For three days, Zheng Qian stayed inside her space with Xiao Zhan.
There was nutrient paste stored there—standard issue for space forces. It could sustain the body with basic nutrition, but the taste was… awful.
Zheng Qian had always considered it inhumane. During space patrols, open flames weren't allowed inside mechs, so this paste was their only option. Just looking at it annoyed her.
But Xiao Zhan liked it.
To the Rui Prince, food was merely fuel. Taste didn't matter. When he realized that a small squeeze could keep him full and energized for half a day, his eyes lit up faintly.
"You really are a cat," Zheng Qian teased. "Even cats like nutrient paste."
Xiao Zhan: "…"
He enjoyed talking with her.
She wasn't shy or awkward, didn't blush or stammer. She didn't lower her head or act pitiful like the original Zheng Qian, who always seemed on the verge of tears.
This Zheng Qian met his gaze directly, spoke plainly, and expressed herself clearly.
Talking to her felt… easy.
Xiao Zhan wasn't a talkative man, but he made an effort to explain his situation so she would understand.
Over those three days, they grew familiar with each other.
He asked her if there was any way for him to return to his body.
"I'm a doctor, not a medium," Zheng Qian replied. "What you're experiencing is beyond medicine."
"…So you have no solution?" he asked.
"None."
"Were there cases like mine in your world?" he pressed.
"Many."
"Many?" He straightened immediately. "Did they… die?"
"No. But it's close to death," she said. "If someone remains in a vegetative state for over three years, it's basically brain death. They may still breathe, but they're no longer truly… a person. Families sometimes choose to let them go."
Even in her era—with highly advanced medicine—there was no effective cure.
Once, a colleague had joked that such patients had "lost their souls." They'd been laughed at for years.
Zheng Qian didn't know if that joke had been closer to the truth than anyone realized.
"So I still have… three years?" Xiao Zhan asked.
"Maybe one," she corrected. "Your care conditions here are far worse than in my time."
He exhaled softly.
"Do you have anything urgent?" she asked. "Anything you need to pass on? You can write it here—I'll deliver it."
He thought for a long moment.
There were things… but none that could be safely conveyed.
If he tried to summon his trusted guard, it might backfire. The man was cautious—too cautious. If he suspected forgery, he might eliminate Zheng Qian instead.
"…No," Xiao Zhan said at last. "I only hope to return."
Zheng Qian was quiet.
She wanted to go back, too.
"One day," she said with a small smile. "You'll return. And so will I."
His gaze sharpened. "You intend to leave?"
"You miss your world. Why wouldn't I miss mine?" she replied.
"Who were you?"
"I'm also Zheng Qian. A military doctor," she said. "Just not from this time—mine is thousands of years in the future."
"Thousands…?"
"Yes. I was likely caught in a wormhole when my mech self-destructed. That's how I ended up here—ancient Earth. My ancestors were from this era, so in a way… this is home."
Xiao Zhan fell silent.
"What is the future like?" he finally asked.
Under normal circumstances, he would never have believed her.
But after becoming a cat—and standing inside this impossible space—his understanding of the world had already shifted.
Curiosity took root.
Zheng Qian's personal terminal contained records of Earth's history and the beginning of space travel. Over the past few days, she had explained it all to him—until her throat went dry.
He listened intently, eyes fixed on her, full of quiet fascination.
It was… dangerously charming.
She was practically hoarse from talking.
At that moment, the door to the secret chamber opened.
Zheng Qian brought Xiao Zhan out of the space.
"Miss," someone called, holding a torch.
She pretended to just wake up, rubbing her eyes. "Yuzhong?"
"Yes, Miss," he said with a grin. "We've got him."
She gave a soft "oh," threw on her outer robe, and stepped outside, hair still loose.
On the ground lay a man.
Pinned beneath Shi Yong, struggling violently.
Zheng Hao.
Zheng Chi stood nearby, calm and expressionless.
Zheng Qian glanced toward the door, slightly disappointed. "Just him?"
"Just him," Zheng Chi replied. "That little snake didn't come."
"Of course," Zheng Qian said lightly. "Second Sister would sacrifice anyone."
Yuzhong added, "He brought fire oil."
Zheng Qian raised a brow.
Holding the cat, she stepped closer and looked down at Zheng Hao.
"Third Brother," she said softly, "you had me kidnapped… and brought oil. Were you planning to burn me alive?"
He spat at her.
Then he laughed.
"You two useless trash—getting along quite well, aren't you? So what if you caught me? What, you'll beat me? Zheng Qian, Zheng Chi—if you dare touch me, I'll make sure you regret it for the rest of your lives!"
His voice was vicious, full of threat.
"Oh, I'm so scared," she replied, exaggerated and mocking.
His face twisted with rage.
"Let me go, and we'll call it even," he snapped. "Otherwise, neither of you will get out of this clean. My maternal family has money—lots of it. There's nothing money can't fix. Touch me, and I won't let it go. But if you're smart, we end this here."
Yuzhong and Shi Yong exchanged glances.
She hadn't been harmed. Perhaps it was better to force a written confession… and release him.
Zheng Chi looked at Zheng Qian.
"Mei'er, what do you think?"
"You'll let me decide?" she asked.
"He tried to kill you. It's your call."
Zheng Hao sneered. "Zheng Qian, you used to fawn over me like a dog. I'm giving you a chance. Let me go, and we're even. As long as you don't provoke me again, I won't touch you."
"Didn't you just say you'd never let us go?" she tilted her head.
"That's if you touch me."
Zheng Qian gestured for Shi Yong to pull him up.
The moment he stood—
Slap.
Her hand struck his face hard.
His eyes turned bloodshot, hatred blazing as he stared at her like he wanted to devour her whole.
"See?" she said lightly. "One slap, and you already hate me. But you were planning to kill me."
She turned away.
Zheng Hao opened his mouth to curse—
A flash of cold light cut through the air.
In one swift motion, Zheng Qian spun back, a small surgical scalpel in hand—
—and drove it straight into his throat.
Then pulled it out.
Everyone froze.
Blood sprayed, a few drops landing on her face, stark against her pale skin—echoing the red mark at her brow. Her lips were crimson, her expression serene—
like a fallen bodhisattva.
Shi Yong released him.
Zheng Hao clutched his throat, unable to make a sound, collapsing as he writhed on the ground. His eyes were wide with disbelief.
Impossible.
These two… useless people… how could they kill him?
He was the Third Young Master of the Marquis estate. Backed by wealth, by status, by a powerful maternal family.
His future was bright.
Killing someone like Zheng Qian should have meant nothing.
Someone like her—
was supposed to die without consequence.
But not him.
He couldn't die.
How could he die?
His eyes strained open—
until, at last, his body went still.
Zheng Qian wiped the scalpel clean…
…and slipped it back into her sleeve.
The room fell into a suffocating silence.