Chapter 67

Chapter 67

Shi Cangfeng couldn’t recall how long it had been since he’d been this close to Shi Jian. When Shi Jian was small, he’d always held the child in his arms, prompting outsiders to tease him as a “seahorse father,” forever keeping his little one tucked safely away. But as time flowed on and Shi Jian grew, the physiological differences between an Alpha and an Omega, coupled with the necessary boundaries between father and son, gradually diminished their physical intimacy.

Especially after Shi Jian’s “secondary differentiation” into an E-level Alpha, the overwhelming suppression from his pheromone rank could inflict severe harm on those of lower standing. Thus, Shi Cangfeng dared not, could not, get too close to Shi Jian. He could only sternly, coldly, push Shi Jian away, telling him to keep his distance.

*Stay away, and you won’t get hurt.*

But Shi Jian didn’t understand.

Shi Jian only felt the searing pain in his glands and the deep ache in his heart. He yearned, as he had in childhood, to find solace in his father’s dry, warm embrace, to be held and comforted. Back then, no matter how great the grievance, a simple sniffle would have been enough to soothe himself.

But Shi Cangfeng had pushed him away.

Now, the roles were reversed. It was Shi Cangfeng who was being pushed away, and for the first time, he truly understood the heart-wrenching agony of being coldly rejected by someone he loved deeply. On the battlefield, he had never uttered a sound, no matter how grievous his wounds. Yet, a single distant glance from his youngest son was enough to twist his heart into knots.

They were in a bulletproof RV with ample space in the back. Shi Jian, with his small frame, curled up, his upper body and head resting on Shi Cangfeng’s lap, draped in his military coat.

Shi Cangfeng’s arm loosely encircled Shi Jian’s shoulders, gently, tenderly patting him, just as he had done to lull him to sleep as a child. The quiet serenity of this moment, however, was like a cruel mirror, forcing Shi Cangfeng to confront how he had pushed Shi Jian away in the past—

If there were such a thing as a pill of regret in this world, he would buy it by the pound. The more he savored these stolen moments of closeness, the more he loathed his past self for pushing Shi Jian away under the guise of supposed necessity.

Alas, one could never truly escape the past. The regret and remorse Shi Cangfeng suppressed deep within his heart, with nowhere to be voiced, festered like a venomous accumulation, becoming an incurable malady in his heart and blood.

Shi Jian was both his sole antidote and the despair that could plunge him deeper into the abyss.

Shi Cangfeng lowered his gaze, his eyes tracing every inch of Shi Jian’s peaceful sleeping face, as if to etch this fleeting illusion of father-son tranquility into his heart forever. He caressed his youngest son’s cheek, cherishing every stolen second.

Shi Xu and Wen Yuan didn’t even have the privilege of stealing such moments. They could only sit in the front, watching their sleeping younger brother through the rearview mirror, not daring to move as if under torture. No matter how much they longed to hold him or ruffle his hair, they could only bury those desires deep inside.

Only the three high-level Alphas were in the vehicle; the rest of the entourage consisted of carefully selected Betas. All three Alphas had taken high-potency inhibitors, terrified that even a trace of their pheromones might discomfort Shi Jian. The car moved as slowly as possible, and perhaps because, deep down, Shi Jian still associated safety with the presence of his father and brothers, he slept soundly, showing no resistance to Shi Cangfeng’s proximity. This brought Shi Cangfeng a fleeting spark of joy, quickly followed by bitter self-mockery:

He, the Commander-in-Chief of the Ninth Military Region, the current head of the Shi family, the father Shi Jian had once admired, respected, and loved most—when had he fallen so low that merely not being hated or avoided by his child was cause for celebration?

*Shi Cangfeng, look at the mess you’ve made.*

But this fragile harmony didn’t last long. The moment the car stopped and Shi Jian woke up, realizing he had been carried inside by either Shi Cangfeng or one of his brothers, his expression instantly darkened. Though he didn’t lash out, he sat up stiffly, pressing himself against the window, putting as much distance between himself and Shi Cangfeng as possible.

He saw the unmistakable hurt in his father’s eyes when he pulled away.

But Shi Jian only pressed his lips together. What did it matter? Wasn’t this what they all wanted? He was only doing what everyone expected of him, refusing to let himself hope anymore. Was he wrong?

No.

If he were wrong, his father and brothers would have scolded him harshly—since they remained silent, it meant he wasn’t wrong.

Shi Jian’s thoughts drifted. His hand rested on the door handle, his readiness to exit the vehicle at any moment piercing the hearts of the three men.

“Let me go with you?” Shi Cangfeng asked, already knowing the answer but unable to stop himself from trying. As expected, he was met with a cold refusal.

“They’re all as young as I am. You’ll scare them.”

Shi Cangfeng stared at Shi Jian’s troubled countenance, never imagining that one day his youngest son would find him so off-putting—when just a year or two ago, Xiao Jian would have been thrilled to bring his Omega classmates home, eager to show off his handsome, accomplished father.

He couldn’t help but wonder: Had he really become so intimidating? Or had he aged so much that he was no longer someone his child could proudly boast about?

Shi Xu and Wen Yuan couldn’t help but feel a little smug at Shi Cangfeng’s defeat. They had resented how he, as the family patriarch, had claimed sole access to Shi Jian, trying to mend their relationship before they could. Seeing him humbled now brought them some satisfaction.

But it also made them even more cautious about provoking Shi Jian’s displeasure. If even Shi Cangfeng had been openly rebuffed, what hope did they have?

Wen Yuan, however, was one of the mission’s leaders. Divorced from personal sentiment, he was Shi Jian’s direct superior. “Let’s go,” he said. “We’ll go together.”

Shi Jian didn’t respond, wordlessly exiting the vehicle.

A light drizzle fell outside, shrouding the military’s temporary office building in an oppressive fog, much like the perpetual frown on Shi Jian’s brow—a sight that wrenched at the heartstrings.

Wen Yuan quickly closed the distance, holding a black umbrella over Shi Jian’s head. His voice, warm and familiar, sounded in Shi Jian’s ear: “Your injuries haven’t fully healed yet. Don’t let the rain soak your wounds.”

Shi Jian glanced up at him beneath the umbrella, his gaze icy and indifferent, devoid of any emotion.

The cold wind and fine rain needled his skin. Wen Yuan’s heart plummeted.

He had never seen such absolute detachment in Shi Jian’s beautiful sapphire-blue eyes before. He had witnessed admiration, joy, hurt, disappointment, anger, hatred—every intense emotion Shi Jian was capable of, and he had clung to them like vital elixir. But now, those eyes held nothing. As if Wen Yuan’s name, his very existence, no longer held any meaning to Shi Jian.

Shi Jian… Shi Jian…

Wen Yuan nearly forgot—he was a Wen, while Shi Jian was a Shi. They didn’t share the same surname, nor did they share blood like Shi Xu and Shi Cangfeng. He was just an adopted son, a stray pup Shi Cangfeng had picked up. Beyond the fragile label of adoptive brothers, he and Shi Jian had no real connection at all.

If Shi Jian wished, he could strip even that title away—

There was no blood tying them together!

Wen Yuan’s face paled, his lips trembling as he stood frozen. It wasn’t until the adjutant called out that he was jolted from his reverie, only to realize Shi Jian had already stepped out from under his umbrella.

But Shi Jian wasn’t getting wet. His worried classmates, having received word of his arrival, had been waiting anxiously at the entrance. The moment they spotted his slender, fragile figure in the distance, they rushed forward without a second thought, surrounding him in a lively chatter.

It was a lively scene. Like a highborn lady mingling with her sworn brothers, steeped in the camaraderie of their peers—something Wen Yuan, Shi Xu, and the older Shi Cangfeng could never be part of. They could only stand in the cold rain, watching enviously as those young Alphas reveled in Shi Jian’s notice.

But only those within the circle knew the truth wasn’t as the Shi family imagined. Shi Jian wasn’t particularly warm toward his First Military Academy classmates either—just slightly less cold than he was with his family.

And even that slight warmth was reserved for only a select few.

Shen Xingchuan. Fu Yan. Maybe Sui Bian, at most.

The others? He had never bothered to remember them. Nor did he understand why they suddenly showed him such enthusiasm when, back at the academy, they had been nothing but passive observers.

Had he lost another fragment of his memory?

As for Yu Chen and his little follower—

Shi Jian cast a cursory look around but didn’t see them in the crowd. He gave it no further thought.

Shen Xingchuan held an umbrella over Shi Jian while congratulating him on being awarded the Federal Star Honor Medal by the Emperor himself, as excited as if he were the one receiving the honor: “The Federal Star has always been awarded only to senior cadets who’ve made outstanding contributions! You’re just a first-year, and after only one mission, you’ve earned this singular distinction—you’re the first in our generation, no, the first in history!”

Shi Jian felt his blood surge. Since waking up in the hospital, he hadn’t felt his heart race like this in a long time. He was young, ambitious, a soldier eager to forge his legacy. No matter his original intentions, no matter how weak he had once been, after a year of arduous conditioning, he had become the keenest, most lethal blade in the arsenal. He had unwavering assurance in his ability to win.

Shen Xingchuan was sincerely delighted for him: “The academy plans to hold a commendation assembly once they hear the news—you’ll definitely be the guest of honor. But Commander Wen said we won’t be returning to campus just yet, so we’re just circulating the tidings for now. Given how successful this mission was, I’m sure everyone will get due recognition.”

Fu Yan added, “You might be the first—maybe the only one—among us to receive an imperial decoration bestowed by His Majesty.”