Amos finally realized what had happened.
The little white puffball who just wanted to snuggle up suddenly fluffed out, all his soft white fur plastered to Amos’s face, whimpering and frantically circling.
Amos immediately opened his eyes.
And met those watery amber eyes.
Zao Zao: “…Wu awoo!”
Baba, you’re alive—
Amos: …Actually, I wasn’t dead.
Little Chu Zao had just finished stretching, the small arched body already sitting up. At Amos’s sudden movement, he was startled and arched again. After meeting Amos’s gaze, he used his little paw to probe beneath Amos’s nose, before finally dropping back down with a plop.
The cub was still rattled, took a moment to react, then slapped the pillow with his paws, whimpering in protest.
He’d forgotten to change back.
That soft, adorable voice started off hoarse and weak, but gradually grew more forceful.
“Wu awoo awoo!!!”
Baba scared Zao Zao!
Zao Zao’s heart was still pounding; Baba, you stopped breathing, wuwu—
Amos: …
Amos sat up.
Having crammed childcare basics recently, His Majesty had improved a lot, but incidents like this still revealed a first-time dad with less than a year’s experience.
Trying to keep the cub from having nightmares, he maybe set him up for years of nightmares—inadvertently.
Well-meaning, but not always reliable.
“Sorry, Zao Zao, I didn’t think.”
Amos sat up straight, letting this snowy puffball stand on his lap and awoo away at him.
“The doctor said you’d be confused when you woke up, so I didn’t want to scare you.”
Amos truly didn’t want to startle him, so he’d nervously held his breath—instead frightening the little puffball even more.
Looking at the little guy, Amos felt a bit defeated—just when he thought he might finally raise Chu Zao well, these problems popped up.
His coronet appeared, wings spreading slowly to fold in, wrapping around the little one, trying to offer some security.
At this moment, the cub straightened up in his arms, clung to Amos’s face, puffed up and wide-eyed, staring at Amos’s halo.
The other Crown Clan craned their necks, trying to get a look at the cub—such a long fellow, small wings behind fluttering in discontent like a moth.
That little dragon tail swished here and there.
When Amos first brought Chu Zao home, he stayed a white ball for a long time, even smaller then, barely able to stand.
And by the time Chu Zao could take human shape, he’d already grown braver, so Amos’s memories of the little, wary white puffball had changed—now much bolder, puffed-up, and even daring to awoo awoo at him in protest.
Those soft paws must feel wonderful, but—damn it, Amos wouldn’t let others cuddle him, right now everyone wanted to swap places. See—even Chu Zao bit Amos’s halo with his mouth…
Huh?
Everyone’s eyes widened.
The impact of the cub biting a mental weapon had weakened over time, but seeing the filial child again gnawing Amos’s halo, albeit not hard, just grinding it with his tiny teeth, was a shock.
Everyone saw Amos’s body twitch, and, honestly, all of them—retreated a step in unison.
What kind of retribution could make a Crown Clan member tremble?
Before, those without cubs scoffed at this question.
But now—
It wasn’t exactly fear; more like their backs tingled and heads buzzed, wanting to just collapse and recover.
Once the little cub’s anger faded, he looked at Amos’s halo, glanced at the now-breathing Amos, and gently licked the adult’s halo with his soft tongue—signaling the matter was over.
The cub sat back in Amos’s lap.
Amos, relieved, let the wings and halo he’d used to calm the cub vanish in a flash, maintaining an outward composure as his scalp tingled.
“Zao Zao, do you feel unwell anywhere?”
Chu Zao tilted his little head, considering.
He swallowed, looking up at Amos eagerly: “Awoo~”
Baba, Zao Zao is hungry.
A while later.
Little Chu Zao leaned against Amos, his two fluffy hind legs curled slightly, dragon tail tucked neatly beneath him, displaying his soft, pink belly beneath the white fur, both front paws hugging Amos’s mental sword, nibbling away.
Crunch after crunch—each tooth-mark like a pluck on every Crown Clan’s nerve.
From scalp-tingling to a perverse kind of ‘pleasure.’
—The cub wants to eat; what can an adult do?
Can you deny him?
“Awoo~”
Baba, how’s teacher?
Chu Zao’s thoughts were a little slow; only after munching for a while did he remember what had happened before his nap.
He’d kind of helped Grandpa Morlo piece his halo back.
But his memory was blurry, and the whole event felt vague.
“Hel’s alright.”
Amos quickly replied.
“They’re in another med bay.”
The cub was satisfied, munching further on Amos’s weapon, then finally full, big eyes blankly staring ahead, spacing out like a soft, decorative furball.
Too cute.
Feiman wanted to approach, but she and Anya held each other back, neither able to take the first step.
Of the siblings, Frey wasn’t the most capable, but always the most emotionally steady—he just watched silently.
Then there was one left.
The young man who’d been fiddling in a corner since before finally looked up.
Soft, black hair slightly messy, scarlet eyes narrowed, almost unreadable or, if you looked deep, unsettling—but mouth was confidently smiling.
A strikingly pretty doll’s face, in shadow, hand on chin, the smile combined with his eyes made him seem a kind of composed madman. He walked out, grinning, and in the light was dazzling white—an incredibly deceptive face.
Amos glanced over. This man, brimming with confidence, tugged at his already messy uniform and crouched by.
“I’ve looked it up,” he wagged his new communicator, flashing some old Crown Clan news. “With original-form cubs, you can rub faces together so he feels your presence better.”
Feiman and Anya: ?
Frey, farther back: ?
Amos, beside the cub: ?
He moved quickly—leaning in.
Only to yelp in pain, recoiling.
He glanced up in shock at the cub, who’d just bitten his nose, the four short legs scrambling to hide behind Amos, tripping over the sheets en route.
“That can’t be right… shouldn’t it work?”
He checked his data again, unwilling to give up.
“Says it’s a friendly sign…”
He tried again—bitten again.
Chu Zao peeked out around Amos’s back with just his head.
Body pressed low, ears flat.
Halo flickering above, he looked like a little white seal.
“Awoo?”
Baba baba baba baba baba… who is that? Does Zao Zao know them?
Feeney: …?
“You said prickly beard—your third uncle shaved, now you don’t recognize him for real??”
Chu Zao: ?
The cub immediately changed back to human shape behind Amos, wide-eyed, unable to believe the beautifully doll-faced person in front of him.
“Th-th-third uncle??”
The doll face overlapped with that scruffy, bearded visage.
Chu Zao: ???
Magic trick!
The cub’s shocked face was so funny that someone couldn’t help but laugh aloud. Then a second, then more.
“Third brother, I told you—no way Zao Zao would recognize you, but you insisted.”
And you were so confident about face-rubbing with Zao Zao—how many more unreliable stunts do you have left?
Anya laughed till he bent over.
Feiman was more reserved, but laughed as well.
Only Feeney, totally confused, stomped in place.
Amos cleared his throat, scooped up the dazed cub to reassure him.
Zao Zao shocked the Crown Clan, Feeney shocked Zao Zao.
With all the commotion, they were nearly at Holy Cas Prime.
General Yemeng came with a report.
“Your Majesty, Holy Cas Prime requests contact about welcoming young highness; Chairman Cheng wishes to discuss with you and the princes.”
Amos glanced at the time and agreed.
He still eyed the cub with some worry. He hadn’t ignored all he’d seen earlier, just suppressed it. In the end, he patted Chu Zao’s head.
The little one, very obedient, very mature, said, “Baba, go busy. Zao Zao will wait here for you.”
A moment of softness in Amos’s eyes. Before leaving, he glared around at his siblings—especially the younger ones.
Once Amos left to handle official affairs—
Feeney flexed his hands, that fresh doll’s face grinning, revealing gleaming tiger teeth. He was obviously ready, and looked expectantly at Chu Zao.
“Zao Zao, third uncle will take you to secretly see how Hel and Morlo are doing.”
He followed every impulse; Frey frowned, wanting to object.
The cub seemed alert but was still under observation and needed rest—and they were about to land. Wouldn’t it be better to wait?
But—
The cub’s big eyes lit up.
“Really?”
Anya, still laughing about Feeney’s mishap, was also reminded that Zao Zao bit him once.
No better than that time the cub whacked him in the head with a coronet. But next, he saw the cub’s expectant look at Feeney.
Ah, with Feeney’s logic and tendency for adventure—or accident-prone luck—he might actually be more popular with the cub.
Anya: “Of course, little uncle will take you too.”
Feiman: “Auntie will carry you?”
The two exchanged glances, but in the end, all looked to Feeney.
Fine, it hurts to lose, but it hurts more if others win.
Feeney clenched his fist, still smiling.
“Of course! Now that Amos is gone, I’m the strongest here.”
“I think you’re getting cocky.”
Frey rubbed his brow.
“One look, then back.”
So—
Five minutes later, outside another med bay, four big heads and one small were crammed at the door, peeking through the crack inside.
Morlo was up, but still in the med pod, his twisted wings looking painful. He held a cup, head bowed, shoulders trembling.
As if crying.
“I didn’t know…”
Morlo trembled.
“I didn’t know—when you left—you lost your wings.”
He looked up at Hel.
Not long ago, he’d been teasing Hel for being a crybaby, then noticed all the medicine Hel was taking. Morlo, experienced in med centers, recognized the painkillers at once.
After repeated questions, he learned that after Morlo pushed him away, Hel, under the pollutant’s influence, fought desperately to return and lost his wings in a battle with a powerful beast.
“If I’d known… Hel, I’d never have said that to you—”
He’d never have said—Live well, Hel.
Morlo knew how much that hurt a Crown Clan. With his own wing mangled painfully, he couldn’t imagine what Hel had endured all these years.
He choked up, covering his eyes, biting hard to keep from crying.
“It didn’t hurt that much, Morlo, honestly. If it had, I couldn’t have survived. Look, I made it, and waited for you to come back.”
Hel, who’d just been stern with Morlo, panicked at the sight of tears—always a bit stodgy at heart.
“You teased me for being a crybaby…”
Hel shivered, feeling that something was wrong.
Just outside, at the small door crack, a top-level psychic cluster of Crown Clan all crammed in, eavesdropping hard.
“What’s going on?”
“Don’t push, let me see—”
“Oh, Hel still can’t comfort people.”
“Only Uncle Morlo could put up with him.”
“Aw, Zao Zao, I can’t see!”
The cub squatted by the crack, peering in, hearing all the adults above discussing—now’s the time to take charge, comfort him properly, he’s already crying, time for hugs and kisses, right?
A bunch of singles, expert in commentary but not romance.
“Really want to go push him—”
Chu Zao blinked his big eyes, looked up, reached out to tug Grandpa Hel’s mental thread, and in a milky voice (as his coronet flashed), said—
“Teacher Hel, you need to take the initiative, say what you want to say.”
Those nearest to Chu Zao felt the cub’s mental ripple, glanced down in surprise at him.
What was that?
But quickly, all attention was drawn back inside.
Hel paused; in a daze, he thought he heard the cub’s voice, and in that moment, looked at Morlo, instinctively stood, placing both hands on the sides of the pod.
If you want to do something, do it; if you want to say something, say it.
“Morlo… I love you.”
Hel spoke softly.
“Wh-what? You—you—you, all of a sudden…”
Morlo looked up, dazed.
Hel was always restrained and cultured.
Morlo was dumbstruck, ears slowly flushing red.
After all these years together, why so sudden?
But Hel kept going.
“I used to think love was pain—losing you, losing my wings—but now I’m glad you said those words to me—”
Hel gazed at Morlo, “The pain of losing my wings, once I thought of our future, wasn’t as painful anymore. It became bearable—”
Just then, the Holy Cas ship pierced the atmosphere, skimmed through clouds, and out the window lay a boundless city, scattered with unshed snow.
“I waited for you—welcome home.”
Hel lowered his head.
“Did they kiss?”
“Can’t tell—can’t see—”
“Don’t push, Anya, you brat—third brother will whack you!”
Clatter.
Hel and Morlo froze. They turned to see the door burst open.
The little cub was plastered against the door, nearly falling forward, only to be scooped by Feeney, legs and arms swinging in the air.
A squad of formidable warriors, feared throughout the stars, met Hel’s gaze, managed an awkward smile, and all turned away.
“Ah, we’ve arrived, quick, let’s go—time to disembark, haven’t eaten well in days.”
“Right, I need to see if Uncle Meilun and Uncle Kaman have arrived—”
Four adults, one cub, bailed instantly.
Hel: …Eavesdropping??
“Knew something was off—could you princes use your mental powers for good?!”
The ship gently landed.
It was the dawn of new growth: you could invite someone to see the flowers bloom next spring. I have always been here, waiting for you to come home.
Watch the winter snow melt, and all things blossom.
*
On the other side of the stars, the Boel Alliance Presidential Palace.
With the capital world fallen, countless powers scrambled to carve up the once-mighty alliance.
Papers were scattered everywhere in the palace; the starnet echoed with talk of surrender, survival, or overthrowing the long-lived races’ dominance, as if a new face at the top would change their fate.
Military boots stepped softly on blood-stained ceramic tiles.
A petite figure pushed open the presidential office door.
She hid in the shadows, slowly lifting her gaze inside.
A large, silver-haired figure sat facing away in a leather chair.
“President Airdona.”
Shenghua’s voice was hoarse.
She stepped in.
One of the only two surviving Spirit Eye Race, former president of Boel, Airdona. As a member of the long-lived Spirit Eye Race, their people had sacrificed their survival, trying to unite with more planets—and ended up like this.
Airdona slowly turned his chair; shrewd eyes sizing up the girl. He paused, then his expression relaxed a little.
“I was waiting for you.”
“For me?”
Shenghua frowned.
“Yes, when your family suffered, I wanted to help, but with power scattered, I couldn’t do anything. Sometimes I hate it—why give our Spirit Eye Race eyes that sense danger, but not power like the Crown Clan? Though, the Crown Clan had a hard time too. Maybe there’s no real difference after all.”
Airdona said.
“No, the Crown Clan will not disappear.”
Shenghua said firmly.
Airdona paused, then laughed.
“Girl, come here—”
Shenghua stepped closer.
“Now the rebels haven’t moved further; you should leave here soon, seek out other long-lived kin, or take your child and find a hidden world to live on…”
Her words trailed off as she saw Airdona coughing blood.
“You—”
Shenghua hurried to him, flustered.
“My mental power tells me—dying here will make the most impact—”
Airdona smiled, looking at Shenghua’s outfit.
“The Hymn Organization is hard to approach, their powers peculiar; they’ve destroyed many long-lived races, reached their hands everywhere. Child, exchange with my eyes, that’s your task from them, isn’t it?”
“How did you know?!”
Shenghua stared at him.
“You had other options—”
“To be born here means taking responsibility. Some of us lost our way, went wrong, powerless to change it, but the dream was always the same: make the polluters—the chaos-bringers—pay the price! So many have laid down their lives; I am not especially unique among them.”
Airdona grew passionate, then slowly closed his eyes, his mental strength fading. He gazed out the window.
Murmured: “Barney… my child, the last hope of the Spirit Eye Race, go farther… farther…”
A starship fleeing the Boel Alliance held the last Spirit Eye. Inside, the old president’s people held him as he suddenly shuddered, whole body trembling, clutching his eyes: “Father… father—?! Go back!! Let me go back!! Who did it?! Father!!! Let me go back, father… I won’t go… wuwu… father…”
Shenghua left the palace, a bloody sack at her waist. She glanced back.
Nearby, rebels broke in, brushing past her in the darkness.
They shouted about overthrowing power, surrendering or merging with neighboring realms, trampling Boel’s old flag underfoot.
“Boss? Is it done?”
A flunky approached.
Shenghua nodded.
“Hand it over to them—” her eyes darkened, “this pledge should be weighty enough.”
More money, more!
In her pocket, Shenghua’s hand trembled slightly.
Inside, Airdona lay peacefully in his lounge, a bloodied flower over his chest.
Like withered hope, a lone blaze of color among ruins, a spring bud yet to break, lost amid chaos and decay.
*
Holy Cas Prime.
Amos refused Chairman Cheng Xuan’s welcome ceremonies.
Because Chu Zao, Hel, Morlo, and others who’d entered the pollution zone needed more thorough checks—the sooner, the better.
Half a day passed.
All checks complete.
All was generally well.
Except the cub seemed to have drained his mental power—every little while, he wanted to chew a mental weapon.
As for the flames that lit up on his weapon and coronet, no one could explain them.
They could only gather around the golden-bowed cub to watch.
Little Chu Zao sat quietly, gnawing crunchily on Amos’s weapon.
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
They’d long since gone numb to Zao Zao biting mental weapons. Stroking their chins, they eyed his Cupid’s Bow.
Eventually, someone handed the bow back to him.
Job and Joshua, passing by after treatment, popped in for a look.
Joshua’s mental health had much improved; he no longer dreamt daily of his parents dying before him as their coronets shattered.
He meant to say hi, but was startled to see Chu Zao, Amos’s weapon in his mouth, clutching the notorious bow of social death.
Joshua’s eyes widened.
“I—I’ve been good lately, don’t point that bow at me.”
“What’s that mean?”
The only one still clueless, Feeney, glanced up and blinked, that childish doll face tinged with a mocking smile.
“Seriously, Joshua? Scared of a five-year-old cub’s mental attack?”
Joshua: …?
Do you even hear yourself?
And—“what happened to your beard?”
Joshua shuddered, hiding behind Job: “It’s weird—gotten used to you with a beard, now you look naked.”
Feeney: …
He stood, snorted.
“Zao Zao, come here, Third Uncle uses the same weapon—you know I’m not one to just talk. Let’s see who’s better at archery—I’ll teach you!”
Little Chu Zao, holding his bow: …?
Amos’s weapon fell from his mouth in surprise.
He looked at Amos.
Oh, right, he didn’t know.
The crowd all glanced meaningfully at confident Feeney.
“Tell him to aim at Joshua—”
Anya whispered, savoring the drama.
A minor problem solved; lots still to be done, but rare happiness in the clan. Amos and the cub shared a glance, and Amos nodded.
A lesson lived is worth a thousand words.
Chu Zao, reassured, slowly drew the bow: “Third Uncle, you said I could.”
“Yes, I said so.”
Feeney sensed something was off, but kept up the bravado.
He’d heard about “love and peace”—but with a weapon so aggressive, love and what peace?
Maybe nuclear peace.
Until the arrow hit him; it merged lightly into his body.
Feeney: ?
Anya, quick as a flash, spun his head toward the door.
Joshua: …
No, no, no—too gross.
He tugged Job aside, escaping.
Feeney, growing dazed, caught sight of Hel and Morlo entering.
Hel caught on instantly, but too late.
“Teacher, Uncle Morlo… so pitiful, truly pitiable—all that bumping around—” Feeney writhed, like a lovesick fool, closing his eyes, “In fact, three’s not such a crowded… world…” ahem.
Anya clapped a hand over his mouth.
Hel: …
Morlo: …
Feeney (eye shut): …………….
Now he truly dared not open his eyes.
Love and peace?
Does it have to be so literal—?
Save me!!!
He believes it now!!
And teacher, he really didn’t mean to—please believe he was truly only, purely after love and peace!!