CHAPTER 227: CHAPTER 227 - FAMILIAR EYES

Varon stood stiffly on the cracked sidewalk, his brows knitted in unease as he watched the noodle shop’s dusty glass door. The shop had been silent for too long, and Jian—usually restless and talkative—hadn’t emerged. His grip tightened on the strap of his utility belt.

"I’ll check what’s going on," he said flatly, without turning. "You stay here. Don’t wander around."

Li Wang didn’t respond right away, just gave a slight nod as Varon pushed the door open and stepped into the darkened shop, the door creaking shut behind him with a dull thud.

Alone now, Li Wang stood still, his posture oddly rigid. His fingers twitched at his sides before slipping into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a scratched, old-fashioned Earth-made phone—the kind with an actual screen and body weight, not the transparent data-sheets the Farians used. Its screen flickered weakly, and in the corner, the battery icon blinked red: 5%.

He clenched his jaw.

The phone wasn’t supposed to exist. He had hidden it days ago in Nansich’s cluttered room, tucked beneath an old drawer when the house was being turned upside down in panic. He hadn’t known why he kept it. Just that something in his gut told him not to destroy it. And now, holding it again, he felt that same unease crawling up his spine.

His eyes drifted to the closed noodle shop door. He could hear nothing from inside. Only the hum of wind across abandoned signs and the far-off rustling of old plastic banners flapping.

He swallowed.

Memories crept in—unwelcome, but vivid. The cold sting of antiseptic in the hidden underground lab. The metallic clang of chains. His small hand clutching his uncle’s suit sleeve, eyes wide as he saw them for the first time.

Humanoid. Pale. Alien. With eyes so vividly colored they looked painted on.

At the time, he had been no older than six.

And the sight had terrified him.

But not as much as what came next.

He remembered their screams. The way their bodies convulsed under machines that dug into their skin. The way his uncle clicked his tongue like he was inspecting livestock. The way he scribbled notes calmly, as if he were measuring a test tube and not a living, breathing being.

The initial ten Farian captives had dwindled to three within months.

Three.

Li Wang had once asked if they were being punished for attacking humanity.

His uncle had laughed.

"Punished? No. They’re resources. The more we learn, the more prepared we’ll be when the real invasion comes."

Back then, Li Wang had nodded along. It was what he was raised for—to inherit the Wang family legacy, to continue the experiments, to be a man of logic and defense.

But now...

Now he thought of Jian.

Jian, who stood in front of those people and shielded them—despite being one of them.

He bit his nail—again. The corner of it was raw from how often he did it lately.

He could report Jian right now. He had the number. He knew the code.

He could be the loyal heir his uncle wanted.

But...

His fingers hovered over the keypad.

And they didn’t move.

He looked at the door again.

And for the first time in his life, Li Wang realized he didn’t know whose side he was on anymore.

Jian and Varon exited the noodle shop, the door swinging shut behind them with a soft creak. Jian looked visibly distracted, his brows furrowed deep in thought, lips parted as if he was still trying to process what he’d just heard.

His foot caught the edge of a jagged rock nestled in the cracked sidewalk.

"Ah—" Jian gasped, stumbling forward.

Before he could hit the ground, a pair of arms shot out and caught him.

Li Wang had tucked his phone back into his pocket the second he saw the pair emerge, but he barely had time to recompose himself before Jian crashed into his chest. The impact was light, Jian’s body warm and trembling slightly against him.

"You okay?" Li Wang asked, more startled than anything.

Then Jian looked up.

And for a brief moment, Li Wang froze.

Those eyes—wide, soft, and shimmering—weren’t just brown anymore. They glowed faintly with a golden halo, like sunlight filtered through honey. His skin shimmered faintly under the broken light overhead, and right between his brows, barely visible beneath the damp fringe of his bangs, was a small, crystalline stone—golden and pulsing gently.

Li Wang’s breath caught.

This face. These eyes. That stone.

I’ve seen this before... somewhere...

A memory stirred—buried deep.

A cold room. Harsh lights. Data sheets filled with diagrams. And a picture—yes, a single picture he once glimpsed on his uncle’s terminal. An old file with a pixelated image. Subject Zero-One. That same face. Those same eyes.

"You..." he breathed out, voice cracking.

But in the blink of an eye, it vanished.

The glow faded. Jian’s eyes softened into their usual warm brown, the golden halo flickering out. The crystal between his brows? Gone. Like it had never existed.

Jian blinked up at him, still dazed, but no longer radiant. Just a regular boy caught in a clumsy fall.

"Ah—thanks," Jian said softly, pulling away with a frown and brushing off his arms. "That was close."

Li Wang stood there, stunned, heart thudding violently in his chest. His fingers still tingled from the contact, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak.

Jian tilted his head. "You okay?"

"I... yeah," Li Wang managed, voice tight. "Just... startled."

But his thoughts raced. Faster than ever.

Where.... Where have I seen those eyes?!

Li Wang trailed behind them in a daze, hands buried deep in his pockets. His thoughts swirled in loops, a cyclone of memory and doubt as he followed Jian and Varon through the empty, debris-strewn streets.

They reached what had once been the town pharmacy. The sign hung crooked, one half charred as though struck by lightning, and the entrance door had been pried halfway open, scraping the floor with a high metallic whine as Varon shoved it further.

Inside, it looked like a hurricane had blown through.

Drawers were yanked open, medicine boxes littered the ground like confetti, broken glass shimmered under the filtered sunlight that streamed through cracked ceiling panels. Bottles, packets, crumpled paper prescriptions—they were everywhere.

Jian blinked, stepping over a fallen display rack and into the mess. "Wow... this place was seriously ransacked."

Varon nodded slightly, eyes already scanning the labels on half-full bottles. "Focus on fever reducers and general antivirals. Anything marked for flu symptoms."

Jian crouched beside a shelf, sifting through fallen packages and vials. "Got it. This one looks okay... and this too." He held up a few sealed blister packs, then added, "Looks like they didn’t take the emergency stock behind the counters."

Together, the two of them worked efficiently. Despite the chaos, the emergency lockbox still had a decent stash. By the end of ten minutes, they had gathered a small armful of fever-reducing meds, hydration tablets, and a couple of immune boosters.

Li Wang stood still the entire time. Silent.

But his mind wasn’t on the pharmacy. It was back there, in that split-second moment when Jian looked up at him. That halo. That crystal. Those eyes.

And then—like lightning cracking through fog—it hit him.

His eyes widened, breath catching in his throat.

I’ve seen those eyes before.

His mind raced backwards, far into a childhood memory he’d tried to bury.

He’d been six years old.

He remembered hiding behind his uncle’s coat as they walked through the stark, dimly-lit corridors of the underground facility. The cold. The sterile stench of metal and antiseptic. And then—a room. A cell? No... a chamber. She was inside.

A woman.

Golden-haired. Her skin bruised and pale. Her wrists shackled to the floor. But even so—those eyes. Golden halos around dark pupils, bright like the sun.

Li Wang remembered staring into those same eyes as she smiled faintly at him.

She looked just like Jian.

He staggered back a step without realizing.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath and turned on his heel, pushing his way out of the pharmacy before either Jian or Varon could notice.

Once outside, he yanked the hidden phone from his pocket. His fingers shook as he hit the contact.

The signal held. Just one ring.

Then his uncle answered.

"Hello?" The voice was sharp, clipped.

Li Wang’s voice came out dry. "Uncle..."

A pause.

"I remember now," he said. "That woman in the basement. When I was a kid. The one with the golden eyes. She—she looked exactly like Jian."

There was another silence. Then his uncle sighed, almost lazily. "You finally realized."

Li Wang’s mouth went dry. "You knew. You knew he was her bloodline."

"If I didn’t," his uncle replied, "why would I adopt him?"

And just like that, the line went dead.

Li Wang stood there, staring down at the black screen, hand clenched tight around the phone.

The revelation settled like lead in his chest.

Jian... you’re not just anyone.