Chapter 155
A-Yan froze completely, his entire body stiffening as he felt Su Ci’s cool hand holding his tail. A faint blush crept across his face, spreading steadily.
His tail and ears, though conjured, were still part of his body, so the sensation of being touched was very real.
In the past, his feelings for Su Ci were purely innocent, centered on attachment. But now… things had undeniably changed.
Feeling the heat spreading to the tips of his ears, A-Yan lowered his gaze. Under the dim moonlight, he observed Su Ci’s serene face.
Su Ci had one leg thrown over him and was hugging him like a body pillow. He adjusted A-Yan’s tail into a comfortable position, stroking its soft, fluffy fur with one hand, while the other gently rested on A-Yan’s fuzzy ears.
The irritation on Su Ci’s face faded into contentment, and the oppressive atmosphere dissipated as he indulged in the comforting sensation of fluff.
With his eyes closed again, Su Ci rested his head on A-Yan’s chest. His peaceful sleeping expression looked extraordinarily tranquil. The loose neckline of his shirt slipped slightly, revealing a faint glimpse of his collarbone, adding an unexpectedly alluring charm to the scene.
A-Yan swallowed hard and forced himself to look away, his breathing carefully controlled in the stillness of the night.
Gradually, Su Ci’s hands slowed their motions until they finally stopped, resting motionless.
A-Yan glanced down again, seeing Su Ci now completely asleep. Recalling everything that had just happened, a small smile curled his lips.
He had thought he would be sleeping alone for quite a while, but…
Could Su Su be just as unaccustomed to separation as he was?
A-Yan leaned in closer to Su Ci, resting his nose gently against Su Ci’s soft hair and inhaling his familiar scent. The sense of closeness and reassurance warmed his heart.
If only time could stop at this moment…
Slowly, A-Yan closed his eyes as well.
In the past, it had been Su Ci holding him in his cub form. But now, the roles had reversed—he was the one holding Su Ci, peacefully drifting into slumber.
*
The next morning, as faint rays of light spilled through the window and illuminated the room, Lang Ze opened his eyes, fully awake.
His internal clock was well-established now, and he woke precisely at 5:50 AM. Having gone to bed early with high-quality sleep, he felt refreshed as soon as he opened his eyes.
However, just as he was about to stretch lazily, something felt off.
Huh?
Who’s grabbing his tail?
He looked down beside him, lifted the blanket, and saw a pair of small hands clutching his tail. Pulling the blanket down further, he spotted a furry little head.
“Xing Xing?” Lang Ze exclaimed in shock. “What are you doing in my room?”
The child, woken up by the noise, sat up wrapped in the blanket, his half-lidded eyes still dazed and confused, looking completely groggy and innocent.
He didn’t answer, and Lang Ze didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he reached out to ruffle Xing Xing’s hair, smiling brightly. “That’s great! Xing Xing, you’ve turned back into human form!”
Although the little kitten form was adorable, Lang Ze was concerned about Xing Xing being fully beastified. It wasn’t good for him, so he was genuinely happy to see him back to normal.
Xing Xing didn’t quite understand what Lang Ze meant but slowly nodded. Feeling a chill, he ducked his head and burrowed back into the blanket, covering himself completely.
As for why he had heard Lang Ze’s voice so early in the morning—he didn’t find it strange at all.
Ever since he’d been allowed to roam the nursery freely, Lang Ze would drag him out of bed every morning. While Xing Xing could have instructed the AI to refuse Lang Ze entry, he never did.
Now, nestled under the blanket, he felt particularly sleepy.
“Xing Xing, don’t go back to sleep! Let’s go water the seedlings!”
Lang Ze lifted the blanket, then quickly pulled it back down again.
“Xing Xing, you… where are your clothes?”
He stammered for a moment before realizing that Xing Xing had been in kitten form last night. It made sense that he wouldn’t be wearing clothes as a cat.
The little wolf cub jumped off the bed and opened his wardrobe. After pulling out a cub-sized outfit and holding it up to measure, he quickly stuffed it back inside.
His clothes were too big for Xing Xing!
“Wait here for me!”
Lang Ze dashed out of the room, returning moments later with a brand-new cub outfit in hand.
“Xing Xing, get up and put this on!”
He ran to the bed, pulled the child out of the blanket, and began dressing him in the cub outfit.
Xing Xing sat up groggily.
“Left hand,” Lang Ze instructed.
Xing Xing thought for a moment before raising his left hand. Lang Ze slipped the sleeve on and then said, “Right hand.”
After another brief pause, Xing Xing hesitantly raised his right hand.
Once both sleeves were on, Lang Ze pulled the shirt down and handed him the pants. “Put these on yourself.”
Xing Xing blinked, yawned, and slowly picked up the pants, clumsily trying to put his little feet into the pant legs.
Watching his slow, fumbling movements, Lang Ze, eager to go outside and play, was practically bursting with impatience.
But seeing Xing Xing’s unfocused, confused expression, he couldn’t bring himself to rush him. Instead, he hurriedly stepped in and helped him with the pants as well.
In the past, Lang Ze never would have imagined himself being so patient. Of course, there were many things he wouldn’t have imagined back then, and now, he didn’t think it was a bad thing at all.
Since Xing Xing’s vision was impaired, it was only natural for him to take extra care of him.
For a healthy and clever cub like You You, who was also his good friend, Lang Ze would never show this level of patience.
After all, some things you just have to learn to do for yourself!
Lang Ze helped Xing Xing get dressed, then eagerly ran to the bathroom to grab a damp towel. Returning, he gently wiped the little boy’s face.
The freshly awakened child had rosy cheeks, his skin soft, smooth, and pale. When Lang Ze compared it to his own hand, the color difference was obvious.
“Xing Xing, you need to get more sunlight. That way, your body will be healthier!” Lang Ze couldn’t help but say.
After being fussed over like this, Xing Xing finally began to wake up a bit. Hearing Lang Ze’s comment, he furrowed his brows reluctantly but eventually murmured softly, “Okay…”
Unable to resist, Lang Ze ruffled Xing Xing’s hair, just like the caretakers often did.
Then, as if he’d made a groundbreaking discovery, Lang Ze exclaimed, “Xing Xing! You’ve grown a tail! And it’s not like mine at all!”
Without hesitation, he reached out to touch it.
Xing Xing’s tail was long and slender, covered in soft black fur. The moment Lang Ze grabbed it, the fur, which was smooth and silky, suddenly puffed up.
“D-Don’t… touch it…”
Xing Xing pulled his tail back from Lang Ze’s small wolf paws, his soft voice trembling slightly as he stammered.
Lang Ze pouted in response.
Xing Xing is so stingy! He was cuddling his tail just last night!
But looking at little Xing Xing clutching his tail with a timid expression, Lang Ze decided to let it slide.
After all, he had already touched it once—so now they were even!
“Fine, no touching. Let’s go play!” Lang Ze tossed the damp towel onto the table, scooped Xing Xing onto his back, and charged down the hallway like a gust of wind.
The corridor echoed with Lang Ze’s cheerful laughter.
“Lang Ze?” Just as he ran out of the room, he ran into Lu Jiao, the little white deer. Lu Jiao looked curiously at Xing Xing on Lang Ze’s back and asked, “Why is Xing Xing coming out of your room?”
Lang Ze knew Xing Xing’s ability allowed him to move freely between rooms, but the other cubs weren’t aware of this. So, when Lu Jiao asked, he replied casually, “I brought him to my room last night.”
Lu Jiao nodded. Xing Xing had been fully beastified yesterday, and given his unique condition, it made sense that he wouldn’t be left alone in his room.
“Xing Xing, are you feeling better today?” Lu Jiao asked.
Xing Xing, listening to their conversation, felt a bit confused.
So just now… I woke up in Lang Ze’s room, not my own?
Hearing Lu Jiao’s question, Xing Xing softly replied, “Yes.”
As for what exactly had happened yesterday… Xing Xing tried to recall. He remembered going out with everyone to fight monsters, but everything after that was a blur.
“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” Lu Jiao asked. “I can take care of you too.”
Xing Xing’s small hands immediately tightened their grip, and his body stiffened. He was still reeling from the realization that he had “slept out” last night. The thought of spending the night in yet another room left him completely flustered.
Thankfully, Lang Ze came to his rescue.
“Oh, we can figure that out tonight! If needed, the three of us can sleep together!”
While the first half of Lang Ze’s sentence had slightly relieved Xing Xing, the latter half made him even more nervous.
Lang Ze, oblivious, was already racing toward the stairwell with Xing Xing on his back. “You You, hurry up and catch up!”
Ran Lie, Xue Wei, and Lu Li emerged from their rooms one after another, following Lang Ze and heading together to the dining hall for breakfast.
Compared to before, their breakfasts were now far more lavish.
In addition to two Star-chain Fruits, they had Golden Yams, Jade Snow, and Emerald Beans to eat. While these were prepared by the nanny robots using a food processor and weren’t as delicious as those made by Brother A-Yan, they were still a vast improvement over the monotonous meat jelly they used to eat.
The combination of meat jelly, these filling staples, and two Star-chain Fruits was more than enough to satisfy the cubs.
Little did they know, the inspector currently returning to the base was watching a video of them enjoying breakfast, his heart deeply moved.
He even clipped a segment of the video and sent it to a group of daycare directors he knew. Though the nursery’s nature differed from regular daycares, these directors—having either left their roles or declined to work at the nursery—still served as childcare consultants.
Occasionally, the inspector would compile problems faced by the caretakers and consult these advisors.
However, most of their advice turned out to be of little practical use. None of them had been able to offer any solutions for handling berserk cubs.
Over time, the inspector had gradually stopped seeking their input.
But to his surprise, after so long, the once-silent group chat suddenly sprang back to life.
Upon seeing the video the inspector had sent, these directors—now highly respected figures in the early childhood education world—couldn’t help but react:
[?]
[??]
[Is this really from the nursery on Prison Star? Are you kidding me?]
[Are these the cubs who were constantly fighting? I don’t believe it!]
[Xiao Hu, this is unfair. Sending us a fabricated video to fool us? What’s your goal? We’re just consultants now; we don’t assess your work anymore.]
Inspector Hu Xi: [???]
Seeing the group insult him like this, Hu Xi couldn’t help but reply: “What do you mean, fabricated video? It’s 100% real! If you don’t believe me, check for yourself! See if there’s any trace of editing in this video!”
His outburst prompted the others to step in and smooth things over, and the tension in the chat gradually eased.
“So these are really the cubs from the nursery?” someone asked, still skeptical.
Hu Xi: “Of course they are! It’s all thanks to the new caretaker’s excellent work! Yesterday, I signed the papers to approve his early appointment and permanent status!”
The group erupted with questions, demanding to know who this new caretaker was.
However, Hu Xi didn’t elaborate further.
Saying more would risk revealing classified information, and as an inspector, he had his professional ethics to uphold.
Hu Xi: “I just wanted to share the nursery’s latest educational progress, nothing more. I have other things to attend to, so I’ll leave it at that.”
With that, he logged off, feeling triumphant, ignoring the attempts of the early childhood education experts to coax him back into the chat.
Hu Xi had long been unimpressed with these so-called experts. While it was true that the cubs’ issues were severe, wasn’t it precisely the job of experts to help solve such problems?
Now, with a genuine expert on board, it finally proved a point:
The cubs weren’t the problem—it was just that these experts weren’t up to the task!
The group caught on to Hu Xi’s unspoken message. Though they felt both frustrated and helpless, there wasn’t much they could say since he hadn’t explicitly criticized them.
The more subtle his comments were, the more infuriating they became.
Unable to let it go, the group discussed the matter further. Some even tested the video footage, only to confirm that it showed no signs of tampering.
Watching the three-minute clip and noting the cubs’ behavioral and emotional improvements, the experts couldn’t deny the transformation. If they couldn’t see the significance of what was happening, they had no business holding their prestigious positions as daycare directors in their respective capitals.
But how had this been achieved?
Could it be that the Prison Star Research Institute had developed a solution to the berserk tendencies of beast-blood cubs?
Wen Qianqi frowned deeply as he watched the group’s discussion.
The Prison Star Research Institute…
He recalled hearing about a prominent scientist recently arrested and prosecuted for participating in numerous human experiments. Although the reports hadn’t named the scientist’s workplace, Wen Qianqi knew they were employed by the Prison Star Research Institute.
The scandal had already tarnished the institute’s reputation in the interstellar academic community.
Yet, watching the footage Hu Xi had shared from the nursery, Wen Qianqi found himself conflicted.
Closing the group chat, he opened a pinned conversation in his messaging interface.
The chat’s background image featured a young woman cradling a baby swaddled in a blanket. She was looking into the camera, smiling.
Wen Qianqi stared at the picture for a long time before summoning the courage to initiate a video call.
After some time, the call was answered.
The woman’s image appeared on the screen. She looked far more haggard and aged than in the photo, her entire demeanor shrouded in an aura of numb exhaustion.
Seeing her like this, Wen Qianqi felt a pang in his chest. He finally spoke, “Xiao Yan…”
Wen Yan didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed somewhere off-screen. “Dad, what do you need?” she asked.
“How is Qian Qian doing lately?” Wen Qianqi asked.
“Same as always,” Wen Yan replied curtly, clearly unwilling to elaborate.
Wen Qianqi’s expression turned bitter. His granddaughter, Qian Qian, had inherited her father’s bloodline. As she grew older, her bloodline powers began to manifest, and last year, she experienced her first episode of berserk transformation.
By regulation, even as a daycare director, Wen Qianqi had no choice but to send Qian Qian home to receive family-based education.
However, Qian Qian’s father had died in the line of duty not long after she was born. While the bloodline connection allowed Wen Yan to calm Qian Qian during her berserk episodes, it was an extremely dangerous task for her as an ordinary human.
Wen Qianqi felt deeply guilty for being unable to help his granddaughter. His daughter, Wen Yan, harbored significant resentment toward him, straining their relationship further.
Recalling the video he had just seen, he finally couldn’t hold back and said, “I just learned from the Prison Star inspector that—”
Before he could finish, Wen Yan’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Don’t say another word. I don’t want to hear about that place.”
With that, she hung up the call.
Wen Qianqi sighed heavily but didn’t blame her. He understood her sensitivity.
Because… her husband, Qian Qian’s father, had died there.
Thinking of that calm and exceptionally talented man, Wen Qianqi sighed deeply again. He forwarded the video from the group chat to his daughter, explaining the situation in the accompanying message.
Those who are gone are gone forever, but the living must find a way to move on.
*
Prison Star, Nursery Facility.
The children were oblivious to anything happening outside Prison Star, and for now, they weren’t interested.
As usual, they ran past the nursery building, heading toward the lush green fields in the back. While passing by the purification pool, Xing Xing, perched on Lang Ze’s shoulders, suddenly lifted his head.
He turned toward the pool, and Lang Ze, who had been running at full speed, abruptly stopped in his tracks.
In the water, a pair of malevolent eyes silently opened.
The Water Demon, which had been tortured all night by the purification array, had much of its resentment cleansed, but its anger had reached its peak.
The “caretaker” had forbidden it from leaving the pool, but he hadn’t said that it couldn’t have other creatures come down to keep it company, had he?
