SZAR Chapter 97

Qu Xia hesitated at the top of the stairs. He still remembered Erwen’s warning not to go to the third floor, but the heavy, stifled breathing from above grew more pronounced. He paused for a moment, then stepped up anyway.

Erwen’s study was at the far end of the third floor. Qu Xia knocked on the door. “Admiral?”

From inside came the sound of objects toppling, followed by Erwen’s fragmented voice: “C-come… in.”

Qu Xia pushed the door open. Erwen was half-kneeling by the window, back straight, hands groping the floor, fingertips trembling. Medicine boxes and syringes lay scattered half a meter away, apparently knocked over while he was reaching for them.

Erwen looked up at Qu Xia, eyes clouded with gray haze. He gritted his teeth. “C-come… help me inject it.”

A word flashed through Qu Xia’s mind: “pheromone overload.”

When a female zerg goes too long without pheromone infusion, it triggers a cascade of physical symptoms, eventually spiraling out of control. A zerg in this state loses mental clarity, limbs and neck weaken, and only medication can stabilize him.

Qu Xia half-squatted, quickly picking up the syringes and vials. “Here, Admiral.”

Erwen took the needle from his hand, fingertips trembling. In less than a moment, the syringe slipped straight from his grip.

He closed his eyes. “I… I can’t do it. You’ll have to.”

With that, he turned slightly, exposing the back of his neck beneath silver-gray hair. The soft patch of flesh bore numerous injection marks.

Qu Xia froze. “Me?”

He’d never learned how to inject, couldn’t even locate a muscle properly. Beneath the nape lay fragile glands, one wrong move could be disastrous. He hesitated, hand hovering over the needle.

Erwen’s knees wobbled as he tried to remain steady, cold sweat dripping from his forehead. “It’s okay. You just inject it. I’ll be fine.”

The body of an S-rank female zerg was remarkably resilient. At Qu Xia’s level, he could barely harm Erwen with a knife, let alone a syringe.

Knowing how dangerous pheromone collapse could be and seeing there was no time to summon help, Qu Xia gritted his teeth and pushed the needle into the skin.

The serum flowed in slowly. Erwen exhaled, leaning back against the foot of the bed, closing his eyes to regain composure.

Small drops of blood had appeared where the injection had pierced the back of Erwen’s neck.

Qu Xia quickly pulled over the medicine box, took out a bandage and some tape, and carefully pressed it over the spot.

Erwen caught the faint smell of the ointment and tilted his head slightly. “No need. It’ll heal in a little while.”

Such a minor mark was nothing for a female zerg, and it didn’t really hurt.

Qu Xia pressed lightly on the skin. “But it’ll leave a mark.”

The skin there was more delicate than the rest, prone to slight scarring. Erwen gave a faint smile. “I don’t care about that.”

He reached to peel off the bandage and continue what hadn’t been finished.

Qu Xia stopped him.

His cool fingers pressed gently on the bandage, halting Erwen’s movement. Softly, he asked, “I’ve never done an injection before… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

A small, absurd amusement rose in Erwen.

What did this little zerg from the junk planet think he was? A fragile porcelain doll? A newborn insect? Such a tiny sting was nothing to the Admiral of the Empire.

He couldn’t quite understand how Qu Xia had grown up. Orphaned, poor, yet so coddled that even a small burn could make him cry, like a child raised with constant care and attention.

Erwen drifted for a moment, thinking of the Strategist on the garbage planet.

The Strategist had been the same, asking him to move scraps was a monumental ordeal, giving him a moderate iron lump and asking if he wanted to pause.

Just like Qu Xia now asking if it had hurt.

Qu Xia pressed the bandage down again but didn’t move his fingers. His gaze drifted downward, stopping at the back of Erwen’s neck, partially hidden under his clothing.

Qu Xia hesitated. “These scars?”

His fingertips rested on the collar.

The earlier struggle had left Erwen’s uniform disheveled; in the shadow beneath the military coat, Qu Xia could clearly see raised scars on the back of his neck.

Back on the garbage planet, all his attention had been on Erwen’s chest and abs. He’d never really looked at the back.

Qu Xia pressed harder, tugging the collar open a bit more.

Erwen frowned and reached to pull the uniform back into place. “What are you—”

But before he could touch him, Qu Xia’s fingers began to tremble.

Qu Xia trembled even more violently than Erwen had just moments ago. Through the fabric, he ran his hands over the scars on Erwen’s back, feeling the uneven ridges, and seemed completely choked up.

Erwen tilted his head. “Lock?”

Qu Xia asked quietly, “These… these scars, were they from whippings?”

Erwen paused for a moment. “Yes.”

Scars on a female zerg were normal, nothing extraordinary, but Qu Xia looked as if he had never seen such marks before. Erwen felt an awkward discomfort. He pulled his uniform back into place, stiffly saying, “That was long ago.”

It had been so many years that even the most brutal wounds had become trivial.

Qu Xia pressed his lips together, murmuring, “Oh my God…”

He knew that zerg customs differed from human ones, but academic papers described such suffering cautiously, sparingly. Even in the tea room, Erwen had casually mentioned past events, his expression so calm that it felt more like recounting a bizarre, grotesque story than speaking of his own experience. Qu Xia had barely reacted.

Until now, touching those vicious scars, he finally understood the weight behind those words.

The whips back then must have torn the flesh to leave marks that even a zerg’s powerful healing could not erase.

Erwen let out a faint sigh.

Lock had been protected far too well, never facing even a fraction of hardship. When he married in the future, he would never withstand the same trials.

Erwen began carefully reconsidering Lock’s arrangements. Clearly, marriage was not the right solution. Before he reached adulthood, Erwen would shield him, let him focus on the science he loved. But after he came of age…

But after that?

Erwen drifted in thought. The agony of a restless mind in the mental sea was hardly lighter than being whipped. He had endured it day after day for ten years, maintaining a calm facade, but Lock?

Qu Xia noticed Erwen’s distant expression. “Admiral?”

Erwen tied his uniform, the silver-white fabric crisp, once again the austere, unyielding Admiral. He guided Qu Xia to the door and issued a curt dismissal. “Go back to your room. I have work to continue.”

Qu Xia made a small “oh” sound and obediently returned to his bedroom.

 ………………

Imperial Central University opened on schedule three days later, and Qu Xia enrolled smoothly as a freshman.

The school had assigned him a packed schedule. Glancing over it, Qu Xia found the first-year courses far too simple. If it weren’t for the overlap with human knowledge or material he had already self-studied, he wouldn’t have wasted time on them. So he submitted a request to Sylph.

Students with a mentor could opt to replace courses with research tasks, but very few freshmen did this. Sylph was slightly surprised and gently said, “Lock, while you’re talented, building a solid foundation is important. I don’t think you should be in the lab in your first year.”

Qu Xia booted up the lab’s light-brain and completed last year’s final exam questions right under Sylph’s eyes, using less than half the allotted time. He clicked submit and scored nearly full marks.

Sylph had nothing to say. He reported to the academy, exempting Qu Xia from the daily courses and tacitly allowing him to stay in the lab from morning to night.

On the first day of school, Sylph casually asked, “Do you want to apply for the school dorm? It’s right next to the faculty residence.”

Though Sylph was a noble, he preferred the university dorms than the cold, austere villa. He often stayed there himself and had intended to rescue Qu Xia from Erwen’s clutches, worried that the stern Admiral might crush the flower with harsh hands and drive away the precious little prodigy he had worked hard to nurture.

If Qu Xia stayed next door, Sylph could casually chat with him about papers, making the most of such a promising talent before graduation.

But Qu Xia immediately shook his head without hesitation. “I don’t want to.”

Sylph’s fragile heart nearly shattered. “Why? Even after Erwen made you cry.”

Qu Xia replied plainly, “Because the Admiral’s bed is too soft.”

His bedroom was spacious and bright. The bed could fit two people rolling around comfortably, the sheets filled with the longest cotton fibers, soft and cozy. Why would he choose to sleep in a four-person dorm with other female zergs when he had such a bed?

Sylph, still unwilling to give up, asked, “Erwen isn’t bullying you anymore?”

Qu Xia shook his head. “He isn’t bullying me. He needs me.”

Sylph: “?”

The Admiral couldn’t see, but Qu Xia had since taken over the injections. By now, he could easily find the right spot for the needle and, after delivering the medication, unavoidably apply a bandage for Erwen.

Qu Xia also realized that Erwen wasn’t as agile as he appeared. Maybe he bumped into things or got disoriented, but his rigid expression and refusal to show any pain gave the impression that everything was perfectly normal.

So Qu Xia took it upon himself to act as a guide.

He removed obstacles in the way, told Erwen which direction to go, helped him find hard-to-reach items in cabinets, and gradually developed a sense of being needed.

No early mornings, no tea ceremony lessons, a clear view of the Admiral’s chest and abs, and being relied upon by such a formidable zerg. What kind of divine life was this? Qu Xia had no intention of moving to the dorm.

He waved to his mentor: “I’m heading home!”

As if the Admiral’s residence were his own.

Sylph’s fragile heart shattered once more.

From that point, Qu Xia officially began his academic life. He came and went in the lab, and in less than a week, he mastered all the instruments. He studied cutting-edge papers and the lab’s confidential research data, then began tinkering on his own. Sylph guided him for a few days, found nothing to correct, and let Qu Xia continue independently.

Days passed quietly, unremarkable, until one day in March, a glimmer of change arrived.

The doctor examined Erwen’s eyes and announced with excitement: “Admiral, your body now meets the criteria for surgery. After tomorrow, you’ll be able to see again!”