MMPS Ch. 33

Chapter 33: Model Citizen

“I’ll phrase it differently.” Zhao Ran said, lifting the ring from Yu An’s palm. His tone was as sharp as the silver band he held. “Do you understand what this means?”

Yu An blinked, unsure, waiting for an answer.

“If you can’t explain the meaning of your gift,” Zhao Ran said, his voice calm but cutting, “then don’t give it. Accepting a ring signifies accepting the giver’s conditions. You, unfortunately, lack the qualifications.”

Yu An leaned closer, undeterred. “It’s beautiful, though. It suits you.” His fingers grazed Zhao Ran’s ear, still swollen from the new piercing. The earring’s metal clung stubbornly to the half-healed wound, but Yu An didn’t hesitate. He draped himself across Zhao Ran’s back, deliberately twisting the delicate stud. The small act of cruelty seemed almost affectionate.

Zhao Ran’s hands, perpetually hidden beneath gloves, were a rare fascination to Yu An. Forbidden, untouchable. The very thought of possessing them consumed him. The ring was no mere trinket—it was a flag planted on uncharted territory, a declaration of conquest.

The intimacy Yu An imposed was relentless, his touches unapologetic, as if they meant nothing at all. Sometimes, Zhao Ran wondered if that was true. But Yu An wasn’t one to connect with strangers easily. His silence spoke of barriers no casual encounter could breach.

“So, Interviewer,” Yu An asked, his voice lilting with mockery. “Since you’re so wise, are you married?”

Zhao Ran’s ear throbbed as heat flooded up to its reddened edges as he said meaningfully: “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Hmm…” Zhao Ran’s eyes glimmered with a secret he wouldn’t share. “I haven’t found someone strong enough.”

“Are you looking for a partner or a rival?”

“Both,” Zhao Ran replied, laughing.

Yu An let the ring roll lazily between his fingers, the polished surface glinting in the dim light. Then, with a nonchalant grace, he sprawled across the bed, his head hanging upside down over the edge, one leg draped casually over Zhao Ran’s shoulder. The boldness of his posture was baffling.

“Anything you want me to do?” he asked, as if it were the simplest question in the world.

“What?”

“If I do something good,” Yu An said, twirling the ring with practiced ease, “will you wear it?”

“Fine,” Zhao Ran said at last. “Go do something good.”

“And what qualifies as good?”

“From now on,” Zhao Ran said firmly, “unless it’s a mission target, you’re only allowed to use force in self-defense.”

“…Only allowed to use force in self-defense…” Yu An’s expression turned contemplative as he mulled over the words. The compromise didn’t violate his principles, so he nodded. “Alright.”

“Also,” Zhao Ran continued, “your focus on the Underground Metro is to protect civilians. No indiscriminate killings. And no standing by when people need help.”

“Got it.” Yu An sprawled further across the bed, his shirt riding up to expose a sliver of pale skin above his waistband. “Anything else?”

“Sit properly. Eat.”

Zhao Ran grabbed Yu An by the ankle and, with practiced ease, hoisted him off the bed. Carrying him like a child throwing a tantrum, he headed for the dining room.

“What about the used cores you promised to find me?” Yu An complained, his voice muffled as he hung limply in Zhao Ran’s grip. “Any coins lying around? And the confiscated guns from the test checkpoints—they said they handed them over to you. Oh, and after dinner, I’m going home—” Yu An was still thinking about the diary at home, but his hands were dragged away as he was clawing at the floor.

“You think you can just go home after causing such a mess?” Zhao Ran cut him off. “We’ll talk about it after we’re sure no one’s spilled anything.”

The bedroom grew silent in their absence. Yu An’s satchel lay discarded on the floor, its zipper slowly creeping open.

From inside, a cardboard cutout of a woman struggled to push its way free.

“Crazy brat.” the cutout grumbled as it wrestled against the bag’s confines. “Using me as a trap for intruders… Fine, you win. I’m leaving—”

With all her might, Miss Bo finally folded her upper body at a right angle, sat up from the backpack. The cutout froze mid-escape, suddenly aware of its surroundings.

A circle of tiny, curious hands had gathered around the bag, their owners whispering in hushed tones, staring at her like a strange new exhibit.

The cardboard figure hesitated, then folded herself neatly back into the satchel.

Never mind. Too crowded.

*

The next morning, Zhao Ran woke to the sound of birdsong. Outside, an old man whistled as he walked down the narrow path in front of the house, likely returning from a stroll in the park and heading to the market to buy some vegetables.

The whistle wasn’t just a tune—it was a signal, a request for a clandestine meeting. The location: a small supermarket nearby.

On the other side of the bed, Yu An had tangled himself with the blankets, his slender frame curled into a tight ball. Zhao Ran watched him for a moment, his eyes softening, then ruffled Yu An’s messy hair before grabbing a shirt and preparing to go to work.

By the time Zhao Ran had changed into casual clothes and was ready to leave, Yu An was already waiting by the door. Dressed in pure black, his hood pulled low, he perched backward on a chair, rocking it lazily.

“I’m coming too.” Yu An announced.

Zhao Ran yanked the hood lower, muttering: “Don’t let anyone see your face when we’re out.”

As the hood settled over Yu An’s head, Zhao Ran caught a fleeting glimpse of something—a playful flicker of black cat ears and a swishing tail. He froze, blinking.

“What was that?” Zhao Ran was slightly taken aback, then earnestly found an opportunity to turn around, covering his face to reminisce about the brief appearance and disappearance of the animal features just now.

After walking two blocks and turning the corner, a supermarket chain was seen. The neighborhood supermarket was crowded, a peak hour for elderly shoppers stocking up on eggs and fresh produce. Zhao Ran steered a cart down the quieter snack aisle, idly tossing in bags of chips and candy.

Yu An followed close behind, sipping from a carton of milk.

“Underground Metro operatives are everywhere,” Zhao Ran explained casually, his eyes scanning the shelves. “They’re embedded in all sorts of professions, feeding us information. I think we’ve got a lead on Gray Crow Games’s request.”

Behind a loaf of bread, Zhao Ran spotted a tiny chip. Without pausing, he pressed it to his gloved fingertip and slipped it into his pocket.

As they moved toward the checkout, Yu An caught sight of an elderly woman pushing a cart. A tiny Yorkshire terrier sat primly inside, its ribboned hair bouncing with every step. For a fleeting moment, its eyes locked with Yu An’s.

Later, at the register, Yu An somehow ended up perched inside Zhao Ran’s cart. Zhao Ran didn’t question it.

They left the store with bags in hand, wandering through the nearby morning market. The air buzzed with life as vendors called out their wares. Yu An lingered by the stalls, his attention caught by trinkets and baubles until something else snagged his gaze—a cage of puppies by a street vendor’s cart.

The tiny creatures tumbled over one another, their fur soft and downy. They reminded Yu An of the terrier from the supermarket, though this time, his gaze fell to the vendor’s tattooed wrist—a paw print, stark and peculiar.

Zhao Ran stepped forward, his movements unhurried but deliberate. He bent down, brushing the tip of the puppy’s damp nose with the back of his hand: “How much?” 

The vendor waved his hand:“Fifteen thousand.”

Zhao Ran let out a quiet scoff: “A mixed-breed Yorkie for fifteen thousand? You’re charging more than a legitimate kennel.”

The vendor’s lip curled in disdain, his eyes narrowing: “Think your fancy kennel’s got pups like this? Ones that know their master?” He reached into the cage and pulled out a trembling puppy, his rough fingers pressing against its frail belly. Thin skin stretched over its fragile bones, and beneath, Zhao Ran felt it—a hard, round core.

An Aberrant Core. A genetic mutation. This entire litter was full of Aberrants.

The vendor’s grin widened: “We’ve got costs to cover, too, you know. No bargaining—fifteen thousand. And if you’re not buying, don’t go touching them. If one bonds with you, you’ll have to take it.” The vendor, seeing that he had no intention of buying it, impatiently stuffed the puppy back into the cage.

“‘Costs,’ you say.” Zhao Ran’s laugh was cold, venom lacing every word. His lips curled, revealing a hint of sharp teeth. “Buying radioactive waste and throwing it into a whelping box—letting the pups soak in it until they mutate—is that what you call covering costs?”

The vendor’s grin faltered, but he quickly recovered, his gaze flitting uneasily toward Zhao Ran.

The so-called “bonding” the vendor referred to wasn’t some sentimental attachment. It was far more sinister. These puppies imprinted a totemic mark on their chosen master. When the puppy matured and entered its cocoon phase, the master would have to kill it to trigger its metamorphosis. If successful, the creature would transform into a powerful guardian, bonded for life. It would live and die with its master.

It didn’t take much to make these creatures imprint—a touch, a morsel of food, and they would mark their chosen human willingly. Even in their feral cocoon phase, their instincts would suppress any urge to harm their master. They were small, their cores weak, and their loyalty absolute.

Reasonable. At least, on the surface.

But beneath the surface lurked a grim truth.

Aberrants wouldn’t harm their master, but their loyalty ended there. Nothing prevented them from turning their aggression toward others. Many naïve owners, enchanted by the bond, hesitated when the time came to kill their pets. They faltered, unable to end the life of a creature they had raised. And once the cocoon phase passed without the necessary sacrifice, the creature would emerge fully feral. Even the weakest mutated pup could wreak havoc, its violent potential devastating.

Zhao Ran didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his communicator, his voice cutting through the air like ice. “City Patrol, report. Shenghua Street morning market, western district—unauthorized goods are flooding in. Are you all just sitting around doing nothing? Sweep the entire street within five minutes. Notify the Perceptive Eagle Bureau. Detain all involved vendors for interrogation.”

The vendor’s face drained of color. He had been bold, but now he realized he’d made a fatal misstep—his business had caught the attention of someone far above his pay grade. Without a word, he leapt onto his electric tricycle, speeding off and abandoning his stall entirely.

The chaos rippled down the street. Vendors scattered like frightened rats, scrambling to escape. Pet sellers fled with the desperate energy of criminals avoiding city enforcers.

Yu An, however, remained unmoved. He crouched lazily in front of the dog cages, seemingly oblivious to the commotion around him.

The puppies huddled together, trembling, their tiny bodies pressing into the farthest corner of the cage. They sensed it—the oppressive aura emanating from Yu An. Even at their young age, only two or three months old, they understood one thing: this man was danger incarnate.

Totemic marks weren’t just a bond. They were a warning, a primal claim that signaled to others of their kind: Do not touch what belongs to me.

A nudge to Yu An’s side broke the moment. Zhao Ran’s shoe gently tapped him, and Yu An tilted his head back, his gaze languid as he followed the motion of Zhao Ran’s chin, pointing toward the fleeing vendor.

Yu An rose without a word, his movements fluid and efficient. He slipped through the chaotic crowd with ease, leaping onto the back of the vendor’s electric tricycle. One swift kick sent the man flying from the seat, and Yu An grabbed him by the collar, dragging him back through the throng of fleeing vendors. He dumped the battered man at Zhao Ran’s feet like a cat presenting its prey.

“I only did as the mission required. No fatalities, no broken bones.” Yu An reported, his tone professional. He gestured toward the suspect, demonstrating the intact limbs as though ticking off a checklist.

“Good.” Zhao Ran replied curtly, his attention already shifting. His eyes lingered on the cage of trembling puppies.

Yu An followed his gaze. Without hesitation, he picked up the cage, cradling it in his arms. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he grabbed a sharp knife from a nearby fish stall. Pointing the blade at the whimpering pups, he asked coldly: “Should I kill them?”

Zhao Ran’s expression darkened, displeasure flickering across his face.

“…” Without waiting for a reply, Yu An flipped the knife in his hand and threw it back onto the fish stall. The blade landed perfectly between two live fish, startling the vendor into raising his hands in surrender.

Yu An lifted the cage, his face close to the puppies, studying them intently. What had softened Zhao Ran’s usual coldness? What had spared these creatures from death?

He examined them closely: soft fur, plaintive whimpers, tiny tongues licking the cage, and tails wagging furiously.

Noted.

*

The patrol team arrived, efficient and thorough. They carefully placed the aberrant puppies into isolation capsules, sealing them away before loading them into a transport vehicle headed for headquarters.

The hour had grown late. Zhao Ran flagged down a ride with the team, bringing Yu An along to the company.

When they arrived, Zhao Ran called for Xiao An, instructing her to stay with Yu An in the office while he went to brief the Team Leader Yuan.

No sooner had Zhao Ran left than a sharp knock sounded at the office door. A tall man in a black suit entered, his posture rigid and formal.

“Intern Yu An.” the man said, his voice measured and polite. “Mr. Kong wishes to see you. Please come upstairs.”

Yu An was sprawled on the sofa, his head hanging upside down off the edge, legs hooked over the backrest. He didn’t even glance up, feigning indifference.

Xiao An quickly stepped in, bowing apologetically. “Yu An, sit up. Don’t lounge like that.”

“Kong? Never heard of him. Who?”

Xiao An’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper. “That’s the boss. The big boss.”

Finally, Yu An lowered his phone, his head still hanging upside down. Lifting his eyes, he stared coldly at the tall, broad-shouldered bodyguard. Their gazes locked, an icy tension crackling in the air.