SZAR Chapter 95

At six o’clock the next morning, Qu Xia was awakened promptly by his alarm.

He stumbled out of his room like a sleepwalker, his steps light and uneven, and made his way to the dining table. Erwen was already seated, spearing a small cherry tomato with a fork.

Qu Xia glanced at the table and felt a surge of resentment.

—Is this really what passes for breakfast?

Erwen’s breakfast, like his interminably boring family rules, was rigid and dull: plain boiled chicken breast, a hard-boiled egg, tomato, and white radish. Bland broth, not a trace of oil or fat, Qu Xia didn’t even have to taste it to know how it would be.

He pulled out a chair; it creaked against the floor. Erwen raised his head slightly and asked, “Up this early?”

Qu Xia stared at him gloomily: “Isn’t this your family’s rule?”

If resentment could have physical form, Erwen would have been dead ten thousand times over.

Erwen nodded. “Sit.”

He set aside his light-brain and removed his headphones; his subordinate had just finished reporting on the barren star.

“Reporting, Admiral. Everything is normal today. We’ve completed the 126th search of the planet, nothing found.”

Since returning from Pamir, Erwen had not given up on locating the former strategist. That was a high-rank male, able to craft machines from trash that could alleviate the collapse of the mental sea… Without a doubt, Qu Xia was extremely valuable to the entire Empire.

He had ordered his subordinates stationed on Pamir to monitor the barren star closely, with scanners plowing through nearly every inch of the planet.

Yet after half a month, there was still nothing.

Even if the strategist had survived the bombardment, he could not have endured through so many days and nights.

The temperature swings on the barren star were extreme; without shelter, survival was almost impossible.

His subordinates hesitated repeatedly during the report, as if wanting to say: ‘Perhaps it’s time to stop this futile search.’

“He should have perished during the first round of bombardment.”

“We’ve found no record of the name ‘Qu Xia’ in the databases. He must have changed his name. Only a criminal of the most heinous kind would be exiled as a male. Crimes unforgivable, crimes worthy of death.”

Crimes unforgivable?

Erwen found it hard to associate that phrase with Qu Xia.

The strategist liked studying, liked scavenging trash, and liked staying in bed wrapped in his blanket.

A male like that, unforgivable?

Erwen, who had spent the first half of his life orchestrating battles and strategies, had never felt so powerless. Guilt washed over him like relentless tides, layer upon layer, endless and unyielding.

Meanwhile, Qu Xia was stabbing at his chicken on the side.

He had cleaned off all the chicken from his plate, leaving Erwen with just some radishes and cherry tomatoes.

But even a generous pile of meat couldn’t soothe Qu Xia’s nerves. He took a bite, and his whole face scrunched up.

— Sure enough, no salt in this meat.

The chicken was dry and tough; he swallowed with difficulty, then poked at the remaining pieces, knife and fork clanging against the bowl with a constant clang clang.

That unruly noise snapped Erwen back to reality. He frowned. “Lock, you can’t eat like that.”

Qu Xia thought: Seriously? Even how I eat has to follow this damn family’s rules?

He tried to argue: “Why not?”

Erwen said, “You’re a female. Eating like that will make the future male lord despise you.”

Female zergs in the Empire lived hard lives; one wrong move could earn disdain, let alone such unrefined behavior.

He sighed lightly, picked up his knife and fork, and said, “You can follow my example.”

Even blind, Erwen’s movements were noble and elegant, cutting chicken breast as if it were a fine steak.

Qu Xia muttered a perfunctory “Mm-hmm,” then speared a piece and popped it into his mouth.

Just kidding, Erwen couldn’t see anyway. As long as he didn’t make noise, who cared how he ate?

Erwen’s brow furrowed slightly.

Blind though he was, his other senses were sharp enough to detect Qu Xia’s lip service. But knowing Qu Xia was from the Pamir system, fatherless and motherless from childhood, with no one to teach him these things, he could only shake his head. “Fine, then.”

All young female zergs went through a phase of rebelliousness, especially those gifted or accomplished in some field, but once married, that youthful carelessness and freedom would be twisted into weapons of reproach by their male lords, returning a hundredfold in retribution.

Erwen had seen this happen too many times.

He looked at Qu Xia. “This morning, you’ll learn the art of tea from me.”

Tea ceremony was a practice in self-cultivation, calming the mind, and winning favor with male zergs. It was easy to learn and a required skill for nobles.

Qu Xia: “?”

He was a mundane researcher. The most tea he’d ever drunk was milk tea. His skill in tea ceremony was effectively zero. He couldn’t tell Tieguanyin¹ from Biluochun². And now he was supposed to learn tea ceremony?

A chill ran down Qu Xia’s spine. “I… don’t think so.”

Erwen’s tone was calm: “You must. Learn from me or from Sylph. Choose.”

He had thought it through. Lock came from a marginal star system; even with excellent academics, without a noble family background, his future marriage prospects were weak. If he married while still sloppy and careless, he would face endless criticism.

Lock was young and naive, but as his sponsor, Erwen had the responsibility to guide him onto the proper path.

Qu Xia: “……”

Erwen was an Imperial Admiral; Sylph was his mentor. He had come to the capital star to study and conduct research. Who had time to waste on tea ceremony?

For a moment, Qu Xia considered revealing his true identity as a male zerg.

But then he thought: The strategist came from Pamir, and so did he. The strategist was brilliant in research, and so was he. The strategist was a noble male, and so was he. Revealing it now would be like announcing to Erwen: “I am the strategist.”

Better to endure tea ceremony than risk punishment from the Admiral.

So Qu Xia took a deep breath. “I’ll learn.”

After breakfast, Erwen led him toward the tea room. The villa’s first floor had a dedicated tea room, situated on a small island in the back garden’s lake.

They passed the kitchen and storage rooms, exiting through the villa’s back door into the garden. Qu Xia paused slightly as he stepped outside.

He saw a staircase leading downward.

The sunlight was just right, reflecting off the lake and the red-brick villa. A gentle breeze rippled the water, wisteria and lilacs grew thick along the shore, and a variety of green plants filled the space. It looked like a small, picturesque park.

But then that staircase appeared, jarringly out of place.

Like Sadako popping into a rom-com, or a tourist promo accidentally catching a hidden tunnel, this downward space felt completely unnatural.

Qu Xia couldn’t tell how deep it went; all he saw was pitch darkness, like the gaping jaws of some abyss, faintly ominous.

Erwen said, “That is the punishment room.”

Qu Xia froze. “Punish… whom?”

There were only the two of them in the villa. Who would Erwen punish? Him?

Even though this housekeeper looked broad-browed and gentle, he apparently had this kind of hobby. Qu Xia’s desire to run shot through the roof.

But Erwen calmly said, “Me.”

He explained evenly, “Married female zergs’ homes have such a room. My rank is high, ordinary whips don’t affect me much, and I’m not easily unsettled. The completely dark basement helps me reflect on mistakes, which is why it’s so dark down there.”

Qu Xia’s face involuntarily froze in shock.

He had skimmed sociology articles, but passed lightly over topics that didn’t interest him. He hadn’t realized that even someone holding the rank of Admiral would have to endure this kind of self-imposed punishment.

He asked hoarsely, “What kind of punishment… locked in a pitch-black basement, without even being allowed to light a lamp?”

It was a severe, almost unbearable punishment: deprived of sight, with no sense of time passing, nothing to do but drift through the hours. At first, one became irritable, then fearful, and eventually mentally unstable, depressed, even insane.

Erwen said, “Usually after being whipped, one kneels there.”

Qu Xia couldn’t utter a single word.

It went far beyond anything he could imagine.

Erwen had already walked three steps ahead. Seeing that Qu Xia hadn’t caught up, he said casually, “No need to be surprised. That is what I deserve.”

He intended for Qu Xia, orphaned as he was, to understand this harshness. After all, Qu Xia would soon reach adulthood, and adulthood meant marriage. Entering it unprepared would make life unbearably difficult.

Erwen said, “I’ve been down to the basement more than twenty times. I’ve had to kneel for over three days on four occasions, twice for defying a male lord, once for misconduct at a formal gathering, and once for returning late. Those were lessons I deserved.”

He continued walking toward the tea room, but Qu Xia still hadn’t followed. Erwen tilted his head slightly. “Hmm?”

“That’s wrong,” Qu Xia said.

“You’re wrong,” he repeated stubbornly, staring at Erwen’s back.

“This isn’t deserved! No matter what you did, no one has the right to whip you, scold you, or make you kneel in a basement for three whole days! It’s not deserved!”

“Not at all!”

Defiance, returning late, what kind of absurd reasons are those? And misconduct at a formal gathering… was it for an emperor?

Erwen turned slightly. He couldn’t see, but he could roughly sense Qu Xia’s position. They were five meters apart, facing each other as if in a standoff.

After a moment, Erwen said, “You’re too young.”

Then he turned back. “Follow me.”

They entered the tea room together.

Sunlight filtered through the frosted glass of the ceiling, casting soft patches of light on the sandalwood tables and chairs. Qu Xia, however, felt a chill.

He said nothing. Erwen lifted the teapot, and so did Qu Xia. Erwen poured, and Qu Xia poured. Erwen’s movements were fluid and natural, while Qu Xia clumsily mimicked him.

In tea ceremony, there’s a concept: the first pour of tea isn’t meant to be drunk, it’s to wash away dust and remove the bitterness from the leaves, and is poured out.

When the first hot water fell into the teacups and the leaves unfurled, Erwen flipped his fingers and poured out the water, leaving the tea leaves intact in the cup. Qu Xia tried to imitate him but didn’t get it right. The cup clanged, spilling tea all over himself.

The clothes blocked most of the heat, but it was still scalding. Qu Xia hissed, flailing to wipe the water off, almost letting tears escape.

He was the youngest in the lab, the team’s little treasure — delicate, handsome, and high-performing. Normally, if something like this happened, senior brothers and sisters would have rushed over, maybe even bought him a milk tea.

But Erwen merely swept his gaze lightly in Qu Xia’s direction. The eyes under the white cloth betrayed no emotion. “This is what’s called misconduct.”

Spilling tea in front of a male lord, soaking one’s clothes, and even crying out in pain, that would warrant dozens of lashes, then kneeling in the basement.

Even a female zerg, with fingers reddened from heat, wouldn’t dare such a disrespectful act while serving tea.

Erwen picked up the teacup again. “Watch carefully.”

He wasn’t worried about Lock getting burned, the skin of a female insect is tough; this bit of heat wouldn’t harm them.

Qu Xia bit his lip, silent for a long moment.

Gradually, his vision blurred, and something plopped down repeatedly.

He was really crying.

The little researcher had always had sensitive tear ducts. Raised as the family darling, growing up in a happy home with a harmonious lab, he’d never even served tea or poured water before. Now Erwen not only made him learn tea ceremony but, after he’d been scalded, didn’t comfort him. He picked up the teapot to make him do it again.

Erwen repeated the demonstration. Half a long moment passed without a sound from Qu Xia’s side. “Lock?”

Qu Xia shot to his feet.

He shoved the tea tray toward Erwen. “I’m not learning this!”

What kind of ridiculous rule was this? Spilling tea counts as misconduct, getting burned and not allowed to cry… what kind of inhumane rule is that?

Erwen seemed momentarily taken aback by his intense reaction, fingers frozen over the teacup for a long while.

He’d taught children before, but never a child like Qu Xia. Nuo Wei was precise, obedient like most female zergs in the world. Even the enlisted little females all tried their hardest.

But Lock?

This female zerg came from a wasteland planet, without parents to guide him, with natural talent. If he couldn’t be shaped, life would be hard for him later.

But now clearly wasn’t the time to think about that. The plip-plop of tears hitting the surface reached Erwen’s ears, broken, unceasing, like raindrops sliding down.

Yet the weather was clear; it wasn’t raining.

Erwen paused, hesitated, and asked,

“Lock… are you crying?”