Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A major case had broken out in the central district.

Several hovercars with police markings were parked at the entrance, a cordon had been established, and beyond the perimeter, a dense crowd had gathered, peering in while murmuring among themselves.

"To think something like this could happen in the Imperial Capital."

"How awful, that child is covered in blood."

"He spent the night with his mother and the murderer's corpse."

Ye Mo stood below the steps, kept inside the cordon as part of the homicide scene.

His mind was blank. He looked down in a daze at his hands—the hands of a child, stained with blood, even the fingernails caked thick with dried blood.

Was this a dream? It must be a dream. How strange. Why would he have such a dream?

A group of people in black uniforms and white gloves were moving in and out of the house. Several of them, having finished collecting evidence, stood by the hovercars, talking.

"The murderer's identity has been confirmed. He was a prisoner who escaped during transport, on the run for two days. Probably desperate, he broke in tonight to rob, targeting this mother and her child."

"Both the murderer and the mother are dead. Preliminary findings suggest the mother likely fought fiercely with the assailant. Both sustained fatal wounds and died on the spot."

He paused here, sighed, and looked at the child standing on the open ground nearby with a complex expression.

So small, standing there barefoot, half his face and body smeared with bloodstains. It was unclear how much was his own blood. The exposed parts of his limbs were covered in bruises, large and small, stark against his pale, tender skin.

They were accustomed to homicide cases, long since numb to them, but this time they couldn't help but feel a stir of emotion.

"That child probably witnessed his mother's death firsthand. Only three or four years old, so young, the same age as my little daughter."

"Aren't the logistics and medical teams here yet?"

To avoid causing further harm, they generally couldn't treat the injured on-site.

"Still on the way. I just asked; they said from the pictures of the injuries, they're probably all external. If there are no fractures, we can do some preliminary treatment."

The group fell silent for a moment, ended the conversation, and approached Ye Mo. One of them took a blanket and gently draped it over Ye Mo.

Ye Mo didn't react, still staring blankly at his hands, covered in dried blood—under his nails, on his chin, and on his pajamas, now stained beyond recognition.

The man paused, took a towel from a colleague, and began wiping gently.

"How old are you? Three or four?"

It was a language he hadn't heard before, but he could understand.

Ye Mo slowly looked up at the man wiping his hands. The man wore a uniform, the same as those who had set up the cordon—a military-style outfit with a badge on his chest depicting intertwined swords and flames, a pattern Ye Mo had never seen before.

The man's hands paused briefly before gently wiping the blood from Ye Mo's chin.

He added, "Are you hungry? Would you like some milk?"

Ye Mo's gaze shifted past him, fixing on a spot.

The man turned and followed Ye Mo's line of sight—it was the mother, now placed in a body bag.

He wrapped Ye Mo in the blanket and picked him up. Fortunately, the child was still young; there was still time to forget this nightmare of a night.

Cradled on the man's shoulder, buried in the blanket, Ye Mo, pale-faced, watched the house recede into the distance and his mother, his biological mother whom he had never truly known, being carried away in a bag. His limbs felt icy cold. This was not a dream.

Someone had really died. The blood was real. The corpse was real.

The crowd suddenly grew noisy, parting to make way.

Several men stepped over the cordon tape and strode toward them. They wore black military uniforms with silver trim underneath and standard-issue military cloaks over them. The one at the front took out his credentials. The man holding Ye Mo and his colleagues all saluted in unison.

The officer returned the salute and said, "I am Ye Zhiyuan, the child's father. My military rank can be verified."

He extended his hand. "Hand him over to me."

Ye Mo passed from one pair of arms to another.

Ye Zhiyuan held Ye Mo, staring at the bloodstains on the steps below. He stood still for a moment. He was handsome, wearing thin-rimmed glasses, a look that should have been very refined but now appeared cold and stern.

He only lowered his head when Ye Mo unconsciously curled up, bundled Ye Mo into his overcoat, and turned to walk toward the hovercar.

The car was warm. He placed Ye Mo on a small table inside, unwrapped the blanket, and carefully examined Ye Mo's injuries from head to toe. Then he gathered Ye Mo into his arms again and handed him a box from the adjacent seat. Inside the box was a doll that looked very soft.

Ye Mo glanced at the doll, then looked up at Ye Zhiyuan.

The car door opened, and another person entered, holding a thick stack of documents.

"Sir, the prisoner's background shows no anomalies. He was a star pirate who escaped during transport. This appears to have been an accident."

"Has the final report been issued?"

"Yes, essentially nothing unusual. The criminal originally had a B-level psychic ability, but his brain had suffered severe damage. There were residual psychic traces at the scene. The victim likely had a chance to fight back because the criminal was already injured."

Ye Zhiyuan's heart gave a heavy thud. Psychic ability—the Grath royal family was famously known for their exceptional psychic prowess.

The box Ye Mo was holding slipped and fell halfway under the seat. Ye Zhiyuan retrieved it for him, sighing inwardly. He's still so young; I'm just too tense.

The Empire's pursuit of star pirates was notoriously brutal, regardless of whether they were captured dead or alive. It was common for prisoners to be missing limbs, and psychic overpowering was routine.

Especially since the current Emperor favored using psychic force to violently suppress enemies on the battlefield. As those above set the example, the entire Imperial military adopted a very aggressive style. Prisoners being injured was more common than not.

"Help me handle the deceased's funeral arrangements."

Ye Zhiyuan gave brief instructions and ended the conversation, then looked down at Ye Mo.

Ye Zhiyuan did not talk down to Ye Mo because he was a child. On the contrary, his attitude was very solemn.

"You may not remember me. I am your father."

Ye Mo looked up.

Ye Zhiyuan paused for a moment, then reached out and covered Ye Mo's eyes with his hand. He was still wearing gloves, which felt cool. Ye Mo heard him speak almost without emotion, as if delivering a report.

"Your birth was my mistake. Because of this mistake, you must be a more obedient child than others. Your existence will be downplayed; you will not receive the attention and honors you deserve. Your circumstances will be more difficult than those of other children, even though you have done nothing wrong. But you can seek my help. Within certain limits, I will assist you."

Ye Mo sat quietly in his arms, listening, then suddenly spoke.

"Mom."

Ye Zhiyuan spoke in a very calm tone.

"She's dead. That's my fault too."

"Let's go home."

After only a few minutes, the hovercar stopped in front of a villa. Ye Zhiyuan carried Ye Mo through the courtyard to the door. Standing at the entrance, he could hear faint laughter and conversation from inside. He hesitated, put Ye Mo down, opened the door, and gave him a gentle nudge.

Entering the living room, Mrs. Ye was sitting on the sofa. A child of about eight or nine stood beside her, and another child, slightly older than Ye Mo, sat on the carpet playing with a toy car.

"You're back. You promised you'd make dinner today. Really, dinner's been waiting for you."

Mrs. Ye looked up, saw Ye Mo, and stood up.

"Whose child is this? What happened to him? Ye He, go get the first aid kit."

"Well? Tell me. Come here, baby. How could you make him walk by himself? He can hardly walk straight."

Mrs. Ye was getting frantic. She stepped forward to scoop Ye Mo up and placed him on the sofa.

Ye Zhiyuan lowered his head, avoiding her gaze, and said softly,

"He's my son."

Mrs. Ye froze. She straightened up.

"What did you say?"

"I'm sorry."

"I'll give you a chance to explain."

Ye Zhiyuan hung his head even lower.

"I'm very sorry."

Mrs. Ye looked coldly at Ye Zhiyuan and slapped him.

Ye Zhiyuan turned his head slightly and took it without a sound.

"What about his mother?"

"Dead. It was today's case. A home invasion robbery."

Mrs. Ye gave him another slap and pressed on.

"Have you been in contact all along?"

"No. Apart from the child, only a monthly allowance. No contact."

With each question came a slap.

"Last question. Were you involved in her death?"

"No. It was an accident."

Then, Mrs. Ye finally said,

"I'm very angry right now. I don't want to see you. I'm going to bed. I'll figure out what to do with you later."

After that, Mrs. Ye turned and went upstairs. Ye Yun, who had been sitting on the carpet holding the toy car, followed her.

Ye Mo sat on the sofa. Ye He had already brought the first aid kit. Seeing Mrs. Ye go upstairs, he set the kit down and followed her up.

Ye Zhiyuan picked up the first aid kit, took out the medicine, knelt down on one knee in front of Ye Mo, and began treating his wounds.

"We have plenty of empty rooms. You can choose one yourself. Later, I'll set it up just like Ye He and Ye Yun's rooms."

Ye Mo's exposed limbs had many bruises. Ye Zhiyuan had checked earlier; they looked serious, but based on experience, they weren't actually a big problem: just external injuries. The more serious one was on his forehead, which had bled a lot but had already clotted.

After treating his arms and legs and bandaging his forehead, Ye Zhiyuan untied Ye Mo's pajamas, now stained beyond recognition. When he revealed Ye Mo's upper body, he paused. On the small, gently rising chest were layers upon layers of scars.

Some were new, but most were old. Even battle-hardened military veterans wouldn't have so many indelible scars.

Ye Zhiyuan's expression turned icy. His gloved hand gently brushed over these wounds. Ye Mo shrank back slightly from the cool touch.

"Don't be afraid."

He looked at Ye Mo and realized that compared to other children his age, Ye Mo seemed much too quiet and obedient. For such a young child, that in itself wasn't normal.

"I'll call for a doctor to come over."

Author's Note:

1. This is a story about raising a child. The father is the real father, and also a true tyrant. This is not a CP story. The father has no CP. A tyrant doesn't need love (nor has he exploited any women; it's a technological era with technological childbirth).

2. Too many people are asking about CP, so let me clarify. The romance plotline will develop later. The main focus is raising the child. The romance plotline will be developed after the later outline is set. The romance content may be little or a lot; I don't have that much of an outline yet. When it's time for the romance plotline, the CP will be decided. I'll announce it directly in the author's notes at that time. The protagonist won't date before the CP is decided. If you mind, please don't read.