Rose Past

The dimming of the lights is the only moment on stage when the audience becomes visible.

The idol Zhao Ran was a sensation during the years of snowstorm. Born in a Bait City, he rose to command the high society of the Main City, yet he could not escape the ill fate of aberration. Millions of fans wept when they heard he hadn’t lost his human will, only to receive the devastating news moments later that he was to be defensively executed for refusing to become a Protector.

But the Spire welcomed a new member nonetheless.

It was said that Jin Xuyan, the Spire’s second-in-command and the man who held the reins of the Jin conglomerate, personally bailed him out.

In the years following the star’s fall and his forced entry into the Spire, the outside world buzzed with rumors, but no one could catch a glimpse of him. That was until news broke of the world’s first case of genetic entropy reduction, where an aberrant reverted to an ordinary human.

It was still him: Zhao Ran.

From the first time they saw him, many knew he was destined for a life far from ordinary. So many suspenseful mysteries, unspeakable pasts, and scandalous secrets were hidden within those breathtaking eyes.

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The spotlights fade, leaving the stage in pitch darkness, save for a few diamond shards pasted beneath his eyes that still catch the light. They look like stray tears falling from his gaze, blurring into the cloud-like tattoos near his lips.

The silent venue is filled with the sound of heavy breathing; no one dares make a sound before he speaks. The air is thick with heat.

But Zhao Ran says nothing.

The calamity has departed, and prosperity has returned. Since returning to the stage, he has changed a lot. For instance, the pre-show banter is gone. Aside from singing, he does nothing on stage.

Only a slender shadow remains on the dark platform. He stands alone on the heights, cold and untouchable, yet inexplicably lonely.

Zhao Ran casts one last glance at the audience before exiting. The venue is more packed than ever, but the crowd is missing one deep, steady gaze. He pushes away the microphone stand and turns to leave amidst a chorus of disappointed sighs.

The head of the Jin family was his listener; he always knew that. That man never missed a single performance. That figure was always in the VIP seat, yet unlike other tycoons, he never made an uninvited visit after the show, never asked for contact info, and never sent so much as a single piece of jewelry or a flower.

He once thought that man was his only authentic listener.

Until the day he was tried up and brought before him. Jin Xuyan tilted his chin up, scrutinized him coldly for a long while, and said, “Lumen. That shall be your name.”

Lumen, the codename he gave him; his name within the Spire.

The scales tipped; the status gap between the star and the follower was shattered.

Genetic aberration produced instincts that Zhao Ran loathed, such as trembling under the pressure of bloodline suppression. One side held the genotypes of the Black Tiger and Black Rose, while the other was the Leopard and the Blood Sparrow. When Jin Xuyan approached to inspect him, Zhao Ran’s vessels dilated as if he could hear the rush of his own blood, his nerves vibrating violently with his heartbeat.

But he would never show the instinct of fear. Instead, he stared at the man with hatred.

“I heard you’d rather die than join the Spire. Is that right?”

Jin Xuyan sat before him, casually undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. Through the open collar, Zhao Ran saw half of a chest and an arm covered in rose tattoos. He was dazed for a moment, before suddenly remembering this tycoon’s Black Rose gene— he was a master of mental torture, capable of plunging people into despair with ease.

Zhao Ran watched him warily, sensing he would soon use mental control to force submission.

But he didn’t.

Jin Xuyan only looked him over for a moment, then stood up and said flatly, “If you like being forced, then stay tied up.”

He left straight away, leaving Zhao Ran alone in that luxurious, hollow room without loosening his bonds.

With hands bound behind his back and his thighs tied to his calves, he could only kneel or lie curled on his side. His limbs had long since reached the peak of numbness and stinging pain, yet he refused to beg for mercy. He confronted the air alone in the room without food or water. His strength ebbed quickly. For the entire week that followed, Jin Xuyan never showed his face. Someone only came twice a day to give him a nutritional injection. Logistics staff measured him carefully, seemingly tailoring something for him.

Zhao Ran closed his eyes in a half-sleep, catching fragments of conversation.

“Custom mechanical wings and combat gear. Spending money like water.”

“…That person always restrained his wealthy lifestyle in the Spire; now he’s truly opening eyes.”

“Brain was ordered to design the sonic enhancement device as a piece of jewelry.”

“Can they really do it?”

“The power of money.”

“What does Flame see in him? His looks? Or do the wealthy just like crushing these high-and-mighty darlings?”

“Who knows, but I heard he personally wrote over a hundred pages of reports just to bail the guy out of the Black Tower.”

No one knew Jin Xuyan was his fan. Zhao Ran thought that perhaps even Jin Xuyan didn’t realize he had made an impression on him.

When the ropes were finally undone, the pain in his limbs felt like ten thousand ants biting him. He collapsed to the floor, twitching uncontrollably. That was when Jin Xuyan reappeared.

“Have you figured it out yet?”

His voice was still cold. Zhao Ran couldn’t fathom how someone who had sincerely listened to hundreds of his songs could be so heartless.

After a long time, Zhao Ran slowly sat up. It was hard for his legs to even stand, but he straightened his back inch by inch, looking up at the man with unyielding defiance.

“I won’t risk my life for anyone. It’s too stupid.”

A flicker of amusement crossed those eyes, as if he had heard a child say something naive.

“Do you think I stand here to risk my life for humanity?”

“Don’t you?”

Jin Xuyan stood lofty. When he looked down, it was as if he were looking at a piece of his own property.

“No.”

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t understand. Just learn to obey.”

“Of course, it doesn’t matter if you can’t learn. You will have to obey in the end.”

Jin Xuyan was a man of few words. The ultimate coldness and cruelty. He trusted only his own sight and judgment, allowed no explanations, and left no room for begging. Most of the time, he didn’t talk to him at all.

Zhao Ran smashed countless pieces of expensive equipment. When subordinates reported it to Jin Xuyan while Zhao Ran stood nearby, Zhao Ran felt a surge of gratification. However, the man only lifted an eyelid. ” More than a dozen times already. Do you dislike it, or what?”

“I won’t be a Protector.”

Jin Xuyan withdrew his gaze and gave a flat order: “Make a few more sets. Once he gets a few chunks of flesh torn off by an aberrant, he’ll put the gear on himself. After being surrounded a few times, he’ll pick up the mechanical wings.”

“You’re dreaming. I won’t go on missions.”

Jin Xuyan didn’t even look at him, keeping his head down as he flipped through files. “It’s not up to you.”

Those were the aberrant dossiers compiled by the Black Tower. People aberrated every day, but those who retained human will were one in a million. Most became monsters and were executed. There were a very few who became monsters, but beautiful monsters. It was said Jin Xuyan would occasionally pick out those he found acceptable from the Black Tower and personally torture them to death, bit by bit.

Unlike the other high-ranking members of the Spire, Jin Xuyan never suppressed his desire for slaughter and violence after his aberration. He didn’t hide it either, having struck a deal with the Black Tower: as long as he didn’t harm ordinary humans, the Black Tower would facilitate his urges to help him vent his inner demons, ensuring he remained an emotionally stable, loyal, and reliable guardian in public.

Jin Xuyan stopped flipping pages and pulled out a sheet. The photo showed a petite boy with snow-white skin, sharp cat ears, and a tail. Though huddled in a cage, he glared outward with squinted eyes, ready to tear apart anything he saw.

A feline-type aberration. Actually, Zhao Ran was also feline, a leopard, wasn’t he?

Jin Xuyan casually snapped a photo of the ID number and sent it to the Black Tower. He glanced at Zhao Ran’s clenched fists. “Scared?”

Zhao Ran pressed his lips thin, and after a long while, he forced out through his teeth: “Pervert.”

Jin Xuyan let out a snort. “You haven’t even seen me play with toys yet, and you’re already criticizing. Rest easy, I won’t treat you like that.”

He brushed past him.

Zhao Ran didn’t want to admit it, but hearing that promise truly made him feel a sense of relief. For all his faults, this man was not in the habit of breaking his word. Just as he had never once been late to any of those hundreds of performances.

“However,” Jin Xuyan stopped at the door, “you must obey.”

“I won’t kill you, but if you make me angry, your life won’t be easy either.”

He said, “I’m not like the other high-rankers. I don’t have the instinct to raise children. I advise you to watch your words and deeds.”

Soon, Zhao Ran learned what it meant for life to “not be easy.”

After the device to enhance his sonic abilities was installed near his lips, he tore up the mission intelligence Jin Xuyan had sent over and used a dagger to try and pry off the metal decorative plates that were already embedded in his skin.

When the first drop of blood flowed from the junction of metal and skin, Jin Xuyan kicked the door open.

He didn’t say a word, but his fury made his hand holding the dagger tremble.

Rose vines bound him tight. Wrists, ankles, waist, inner thighs, armpits, and neck. The vines slithered over him like snakes, tightening gradually, biting deep into his flesh as if to snap his bones. Intense pain gnawed at every nerve. He stared with wide, hollow eyes, gasping for breath. Sweat squeezed from his hair, dripping all over the floor. His heart felt like it would burst from his chest. To be crushed until it burst.

That wasn’t enough.

With a crisp, sharp crack, a bundle of vines tore through his clothes, leaving a bright red whip mark. One, two, three… He whipped him savagely five times, creating a bloody image of claw marks across his chest.

It reminded him inexplicably of the leopard that caused his own aberration, and then of the feline boy in the files.

Jin Xuyan grabbed his chin. “Admit you were wrong.”

Zhao Ran was shaking from the pain, yet he gritted his teeth. Finally, it was still those same words: “I won’t risk my life for humanity.”

“Then we continue tomorrow.”

The nightmare repeated. Over the next few days, Zhao Ran’s memory was blurred. Most of the time, he was in a haze of pain, half-conscious. He began to fear the sound of the door opening, fear that silhouette.

After enduring for who knows how many days, he finally spoke as Jin Xuyan reached out with the rose vines: “Why are you doing this to me…”

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“You listened to countless performances of mine. You were never absent.”

He seemed slightly surprised but remained unmoved. “That is why I have been lenient enough with you.”

With that, the vines rose sharply.

“Plunging into despair,” Zhao Ran said weakly. “You have powerful abilities. Why use such primitive methods to torture me?”

“You want me to submit, don’t you? That should have been easy for you.”

He closed his eyes after saying that. He knew this man would eventually make him submit in a way he couldn’t resist. Since he couldn’t escape, it was better to let that day come sooner and skip the pain in between. It hurt too much.

However, the expected whip did not fall. The rose vines not only didn’t pierce his nerves but instead gradually receded from his body.

He slumped to the ground, staring at the tips of the man’s shoes.

“No next time.”

Once his wounds healed, he forced him to go on his first mission.

 

Jin Xuyan likely guessed he would try to run, so he kept a constant watch on him. However, the more he did so, the less Zhao Ran actually wanted to leave. After his aberration, Zhao Ran had been forced off the stage and lost his life’s passion; at some point, defying this man became his only pleasure.

He was insolent toward him, but the man never seemed to take it to heart. In daily conversations, he could even be described as mild. Only ignoring his orders or attempting self-harm would send the man into a violent rage.

On the battlefield, Zhao Ran saw a look of wonder in the man’s eyes.

Zhao Ran did indeed possess an extraordinary genetic talent. His sonic waves could throw an aberrant tide into a frenzy from a hundred meters away, and in close-quarters combat, the leopard’s speed and precision were flawlessly executed.

After the first mission ended, Zhao Ran smoothed his torn clothes, pulled a pile of unused equipment from his bag, dropped it at the man’s feet, and said, “Don’t mention it.”

He stayed where he was after speaking, wanting to see the man explode in rage, suppress his anger, or give him a slap. Any of those would undoubtedly have brought him gratification.

But Jin Xuyan laughed.

In those eyes was unmasked admiration and pride, more intense than when he had looked up at him from the audience.

Such intensity shouldn’t belong to this man.

While Zhao Ran was dazed, Jin Xuyan took off his own coat and draped it over his shoulders. “I know now.”

“Know what?” Zhao Ran momentarily forgot that he should have hurled the coat onto the ground.

“I know your claws are sharp.” Jin Xuyan turned to leave. “Next time, I’ll find more delicious prey for you.”

Zhao Ran didn’t understand the meaning of those words until he woke up late at night in his room at the Spire. Recalling the battlefield in his dreams, he suddenly realized:

He had enjoyed that battle.

Watching the sea of aberrant dance in chaos under his sonic waves, watching those ugly things be crushed and purged, watching the limbs of the hideous creatures right before his eyes snap.

He felt a long-lost sense of exhilaration.

It was a sense of control, much like standing on stage in the past, controlling a microphone stand, controlling the breathing and heartbeats of countless social elites in the audience.

Including that man’s.

He stepped out of his room for some air but unexpectedly overheard a phone call next door.

In front of the Black Tower, the man was as overbearing as ever, refusing to listen to anyone else’s opinions.

“He is excellent, far more excellent than anyone anticipated.

“Not loyal enough to humanity? Does that matter? Does the Black Tower truly believe I am loyal to humanity?

“Enough.

“Regardless, I have claimed this person. I will not accept his recall for any reason.

“I hope the Black Tower understands: from the moment he stepped into the Spire, he is under my jurisdiction and my protection.

“Don’t even think about touching him, whether for execution or testing. I am not Qin Zhilu. Those I choose will never accept the ravages of others. Put away that genetic testing nonsense. You won’t touch a single finger of his.”

Zhao Ran stood outside the door until the man hung up and poured himself a glass of red wine.

Jin Xuyan had his nightcap, handled some conglomerate business, and showered. Only when he was about to sleep did he realize his door wasn’t fully closed.

He pulled the door open and frowned at Zhao Ran.

After a long standoff, he finally relaxed his brow and softened his tone.

“A nightmare?”

Zhao Ran was startled. “Huh?”

That palm, which on so many nights had dealt him pain and broken his freedom, rested on his head in a gentle comfort.

“Seeing blood for the first time… It’s impressive enough that you didn’t have an immediate stress response. If nightmares come, let them. Remember, you will wake up sooner or later.”

For many years to follow, that sentence from that night, and the silhouette of that figure standing before him in pajamas blocking the light, remained etched in Zhao Ran’s mind. More than once, he wondered if the man himself was his nightmare, and if that night the man had predicted that Zhao Ran would eventually wake up from this “nightmare” he represented.

At the end of that night, Zhao Ran asked, “You don’t risk your life for humanity either?”

“My life belongs only to myself.”

“Then why be a Protector?”

Jin Xuyan smiled. “To prove my Dao.”

It was only much later, after that man had left forever, that Zhao Ran heard the true voice of the man’s heart from Qin Zhilu’s mouth:

The Super-aberrant is eternally disordered; the Protector proves the Dao with their life.

That man, who often said “Humans are all but sand on the scale of fate, overturned by destiny,” never truly compromised with fate. He always held his head high, and just as he was accustomed to dominating and controlling those around him, he refused to surrender his own destiny to fate.