Little Pink Starfish

The entrance to Throne was incredibly narrow—most of the area was buried underground. Rumor had it, this was where the name “Snake Pit” originated.

As the aircraft folded its wings and descended into the internal hangar, Su Liang followed behind Lu Taipan, stepping into a vast space of stark black and white.

He had been mentally prepared. Of course the living quarters of the Snake Pit’s master wouldn’t resemble a normal home—but seeing it in person still left him stunned. No matter how he looked at it, this place was simply too cold.

In fact, even the sterile medical center where he’d previously stayed felt more habitable than this. The lighting was icy. The alloy walls were thick and unyielding. The furniture, all harsh geometric lines, was made up mostly of weaponry and defense equipment. There wasn’t a single unnecessary item, not even an artificial plant. The entire space was so deathly silent it resembled a mausoleum—something an emperor of the Interstellar Restoration Era might have built for himself. Vast. Cold. Utterly devoid of life.

It wasn’t a residence. It was a massive coffin made of metal and weaponry.

Lu Taipan, however, seemed completely indifferent to the bleakness.

After traversing a long and complex corridor, he finally led Su Liang to what he called his “bedroom.”

Thankfully, unlike the dead silence of the rest of the place, this room at least showed a faint trace of being lived in.

It was small, furnished with just a few pieces. But even these were stiff and unwelcoming, the aesthetic barely more inviting than a Federation high-security prison cell. The only vaguely soft thing in the whole space was the bedding atop the bed at the center of the room.

One bed.

That was the first thing Su Liang noticed.

His heart rate spiked.

“I had the housekeeper prepare the bedding according to the Tranquil Garden standards,” Lu Taipan said stiffly.
“Unfortunately, lifestyle AIs can’t be activated inside Throne. But if there’s anything you don’t like, tell me directly.”

“Everything is fine,” Su Liang replied quickly.

He lowered his gaze to conceal his fluster, then calmly began unpacking his small suitcase.

There wasn’t much—just a few thin articles of clothing, some books, a handheld computer, and the notes he’d compiled during the recent mission.

Lu Taipan looked at the meager contents and frowned.

“You brought too little,” he said softly.
“Was the housekeeper’s preparation inadequate—?”

“No. It’s not the housekeeper’s fault,” Su Liang cut in.

He paused for a beat, then added flatly,

“I’m just used to this.”

Only Su Liang knew what that habit meant.

It had been forced on him in his previous life—during that ridiculous, foolish attempt to run away. While they were on the run, he’d developed a deeply ingrained habit: always keep one’s belongings minimal, packed in a lightweight suitcase or backpack, and stored somewhere accessible.

Because at any moment, he might have to flee.

He’d long lost count of the nights he was jolted awake by alarms, only to scramble barefoot through the dark as they abandoned yet another temporary shelter. Even after Lu Zhi Zhao left and he was finally driven into the dump sites of Zone 48, there had never been space or security for luxuries.

So now, survival meant simplicity.

But… things were different this time.

Su Liang bent down and retrieved something from the very bottom of his suitcase.

A plant, placed carefully inside a nutrient pod—a delicate little wildflower.

It was the same flower Lu Taipan had once given him.

Back then it was small and fragile, but now, a second, thinner stem had sprouted, and on that stem was a tiny, pale pink bud.

Lu Taipan’s eyes locked on the flower in Su Liang’s hands.

The boy’s eyes dropped, slightly embarrassed.

“Where should I put this?” Su Liang asked awkwardly.
“Can I place it by the bed?”

For a man used to quick, decisive action, Lu Taipan oddly paused.

“Yes—no, wait… here.”

He reached out, gently took the flower, moved a small side table to the center of the room, and solemnly placed it in the most noticeable spot.

Strangely, the presence of that little flower made the cold room feel… warmer.

They stood there for a while, both gazing at it.

Suddenly, Lu Taipan murmured,

“There aren’t many things I’m allowed to have.”

“What?” Su Liang blinked.

“I was trained from a young age to suppress desire and impulses. All high-level Alphas in the Snake Pit bloodline are said to be cursed… We’re naturally obsessive, arrogant, deranged, and greedy. The worst part is that with my level of strength, the instability of my mental domain is more dangerous than most. My father taught me to never form attachments. Ever.”

“Because eventually, I would destroy the very thing I loved.”

“Just like he did.”

His voice was calm, emotionless.

“So I had to abandon all feelings. I had to become a machine. It was better for everyone.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Su Liang frowned.
“You’re human. How can you be expected to feel nothing?”

“Yes,” Lu Taipan smiled faintly. “It’s easy for me to endure. I’ve done it for years. But after meeting you, I’ve started to fear… that I’ll become like him. Because with you, I—”

“Then I’ll heal you,” Su Liang interrupted firmly.

His eyes were clear and resolute.

“You won’t go mad. You won’t die. I won’t let that happen.”

Lu Taipan was stunned.

“Xiao Liang…”

“Let’s look at the therapy guide.”

Trying to collect himself, Su Liang turned back to the treatment manual given to them by the medical department. The guide was extremely detailed… maybe too detailed.

As soon as he reached one particular section, his face flushed and he slammed it shut.

[On the first day of cohabitation, it is recommended that both parties engage in a shared bath. Studies show that pheromone absorption is significantly enhanced in a warm, humid environment—]

“Click.”

Screen off.

“I—I mean… I’m not unwilling, it’s just…”

Su Liang’s ambition crumbled under awkward reality.

He wasn’t ready. Not fully.

Lu Taipan, composed as ever, nodded.

“We can bathe separately. Or use other methods. And you never have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
“As long as you stay by my side, that’s enough.”

---

Sensing Su Liang’s discomfort, Lu Taipan didn’t mention the bath again.

Instead, he suggested a tour of Throne.

The facility was massive, with intricate, high-level infrastructure. It took them hours just to walk one loop.

By the time they returned to the bedroom, it was late.

Su Liang watched as Lu Taipan changed—out of the formal uniform, into a robe. But before that, he…

Took a shower.

Su Liang: …

He’d tried to keep himself busy reading his notes, but his mind had been a total blank.

And when he heard the shower stop, he exhaled deeply in relief—only to freeze again.

Lu Taipan emerged.

His robe was messily worn—collar gaping, belt barely tied. His entire chest was exposed.

Su Liang could only stare as a droplet of water slid from Lu Taipan’s hair, traced over his firm muscles, and vanished beneath the robe.

“You can use the bath now,” Lu Taipan said casually.

Su Liang came back to himself with a jolt, blushed to his ears, and instinctively swallowed.

Shared bathing was technically part of treatment, after all.

He told himself this. Over and over.

But even though he knew it, the sheer reality of the situation left him flustered.

Lu Taipan, noticing Su Liang’s state, glanced down at his robe.

“Sorry,” he said, tightening the belt.
“I’m not used to wearing this kind of thing.”

“N-No problem!”

Su Liang averted his eyes and fled into the bathroom.

The steam immediately enveloped him—and so did Lu Taipan’s pheromones.

Though cold by nature, his pheromone scent—smoky and spicy—had become heavy and clinging in the humid air. It made Su Liang dizzy.

And deep inside, that aching softness surged again.

He finished as quickly as he could.

But stepping out of the bathroom, Su Liang froze.

Lu Taipan was by the bed, staring at him with such intensity, it felt tangible.

Wherever the man’s gaze landed, Su Liang’s skin felt warm and itchy.

His nape began to tighten.

His heart raced.

He wanted to run—but something held him rooted in place.

“M-Mr. Si…”

His voice trembled like a whisper for mercy.

That, unfortunately, was a mistake.

The pheromones in the room thickened instantly, crashing over him like a tide. Lu Taipan stepped forward—and Su Liang found himself in his arms.

Wet heat surrounded him.

Was it from the shower? Or the Alpha’s pheromones?

He didn’t know.

All he knew was that Lu Taipan leaned down, breath hot on his neck—and Su Liang shut his eyes.

He braced for the sharp, electric pain of a bite.

But it never came.

All he felt was the cool metal of the bite inhibitor brushing his skin.

Lu Taipan didn’t do anything else. He just held him, tightly, breathing in deeply at his neck.

They stayed like that for a long time.

Long enough that Su Liang began to wonder if they were melting into each other.

Then, slowly, painfully, Lu Taipan let go.

“That’s enough…” he rasped.
“It’s late. You should rest.”

A gentle push, and Su Liang was guided toward the only bed.

His heart fluttered—then thudded harder when he saw Lu Taipan turn and walk away.

He stepped to the far wall, issued a command—and a panel slid open.

A sleek capsule bed emerged.

Lu Taipan input several settings: mental stabilizers, sedatives, suppressants—all mixed into the sleep gel.

Sensing Su Liang’s gaze, he turned and looked back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Su Liang murmured.

As Lu Taipan settled inside, the lights dimmed.

Su Liang curled up beneath the covers—and just as he was about to close his eyes, his communicator buzzed.

From: Si She
The medical officer believes the bite inhibitor is just decorative. It doesn’t truly protect you. Therefore, I was strictly warned to restrain myself inside the sleep pod overnight, to prevent accidental harm to you.

After evaluating myself, I accepted his suggestion.

Su Liang stared at the message in the dark.

Then, he smiled faintly.

From: Su Liang
I’ll be sure to thank the medical officer.

Good night.

He didn’t see the unsent messages still on Lu Taipan’s wrist:

From: Si She
Tonight, I lied to you again. I said I was used to patience and control. That’s not true. That’s only because, until now, I’ve never truly wanted anything.

[Deleted]

From: Si She
Since you appeared, restraint feels like burning alive.

[Deleted]

…

Hours later, Su Liang was fast asleep.

The sleep pod opened soundlessly.

A tall figure stepped out—walked quietly to the bed.

He stared down at Su Liang for a long, long time.

Like a beast, starving.

His fingers twitched. His throat bobbed.

Those eyes… if Su Liang had seen them awake, he would’ve trembled.

In the dark, Lu Taipan removed the bite inhibitor with ease.

He leaned down, lips brushing the boy’s mouth—

“Goodnight… my little cat.”

The Snake Pit’s master whispered hoarsely.