call cut off again.
When Colonel Yu tried to reconnect, no one answered on the General’s end.
“Has this happened before?” Xing Bi asked.
“The General not answering calls?” Colonel Yu said. “Yes. He can’t be reached at all times. Most calls are scheduled by Mr. Long.”
“Let’s go to the lab,” Qiu Shi suddenly stood up.
“What?” Minister Liu also rose.
“There must be a way to contact them,” Qiu Shi said. “Have all the lab personnel been questioned?”
“Yes,” Minister Liu said.
“What about those two in the bioroids’ storage?” Xing Bi asked.
