A month after the Federation's civil war sputtered to its end, Zhou Yue and Zhou Ying returned to the Zhou family's ancestral mansion, a sprawling edifice of stone and steel nestled in the quiet outskirts of the capital star. The war had spared it, as it had many clan estates, their owners having spirited away key members and treasures at the conflict's outset, sealing their homes like tombs against the chaos. The Zhou mansion stood untouched, its halls echoing with the ghosts of a lineage both proud and poisoned.
The Zhou clan adhered to a rigid primogeniture, funneling wealth and power to the chosen heir—typically the eldest son. With their father gone, Zhou Yue, the elder twin, inherited the mantle, assuming control of the clan's vast holdings. The mansion, a symbol of that legacy, passed to him by right. Zhou Ying, ever the wanderer, had planned to carve out a new home elsewhere, but news of Yue's ownership changed his mind. The mansion, under Yue's stewardship, promised a fresh start, free from the stifling traditions that had once choked them.
In the sterile glow of a hospital ward, Zhou Yue sat beside his brother's bed, deftly peeling an apple with a small knife. The fruit's pale yellow flesh gleamed, promising sweetness. He offered it to Zhou Ying, who frowned. "I'm not hungry," Ying said, his voice thin.
"You need to eat," Yue countered, his tone firm but gentle. "The doctors said regular meals will restore your digestion. You've barely eaten properly for months—feeling sick is normal, but you have to push through." Pausing, he carved two rabbit ears into the apple's surface. "How's this?"
Ying rolled his eyes. "I'm not a kid." Yet, grudgingly, he took the apple, nibbling at it with reluctant obedience.
Yue watched him chew, then asked casually, "You're really moving back with me?"
"Why not?" Ying shot him a puzzled glance. "You're in charge now. That place won't be the cesspool it was. There's plenty of empty rooms—I'll pick one and settle in."
"I thought you hated it," Yue said, his voice neutral.
Ying didn't deny it. The mansion loomed in his memory as a crucible of misery—rigid protocols, whispered conspiracies, and the suffocating weight of clan politics. Even now, the thought of its shadowed corridors stirred unease, a fog of resentment that clung to his heart. Yet, Yue's ascension as patriarch offered a chance to redefine the Zhou legacy. Ying couldn't abandon his brother to face that alone, not when so few in the clan could match Yue's vision or earn his trust.
"Doesn't matter," Ying said, a sharp smile curling his lips. "If anyone stirs trouble, I'll handle them. Even Grandfather saw we despised him and fled to his private planet to rot. I'd like to see who else is dumb enough to cross us."
Yue nodded, noncommittal, then fixed his gaze on Ying. "You've been chewing that bite forever. Swallow it."
Ying's lips tightened, his eyes darting away.
"Eat it," Yue said, "unless you want me to carve you another."
With a dramatic eye-roll, Ying forced the bite down, his pale features contorting in disgust. Nausea surged, a bitter tide from throat to tongue. He clamped a hand over his mouth, trembling, his toes curling in revulsion. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, but he held it in, his pride refusing to let him retch.
A sudden wave of fury consumed him, raw and all-encompassing. The world seemed an affront, every facet unbearable. The root of his suffering—Ning Hongxue—languished in a cell, awaiting judgment, yet the thought offered no solace. "You should've killed him when you caught him," Ying hissed, his voice venomous.
"He's still useful," Yue replied, unruffled.
"The Sixteenth District won't surrender?" Ying asked, his tone sharp.
"Their independence is tied to Ning Hongxue's years of influence, but it's also because the Federation ignored them for so long," Yue said. "We want the war ended for good, which means dealing with the Sixteenth District. We'll hear their demands, negotiate, but it's about bringing them back under control. Ning Hongxue is a bargaining chip."
Ying mulled this over. "How do they feel about him?"
"Lukewarm," Yue said. "They show concern but won't let us use him as leverage."
"So, talks," Ying said, raising an eyebrow. "And if they fail?"
Yue's expression hardened. "We might have to fight again."
The Resistance, fresh from victory, was still battle-ready, their weapons primed. Ying smirked. "I say execute Ning Hongxue publicly. If the Sixteenth District cares, they'll panic and slip up. If they don't, he gets what he deserves. Win-win."
Yue caught the jest in Ying's tone. The military tribunal would deliver justice, and they'd agreed to let it run its course. Yet, Ying's flippant remarks betrayed a deeper loathing. Hatred was natural, Yue thought. They'd known Ning Hongxue was ambitious, even dangerous, and braced for it. But they hadn't expected him to strike at Ying directly.
Killing Ning Hongxue had never crossed their minds before—not with the blood they shared, a tie forged through their mother, Ning Jingxia, his sister. Blood didn't dictate loyalty, but it drew an unspoken line, a bond they'd honored. Ning Hongxue had crossed it without hesitation, his betrayal a wound that festered.
"He sent the antidote to wake you," Yue said, his voice low. "Passed it through informants before his arrest."
Ying's eyes narrowed, a cold smile flickering. "Defending him, brother?"
"Trying to ease your pain," Yue said, adjusting Ying's pillow with calm precision. "Ning Hongxue was a pawn of the Silver Nexus. Sha explained what it wanted—a world ruled by machines, clean and orderly. Remember his last words to you?"
"'Let's meet again in the new world,'" Ying quoted, his voice dripping with disdain. "Madman's ravings."
"He was mad," Yue agreed. "But if the Nexus had won, creating a sterile, machine-led world, it might've been what he wanted. A world without humanity's mess—no greed, no injustice."
Ning Hongxue and Ning Jingxia had been close, their bond unmarred by their modest origins. Their future seemed bright until Jingxia fell for the Zhou heir. To marry him, she needed to produce superior offspring, her genes a prized asset. But that wasn't enough. Yue and Ying were born through unnatural means, their conception a grueling ordeal for Jingxia, dragging her family's company, Kangheng Life Sciences, into the Zhou clan's orbit. The alliance brought opportunities, but the cost was steep.
Jingxia's sacrifices weren't wholly voluntary. Once she took the first step, retreat was impossible. When the twins were born, she and Kangheng were ensnared in the Zhou clan's darker machinations. Initially, the outlook was hopeful—she'd achieved her goal, poised to become the clan's matriarch once her husband ascended. No one foresaw their parents' early deaths.
The heir's demise sparked a brutal succession struggle, with Grandfather Zhou pitting kin against kin. He favored Yue and Ying for their talent but, wary of their youth, withheld full support, letting uncles and cousins strip their parents' assets. Grandfather thrived on discord, believing hatred and ambition forged strength, unburdened by sentiment.
Ning Hongxue's exile to the perilous Sixteenth District was collateral damage. The Zhou clan, eyeing Kangheng's wealth, sidelined him, stripping his influence to prevent him from bolstering the twins' future claim. His career, once promising, was crushed by petty rivalries.
Jingxia's fate could be called a choice, however bitter. But Ning Hongxue's? "His greatest regret was yielding Kangheng's control to Jingxia," Yue said slowly. "They shared decision-making, but the Zhou clan demanded she hold full power as her dowry for their genetic experiments. He signed it away."
After Jingxia's death, Kangheng should've reverted to him. But the Zhou clan clung to it, their experiments too lucrative to abandon. They banished Ning Hongxue, ensuring he'd never rise again.
"I'm not asking you to forgive him," Yue said, noting Ying's growing agitation. "But don't let grudges consume you. You're drawn to them, and they're hard to shake. This history is a mess—our tie to Ning Hongxue isn't just blood. We can't change the past, only move forward. Understand?"
Ying stared at the floor, silent.
A month after settling into the mansion, talks between the new Federation and the Sixteenth District collapsed, reigniting conflict. The District's forces, expecting a weakened Federation, faltered against its upgraded arsenal and honed tactics, their defiance crumbling swiftly.
That same month, the military tribunal sentenced Ning Hongxue to life imprisonment, with no chance of parole. Zhou Ying, now mobile, attended as a witness to his crimes. In the stark courtroom, Ning Hongxue listened to the verdict with eerie calm, accepting his shackles without resistance, destined for a remote prison for the Federation's worst.
Per custom, he was granted a final farewell with kin. With Yue away, leading the Sixteenth District campaign, Ying stepped forward. He descended the stand, meeting Ning Hongxue's gaze with icy detachment. "Anything to say?" Ying asked, his voice flat.
"Just regret," Ning Hongxue said, smiling faintly. "I couldn't bring you to that beautiful new world."
Ying inhaled deeply, stifling an urge to scoff. Ning Hongxue leaned closer, prompting the guards to tense, but Ying's gesture halted them. "Know why I wasn't executed?" Ning Hongxue whispered. "My crimes warranted death, but the judges know I'm tied to the Zhou clan, your kin. They spared me, leaving it to you to decide my fate."
His poisoning of Ying, however heinous, was framed as a "family matter." His status as the twins' uncle carried weight. Life imprisonment was a compromise, a nod to the Zhou clan's influence. If someone wanted him dead later, it was simple—a high-profile prisoner's demise could be arranged discreetly. The verdict pleased all, offending none.
"This is the world you defend, A-Ying," Ning Hongxue said, his smile hollow. "Isn't it laughable?"
Ying met his gaze, unflinching. "It's a vile world, and its evils are endless. We chase progress, justice, truth, but we're not saints. We're selfish—most just don't want machine rule."
"That's 'us,' Uncle," Ying continued, his voice steady. "I see it clearly. Don't paint yourself a martyr, absolved of human flaws. You leaned on the Nexus to escape, but I won't. I'll never match your arrogant delusion. For my era, that's enough."
Ying straightened, his eyes cold. "Farewell, Uncle. No—goodbye forever. We'll never meet again."
The mansion, under Zhou Yue's care, shed its oppressive air. Its halls, once cloaked in intrigue, were aired out, their shadows banished by light. Ying chose a corner room overlooking the starlit gardens, its simplicity a balm after years of turmoil. Yue, as patriarch, dismantled the clan's old ways, prioritizing merit over lineage, a shift that drew both allies and enemies.
The Sixteenth District's defeat marked the war's true end, its independence crushed. Yue's campaign, bolstered by Bai Sha's Obsidian Gold mechas, was swift, a testament to the Federation's renewed strength. Ning Hongxue's imprisonment closed a chapter, his influence nullified, though his words lingered in Ying's mind, a bitter echo.
Ying's recovery was slow, his body scarred by Ning Hongxue's poison, his spirit by betrayal. Yet, he found purpose in supporting Yue, their bond a fortress against the clan's lingering ghosts. They spoke of their mother, Jingxia, piecing together her sacrifices, her love warped by ambition. Her memory, like the mansion, was theirs to reclaim, not to erase.
Bai Sha, a distant but vital ally, sent messages from Youdu, her internship looming. Her tales of Zhou Yue's battlefield feats amused Ying, who teased his brother for his growing fame. "Sha's half in love with your heroics," Ying quipped, dodging Yue's playful swat.
The Federation, reborn, faced challenges—clan remnants, economic strains, the Sixteenth District's integration. Yue, a key figure in its council, balanced diplomacy with force, his synesthesia a quiet strength. Ying, less public, advised from the shadows, his sharp mind cutting through political haze.
One evening, in the mansion's garden, Yue and Ying sat beneath a canopy of stars. The capital star's lights flickered below, a testament to peace hard-won. "Think we'll ever be free of it?" Ying asked, his voice soft. "The past?"
Yue considered, his gaze distant. "No. But we can outrun it."
Ying nodded, the weight of Ning Hongxue's words fading. The world was flawed, its evils persistent, but it was theirs—human, messy, alive. They'd fight for it, not as saints, but as brothers, their legacy a fire kindled from ashes.
In the star-depths, where time blurred, they'd carve their place, unbowed by betrayal, their bond a beacon in the dark.