TIC 80

 Chapter 80

“It was you who transferred Xiao Yan into your own research lab; if you hadn't done that, I wouldn't have had any chance to meet him at all.”

“There are plenty of researchers in my lab! Few of them have escaped your clutches—on the contrary, Xiao Yan is the *only* one who remained unswayed, which actually brought me some comfort!” Casey practically roared.

“Yeah... I really should have slept with him back in Char,” Jian remarked with a look of mild frustration.

“If you want to sleep with him now, I can arrange to send you back to Char.”

“No need to rush; we’re bound to cross paths again.”

“Hey, Jian.”

“Hm?”

“He’s not right for you. In this world, you can bend almost anything to your will—even matters of life and death. But not Xiao Yan.”

“It’s not that he isn’t right for *me*; it’s that *I’m* not right for *him*. That’s why I won’t do anything foolish.” Jian slowly closed his eyes.

“Do anything foolish? Like what?”

“Like Valentine—thinking that by turning the world upside down, he could somehow achieve the outcome he desired. Even if everything were completely overturned, there’s no way I could ever redeem myself in Xiao Yan’s eyes.”

“At least you have the self-awareness to admit that,” Casey scoffed softly, turning his head away.

The antiviral agent was transported back to Char, and once its safety was verified, a medic administered the injection to Xiao Yan. Throughout the entire procedure—monitored not only by Averil and Gordon but also personally by Major General Ceti—everyone kept a close watch on Xiao Yan’s cerebral activity.

As the agent was injected into Xiao Yan’s body, and under the breathless gaze of everyone present, the neural feedback displayed on the holographic screen began to trace out patterns, slowly flickering back to life.

He let out a soft murmur and shifted onto his side.

Standing before the screen, Major General Ceti gave a light chuckle. “The guy’s dreaming right now—that’s a sure sign of subconscious activity.”

Gordon and Averil exchanged glances, both letting out a collective sigh of relief.

The medical team confirmed that all of Xiao Yan’s vital signs were stable; now, all that remained was to wait for him to wake up before they could depart.

Averil personally analyzed Xiao Yan’s blood samples and discovered that the viral markers impairing his cognitive function were gradually sloughing away. Consequently, Xiao Yan was transferred from the isolation ward to a standard recovery room. “This antiviral agent was developed by Casey. Does that bring you any comfort?” Major General Gordon curled the corners of his lips, his smile carrying a subtle, deeper meaning.

“Jane Wallis has escaped once again, and you are the only one who knows his whereabouts—does *that* bring you any comfort? The Surge will spare no effort in hunting down Jane; he has become the perfect bait, while you need only wait for Valentine Sheen to make his appearance.”

“This is either an opportunity or a disaster,” Gordon gave a self-deprecating smile. “But to survive, perhaps going all-in is inevitable.”

Having finally enjoyed a deep, restorative sleep, Xiao Yan smacked his lips and opened his eyes.

He felt someone lying right beside him, an arm draped around his neck, while the back of his head rested against something firm and warm; the other person’s fingers were slowly and tirelessly stroking his temple.

Xiao Yan stirred lazily and opened his eyes.

The sight of a strong, chiseled jawline right before his eyes made Xiao Yan freeze for a moment.

This... was a man.

The instant Xiao Yan clearly recognized who the person was, every cell in his body shuddered; he nearly tumbled off the bed, saved only by the other man’s quick grab.

“Col... Colonel Burton!”

What on earth was going on? How did he end up lying in bed with Colonel Burton?

“You’re awake. Do you feel any discomfort?”

Only then did Xiao Yan realize that this was not his own room; it was far too spartan and devoid of any personal touches. The sight of medics rushing in made Xiao Yan realize he was in the medical wing.

Meanwhile, Hein—clad in his military uniform—lay on his side right next to the bed, holding Xiao Yan in an embrace so tight it felt as if he were trying to press him right into his own chest. Xiao Yan’s breath caught in his throat.

What kind of situation was this? Had his shoulder been crushed or his arm twisted off again? Why did it feel more like he had suffered a head injury?

A Major from the medical corps stepped forward to examine Xiao Yan, putting him through a series of physical checks and even administering a few cognitive tests; evidently, Xiao Yan’s responses left them quite satisfied. “These are all cognitive tests—evaluating logical, spatial, and deductive reasoning abilities. I’d like to ask... what exactly happened?”

Hein was still seated sideways on the edge of the bed. As Xiao Yan watched those downcast eyes and those fingers—elegant yet undeniably powerful—reach out to him to gently brush aside his bangs, he held his breath, stifling even the beating of his heart, terrified that a single misstep might result in the other man snapping his arm.

Eventually, Major Stevenson—the officer in charge of Xiao Yan’s medical care—managed to explain the full sequence of events to him; yet, Xiao Yan remained utterly bewildered.

“You mean... I was abducted by Jane Wallis? Jane Wallis was a mole for the Tide? And even Cathy was involved...?”

Xiao Yan stood frozen in place. He still remembered the times he and Cathy had playfully bantered in the Central Plaza. But as he dug deeper into his memories, disjointed images began to flash through his mind: himself huddled in a corner, filled with apprehension, and Jane Wallis approaching him with a meal tray to inject him with the X-virus. These fragments were disconnected and incoherent—shattered like grains of loose sand; the harder he tried to piece them together, the more chaotic his thoughts became.

The figure beside him leaned in, bracing one hand against Xiao Yan’s waist while cupping his cheek with the other; the warmth of his breath seemed to draw Xiao Yan’s scattered thoughts back into focus. “Do you remember my name?”

“...Hein Burton...”

In the very next instant, he felt the other man’s touch at the corner of his lips. A tongue pressed insistently—leaving no room for refusal—between his parted lips, initiating a deep, thorough kiss that caused Xiao Yan’s eyes to widen in shock. The kiss deepened further, sweeping Xiao Yan’s thoughts into utter disarray. Suddenly, a vivid image flashed through his mind: himself being pinned violently against a sofa and violated—the fierce thrusting, the frenzied rhythm of penetration that felt intense enough to kill him. Overwhelmed by a sudden wave of terror, Xiao Yan began to struggle violently.

He pounded against Hein’s shoulders, his body reacting instinctively; he tried to grab Hein’s shoulders and lift his legs to attempt a counter-attack, but Hein held him down firmly, pinning him back against the bed. Hein pulled his lips away, his gaze—though similar to the one etched in memory—seeming subtly different.

“Wh… why…” Xiao Yan parted his lips. In that instant, the searing pain of his shoulder—shattered when Hein had ruthlessly used it as a foothold to launch himself forward—surged back to him. Xiao Yan recoiled almost to the very edge of the bed, coming perilously close to tumbling off.

Hein turned his face slightly to the side; the shift in his gaze carried an intensity that seemed to cleave through Xiao Yan’s thoughts.

“What do you mean, ‘why’?”

*Why? Because why on earth are you here?! I remember exactly how much you detest me! Like at the nuclear plant, when I accidentally brushed against your lips and you nearly killed me for it! Or that time you shattered my shoulder with a single kick! Or when you twisted my arm in that bar until my shoulder popped out of its socket!*

Yet, Xiao Yan merely tilted his head back, unable to utter a single word.

For he was gripped by an illusion: that within Hein’s eyes lay something unfathomably deep—something that had broken free from the shackles of self-control and restraint, threatening to surge forth and engulf him entirely.

“You belong to me now. Do you remember?”

It was not a command, yet it carried the weight of one. Hein propped himself up on his hands, inching closer to Xiao Yan, little by little.

Once again, countless images swirled through Xiao Yan’s mind—moments of being kissed, of being claimed.

And yet, the man in those visions—the one driven to such a frenzy that he seemed to have lost his very sanity—was someone Xiao Yan simply could not believe was Hein Burton.

He furrowed his brows and pressed his hands against his temples. He possessed a multitude of fragmented memories—scattered shards that intertwined haphazardly—yet Xiao Yan had no idea how to piece them together into a coherent whole.

Scenes flashed through his mind: following Hein’s unit on a mission; Hein leading him as they wove through the labyrinth of abandoned buildings… But in the very next instant, a different memory surfaced: lying in a restaurant, his abdomen pierced by a surging wave of assassins. In those final, drifting moments of consciousness, he felt the desperate, fierce pressure of someone kissing him; and when he finally forced his eyes open, he met Hein’s gaze—cold and guarded, yet betraying a flicker of barely suppressed terror. As Xiao Yan subconsciously probed his own mind, fragments of how Hein had trained him surfaced once again—images of the very man Xiao Yan had once deemed insignificant, now patiently dragging him along, guiding him step by step up a sheer rock face... and then, the image of a frail, utterly unresponsive Hein Burton, his entire weight bearing down upon Xiao Yan; followed by that moment when Xiao Yan pushed Hein into the reactor—an act of near-despair, yet one he carried out with unwavering resolve before turning away...

What were these? How had any of this actually happened?

What was the meaning behind this uncontrollable sensation surging within his heart?

He pressed his hands against his head with all his might—pressing harder and harder until he could even hear a faint, ominous *crack*.

Hein’s hand shot out, clamping down on his wrist as he commanded in a cold voice, "Stop!"

Xiao Yan jerked his head up, staring at him.

"The X-virus is still present in your system; you’re going to crush your own skull."

Xiao Yan swallowed hard. Hein slowly released his grip, then lowered his head, asking, "Tell me—what exactly is wrong?"

"My... my memories aren't connecting... Everything Major Stevenson just said feels like something I’ve actually lived through. I remember... I remember it all... yet I can't piece together any complete, coherent scenes..."

With his memories jumbled together in chaotic disarray, Xiao Yan’s eyes reflected a look of utter confusion and bewilderment.

"Don't think about anything at all."

That simple sentence—like a definitive full stop—brought the chaotic turmoil within Xiao Yan’s mind to a sudden halt.

Hein placed his hand against the back of Xiao Yan’s head, drawing him close and pressing him against his chest; instantly, every trace of anxiety and unease within Xiao Yan’s heart subsided.

"Regulate your breathing."

Guided by Hein’s voice—cool, yet devoid of any coldness—Xiao Yan gradually steadied his breath. With the steady, rhythmic beat of Hein’s heart drumming in his ears, he felt his entire being settle into a profound state of calm.

"Take control of your thoughts. Do not fear them; these are events you have already lived through. Resisting them will not erase the fact that they happened."

To Xiao Yan, the entire experience felt akin to hypnosis; the intense, overwhelming memories gradually settled and receded, leaving behind only lighter, more tranquil fragments that floated to the surface—fragments that brought him a deep sense of peace.

He recalled lying in some dark, confined space, curled up beneath the covers, his mind clouded and hazy from a raging fever. Hein sat beside him, his hand resting against Xiao Yan’s forehead—the warmth of that touch the single most vivid and tangible sensation in his entire world. News of Xiao Yan’s confused state of memory soon reached Lieutenant General Aivell, who personally made his way to the medical unit.

“Hey, Xiao Yan. You remember who I am, don’t you?” Lieutenant General Aivell sat opposite Xiao Yan, smiling gently.

Xiao Yan narrowed his eyes and thought for a moment before answering, albeit with some uncertainty, “You are Lieutenant General Aivell—the head of the Central Academy of Sciences…”

This allowed Lieutenant General Aivell to relax slightly. He had met Xiao Yan only a few times; the fact that Xiao Yan could recognize him proved that he hadn't truly suffered from amnesia. As long as his logical reasoning and memory remained unimpaired, the critical research projects at the Central Academy—which urgently required Xiao Yan’s expertise—would not have to be shelved.

However, Aivell also noticed that Xiao Yan kept leaning toward the far side of the bed, seemingly to leave room for Hein, who stood nearby, rather than leaning against Hein with his usual unreserved ease. This caused Aivell a flicker of concern.

“If this concerns issues regarding memory, then Major General Hiti is the true expert. We must enlist his assistance,” Aivell suggested, turning his gaze toward Hein.

At that moment, Maya entered the room carrying a small potted plant. “Hey… are you doing okay? You still remember who I am, right?”

Xiao Yan furrowed his brows, staring intently at Maya. Suddenly, an overwhelming vision of Maya lying in a pool of blood flooded his mind; he nearly leaped from his hospital bed. “Maya—your legs! Your arms! Maya…”

Hein, standing beside him, placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. Maya let out a soft breath and flexed his prosthetic limbs. “Hey, don’t worry! I’m fine! Look—I’m standing right here in front of you, safe and sound! Even though these are artificial, the tactile sensation of the skin and the agility of movement are no different from how they used to be!”

“…Why did you cut your hair?” Xiao Yan tilted his head, beginning to rummage through his memories regarding Maya’s hair.

“Hey! Hey! I just thought I looked cooler with short hair, that’s all! You don’t need to rack your brains trying to figure it out!” Maya hurriedly stepped forward to stop Xiao Yan; if he had his way, he hoped Xiao Yan would never remember the true reason why he had cut his hair. “How is that possible! You clearly adored your hair...”

Just as Maya was at a loss for how to stop Xiao Yan from retracing that particular memory, Wynn, Liv, and Mark arrived; Mark’s booming voice instantly diverted Xiao Yan’s attention.

Xiao Yan, too, was troubled. He could recognize everyone who came to visit him—Liv, Mark, and even Major Wynn—and he could recall numerous shared moments with each of them. For instance, he remembered the very first time he met Major Wynn; every word the man had spoken as his instructor remained crystal clear in his mind. From the conversation between Liv and Mark, he also recalled the betrayal by Cathy and Jane. Although it had been unexpected, as he dug deeper into his memories, many details resurfaced—such as the scene where Cathy had staged his own assassination by the “Surge” organization in their room. Xiao Yan still remembered that agonizing, bone-deep pain; he had wanted so desperately to save him, yet the ultimate outcome was that he had injected the serum into Heine’s body instead. The memories following that event became a chaotic jumble; such a turn of events felt utterly unacceptable, yet it existed with undeniable reality. The vast fragments of memory swirling in his mind simply could not be coalesced into a coherent, continuous stream of thought.

Heine rose and retrieved Xiao Yan’s military uniform for him. “We need to pay a visit to the Interrogation Unit.”

That facility housed specialized equipment designed to analyze cognitive functions—including memories—whereas the Medical Unit did not possess expertise in the realm of the mind.

As Heine’s arm reached around Xiao Yan’s shoulders, the man’s distinct scent enveloped him. Xiao Yan felt an inexplicable sense of pressure, yet deep within his heart, he could not suppress the urge to draw closer to him. But in that very instant, the vivid image of Heine kissing him—a kiss that had felt as if it were crushing his very bones—slammed violently into his consciousness. Xiao Yan abruptly yanked at his collar, scrambled off the bed, and muttered, “Thank you.”

Which one was the *real* Heine Burton? The cold one? The ruthless one? The unapproachable one? Or was it this man standing before him now—devoid of any outward emotional fluctuation, yet unexpectedly gentle?

Shouldn’t he be coldly remarking, “You’re filthy,” or perhaps threatening, “If you fail to accomplish this task, I’ll snap your fingers off one by one”?

Yet here was Heine, not only having sat by his bedside but now actually helping him get dressed. Good heavens! This had to be a recipe for disaster! Was this momentary gentleness merely a prelude to an even more brutal lesson to follow? Xiao Yan’s worldview shattered.

Was there *any* way, after all, to make everything return to normal? Though, by now, Xiao Yan was no longer even able to define what "normal" meant.

Finally, someone arrived to rescue him.

"My dear Xiao Yan, surely you haven't forgotten me?"

A woman clad in a female-cut military uniform stood by the door, cradling a large bouquet of flowers; the graceful contours of her calves instantly captured Xiao Yan’s attention.

"...Lily?" Xiao Yan was stunned. Good heavens! His goddess had actually appeared right before him—and holding a massive bouquet, no less?

"Oh, thank goodness! They told me you were having some trouble with your memory; I was afraid you’d actually forgotten all about me."

"How could I? We’re classmates!"

"Let me give your memory a quick update!" Just as Lily’s finger was about to tap Xiao Yan’s forehead, a look from Hein caused her wrist to freeze mid-motion. "I’m now Lieutenant General Averell’s liaison officer."

"Congratu... lations..." Xiao Yan recalled Maya mentioning that Lily had passed the liaison officer’s assessment.

Sensing the palpable aura of gloom radiating from her boss, Liv took the flowers and gave them a sniff. "These aren't artificially cultivated, are they?"

"You’ve got quite the nose! A friend of mine brought these back from an off-world mission. Given Xiao Yan’s personality, I knew he wouldn't care for the artificial flora here in Charli—the scents are all so monotonous, and even the way they bloom is exactly the same."

"You really do know me well!"

Instantly, Xiao Yan felt a sharp, intense pain in his wrist; it was Hein’s fingers, clamping down on him with crushing force.

His previously soaring spirits shriveled up in an instant. Xiao Yan swallowed hard, forcing out a strained smile: "Please thank them for me. Anyway... I need to head over to the Interrogation Unit now. I heard that only Major General Hiti can help with my memory issues."

Liv received the message.

Upon receiving Xiao Yan’s distress signal, Hein exclaimed, "The Interrogation Unit? That’s hardly the place for a nice consultation or some R&R! I’ll go with you!"

Saved! If he had been left to stay with Colonel Burton any longer, he surely would have died of a nervous breakdown!

And so, Hein took the lead, while Xiao Yan trailed a good distance behind him.

"Hey, Liv... what’s the deal with Colonel Burton?" Xiao Yan lowered his head and whispered into Liv’s ear.

"What do you mean, 'what’s the deal'?"

"When I woke up today, he was actually standing right beside my bed! It was just... too much." Xiao Yan closed his eyes, clutched his heart, and put on an exaggeratedly dramatic expression. "I nearly went into shock."

"You’d go into shock over *that*?"

"It’s *Hein Burton*!"

"Alright, then—what *do* you remember about Colonel Burton?"

"You warned me that if I kept staring at him, you’d poke my eyes out."

"When did I ever say something like that?" Liv frowned.

"The very first time we met!" Xiao Yan wore an expression that seemed to say, *How could you possibly not remember? I’m deeply offended!*

"Alright... alright..." Liv shook her head helplessly. "What else?"

"He’s a total germaphobe. Mark spent over ten minutes scrubbing zombie gore off his combat boots before Colonel Burton would even let him into the cockpit! And—get this—I just accidentally brushed against the guy’s... lips—no, no, wait! I barely even touched them—and he nearly killed me!"

Although Xiao Yan kept his voice low, his tone was laced with agitation. It was abundantly clear that, in his mind, interacting with Colonel Burton fell squarely into the category of "actively courting death."

"I’m pretty sure that if you were to accidentally brush against the Colonel *here* right now..." Liv tapped the corner of her own mouth with a mischievous smirk, "...he wouldn’t kill you. He’d pin you down—and then I’d have to go prepare some nutrient supplements for you."

"Prepare nutrient supplements? Why?"

Liv gave his cheek a firm pinch. "You look absolutely adorable when you’re being such a goofball!"

They sped along in a mag-lev vehicle; gazing out the window, Xiao Yan noticed that many parts of Char—the city he remembered from his past—had changed significantly. “I remember that place was supposed to be a shopping mall. Where did its giant LED screen go? When did the renovations start?”

“Because the Tide Surge organization hijacked an aircraft and launched an invasion, the entire city is currently being rebuilt,” came Hein’s voice—devoid of any emotional inflection.

Xiao Yan glanced sideways. While serving in the medical unit, he hadn’t had the chance to get a good look at Hein; now, however, Hein’s profile perfectly overlapped with the image in his memories. This extraordinarily handsome man possessed eyes with exquisitely defined contours. Sensing that Xiao Yan was watching him, Hein leaned in, propping his palm against the glass window right beside Xiao Yan’s ear as he slowly drew closer.

Xiao Yan was thrown into a flustered panic. He hurriedly turned his head away, but in doing so, his lips brushed against his neck instead. Xiao Yan instinctively hunched his shoulders; as the man’s breath grazed his skin, it felt as though something had brushed right against his heart, sending all his thoughts plummeting into disarray.

*Colonel... please, I beg you, don't do this anymore... Even though you really are a rare specimen of male beauty, I still prefer beautiful women...*

*Good heavens! What kind of monumental leap in attitude is this—going from “come any closer and I’ll kill you” to trying to kiss me every other moment?*

*I absolutely have to get this part of my memories sorted out completely; otherwise...* Xiao Yan was certain he would end up completely annihilated—body and soul.

Liv gave a light cough, and only then did Xiao Yan realize that the building outside the window was the headquarters of the Interrogation Unit.

Major General Citti had been waiting for quite some time.

Xiao Yan looked around Citti’s office, while Hein and Citti appeared to be deep in conversation about something.

“Hey, the Chief isn't as scary as you think. He’s saved your life plenty of times,” Liv said reassuringly.

“Mm...” Suddenly, a memory flashed through Xiao Yan’s mind: Hein hoisting him effortlessly onto his shoulder, then cutting a path through a horde of zombies—decisive, ruthless, and utterly cool-headed.

Major General Citti’s conversation with Hein came to an end, and he walked over to Xiao Yan with a smile.

“It’s good to see you’ve woken up, Second Lieutenant. Or perhaps I should address you as Major Xiao Yan?”

“What?”

*Which is it—Second Lieutenant or Major? My head is spinning right now; whoever you are, please—don't make my brain even more confused than it already is!* “It seems Colonel Burton hasn’t told you yet: in recognition of your exceptional research capabilities, Lieutenant General Averell has signed your promotion orders. As a Major, you will continue your research—and personally select your own research assistants.”

“My ‘exceptional’... research capabilities?”

“Yes. I can see that your memories are somewhat jumbled, but do not worry; I will assist you in sorting them out.” Major General Hiti’s smile was perfectly composed.

“So, what exactly is my condition right now? Did the Medical Corps’ diagnosis state that I’m not suffering from amnesia, but rather—confused memories?”