His Jealousy Posted Itself

Who were you thinking of just now?

When Zhou Yuexuan asked him those questions, Mo Bai had answered instinctively. Had he been comparing someone to that standard?

Tall, handsome, and quiet—there were plenty who fit that description.

But…

A figure surfaced in Mo Bai’s mind.

Zhou Yuexuan had said that Mo Bai found quieter people easier to be around?

That wasn’t it!

It was because that person was either a total bore who couldn’t hold a conversation, or could say something that would drive you up the wall. So of course Mo Bai would find it easier to talk to someone quieter!

It wasn’t about liking!

Mo Bai pursed his lips, but for some reason, his face grew warmer.

Seeing Mo Bai remain silent while his ears reddened—his eyes flickering between annoyance and disdain—Zhou realized he’d lost the confusion from before. He already knew who the comparison was.

Zhou paused, then suddenly realized: “Before I brought it up, you didn’t know what type you liked, did you?”

‘Damn, why did I have to say that?!’

Just moments ago, Mo Li had been clueless about his own preferences. But now, after one simple question, an entire image had taken shape.

And the single trait of being ‘quiet’ was enough to rule Zhou out completely. General Zhou had never considered himself a quiet person. He liked communicating—with superiors, with subordinates—to spot problems early.

Mo Bai raised an eyebrow: “I never said I liked that person!”

Zhou’s expression was complicated: “I didn’t say you did. I said ‘type.'”

Mo Bai replayed Zhou’s words, and a wave of embarrassment rushed over him. ‘What am I doing, discussing this with Zhou Yuexuan in the middle of the night?!’

He said abruptly: “I’m going to bed! You should rest too, General Zhou.”

But the sight of his retreating figure, to Zhou’s eyes, looked exactly like someone caught red-handed and fleeing in shame.

However, Mo Bai didn’t get far—he’d barely crossed the training ground when he ran into Kai and Wen Zhaoyan.

Kai was surprised to see him: “Still not back? Don’t tell me you were burning incense again?”

Mo Bai glanced at Wen Zhaoyan, feeling inexplicably guilty: “No, just walking…”

As it happened, Zhou Yuexuan also emerged from the training ground: “Your Highness, Admiral Kai.”

Kai said, puzzled: “Old Zhou, what are you still doing here? You left after the bed check.”

Zhou said openly, “I was just chatting with Mr. Mo Li in the training ground for a bit.”
Of course, getting rejected was too embarrassing, so General Zhou kept that part to himself.

“You two?” Kai’s eyes darted between Zhou and Mo Bai before landing on Wen Zhaoyan.

Late at night, the two of them together—it looked for all the world like a secret rendezvous.

Wen Zhaoyan’s face was hard to read in the dark, his eyes as deep as the night itself.

When Mo Bai met those eyes, he quickly looked away. “We only chatted for a little while. Not long…”

Wen Zhaoyan grunted. “Go get some rest.”

Mo Bai nodded obediently: “I will.” And with that, he darted off like a cat.

Zhou, having been rejected, was feeling down. After Mo Bai left, he said, “I’ll be going too.”

Watching the two depart, Wen Zhaoyan’s expression remained neutral.

Kai asked cautiously: “Your Highness, aren’t you worried?”

Wen Zhaoyan’s voice was cold: “About what?”

Kai said: “That they might be together? Late at night like this?”

Wen Zhaoyan’s tone grew even colder: “Would worrying help? Would it stop them if they wanted to?”

Kai faltered: “Well…”

Wen Zhaoyan turned and strode away.

Late that night, no one knew that a small alt account had posted a new update.

[Little brat’s so cute: ┭┮﹏┭┮]
[Little brat’s so cute: Die, Zhou!]

—

Back in his room, Mo Bai showered and flopped onto his bed. He said goodnight to the ceiling—to his parents, his little uncle, and all his gods—like a nightly ritual.

Then he closed his eyes, ready to sleep.

Ten minutes later, he opened his eyes, still wide awake.

He grabbed the blanket and sniffed it. His brow furrowed. He sniffed again, and his expression grew even more complicated.

Why… was everything—the room, the pillow, even his own self—covered in that person’s scent?

He had come to this room later and knew it was Wen Zhaoyan’s old quarters, given up so Mo Bai wouldn’t have to stay in the dorm. Wen Zhaoyan had moved to the warship. But when not on a mission, the warship wasn’t always in use. And right now, everyone on the base was conserving energy for the insectoid tide. The warship was being maintained. Living there couldn’t be comfortable.

He hadn’t noticed the scent so strongly before. But tonight, it was everywhere… Had Wen Zhaoyan come back recently?

Just then, a notification popped up on his terminal.

[StarBlog Notice: Someone you’re secretly following has posted!]

Secretly following?

It took Mo Bai a moment to remember: right, he’d secretly followed Wen Zhaoyan’s alt account. He switched to the account—’Little brat’s so cute’—and saw two new posts.

Mo Bai: “?”

Which Zhou had offended him? Mo Bai only knew one Zhou—Zhou Yuexuan.

But Zhou had already left when Mo Bai did. And what was with that emoticon?!

Mo Bai tried to imagine that expression on Wen Zhaoyan’s face and nearly burst out laughing. He couldn’t picture a cold, stoic man making such a face—it was almost creepy.

He thought about commenting, asking what was wrong—but he’d be using his main account. He chickened out. Forget it. He’d just sleep.

But sleep wouldn’t come, so he decided to visit the Sanatorium Planet.

He’d been away for a while. After graduating from the military academy, he’d planned to visit his parents, but they’d come to the Capital Planet to stay with him for half a month, until Little Blue left to enlist. So he hadn’t returned.

He closed his eyes, and his divine consciousness descended upon his golden statue on the Sanatorium Planet.

He’d asked Liao Ze to place his statue near Wen Zhaoyan’s old estate, partly so he could visit home easily.

Any golden statue with offerings could serve as a vessel for his consciousness. Of course, only his consciousness could travel—his physical body remained in the Rosseti Galaxy. That was the trouble of having a mortal body.

Back on Earth, his body wasn’t mortal, so he could visit temples freely. But after reincarnation, he couldn’t do that anymore. Only by regaining his divine status could he become a true god.

That reminded him of his missing divine status, and the headache returned. He’d assumed it would come back once the faith collector was full, but that hadn’t happened. He’d have to find another way.

It was 10 AM on the Sanatorium Planet, and there were quite a few visitors. But most went to other gods—only one in ten would ask, “Who is this?”

In the interstellar era, the ancients’ gods were a mystery. The temple had two other statues built based on historical records—Bodhisattvas. But the Empire’s people didn’t understand them. There was so much history to learn already; who had time for ancient Earth’s? So no one worshipped them.

The ‘Wish-Granting God,’ however, was popular—thanks to Liao Ze and the other bigwigs who’d adopted koi. Humans followed the crowd, so Mo Bai had filled his faith collector early.

He checked his offerings and, based on each person’s sincerity, granted good fortune accordingly.

Among the crowd, he spotted a child whose soul glowed white.

It had been a long time since he’d seen a soul so pure, even in a child—pure enough to be luminous, without a trace of impurity. Such purity meant the child had never told a lie.

The child didn’t know how to hold incense or bow properly, but his eyes were full of pleading: “Wish-Granting God, my daddy’s missing. Can you help find him? Mommy’s been sad every day, and I feel like crying too. They say you’re really effective, so I came secretly. But they also say you’re a big shot, and I don’t know what that means… You look young, so can I call you ‘big brother’? Will you help bring my daddy back?”

Mo Bai reached out and patted the child’s head. Gods loved souls like this—white and glowing.

“I will,” Mo Bai said, though the child couldn’t hear him.

He poured a massive amount of good fortune onto the child—more than he’d ever given anyone—enough to see his father through danger and bring him home safely.

“Your daddy will be back soon.”

After granting the fortune, Mo Bai withdrew his hand.

The child seemed to sense something, touching his head in confusion and looking around. He’d felt someone pat his head—it felt wonderful! But he couldn’t see anyone. Puzzled, he soon returned his attention to his prayer and placed his incense stick in the burner.

Nearby, a sign offered free incense—three per person—but the child had taken only one.

After praying, he stood quietly, waiting for his mother.

Mo Bai looked at him again before reluctantly turning his attention toward home, wondering if his parents were there.

Just as he was about to leave the statue, a chill ran through him.

It was a cold, damp feeling—unpleasant, like encountering something unclean.

He examined his statue carefully but saw nothing unusual. Everything seemed normal.

“Did I imagine it?”

It had been a while since he’d visited this statue. Maybe he was just misreading something.

He circled the statue twice more, confirmed nothing was wrong, and decided to head home. Before leaving, he glanced back at where the child had been standing.

Gone already?

Mo Bai was a little disappointed—he’d wanted to pat that pure soul again.

He left the temple and visited the Mo family home. Only the nanny, Aunt Chen, was there. Mo Xiangtian was at work, and Mrs. Mo—who’d stayed home to care for Mo Bai in his early years—now spent time with her friends.

Disappointed not to see them, Mo Bai withdrew his consciousness.

Because he hadn’t slept well, he woke with dark circles the next morning.

The mermaids were practicing drills with the soldiers again, but Mo Bai wasn’t needed. Instead, he went to the research institute.

“Can I take another strand of his hair?” Mo Bai asked, looking well-behaved.

Ying Xiangrong had accepted things the night before. ‘Even the Crown Prince is under the spell. At least this ‘Wish-Granting God’ isn’t like those cults that promise immortality in exchange for your soul.’

He’d even asked the mermaids about it. They’d been offended, telling him, “Those cults are bad! Mr. Mo Li said anyone who believes them is stupid! He also said there’s no such thing as a free lunch—if there were, the gods would eat it all themselves! So you have to work hard first. When you do, the Wish-Granting God has a reason to reward you! Hard work pays off!”

Ying Xiangrong had to admit he was almost convinced. If every cult brainwashed people into working harder, the Empire wouldn’t hate them so much.

He’d also confirmed that Mo Li was related to the Mo family. The mermaids spoke of him with such reverence and obeyed Mo Bai so completely—there was clearly a deep connection.

So by morning, he felt complicated, both fond and exasperated.

When Mo Bai asked for Duan Hui’s hair again, he said, “What, your spirit-summoning failed?”

Mo Bai was surprised: “How did you know?!”

Ying Xiangrong: ‘Because I was joking!’

He said flatly: “Take it. A few strands won’t hurt—he’s still got a while, and hair grows back.”

Mo Bai gently pulled one. “One is enough.”

He’d thought about it. There were two reasons the summoning had failed: either Duan Yi wasn’t dead—but his comrades had seen him die—or he didn’t have his birth details.

With Duan Yi’s birth date and time, he’d succeed.

So after getting the hair, he went to find Wen Zhaoyan. But on the way, he ran into Zhou Yuexuan, who said, “You have access too.”

Mo Bai was surprised. “I do?”

Zhou said, “Yes, His Highness gave you permissions. Check the base’s internal system.”

Mo Bai did, and true to Zhou’s word, he was able to access personnel files. His clearance was high enough to view data for officers below admiral rank. He pulled up Duan Yi’s record. Duan Yi had been declared dead last month. His comrades had brought back his nameplate, but his body had been lost in the chaos.

Mo Bai noted down Duan Yi’s birth details and thanked Zhou.

Zhou said, “No need to thank me. I’m glad I could help,” his gaze sincere.

Mo Bai, mindful of last night’s rejection, decided to keep some distance—better not give false hope.

“Thank you, General Zhou. I’ll be going then.”

Just as he said that, Wen Zhaoyan appeared at the end of the corridor.

Seeing them together, he paused, his sharp eyes sweeping over them.

“Your Highness.”
“Commander.”

They spoke almost in unison—an unnecessary synchronicity.

Wen Zhaoyan’s face grew darker, the temperature around him dropping.

He looked at Zhou, then at Mo Bai. “Something you need?”

Mo Bai, still conscious of last night’s scent, cleared his throat: “I had a question for you, but General Zhou already helped me. So I’m fine now.”

Wen Zhaoyan: “…”

He didn’t speak, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Feeling flustered, Mo Bai mumbled, “I’ll go now,” and hurried away.

Wen Zhaoyan watched him go, only looking away when he was out of sight. Then his cold gaze fell on Zhou Yuexuan.

Zhou felt a sudden chill, like being watched by a predator.

Zhou: “? Your Highness?”

Wen Zhaoyan’s expression was icy: “Meeting.” With that, he strode off.

Two minutes later, a notification appeared on Mo Bai’s terminal.

[StarBlog Notice: Someone you’re secretly following has posted!]

Little brat’s so cute: Die, Zhou!!!!!!

Mo Bai: “????”