CR CH87

Chapter 87: Hidden Sentiments

Only after truly beginning the mental power training did Jiang Tianji realize that everything aboard the warship before had merely been a beginner’s tutorial—a pampered edition complete with animations to distract him.

For someone with mental power defects, this kind of training was pure torment. Its essence lay in forcing the trainee to resist through stimulation, thereby expanding their capacity to endure mental power.

A single misstep during this process could trigger unpredictable consequences. It demanded an exceptionally high caliber of strength from the psychic leading the training; the Beta ability-user from before had also been an approved candidate endorsed by Jiang Yan.

After Jiang Tianji confirmed his choice of Ling Kongmiao, Jiang Yan had a call with Ling Kongmiao.

Once the communication connected, both remained silent for a moment before Jiang Yan broke it first.

“Captain Ling,” she spoke straight to the point, “you are indeed an experienced ability-user. I trust Xiaotian’s judgment.”

“It’s just that I heard you initially rejected the other candidate, only to change your mind later. Why the shift?”

Ling Kongmiao: “I thought it through and felt it best to ask the opinion of the person involved.”

“A choice given with an ulterior motive will haunt the other person forever, no matter what they choose.”

Jiang Yan did not hold back this time, her voice low.

“I deeply regret letting my emotions rule me in the past—dumping an agonizing, unresolvable dilemma onto him out of my own guilty conscience.”

“When he was at his happiest, I personally planted a landmine. Now, the more he looks back, the more warped that happiness becomes.”

“Not long ago, I got in touch with Billion.”

Regarding what happened back then, both shared a tacit understanding.

In that encirclement and suppression campaign, Jiang Tianji’s biological parents died. Billion returned to the Star Alliance, lay low for years, and took down the former leader. The situation had been dire back then, leaving Jiang’s parents no choice but to place their hopes in Jiang Yan, who worked at the intelligence station.

Billion had not disclosed Jiang Yan’s connection to the couple; the traceable information was scarce.

Ling Kongmiao watched the static flicker across the comms screen. The jamming shield could only remain active for brief intervals, or it would trigger anomaly detections.

“Given Xiaotian’s personality, he will eventually walk that path,” Jiang Yan said slowly. “Captain Ling, when he realizes he never truly had a choice, he will hate you.”

He thought a stretch of silence would follow.

Instead, Ling Kongmiao replied calmly.

“No. He will have a choice.”

After hanging up, Jiang Yan’s parting words kept echoing in Ling Kongmiao’s ears:

“He will hate you.”

Ling Kongmiao closed his eyes, setting aside his mountain of official duties for a rare moment of rest against the back of his chair.

In the early stages, trainees could exhibit adverse reactions such as heightened sensitivity and photophobia.

In the quiet training room, heavy pants sounded distinctly. His training uniform soaked in cold sweat, Jiang Tianji felt as if every ounce of strength had been drained from his body as he leaned against the wall to catch his breath.

A jacket was thrown over his head. Ling Kongmiao walked up to him, only to see the covered head nod forward and slump against his leg.

A long, black tail curled over. Jiang Tianji was in rough shape, unable to stop his beast-form traits from breaking through.

Ling Kongmiao crouched down to check on him. Just as he went to lift Jiang Tianji’s face, a sudden lunge pinned him straight to the floor.

“Ugh…”

Having been restrained for so long made Jiang Tianji abnormally irritable. He straddled Ling Kongmiao’s lower abdomen, pinning both of the captain’s hands firmly to the ground.

Energy chains burst through the air, their faint blue glow igniting in the dark. Spurred by the stimulus, Jiang Tianji immediately buried his head into Ling Kongmiao’s chest, gasping for air.

“Open your mouth.”

Ling Kongmiao propped himself up halfway, grabbing Jiang Tianji’s hair to force his head back.

A soothing sedative was slipped into Jiang Tianji’s mouth—cold and tasteless. Moments later, his breathing leveled out visibly.

Leaning against the wall, Ling Kongmiao did not stand up right away this time.

Once Jiang Tianji caught his breath, he let out a soft chuckle. “Captain.”

“I think your tail works better than medicine.”

His voice was hoarse. Ling Kongmiao knew how terrible his state was; the cold sweat hadn’t stopped.

His tone was entirely sustained by sheer willpower, yet he still found the nerve to joke.

Jiang Tianji had long grown accustomed to Ling Kongmiao ignoring him. Utterly drained, he was just about to close his eyes and rest when a soft, plush sensation brushed against his wrist.

“…”

Startled, he snapped his head down.

A tail etched with flowing flame patterns wrapped around his waist, its eerie blue fire casting a pale sheen across his face.

Jiang Tianji could hardly pull his gaze away. He tried his best to free a hand to stroke it, but his balance slipped. In the middle of his fierce internal conflict, a hand pressed down on his head.

Ling Kongmiao: “I’ll allow you a ten-minute rest.”

The tail was unexpectedly warm, soothing a great deal of his discomfort.

“Captain.”

Jiang Tianji’s eyelids were drooping. Forcing himself to stay awake, he asked in a voice that grew fainter with every word:

“You’ve never trained anyone else before, right?” The question carried a subtle hint of grit.

The moment his consciousness faded entirely, he seemed to hear a soft chuckle, followed by a gentle rub on his head.

Jiang Tianji tried to fight the sudden wave of drowsiness, but his exhaustion won out, and his eyes slipped shut.

Holding him close, Ling Kongmiao listened to his long, steady breathing in the dark.

Whether acting as an invisible watcher or an outsider forgotten by the world, Ling Kongmiao had always watched everything from a distance.

Back then, his mother’s mental disorder had grown increasingly severe. The Beast Clan priests possessed a method to treat it.

Ling Kongmiao knew the Beast Clan placed immense value on bloodline purity, but with the situation so dire, he still wanted to try; Nolan had covered for him.

Had his maternal uncle not stepped in at great personal risk to help, Ling Kongmiao would have likely perished in that inferno. The priests’ holy flames were meant to incinerate all that should not exist—they viewed Ling Kongmiao as a harbinger of calamity.

In a haze of fading consciousness, he had caught sight of a face remarkably similar to his mother’s. Only later did he learn this was his mother’s most doting elder brother—an uncle he ought to call family. The man carried him out of the forbidden grounds and handed him to a trusted confidant. He seemed to want to say something, but pressed for time, he could only turn back to manage the ensuing fallout.

The palaces of the Empire and the Beast Clan were magnificent, yet Ling Kongmiao had died once in each of those places he was supposed to call home.

His mother’s name came from the Beast Clan language, roughly translating to “Silver Pearl”—a symbol of purity and precious worth.

Following her mental disorder, she gradually forgot all the agonizing memories and began rejecting Ling Kongmiao. The illness made her forget, and fighting against it brought her immense pain.

Uncle Zuo used to call Ling Kongmiao a burden, yet he derived no joy from it. Instead, he constantly ran himself ragged searching for a way to restore her memories and cure the mental disorder.

Watching him scurry about, frequently returning exhausted only to leave again shortly after, Ling Kongmiao said to him one day:

“Uncle Zuo, take her and go.”

Zuo Lixing froze, the furrow between his brows deepening. “Don’t overthink things.”

“Even though her mental disorder makes her reject you right now, she would never want to forget you.”

“I know,” Ling Kongmiao nodded, his voice level. “Let her start over.”

Zuo Lixing: “And what about you?”

Ling Kongmiao fell quiet for a moment, then gave a faint smile.

“I’ll go live my own life too.”

Zuo Lixing stared at him for a long time. In the end, he left Ling Kongmiao a vast fortune and granted him a portion of authority. An interstellar arms dealer possessed far more than mere weaponry; hidden organizations and eyes concealed in the dark were all viable assets at his disposal.

Before departing, Uncle Zuo said to him:

“I will keep looking for a way. Contact me whenever you run into trouble. You’re her child; I won’t turn a blind eye.”

“And… she would never want to forget you. Just remember that.”

“Alright.”

Ling Kongmiao watched them leave from afar. After sitting quietly by himself for a while, he resumed tracking Jiang Tianji’s movements.

Using the positioning system, he quickly found the youth hanging out with friends at a night market. Dressed in a loose black T-shirt, he stood by his friends browsing a small stall.

A floating screen displayed an adorable bottle icon with a caption below: “Scent Memory Vault.”

Such novelties had become quite trendy across the stars in recent years. He hadn’t expected Jiang Tianji and his circle to be interested in them. As the friends debated their favorite scents, the stall owner seemed to notice the rather quiet boy—standing on the cusp between youth and adulthood, slender yet far from frail, with the unmistakable silhouette of a handsome, towering figure to come.

“What scent do you like, young man?” The owner rubbed his hands together, chuckling merrily. “I’ve got everything here: food, flowers, rain, sunshine, smog, clouds, seawater, soil… abstract or concrete, anything you want.”

Jiang Tianji had looked entirely uninterested. Ling Kongmiao didn’t think he would answer, until a sudden phrase cut through the air:

“Jasmine,” the youth said with a smile. “I like jasmine.”

Ling Kongmiao froze, slowly lifting his head, his gaze unconsciously trailing after the boy for a long time.

Amid the bustle of the crowd, his friends’ surprised voices drifted over:

“Wait, you actually have one? Thought you didn’t care.”

“Since when did you like jasmine?”

Jiang Tianji seemed to ponder it for a moment. “No idea. I’ve always liked it.”

On the very day the only person in the world who loved Ling Kongmiao forgot him, he crossed paths with someone else who still remembered him.

Ling Kongmiao held onto that memory for a very long time.

Jiang Tianji’s gaze had always looked straight through him, lingering only briefly by sheer coincidence.

Ling Kongmiao knew full well there was no place for him in the boy’s life. They belonged to two different worlds; he had accepted that from the start, harboring few stray thoughts.

One afternoon, watching him sleep so soundly that his face bore red creases from the sheets, Ling Kongmiao felt an inexplicable urge and reached out to touch him.

Without realizing when it started, Ling Kongmiao went from watching from a distance to walking beside him—sometimes sitting by his bedside to rest for a bit, sometimes crouching with him to pet stray animals.

Back then, his heart felt nothing out of the ordinary. Not until Jiang Tianji joined Special Assistance.

Their first meeting had been somewhat absurd. The boy had stared blankly straight at him, looking utterly comical.

What Ling Kongmiao could not deny was that the moment Jiang Tianji’s eyes landed squarely on his face—ultimately sinking into his own—something deep inside him stirred.

He didn’t pay it much mind at first; life wouldn’t undergo any real upheaval from a tiny ripple.

Gradually, Jiang Tianji’s attention shifted toward him more and more, eventually surpassing the time Ling Kongmiao spent observing him.

Something had changed.

Ling Kongmiao watched as the look in Jiang Tianji’s eyes shifted. At first, the boy smiled often, but his eyes were always veiled by a thin mist, making him impossible to read clearly.

From Jiang Tianji’s perspective, he was a total stranger. Yet within a very short span of time, the boy developed an interest in him, which soon evolved into subtle, deeper feelings.

Having stayed by his side for years, Ling Kongmiao knew Jiang Tianji maintained rigid boundaries and deep-seated vigilance; he wasn’t the type to build trust easily. Even with close friends, he rarely opened up completely and never forced anything.

Yet with Ling Kongmiao, he naturally pulled the man into his personal space, often showing blatant possessiveness and even throwing fits over it.

Sometimes, Ling Kongmiao couldn’t fathom why he was throwing a tantrum—acting so completely entitled, as if something real truly existed between them.

Their paths were never meant to cross so deeply, yet Jiang Tianji had remembered him, responded to him, and even fallen for him.

In Ling Kongmiao’s initial expectations, it might have just been fleeting curiosity.

He had never stopped to consider what kind of ending awaited them if Jiang Tianji’s interest proved unexpectedly lasting.

The human heart was an opaque vessel. A single lapse in attention while pouring feelings in could throw off all sense of measure; there was no telling how much had pooled inside until it finally spilled over.

Just like when Jiang Yan uttered that phrase—“he will hate you”—and Ling Kongmiao’s mind had suddenly gone blank.

In that fleeting instant, his heartbeat broke its steady rhythm.