My Weak Lover Became A Weird Boss - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Tower Openings & Promotions

For the past few days, neither of them brought up the argument from that day. Having lived together for a full seven years, they shared the unspoken understanding of an old married couple.

Life seemed to have returned to its regular tracks. When Pei Qingshan wasn’t busy, he drove Professor Wen to and from work. At home in the evenings, Wen Zhu cooked while Pei Qingshan washed the dishes—a seamless cooperation. They occasionally “communicated” their feelings at night; aside from Pei Qingshan frequently failing to control his strength—resulting in Professor Wen having a sore waist and a raspy voice the next day, earning Pei Qingshan a few harmless kicks—their life together was quite comfortable.

Commander Pei was also puzzled. He was known as a self-control fanatic in the industry, obsessed with having everything under his thumb. Since childhood, he had never placed second in any base. On the surface, he looked lazy, but privately he was known as the “King of Overachievers” on the front lines. In his earlier years, he had even earned the honorary title of “Frigid.”

How had he become so unrestrained after getting married?

Pei Qingshan engaged in profound self-criticism regarding his descent into hedonism, then turned around and planted another kiss on the corner of Wen Zhu’s mouth.

A streak of white light appeared on the dark horizon, and the sky gradually bled into an ethereal grayish-blue.

Pei Qingshan returned after quietly finishing a cigarette and reached out to touch Wen Zhu’s earlobe. Wen Zhu was exhausted; after being given a bath by Pei Qingshan like a limp puppet, he had fallen into a dead sleep.

Now that things were quiet, the restless fire in Pei Qingshan’s body had been thoroughly soothed by those intermittent gasps and whimpers from earlier.

Pei Qingshan’s hand brushed against a bite mark on the back of Wen Zhu’s neck, and his movements paused.

In the latter half of the night, Wen Zhu had been unable to even make a sound. His pupils were dilated, his spine arched like a bow ready to fire, his whole body trembling as he buried himself in the pillow.

Their overly intimate position allowed Pei Qingshan to feel his tension and tremors firsthand. Not wanting to push his physically frail lover too far, he leaned down and kissed his earlobe with lingering hunger: “Say you love me.”

The words were drowned in broken whimpers.

“Slow… slow down.”

“Wen Zhu, say you love me.”

“Ugh…”

“Say it.”

“…”

Pei Qingshan’s movements became more violent and heavy each time. With his fingers interlaced tightly with Wen Zhu’s, he gritted his teeth and left one tooth mark after another on his body.

Snapping out of his insatiable intensity, Pei Qingshan let out a “tsk,” withdrew his hand, and gently pinched the tip of Wen Zhu’s nose.

Wen Zhu’s breathing was uneven, warm air slowly hitting Pei Qingshan’s fingertips.

The deep brow bone cast a shadow, within which only those eyes—black to the point of a deep, haunting glow—silently watched the person before him in the dead of night, silent and obsessive.

No one knew how long he stayed in that position staring at Wen Zhu, until a distant, ethereal “boom” echoed from outside the window. Beneath the grayish-blue sky stood rows of still-sleeping skyscrapers, but the peace of the horizon was shattered by a sudden burst of fire. Thick smoke rose in the distance.

Pei Qingshan stood up abruptly and walked to the window. That tiny point of explosion was mirrored in his dark pupils like a long-distance shot suddenly zoomed in by a camera.

The thick smoke dispersed with an ominous green tint.

Pei Qingshan’s attention was captured by that distant accident, which was difficult to observe with the naked eye. Consequently, he failed to notice the person on the bed, who had been sleeping fitfully, slowly wake up. Sensing something, Wen Zhu slightly lifted his eyelids toward where Pei Qingshan was looking, then rolled over and sank back into the darkness.

“Two large-scale ‘Specter’ attacks in a single month,” Pei Qingshan sat with his legs crossed in the captain’s chair that originally belonged to Li Weiguang, speaking with cold sarcasm. “Sorry, Officer Li, but your territory has been taken over by the Beidou Bureau.”

Li Weiguang stood to the side, feeling stifled, his expression grim.

It was one crisis after another.

Linjing ranked in the top three most densely populated cities in the country. This meant that if it were attacked by Specters, the resulting loss would be immeasurable.

“UN regulations state that if five or more relatively large-scale Specter attacks occur within a 30-day limit, the area is classified as a ‘Frontline’ war zone, to be managed and supervised by the UN.”

Li Weiguang was well-acquainted with the regulations Pei Qingshan was reciting, but he truly didn’t understand: “Aren’t the ‘Tower Openings’ surrounded by heavy guards? How could so many slip through the cracks and end up in Linjing?”

His gaze landed on Pei Qingshan.

“Impossible,” Pei Qingshan understood his implication and immediately dismissed it. “I don’t lose contact with the Beidou Bureau even during my vacation. There have been no anomalies at the four Tower Openings.”

“What exactly are these Tower Openings?”

In the heavy, silent briefing hall, the first person finally spoke up.

Pei Qingshan was leaning against the edge of the conference table at the front, head tilted back as he watched the final frame of the “10.20 Explosion Case” video. Adjutant Liao Xin had rushed over this morning with a technical department and two combat teams; by the afternoon, he had gathered all security forces in the hall for a meeting.

The UN placed extreme importance on keeping the existence of “Specters”—supernatural entities—a secret, consistently following a conservative policy. Below the “Frontline” level, aside from a few relevant departments, ordinary people knew nothing about the concept of Specters. This led to situations becoming extremely reactive whenever an accident occurred.

Liao Xin stood up. He had clearly seen many such scenes before. His voice was steady and powerful, carrying a gentle, reassuring quality: “Seventy-two years ago, a village near the Qimugan Desert in the Northwest region was massacred. None of the 94 men, women, and children survived.”

“I heard my dad mention that case. He was a cop too, and happened to be in the Northwest on an exchange that year,” someone noted. The sensation the case caused back then was enormous; many veterans remembered it. “They said the killers were a few fugitives on the run.”

“Six people could commit a crime of that magnitude? Among those 94 victims were the six fugitives who had fled to Qimugan that year.” Pei Qingshan turned around, hands propped on the table, revealing a secret in a steady tone: “That was the first time a Specter appeared within our borders. Since then, the state established the Beidou Bureau under the Security Academy and officially joined the UN’s ‘Red Tower Project’.”

“Specter…?” “What is the Red Tower Project?”

Everyone’s face was filled with uneasy confusion. Their years of instinct in this line of work told them that everything that followed would overturn the world as they knew it.

“Everyone, please stay calm,” seeing that the leader had tossed out a few words only to go back to looking at the video, Liao Xin immediately took over. “The Red Tower is not a literal tower, but a magnetic space containing a giant source of pollution. The Tianshu Academy currently has two schools of thought: the ‘Black Hole’ faction believes the Red Tower is a high-dimensional world created by folded space, while the ‘Biological’ faction believes it is a new world generated under the combined influence of magnetic fields, gravity, and radiation.”

As he spoke, many people’s eyes began to glaze over.

Pei Qingshan, unable to take it anymore, kicked the academic elite from under the table: “Get to the point.”

“Cough. It means the ‘Red Tower’ is essentially the cradle where Specters are born. The current mainstream theory is that there is an unprecedentedly large Specter Kingdom inside the Red Tower. You’ve all seen the photos of Specters—a highly mutated, disordered, extremely aggressive, thinking, completely supernatural organism that can parasitize human bodies,” Liao Xin said. “And the Tower Opening is essentially a random exit opened by the Red Tower.”

A few younger, quicker minds caught on immediately: “So the Tower Opening happened to appear in that village back then?”

Liao Xin shook his head, his expression unusually grave: “More than that. The entire Qimugan Desert became a Tower Opening.”

A wave of clamor erupted.

In such a vast desert, no one knew where a Specter might appear, or when the person sleeping next to them might be parasitized…

No wonder the Qimugan region had been restricted for so many years under the guise of “frequent sandstorms.”

“Fortunately, the several Tower Openings within our borders are currently inert. The most active Tower Opening in the world is located in City X, Russia; half of the Red Tower Project’s forces are stationed there.” Liao Xin paused. “But in recent years, various countries have seen different degrees of Specter outbreaks. Tianshu Academy suspects the Red Tower is entering an active phase.”

In short, the situation was very grim.

Unknown creatures that exceeded existing scientific understanding instantly upended the worldviews of everyone present. A new, scarred world was stumbling toward reconstruction.

“Sir, those Specters… what do they actually look like?”

Fear always stems from the unknown.

Pei Qingshan turned around and sat back in his chair with a broad, relaxed posture, looking as if he were always in control: “Just parasites. They’re just a bit disgusting to chop up.”

Liao Xin lowered his gaze and sat down. Although Pei Qingshan was constantly criticized by his colleagues for being “arrogant,” one had to admit that this very arrogance was the most reassuring thing at a time like this.

“At 5:35 AM yesterday, a significant dust explosion occurred at a factory in the outskirts of Linjing. The accident resulted in 2 deaths and 8 serious injuries. Relevant departments are still investigating the specific cause…”

It was the weekend. Wen Zhu returned from his morning run and sat leisurely at the dining table for breakfast.

The TV was broadcasting news of the factory explosion from yesterday morning. Pei Qingshan had also been missing since yesterday, busy with work.

Wen Zhu poked a red bean roll with a strange expression.

A factory explosion in the suburbs—what did that have to do with him?

When he received Wen Zhu’s call, Pei Qingshan was looking at a report parsed from video footage by the technical department. He paused upon hearing the question and said vaguely: “Um… because I did such a good job, I got promoted to—a higher-level civil servant.”

“Finally promoted,” came the somewhat relieved sigh of Wen Zhu—a full professor at a young age. There was a hint of encouragement in his cool tone: “Keep up the good work.”

“…Aside from going to work, don’t wander around lately,” Pei Qingshan instructed. “Linjing hasn’t been very peaceful recently.”

Wen Zhu asked casually, “Why? What happened?”

Pei Qingshan didn’t want to tell Wen Zhu too much. But thinking of his lover’s frail body and his “easily fooled” personality (mostly referring to being fooled by Pei Qingshan’s sweet talk), he frowned and added: “Be more careful when you’re out. If you meet strange people—or if someone you know feels very strange—stay far away from them.”

When Liao Xin brought in the coffee, the leader was hanging up the phone and rubbing his temples as if he had a headache.

“What’s up? Argued with the wife again?” Liao Xin joked, since no one else was in the room.

The leader looked at him expressionlessly, took the coffee, and stood up: “Adjutant Liao, get me a promotion and a raise this year.”

“?” Liao Xin was stunned. “What? What promotion? What raise?”

Pei Qingshan ignored him, pinched his nose to down the coffee in one go, then paused at the door and said seriously: “Double it.”

Liao Xin: “…”

I think you’ve gone mad.