Dragons always guarded their treasures and princesses.
The overlapping of tails bore a multitude of meanings. Although the princess had no tail, stepping on his tail—without attempting to hold it—was, in the language of dragons, undoubtedly a declaration:
You are no longer the fiercest dragon in the house; you do not have the strength to protect the treasure or me.
It was a matter of draconic dignity, especially for a male dragon, that his princess would distrust him to such an extent.
Thus, it was as if there was an anger switch at the top of the dragon’s tail that activated upon touch. Long Shiyu, still infuriated, rolled around in bed clutching the quilt, unable to calm his rage.
Thankfully, he had eaten little that day and, despite his irritation, eventually fell asleep.
Even in his dreams, he continued to seethe with fury, almost breathing fire.
He slept until noon the next day.
After freshening up, Long Shiyu went out and saw Shen Zhaomu packing for their trip to Bei’en.
Upon seeing him, the man asked, “Do you have anything you want to take with you?”
“Nothing.” Long Shiyu’s mood had yet to improve, and he responded sullenly. His little dragon treasure box was left at the Star City Association headquarters, and beyond that, he indeed had no possessions.
The hotel delivered breakfast; the bacon and fried eggs were still sizzling and fragrant. Long Shiyu sat down at the table to eat, his tail still swinging irritably.
Shen Zhaomu closed the suitcase and finally asked, “What happened yesterday… Why did you suddenly get angry?”
“You wouldn’t let me rest my tail on top.”
Shen Zhaomu couldn’t help but laugh and plead, “Don’t breathe fire, don’t breathe fire,” as he saw Long Shiyu getting worked up again. He quickly interjected, “I’ll let you rest it on top from now on. So, is there a meaning to doing so?”
Long Shiyu managed to contain his fiery temper.
But he remembered, long ago when he tried to explain this to the princess, the princess had reacted like a thunderbolt from a clear sky: “Who did you say your princess is?”
And then the princess got angry, extremely angry, and told Long Shiyu not to call him that.
Shen Zhaomu had forgotten this incident, but Long Shiyu didn’t want to upset him. Though still slightly unhappy, he told Shen Zhaomu, “It has no special meaning… I just don’t like it.”
Shen Zhaomu, unaware of the deeper implications, took it as one of Long Shiyu’s quirks and smiled, “Okay, you really are… a very strange dragon.”
“Sob.” Long Shiyu finished off the last piece of crispy bacon.
It was delicious, and he felt a bit happier.
The next day they headed to the spaceport and boarded a massive starship bound for the planet Bei’en.
The solid ground receded beneath them, and the boundless void unfolded before them. The seventeen-day journey felt exceptionally long, with only the deep cosmos outside the window, and only faint starlight occasionally visible.
The starship’s cabin was reasonably comfortable, with an especially soft bed. But as this was a standard express flight, most of the food was instant.
Lu Shanhuai and Yang Zhiming were also on this starship, so Long Shiyu spent his days playing Fight the Landlord with Lu Shanhuai.
However, the signal on the starship was sometimes poor, and they were repeatedly banned for what was deemed negative gaming behavior.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lu Shanhuai assured him confidently, “I have a few spare accounts registered under fake passports; they’ll definitely suffice.”
“Why do you have fake passports?” Long Shiyu inquired.
Lu Shanhuai coughed, “Sometimes they come in handy… Just don’t tell Brother Shen, he’ll surely accuse me of leading you astray.”
“Oh,” Long Shiyu said, “But where did you get all these from?”
“Secrets, secrets,” Lu Shanhuai said, “A law-abiding person like you is better off knowing less.”
Long Shiyu cocked his head, “This is the first time someone has said that to me.”
“Hahaha, sis-in-law, you do have a sense of humor.”
Long Shiyu was silent; his own passport was a fake.
“Come on, let’s each take an account.” Lu Shanhuai was still enthusiastically fiddling with those small accounts. “Let’s wipe them out completely, and take all the beans home. There shouldn’t be any signal issues this time, right?”
After a while, they were rewarded with ten accounts flagged for negative gaming behavior.
Their journey in playing Fight the Landlord had come to an end.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Qlatbea ubegwfa obbv bg pbs yfjcr, atf vgjubc kjr delaf vlrjqqblcafv.
Mbgaecjafis, atf gfwjlcvfg bo atf aglq kjrc’a ibcu. Yc atf joafgcbbc bo atf 17at vjs, atfs jgglnfv ja atf Dfl’fc qijcfa.
Ktf teuf rajgrtlq ijcvfv, xlmxlcu eq vera fnfgsktfgf, jcv wlceafr ijafg, atf mbibrrji ragemaegf rfaaifv vbkc mbwqifafis.
Long Shiyu stepped out of the hatch to see the mauve sky and ochre earth.
Further away lay the boundless sea.
Above the sea were dazzling stars.
It was a marvelous sight; the waves were tumbling colors, like diffused watercolor with the thickness of an oil painting. The horizon where water met sky was particularly indistinct, with colors dripping into the sea from the sky, dyeing patches of the ocean before quickly returning to deep blue.
Not far from the shore, ancient buildings stood isolated on a solitary cliff, the sound of conch horns faintly carrying over.
The people of Bei’en were adept at singing and weaving. They dressed in starlight and their feet could transform into fish tails. At high tide, the waters would submerge the land, overtake the stars—
Even when submerged, they continued to twinkle beneath the waves, illuminating the sea with a crystal clarity.
This place was also known as “the place where stars fall”.
The starship had landed on the edge of the planet, and if they wanted to go to Bei’en County City, they would need to pilot an aircraft there themselves.
There was no branch of the Hunter’s Association on Bei’en, just a small outpost. The outpost had prepared an aircraft for them, so the next morning, everyone started getting ready.
Long Shiyu followed behind Shen Zhaomu, boarding a silver-grey streamlined aircraft.
The interior was simply arranged, with a control panel flickering with various values. He said, “I’ve never operated an aircraft before.”
Shen Zhaomu took the pilot’s seat: “You drove a construction excavator to break-neck speeds; who would dare let you fly? …Although, I too enjoy speeding.”
With the number of aircrafts limited, Lu Shanhuai also came aboard.
He fastened his seatbelt as soon as he sat down and gripped the armrest: “Brother Shen, are you sure you want to pilot this personally… Each of us has our own families and dependents…”
“Why not?” Shen Zhaomu adjusted the speed and activated the thrusters.
He disengaged the speed control system.
The next second, Lu Shanhuai felt as though he had been propelled forward.
It was like being struck by a giant baseball bat, neatly hitting a home run except without the gale-force winds, an experience akin to the craziest roller coaster.
Despite being mentally prepared, Lu Shanhuai still clutched tightly: “Brother Shen, slow down, sis-in-law is still…”
He turned his head and, sure enough, saw Long Shiyu helplessly shrinking into his seat, looking terrified while…
Drinking tea?
Lu Shanhuai was baffled.
The outpost’s spacecraft was well-equipped; the tea was fine, with a light rose fragrance that was refreshing and calming. The cup was steady in Long Shiyu’s hands, not a drop spilled.
But this was on an aircraft that had disengaged its speed control system.
Seeing Lu Shanhuai looking over, Long Shiyu also turned his head: “Hmm?”
“…It’s nothing.” Lu Shanhuai leaned back into his seat, gripping the armrest tightly.
He held back for a moment and then said, “You and Brother Shen really are a good match.”
For the past half month, Bei’en planet had been in a period of high tide, with ninety-five percent of the land submerged. Earlier, the planet often experienced unpredictable land sinkings.
Therefore, most of the buildings here were either towering into the clouds or hidden beneath the waves.
The aircraft raced over the deep blue sea surface, with shimmering stars hundreds of meters above.
Those weren’t actual stars but special clouds native to the area, mixed with stardust swirling within. Large clumps of stardust hidden in the clouds took on the appearance of a starry cluster. The aircraft shattered a few clumps, with stardust sticking to the metallic shell, faintly twinkling.
The aircraft had entered autopilot mode, and Shen Zhaomu brewed himself a cup of tea to enjoy.
Over half an hour later, they neared the county town of Bei’en.
In the distance, emerging between the clouds and the stars, was a black iron bridge.
What they first saw was not its entirety—for its entirety was not possible to discern. A black colossus loomed into view, its top unseen, surrounded by white sea fog like a nameless giant standing silently above the waves, ready to pluck their aircraft from the sky and toy with it.
Even with dozens of kilometers still separating them, an oppressive feeling washed over them.
And that was merely one of the thousands of pillars of the bridge.
Drawing closer, one could see each metal piece melding together in perfect proportion and angle, layers upon layers interlocking upwards, weaving together like a forest. The load-bearing sections were uniformly made of costly star-iron, while even the common parts were refined from meteoric steel, purportedly forged by the hands of the eight most distinguished dwarf masters, with the finest pillar weighing several tons.
It was a masterpiece beyond dispute.
The bridge spanned tens of thousands of kilometers of ocean from the county town, reaching to the land on the other side of the planet. It was a spectacle so grand it defied description; the raging sea winds could not shake its foundation, nor could the tides surpass its base. When the light of the sun, moon, and stars fell upon it, the star-iron glinted with a strange blue luminescence.
This was the Damocles Bridge, the most famous landmark of Bei’en, aside from its castles.
In legend, Damocles, who favored flattering the king, was offered a chance by the king to swap their stations.
During the evening banquet, as goblets clinked and beautiful women’s sleeves fluttered like clouds, Damocles, satiated with wine and food, looked up only to notice a sword above the throne.
A sword hung by a single horsehair.
The Bei’en dynasty named this bridge as a reminder to themselves not to become arrogant with great power but to always be vigilant.
The Bei’en dynasty had spent nearly a millennium building it, starting during the days of its glory before the formation of the interstellar alliance. Bei’en, with its powerful psychic powers and friendly relations with other races, once held a high status in the sea of stars. The economy thrived, and the county town bustled like the star capitals of today, teeming with thousands of visitors.
The other races could not travel freely through the seas as they did, so the king decreed, generously offering the sky and the land to all guests; the bridge was their declaration of power to the world.
Yet, by the time of its completion, the dynasty had already fallen into decline, collapsing from its own corruption within just a few years, leaving behind only this marvel to endure through the ages.
As their aircraft passed beneath the bridge, they were enveloped in deep shadows, the light completely obscured.
It was as if they were traveling through a tunnel. Even at Shen Zhaomu’s high speed, it took several minutes to fully emerge from the darkness.
Ahead lay the land-based hunter’s outpost.
Their aircraft descended slowly, and they received an extremely warm welcome.
The receptionist, a large man in an ill-fitting dark green suit, gasped for breath after just a few steps: “It’s… it’s so good that you could come. With someone from the council here, I can rest easy. And I never expected to meet Mr. Shen.”
He pointed towards the interior of the outpost: “Your rooms have been prepared.”
Although the outpost was small, it was well-equipped.
While Shen Zhaomu was arranging his things in the room, Long Shiyu squatted beside the suitcase, occasionally reaching out to pick up his clothes: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in casual wear before.”
Shen Zhaomu typically wore suits most of the time because he relied on his psychic powers for combat, rarely needing to wear combat attire.
“Oh, I’ve only worn this piece twice,” Shen Zhaomu glanced over, “I just grabbed it on a whim this time.”
Long Shiyu folded the clothing neatly and placed it back: “Do you have any pretty little dresses? I really want to see you wear one.”
Shen Zhaomu: “…”
Shen Zhaomu hesitantly asked, “What… what are you talking about?” For a moment, he thought he had gone mad from the bedtime stories.
There came a gentle knock at the door.
After receiving permission, the portly receptionist poked his head in: “Ah, Mr. Shen, I’m terribly sorry. I hope I haven’t disturbed you, have I?”
“Not at all,” Shen Zhaomu replied. “Is there something you need?”
“Well, it’s like this.” The receptionist seemed somewhat embarrassed. “As you know, here in Bei’en, we are a bit short on star police and hunters, so things can get somewhat chaotic.”
“I see.”
“So,” continued the receptionist, “we still have a number of fugitives at large. They’re all registered in the Alliance database; it’s just that no one can seem to find them… Of course, they might have smuggled themselves off-planet, but there’s a good chance some are still around. If you happen to see any of them, could you, perhaps…”
By this point, Shen Zhaomu had understood.
This place was not like Kassand; a whole planet still required some semblance of law and order. If many interstellar fugitives were apprehended here, and management was particularly effective, the Alliance would provide a certain economic incentive to the locale.
It wasn’t a major issue anyway, and there was even the chance to find someone connected to the Church. So he nodded: “I understand. Send me the list.”
The receptionist immediately brightened, transmitting the list to him.
Shen Zhaomu casually browsed through it, recognizing a few notorious fugitives among the numerous ferocious faces, while others he had not heard of.
Then he paused at a blurred photo.
The picture was so incredibly indistinct that after staring at it for a long time, he could only make out the edges of a face, the features barely discernible, unable to locate the mouth. In the center of the frame, there were… interwoven red and green objects, with red being the predominant color.
“Oh, that one,” the receptionist glanced at it, “That’s an old warrant from many years ago. Although it’s for an A-grade fugitive who caused quite a ruckus here, the guy is either dead or has escaped by now. You don’t need to worry about that one.”
“But how could it be so blurred?”
“I’ve heard from my seniors that it seems, at the time, that person was escaping so fast, they couldn’t capture a clear image.”
Shen Zhaomu was puzzled for a few seconds.
Considering the current photographic technology, which could capture even high-speed aircraft, how fast would someone have to be to blur an image like that?
Seeing his confusion, the receptionist explained: “That’s why we suspect the individual might be an exotic creature. After all, that fellow managed to eat everything in one of our small warehouses and then fell asleep in there, nearly scaring our security to death.”
Shen Zhaomu mused to himself that there seemed to be an exotic creature that could eat and sleep more than Long Shiyu.
“Anyway,” the receptionist added with an enthusiastic smile, “We really appreciate your help. I’ll… I’ll leave you to it now.”
With that, he left the room.
Shen Zhaomu tidied up for a bit longer.
For some reason, the blurry photo nagged at him persistently.
There was a peculiar and troubling familiarity about it.
This sensation lingered, making him uncomfortable. Later that night, sitting on his bed, he took out the fugitive’s photo again.
The vague contours of a face, the indistinct red and green object.
Though it was abstract and mysterious, he was certain he had seen this thing before.
Shen Zhaomu clicked his tongue, viewing it from different angles, yet the sense of familiarity eluded him.
Long Shiyu had climbed onto his bed, drawing close with bright eyes: “Do I get a bedtime story tonight?”
Shen Zhaomu’s attention remained on the photo: “No.”
“But I’m still upset about the tail thing.”
“How many days has it been? Using that excuse, how many bedtime stories have you extorted from me?” Shen Zhaomu said, yet he prepared to put the terminal away.
His gaze shifted from the photo to Long Shiyu’s face, and he suddenly froze.
Then he pinched Long Shiyu’s chin, turning his head: “Don’t move, let me see from this angle.”
Long Shiyu mumbled a complaint, his tail swishing in discontent, but still allowed himself to be positioned.
After all, a dragon must always be patient with their princess.
Shen Zhaomu glanced from the photo to Long Shiyu and back again. He looked from the photo to Long Shiyu, his gaze oscillating between the two.
Fuck.
Realization finally dawned on Shen Zhaomu.
This—this was none other than an image of Long Shiyu fleeing with a slice of watermelon in his mouth.
The author has something to say:
One cutesy sob a day: 2/1
Long Shiyu: so fast his figure blurs
The fact that Shen Zhaomu can even recognize him from that shows us it’s true love hehehe
TN: I swear I counted only one…
I DIED AT WATERMELON
As soon as it mentioned a blurred photo I was thinking it was our favorite dragon.
Getting old school protagonist running towards their destiny with bread in their mouth vibes
HAHA
Omg Shiyu I’m dying. I also want to see Shen zaomu in a dress pls
WATERMELON? I’M GOING CRAZY, JUST TRY TO VISUALIZE THIS
I was wondering what is the green and red thing is 🙄turned out to be a slice of the watermelon 🤪
SHIYU LMAOOO
As soon as he promises not to step the tail down – dresses.