Why Are You All Dreaming About My Wife?!

Alud didn’t particularly enjoy blocking people’s ID accounts.
The interstellar was mostly a real-name system, and creating alternate accounts was a hassle, requiring a bunch of verifications and authentications. In Alud’s view, anyone willing to jump through all those hoops to open a new account must have a strong need for it.

But this marketing account was becoming a headache.
Every time Alud deleted their posts, they’d just repost.

Alud had no choice but to temporarily block the account, planning to unblock it in a few days. But the user simply switched to a new account.

Alud had no choice but to keep blocking them.

After several blocks, they finally stopped posting.

Alud couldn’t help complaining to Mo Bai: “This marketing account is shameless. Look at this transaction they had—they’re trying to hurt our Baibai.”

Alud sent a screenshot of the chat between the marketing account and someone named ‘Xiao Zai Zhen Keai’ (Little Brat is So Cute). The record clearly showed how this ‘Xiao Zai Zhen Keai’ had paid the marketer to buy a trending topic.

Alud said, “Good thing you reminded me to monitor the internet, Xiao Bai. Otherwise, the rumors would be flying by now!”

Mo Bai hadn’t expected someone to try to stir up rumors about him and Wen Zhaoyan. He didn’t understand: “What benefit would they get from this?”
Were they trying to get Wen Zhaoyan criticized?

Alud circled one of the marketer’s comments: “Look here—they said someone once paid them to post dirt on Wen Zhaoyan, and they refused. This time, maybe it’s a different tactic.”

Mo Bai understood immediately: “So they’re still trying to smear Wen Zhaoyan.”

Alud was certain: “It’s definitely the Royal Family trying to ruin his reputation. Wen Zhaoyan’s public image is too good right now, so they want to tarnish it.”

Crown Prince Wen Zhaoyan’s popularity in the Empire was practically untouchable—everyone spoke well of him. Even those who criticized him were grasping at straws.
The more flawless the image, the easier it was to topple with even a tiny flaw.

Mo Bai said seriously, “Then I should warn him.”

Alud didn’t really care either way. He asked, “Sir wants to know when you’re coming back.”

Mo Bai said, “Probably in a few days.”
He had stayed because he’d seen the heavy black energy around Wen Zhaoyan and knew something was going to happen. After the last mission, the black energy had lessened, and Wen Zhaoyan was unlikely to be as seriously injured again. So there was no need for him to stay any longer. At most, he’d visit Little Blue every now and then.

Alud was happy: “Do you need me to pick you up? You know Alud’s ship is steady and fast.”

Mo Bai smiled. “No, I’ll come back on my own.”

Alud was a little disappointed. The little brat had grown up and didn’t want Alud to lift him up high anymore. He remembered after the Crown Prince had moved away, he’d sneak into the empty estate at night and tap on the little brat’s window, asking if he wanted to be lifted up, using only two hands so as not to scare him. But the little brat was never afraid of his four hands—so well-behaved and cute! Now he didn’t need Alud anymore.

Mo Bai wanted to tell Wen Zhaoyan about someone trying to smear him, so he could be more careful.

But he didn’t see Wen Zhaoyan anywhere.
He could try messaging him, but their communication records had over a decade of silence. Mo Bai didn’t even know if Wen Zhaoyan had blocked him—neither had initiated contact in all that time.

By chance, when he went to the command headquarters to submit his resignation, he ran into Kai.

Mo Bai told Kai about it, trusting that he would pass it on to Wen Zhaoyan.

Kai sneered after hearing it. “The Royal Family really is desperate to tarnish the Crown Prince. Since they can’t find any real dirt on him, all they can do is fabricate rumors.”

Mo Bai said, “So we need to warn His Highness not to fall for it.”

As they were talking, a low voice came from behind: “Fall for what?”

They turned to see Wen Zhaoyan entering, dressed in full military uniform. His lips were pressed tightly together, his brows sharp and stern, his handsome features carrying a cold detachment.
He stood there as if no one could ever enter his heart, nor did he need anyone to.

Mo Bai had always known Wen Zhaoyan was good-looking, but now he seemed even more imposing. The man he had once known had been somewhat awkward and shy. Now, what remained was only strength and determination.

Wen Zhaoyan’s gaze swept over Mo Bai, lingering for a moment before shifting to Kai. “Something to report?”

Kai quickly said, “Your Highness, perfect timing. I was just about to brief you on this.”

Kai repeated what Mo Bai had told him, ending with a cold laugh. “The Royal Family is ridiculous.”

Wen Zhaoyan: “…?” Something about this sounded familiar. A faint sense of dread crept over him. “A marketing account trying to smear me?”

Mo Bai nodded. “Yes. Do you remember Alud?”

Wen Zhaoyan: “I remember.”

Mo Bai cleared his throat. “I was worried about misunderstandings online, so I asked Alud to monitor things. He’s the one who discovered it.”
Mo Bai showed Wen Zhaoyan the chat logs Alud had sent him.

Seeing his own familiar alt account, Wen Zhaoyan fell silent.

After a long moment, he said expressionlessly, “…Maybe he didn’t mean any harm.”

Kai disagreed: “No harm? It’s so obvious. Who else would be so neurotic as to pay for such a stunt?”

Wen Zhaoyan: “…”

Kai sneered again. “The Royal Family must be really pathetic to resort to such low tactics now.”

Wen Zhaoyan: “…”
Why do you always have so much to say?

So, the marketer hadn’t lied—he really had gotten six accounts blocked.
So, the one stopping them from trending was you, little brat.

Wen Zhaoyan looked at Mo Bai with complicated feelings, but could only quietly guard his secret identity. “…Thank you for the warning.”
He would never let anyone know that alt account was his. Never.

Just then, Mo Bai’s personal terminal buzzed twice.

He looked down. It was a message from Alud.

[Uncle Alud: Little brat, I specially looked into who’s trying to smear the Empire’s Crown Prince.]
[Uncle Alud: I found something big.]

Mo Bai replied: [What?]

[Uncle Alud: The account ‘Xiao Zai Zhen Keai’ had multiple layers of encryption. I worked hard but couldn’t crack it.]
[Uncle Alud: I was about to give up, but I couldn’t accept it. In the entire interstellar, only Wen Zhaoyan’s skills rival mine—I respect him. No one else.]
[Uncle Alud: So I went to ask Wen Zhaoyan to take a look together. When I tried to contact him, I suddenly realized…]
[Uncle Alud: [Screenshot JPG]]
[Uncle Alud: Look. I realized I’d already added this account. It’s Wen Zhaoyan’s alt.]

[Mo Bai: ……??]

Mo Bai whipped his head toward Wen Zhaoyan.

Wen Zhaoyan’s alt account?
He paid to buy trending topics about his own romance?

Maybe Mo Bai’s expression was too incredulous, because Wen Zhaoyan’s heart started pounding with anxiety.

He asked in a low, steady voice, his demeanor calm, but inwardly panicking: “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Mo Bai muttered, “…Nothing. I just think you’re… different from before.”

Wen Zhaoyan: “?”

Mo Bai made an excuse and left.

Leaving Wen Zhaoyan and Kai behind.

Wen Zhaoyan asked, “What did he mean by that?”

Kai didn’t think much of it: “He said you’re different from before. People change, right? Little Green was small back then, and you were younger too. Now… maybe he thinks we’ve aged?”

Wen Zhaoyan: “?”

Wen Zhaoyan: “Do you have a mirror?”

Kai: “What man carries a mirror around?!”

Wen Zhaoyan turned and walked into the restroom.
He stared at himself in the mirror.
Had he really aged?

—

After leaving the command center, Mo Bai called Alud.

“Uncle Alud, are you sure? Why would Wen Zhaoyan try to smear himself?”
“No mistake. Remember years ago when your dad posted online that when you came of age, the trading planet would be transferred to you?”
“I remember.”

Mo Bai did remember. It was his 16th birthday.
His father had celebrated online as he did every year. But that year, Mo Xiangtian added a few lines about passing the trading planet to Mo Bai when he came of age.

Mo Bai had been well-protected all these years. Even when he attended the Imperial Military Academy, no one knew his father was Mo Xiangtian. No one knew what Mo Xiangtian’s son looked like or how outstanding he was.

Though Mo Xiangtian was a proud father, after learning about Mo Bai’s other identity, he never mentioned where Mo Bai went to school. He only posted pixelated photos, careful not to put his son in danger.

To the public, Mo Bai was just a rich kid sheltered at home, good for nothing. When Mo Xiangtian said he’d hand over the trading planet to Mo Bai, netizens were shocked. Some twisted with envy started cursing, saying Mo Xiangtian was foolish to give such a huge planet to a kid who hadn’t even grown his hair—it would put countless people at risk of unemployment.

They dug into Mo Bai, questioning why someone in his teens had never been heard of attending school. If he wasn’t an idiot, why hadn’t he gone to school? Could it be because he lacked the intellect?

The insults were vicious and numerous.

Alud was furious and started hacking into the accounts of those who had insulted the little brat, blocking their IDs. In the process, he noticed someone else doing the same. When he asked, he found out it was Wen Zhaoyan. So they competed to see who could block more, faster.

Because both used multiple devices for large-scale bans, they ended up adding each other’s alt accounts to compare results. In the end, Wen Zhaoyan narrowly won. Alud had been annoyed about it for a long time!

After hearing this, Mo Bai felt complicated.

He said, “I thought it was you back then…”

Alud felt a bit guilty: “I lost back then.”
Who would want to sing the praises of a rival?

Mo Bai also thought about the S-class mech he wore—also from Wen Zhaoyan, and he hadn’t known either.

He had assumed that Wen Zhaoyan’s departure back then meant he wanted to cut ties…
After all, in that situation, even Mo Bai would have felt too embarrassed to face anyone. So if Wen Zhaoyan had wanted to sever ties, he had nothing to say—he felt he was in the wrong.

And in all these years, Wen Zhaoyan had never contacted him.
Time heals everything.
Wasn’t that how it worked? If you don’t contact someone long enough, there’s no need to start again.

He’d never expected that every year on his birthday, Wen Zhaoyan’s gift might be hidden among the pile. When he was being insulted, Wen Zhaoyan would wear a mask and fight back for him.

What else did Wen Zhaoyan do that he didn’t know about?
Why did he do all this? Was it still…?

Mo Bai patted his head—how could that be? Little Blue had said people change their hearts…

Lost in thought, he returned to the new recruit dormitory.

There were four people in the dorm. One was Little Blue, and two others were from the mech warrior battalion.

It was training time, and Mo Bai, being in the command headquarters, didn’t need to join.

But when he walked in, he saw one of his roommates hadn’t gone to training.

The roommate had his back to Mo Bai, doing something. He didn’t seem to hear Mo Bai enter.

Mo Bai asked, “Duan Hui, what are you doing?”

Duan Hui slowly turned around. He was holding two incense sticks, with an incense burner in front of him.

He smiled at Mo Bai: “Little Green, you’re back? I’m burning incense.”

As he turned, Mo Bai felt an overwhelming wave of negative energy.

Duan Hui said, “I heard from some comrades from the Sanatorium Planet that the Wish-Granting God is really effective. Even Admiral Kai prays to him. So I’m giving it a try, hoping my wish comes true.”

Mo Bai frowned. “What’s your wish?”

Duan Hui said, “I came here to find my brother. I heard he died in battle, and only his nameplate was left—his body’s missing. I thought maybe when I go to the battlefield, I can find out where he is.”
As he spoke, he bowed sincerely and inserted the incense into the burner.

Mo Bai suddenly turned to look at Duan Hui, his frown deepening.

Because he realized he couldn’t hear Duan Hui’s ‘heart-voice.’ The heart-voice was the wish a believer made when they prayed—their deepest desire at that moment. Normally, only those with ill intent would have their wishes unheard by the gods. But if they were close enough, he could still hear them.

Hearing was one thing; granting the wish was another.

But Duan Hui was only a few steps away, yet Mo Bai couldn’t hear his heart-voice.

Mo Bai slowly approached Duan Hui and gently extended his hand. “I’d like to make a wish too. Do you have any incense left? Could you give me one?”

Duan Hui said, “Sure.”
He handed a stick of incense to Mo Bai.

Mo Bai deliberately withdrew his hand early, brushing against Duan Hui’s fingers. Cold. His blood was cold. Divine power quickly spread through his body.

His mind… was empty.

Mo Bai withdrew his hand. “Thanks.”

He calmly burned the incense, then said, “It’s almost dinner time. Want to go eat together later?”

Duan Hui said, “I’m not hungry tonight. I’ll just sleep early.”

Mo Bai said, “Okay. I’ll go eat then.”
He left the dorm and instinctively wanted to call Wen Zhaoyan.
But his finger hovered over the button, remembering he was still ‘Little Green,’ not Mo Bai.

He hesitated.

—

That day, Wen Zhaoyan felt unusually tired.

One moment he was looking up what hairstyles looked younger and what clothes didn’t make one look old. The next, he seemed to have fallen asleep.

His mental energy was strong enough to sense that he was dreaming.

In the dream, he was in the captain’s office reviewing battle reports when a knock came at the door.

Wen Zhaoyan: “Come in.”

The door slowly opened, and a familiar figure walked in—Mo Bai.

Wen Zhaoyan froze. He was dreaming of the little brat?

All these years, he had never dreamed of Mo Li. It was as if some unseen force had prevented it. This was the first time since leaving the Sanatorium Planet that he had dreamed of this person.

He remembered the first time he met Mo Li—it seemed to have been in a dream? He hadn’t known why he’d dreamed of him, and had thought it was just a dream. Then Mo Li had appeared before him again.

“‘Wen Zhaoyan,’ Mo Bai called.”

In the dream, Mo Bai didn’t have long hair or elegant ancient robes. He wore a simple T-shirt and casual pants, and his smile was so beautiful. So breathtakingly beautiful.

Or perhaps this was the first time Wen Zhaoyan truly realized—he wasn’t Mo Li, but… Mo Bai. The real Mo Bai.

Wen Zhaoyan instinctively reached out to him, then quickly pulled back. For some reason, he realized he hadn’t changed his hairstyle to something younger yet, or bought clothes that didn’t make him look old. Was it too late to do that now?

Wait—he was dreaming. Couldn’t he just change his appearance at will in a dream?

But he hadn’t decided what to change into, so he just looked at Mo Bai, feeling a little flustered: “Why are you here?”

Mo Bai looked at him, also a little guilty. Yes, he had entered Wen Zhaoyan’s dream.

He asked, ‘How’s the research on the two insectoids you captured going? Have you figured out their evolution pattern? How they got past our defenses in the Rosseti Star System?’

The last mission had cleared more than one hiding spot. But because they’d needed live specimens, Wen Zhaoyan had led the team himself. With two specimens secured, other units had cleared the remaining nests.

Wen Zhaoyan didn’t hide anything. ‘We’ve made some progress. The evolved insectoids can change form. Their massive bodies make them obvious targets, but research on the larvae shows they’ve learned to shrink, possibly by incorporating Uruk Civilization genes.’

Mo Bai murmured, ‘Could this be because the insectoids are absorbing both Uruk and Empire genetics?’

Wen Zhaoyan: ‘What do you mean?’

Mo Bai said, ‘One of the new recruits has turned into an insectoid.’

Wen Zhaoyan’s expression turned grave. ‘How many?’

Mo Bai shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

Wen Zhaoyan said, ‘I’ll order a full screening tomorrow.’

Mo Bai nodded. Having delivered the warning, he had nothing more to say.

‘Well, go back to sleep. I’ll go now.’

‘Mo… Little brat.’ Wen Zhaoyan suddenly called out.

Mo Bai turned back.

Wen Zhaoyan pressed his lips. ‘I’m dreaming, aren’t I?’

Mo Bai: ‘?’

Wen Zhaoyan: ‘My mental energy is strong. I can vaguely sense it.’

Mo Bai: ‘…’ He’d wanted to avoid using his ‘Little Green’ identity to tell Wen Zhaoyan in person, so he’d come to him in a dream. And yet he could still sense it?

Wen Zhaoyan: ‘So, you gave me deep hypnosis?’ He couldn’t think of any other way to induce a dream. Scientifically, that was the only explanation.

Mo Bai: ‘…Something like that.’ After a pause, his voice dropped a little as he looked down at his feet: ‘Do you know who I am?’

Wen Zhaoyan: ‘I know you’re not Little Green.’

Mo Bai: ‘.’ Mo Bai shot him a look, almost as if scolding him.

Wen Zhaoyan suddenly smiled. It wasn’t a very obvious smile, but it melted the coldness from his face, softening his stern demeanor.

After Mo Bai glared at him without a word, he simply turned and left.

When Wen Zhaoyan opened his eyes, it was already broad daylight.

He quietly replayed the dream in his mind, feeling pleased.

Though he didn’t know when the little brat had induced the dream, the fact that he’d chosen to appear this way suggested… maybe he wasn’t unwilling to see him?

Perhaps for that reason, even knowing there might be insectoid impostors in the camp, Wen Zhaoyan felt less anxious.

With that lightness in his heart, Wen Zhaoyan ordered Kai to assemble all troops.

The sudden assembly surprised everyone, but aside from those on missions, the soldiers quickly gathered in the base square.

Wen Zhaoyan didn’t appear immediately. He disguised himself and blended into the crowd. The little brat said one new recruit had turned into an insectoid. What about the veterans?

If even newly enlisted soldiers could be infected, there might be more among the veterans.

He observed everyone’s movements, looking for anything unusual.

All the soldiers were gathered, but the commander was nowhere to be seen.

At first, everyone remained calm. But as time passed, the new recruits started chatting quietly among themselves. The veterans, however, stood like wooden stakes, waiting for orders.

Wen Zhaoyan focused on the new recruits, trying to pick up clues from their hushed conversations.

But as he listened, his brow furrowed.

‘Actually, I dreamed of someone last night—long hair, really beautiful. Best-looking person I’ve ever seen. I forgot what they looked like after waking up, but I remember they were gorgeous!’
‘Huh? Now that you mention it, I think I dreamed of that person too—wearing white ancient robes, right?’
‘Yes!’
‘Really long black hair, down to their waist!’
‘Yes!’
‘His voice was really nice too. He said something to me, but I can’t remember… something about him being super effective?’
‘Yes, exactly! He said we could make wishes to him!’

Wen Zhaoyan: ‘?’ That sounded exactly like Mo Li. No—it was Mo Li. But what did “making wishes” have to do with it? Wasn’t that just Kai and the others’ superstitious prayers? What did it have to do with Mo Li?

The soldiers continued: ‘You all dreamed of him too?’ ‘Yeah, all of us!’ ‘So strange—how did we all dream of the same person?’

Wen Zhaoyan: ‘…’ The Crown Prince also wanted to ask— ‘Why are you all dreaming of my wife?’