Chapter 300: Old Injury

Chapter 300: Old Wounds

By the time Jiang Qi came to, over half an hour had passed. Ye Wang opened the med-pod, and when Jiang Qi touched his side, the wound on his abdomen had already healed.

He braced himself against the edge of the pod and sat up, lowering his gaze as he said, "Thank you, sir."

Jiang Qi rarely expressed gratitude, his tone stiff and slightly stumbling. Ye Wang chuckled. "Don’t mention it."

Strawberry-milk treatment solution still clung to Jiang Qi’s skin, making him look a mess. Ye Wang looked away and handed over a black card. "Here."

Jiang Qi hesitated briefly before reaching out. "What is this?"

Ye Wang: "An anonymous bank card. You bought things for the household—I should at least give you some money."

The hand hovering in midair paused. Jiang Qi said, "I didn’t buy much."

He had only made excuses to purchase toothpaste and body wash, cheap brands that sat on the bottom shelves of supermarkets—items Pei Gu would likely disdain.

Ye Wang: "Just take it. I’m not short on cash."

He thought coolly, *Besides, this is Pei Gu’s money—might as well use it freely. Better spent on Jiang Qi than left for the Pei family’s spoiled brats to bask in their privilege. At least the Empire’s Star has bled on the battlefield—someone I can respect, grudging as it was.*

At the very least, it might keep him from returning to places like Nightfall Billiards, where lives were gambled away.

Jiang Qi’s fingers stilled before he took the card. "Thank you, sir. I’ll repay you."

This time, his gratitude carried more sincerity.

Ye Wang snapped his fingers. "Forget it. Worry about repayment when you’re richer than me."

Neither Ye Wang nor Pei Gu had ever worried about food or shelter—he truly didn’t need Jiang Qi to return the money.

The commander strolled out. "Tired. Time for bed. Goodnight, madam."

"...Goodnight, sir."

The next morning, Ye Wang left for work as usual, while Jiang Qi once again claimed he was shopping—this time heading to the Lower District.

Still wearing his grotesque mask and a long cloak, he navigated the Lower District’s labyrinthine alleys before stopping in front of a faded sign.

—Money House.

Unmarked, the sign bore only those two stark words.

Unlike the transparent, regulated banks of the Upper District, the Lower District’s underground money houses facilitated countless under-the-table deals—anonymous, no IDs, no refunds. Their tangled networks of shady backers made them the most lawless hubs in the city, places where the origins of wealth were never questioned, offering the utmost privacy to their clients.

Jiang Qi slid the black card forward. "Check the balance, please."

The owner, a gaunt man in round sunglasses clutching an old-fashioned pipe, flicked an abacus caked with grime between its beads. He scanned the machine, moved three beads, and motioned for Jiang Qi to look.

—3 million star credits.

Jiang Qi’s gaze lingered on the abacus beads for a long moment.

If everything had gone smoothly, he should have walked away from Nightfall Billiards with 2.7 million in commission.

2.7 million seemed too calculated—round it up slightly, and it became 3 million.

Only when the owner tapped the counter did Jiang Qi snap out of it. "Thanks."

Jiang Qi took the black card and quickly walked out.

At the same time, Ye Wang was swamped by paperwork, overwhelmed.

Imperial documents were infamously tedious and convoluted, filled with empty rhetoric. He had a head pounding from slogging through them all day, yet found nothing useful. Just then, his private comms device pinged. Ye Wang swiped it open—it was a message from Colonel Bu Nian of the Lower District.

Colonel Bu Nian: *"Major General, the person you asked us to investigate has appeared in the Lower District today."*

Attached was a photo—a blurry figure from behind.

*"First, he visited a currency exchange, then went to the underground black market. My informants say he bought a stabilizing agent before heading to District 13."*

Another photo followed.

District 13 was infamous even within the Lower District for its filth and chaos. The streets were congested, the roadside sewers long clogged, surrounded by greasy black sludge. Ramshackle buildings stacked haphazardly like toy blocks, sprawling chaotically. Jiang Qi turned a corner and disappeared into a dark, quiet alley.

Ye Wang: *"What is this place?"*

Bu Nian: *"A slum in the Lower District. Anyone with even a little money avoids living here. Only the crippled and elderly, dumped here to rot, remain. As for the place he entered… we actually have records on it."*

The colonel sent over two files.

*"Song Yue and Xiao Liu—failed experiments from genetic modification trials, numbered 1757 and 1796 respectively. Assuming no errors, they were part of the same batch as Jiang Qi. We suspect they might have met during the experiments. Later, after Jiang Qi joined the military, he kept watching out for them."*

Ye Wang’s brow twitched. *"Jiang Qi couldn’t bring them to the Upper District?"*

Bu Nian sent a sweating emoji, teasing, *"Major General, you’ve spent too much time in the Federation. You probably don’t really understand what the Empire is like."*

*"From the moment Jiang Qi married you, he became a worthless castoff—a ticking time bomb the Empire’s desperate to dump but can’t. Does he really have the right to bring his friends to the Upper District?"*

"......"

Ye Wang stared at those words, his frown deepening. They burned.

He instinctively wanted to refute it.

A *discard*?

The Jiang Qi he knew had nothing to do with that word.

Whether it was the cold, razor-sharp Jiang Qi on the warfront, the decorated Jiang Qi at the medal ceremony, the shadowy figure in the vids Ye Wang had replayed a hundred times, or the Jiang Qi who fought relentlessly in the bar’s underground arena… Even the Jiang Qi from yesterday, drenched in the smell of strawberry milk, with those lean, sculpted calves—none of them had anything to do with being a *discard*.

How could Jiang Qi, whom he had always regarded as a rival and opponent, be a discard? How the hell could he be?

This wasn’t just a slap at Jiang Qi—it was a slap at Ye Wang too.

Ye Wang, displeased: *"That’s way out of line, don’t you think?"*

Bu Nian: *"...?"*

He sent a question mark, then immediately recalled it. Two seconds later, he backpedaled fast: *"No, no, Major General, those aren’t my words! We have sources working in the gene factories. We intercepted some communication waves, and that’s exactly what they said!"*

As if afraid Ye Wang would misunderstand, he quickly defended himself, dumping a whole stack of intercepted records at once.

Bu Nian: *"Too bad—these are just periphery comms. The encrypted inner channels are tough to breach… Anyway, Major General, take a look. Hit me up if anything pops. I’ll take my leave now."*

He clicked offline and bailed from the comms channel.

Ye Wang pushed aside the stack of complex documents before him and began reading the relevant records.

*New Calendar 3031, June 27:*

*To Headquarters, the joint assessment between our department and the psychological experts of Prison Group 7026 regarding the evaluation of Subject No. 1769, 'Jiang Qi,' has been completed. The report is as follows for your reference.*

*Regarding Subject No. 1767's two-second hesitation during the engagement on the Federal battlefield, we have observed that Subject No. 1767 exhibits a certain degree of resistance and aversion toward continuing to serve the Empire. During questioning, emotional volatility readings were notably high, accompanied by signs of passivity and instability, indicating potential desertion. Initial recommendation: remove from combat duty and place under observation.*

Ye Wang's eyebrow twitched.

The two-second delay mentioned in the report—Ye Wang knew all too well—was precisely what allowed the Federal supply ship to escape certain destruction.

*New Calendar 3031, September 20:*

*To Headquarters, the second joint assessment between our department and the psychological experts of Prison Group 7026 has concluded. Initial assessment remains unchanged. The likelihood of Subject No. 1767 returning to peak condition is assessed as low. Recommendation: extend observation period.*

*New Calendar 3031, October 13:*

*To Headquarters, the likelihood of Subject No. 1767 returning to peak condition: none. Further observation unnecessary. Recommendation: permanent confinement or termination.*

October 14, Headquarters replied: "Due to considerations of public perception, elimination is not approved. Subsequent arrangements pending discussion."

"..."

At this point, all information had been reviewed.

Ye Wang lowered his gaze to the end of the report and remained silent for a long while.

The man he regarded as his lifelong rival, Jiang Qi, had long been labeled as "expendable" by the Empire.

Ye Wang activated his commlink and found Bu Nian: "Keep me updated if there's any more news about Jiang Qi."

The other end replied with an "OK."

Bu Nian: "Understood, Major General. I'm keeping an eye on him. He's still in District 13 and hasn't left."

*

Jiang Qi remained in the dingy, crumbling house.

Song Yue used the money Jiang Qi had given him to install a new air filtration system, barely managing to block out the toxic air of District 13. He pushed his wheelchair to the bedside and gently touched the girl's pale, frail face.

The stabilizer had already been injected into her veins, triggering intense changes within the ravaged body. Song Yue drew the blanket over Xiao Liu and rolled his chair to the window.

Jiang Qi stood there.

Song Yue opened his mouth: "Where did this money come from?"

Many in the lower districts suffered from genetic diseases, and stabilizers fetched exorbitant prices, often running into the millions. There was no way Jiang Qi could afford it.

Jiang Qi looked out at the gloomy, leaden sky: "Someone gave it to me."

Song Yue: "Someone gave it to you... a full three million, just like that? You..."

He reached out, wanting to check Jiang Qi for injuries: "Did you fight in the pits?"

Jiang Qi sidestepped neatly: "No, and I'm not hurt. It was given freely."

"By whom?"

"...Pei Gu."

Song Yue breathed a shallow sigh of relief but remained concerned: "Does he know what you're using the money for?"

Even Pei Gu couldn’t just throw this kind of money around.

Jiang Qi: "...He knows."

He took two quick steps, grabbing the cloak and mask hanging behind the door: "No need to ask further. I know what this money can and can’t be used for. A single stabilizer dose should buy me three months. I’ll figure something out after that."

Song Yue: "What can you possibly do?"

Despite being in his prime, he seemed crushed by the oppressive sky of the lower district, his face etched with withering gloom.

Jiang Qi fastened his mask and stepped outside: "There’s always a way."

He chuckled, joking: "Worst case, I’ll hijack a factory shipment."

It was clearly a joke—factory shipments were locked down like bank vaults on wheels, with armed escorts ensuring no one could steal from them.

The tension left Song Yue’s face, and he laughed along.

Jiang Qi left the lower district.

By the time twilight deepened, he returned to Pei Gu’s small villa. This time, his husband wasn’t upstairs working out for once—the lights there were dark, while the first floor was brightly lit.

Jiang Qi turned the doorknob. Before coming home, he had stopped by the supermarket again, this time playing it off as a shampoo run. He’d made sure to skip the cloying stuff and grabbed lemon-citrus instead.

He placed the items on the counter, took off his coat, and greeted Ye Wang at the entrance: "I’m home, sir."

Ye Wang: "Welcome back. Are you free tonight?"

Jiang Qi paused: "Yes, sir."

Ye Wang patted the sofa beside him: "Come sit? I’ve got some questions for you."

Jiang Qi’s fingers dug into the plastic bag. "I’ve got some questions for you"—he’d heard that line too many times, and it never led to pleasant memories.

He lowered his head and sat down beside Ye Wang.

Ye Wang was holding a remote, the screen in front of them frozen on a blur of pixels.

Jiang Qi glanced at the screen, his face going a shade paler.

Ye Wang: "Here’s the thing. Do you remember that battle on the Gamma frontlines where you intercepted a Federation cargo ship?"

Ye Wang wasn’t sure why he was dredging up that battle now, which he had reviewed countless times, on this particular night. He just wanted to know Jiang Qi’s mindset when he let the supply ship go—if there was any truth to reports that he’d nearly turned traitor. If so, perhaps Ye Wang could recruit him, giving the Federation another weapon.

Or perhaps Ye Wang wasn’t thinking anything at all. He just felt uneasy and needed to know for sure that Jiang Qi remained as cold and unyielding as before, not some burnt-out washout from the files.

But when he mentioned that battle, Jiang Qi froze.

His face turned deathly pale, then a smile ghosted across his lips, empty as a dead channel. His voice flat, he asked, "Apologies, sir—may I use the restroom?"

Ye Wang was taken aback: "Go ahead."

Jiang Qi stood up and bolted for the bathroom. The next moment, the sound of him heaving his guts out tore through the house.