Exclusive Possession – CH 013

Chapter 13. A Difference Of A Hair’s Breadth

Mu Xian stood under the lamplight, his body straight like an arrogant tree. The light cast a soft glow on his fair cheeks, making his dark and handsome features appear even more striking. Yet, his eyes were as cold as ice, and his lips were tightly pursed. When he said, “Release my Hua Yao,” his gaze was ruthless and unwavering.

He stared at me stubbornly.

I felt uncomfortable under his intense gaze; it was a strange feeling.

Perhaps I was a little embarrassed. After all, I was still being held tightly in his brother Kenya’s arms. But his words surprised me. For a cold and silent commander, it seemed far too cheesy and direct. And what did he mean by “his”? It just sounded uncomfortable.

“A Sniper 3 fighter jet, without tracking devices, fully nuclear-powered, ready in 3 minutes. Once I rendezvous with the fleet, I will release her.” Kenya’s voice rang in my ears. “My dear brother, do not try anything funny.”

Mu Xian was silent for a moment, then raised his arm, pointed it at the communicator, and whispered his request.

I remained relatively calm, as this transaction was expected. I was even more relaxed than before, because Mu Xian should not cause me any more trouble.

Mu Xian instructed his subordinates to prepare the plane, then looked up at me again. Kenya did not speak again; after all, he was very weak. For a moment, the three of us fell silent.

I felt a little flustered under Mu Xianzhuo’s intense gaze, so I stopped looking at him and stared at the ground. After a while, I could not help but look up, only to see him staring at my legs.

I followed his gaze and suddenly felt my cheeks burn—I had not noticed at first, but one side of my knee-length skirt had been lifted up to my thigh, leaving most of my leg exposed. My Kenyan military trousers were clinging tightly to my leg, and he was holding me close, half-lying on top of me, making it look like he was completely enveloping me in his arms, our limbs intertwined.

My heart skipped a beat—oh no, Mu Xian must be furious. It was not that I was afraid of him getting angry; I just didn’t want to get entangled with him over something like this.

Thinking this, the more I looked at his face, the gloomier it became, and I was genuinely afraid that he might lose control as Kenya had described. Although I was not familiar with the specifics, Kenya’s description left a lasting impression on me.

A mad dog that bites anyone it sees.

As I was lost in thought, he suddenly broke the silence.

“Did you launch the missile?” The voice was deep, revealing neither joy nor anger.

I was taken aback, and before I could answer, Kenya suddenly spoke up: “You dropped missiles? Where did you bomb them?”

His tone was unfriendly, so of course, I would not tell the truth. I vaguely replied, “I accidentally threw a few flashbangs, but they did not explode anywhere.”

Kenya sneered and did not press the matter further, probably thinking the situation was already settled and further questioning would be futile, so it was better to conserve energy. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked up to meet Mu Xian’s gaze. To my surprise, he was looking at me thoughtfully, a faint smile even playing on his lips.

Thinking that he had been lured here by a signal and that I had even taken down a powerful enemy force for him, I could not help but feel a little smug. I was about to laugh when I immediately realized what I was doing and pursed my lips to hold it in.

To exchange a knowing smile with him? Impossible.

I turned my head to look at the other side with a blank expression.

Just then, footsteps sounded at the door, and a voice rang out: “Commander, the fighter jets are ready as requested.”

Mu Xian’s face was ashen: “Everyone evacuate to a distance of one mile.” He then looked at Kenya: “If she is even slightly injured, I will not hesitate to execute your friends.”

Kenya laughed, “Do not worry about that. I’ve always been gentle with her. Right, Hua Yao?”

Of course, I could only nod. Mu Xian’s face was tense. After a moment of silence, he suddenly reached out and took off his military jacket.

“Do not try anything funny,” Kenya said coldly.

Mu Xian draped the military uniform over the back of the chair: “She is cold; let her wear it.”

I unconsciously reached up and touched my arm. The soldiers were all wearing military jackets, while I was only wearing a thin skirt. I had not noticed because I was so tense. Now that he mentioned it, I realized my arm was cold, and my feet felt numb, as if chilled by the cold. But how did he know?

Kenya sneered, “Fine. But you must answer one question—why were you prepared to jump away from Phosphorus Planet beforehand? How did you know my plans?”

I looked at Mu Xian—I was also curious about this question.

Mu Xian’s expression remained calm: “At the time, I did not know the specifics of your plan. I only discovered afterward that you had planted a nuclear bomb.”

“You do not know? Did you escape death by sheer luck?” Kenyan said sarcastically. I found it strange too.

Mu Xian’s expression remained calm: “From the beginning, I never intended to fight your fleet.”

“Why?”

“They are all soldiers of the Empire,” Mu Xian said calmly. “I have no interest in their lives.”

My heart skipped a beat. Although Mu Xian’s tone was cold, his meaning was clear. I never expected that he, who seemed so heartless, would share the same thoughts as I.

“Ha! Just for that reason? Do you think I’d believe that?” Kenya’s voice was tinged with disdain and perhaps a hint of self-mockery. He probably remembered something I’d said before.

“There is indeed another reason why I gave up space combat.” Mu Xian stared at me, his gaze firm.

My heart suddenly felt like it had been gently bumped, skipping a beat. It felt awkward, so I turned my head away from him.

Sure enough, he slowly revealed the answer: “…Hua Yao is on the ground.”

**

Kenya was holding me as we walked forward, one foot higher than the other.

His arm was draped over my shoulder, his heavy body pressing down on me. We walked slowly. We left the small cabin and entered the command hall, which was deserted. It seemed everyone had been captured, except for rows of floating screens that were still flashing.

After answering the question, Mu Xian left. Kenya kept his word, leaning on a chair and pointing a gun at me as he put on Mu Xian’s coat. The thick fabric seemed to still retain the warmth of the man’s body; it was indeed warm and made me feel safe.

We passed through the lobby and took the elevator to the ground floor. It was still afternoon, with a clear blue sky and a gentle breeze, surrounded by tall, lush trees. We stood amidst the chaotic, gray ruins, like standing in a desolate wasteland—the entire above-ground structure had been destroyed by artillery fire.

A dark gray fighter jet was parked at the edge of the ruins, but there was no one there. But I thought Mu Xian and his army must be somewhere they could observe and track them.

We boarded the plane, and Kenya sat down in the pilot’s seat, letting out a long sigh of relief.

I closed the hatch as he ordered and stood still in the rear cabin.

“Come here,” he commanded. “You will pilot the plane.” His voice was slightly breathless, the bone blade still embedded in his back. The dark red bloodstains on his uniform, which had dried, were now wet again, probably from moving around and aggravating the wound.

“I cannot.” I stepped forward.

“Sit down… I will teach you,” he said calmly.

I had no choice but to sit in the passenger seat. He leaned back against the wide seat, his short, dark brown hair soaked with sweat and clinging to his full forehead. His face was even paler than before, and his thick, dark eyebrows were tightly furrowed. His azure eyes still looked deep and beautiful, but his gaze was tired and dim.

I felt sorry for him; it would be good if he could escape safely.

He asked me to help him put on his spacesuit first. I had to help him sit up and gently lift his arm to put it into the sleeve. This process inevitably aggravated his wound, but he did not make a sound. It was not until I zipped up the front and my hand touched the bone blade that he let out a muffled groan of pain, his body slumped weakly, and he leaned against my shoulder.

His cool cheek pressed against my neck, his weak breath brushing against my chin. This man, taller than Mu Xian, was as powerless as a child. I carefully helped him back into his chair and then helped him put on his spacesuit trousers. By the time I finished, I was drenched in sweat.

“I am sorry,” he suddenly whispered, with a hint of self-mockery, “I almost forced myself on you, and now you are… taking care of me.”

I picked up another spacesuit and, while putting it on, replied, “I really feel bad that you are so badly injured. But I am taking care of you not because I want to help you, but because your gun is still pointed at me.”

He smiled faintly but did not answer.

Then Kenya taught me how to start the engine, adjust the direction, and accelerate into the air. When I stepped on the thruster as he instructed, I felt the fuselage shudder violently and wobble as it lifted off the ground. Surprisingly, I felt an inappropriate excitement.

But I quickly lost my joy.

“It is veering! It is veering!” I yelled. Even though I was accelerating straight, the plane seemed drunk, wobbling and veering towards a tall tree ahead. With the nose about to crash into the dense canopy, my heart pounded in my chest—we were a prince and a bride-to-be, after all. To survive the previous bloodshed and dramatic events, only to crash headfirst into a tree, would be a laughingstock for all time!

“Release the pre-power valve!” he roared hoarsely. Only then did I realize what was happening and let go of my left hand—I had been too tense and had just grabbed whatever was at hand.

The plane suddenly took off, and I was thrown back into my seat by the sudden force. I watched helplessly as the nose of the plane barely brushed past the dense tree canopy and then soared straight up into the sky at a breathtaking speed!

“Haha! I did it! Your Highness, we’ve taken off!” I shouted excitedly, turning to look at Kenya. He seemed more tired than before, his eyes slightly closed, a faint smile on his lips.

I was momentarily stunned—why was I so happy for him? I immediately stopped smiling and nervously piloted the plane. But when I saw the plane cutting through layers of atmosphere like waves, my blood was still boiling.

**

The plane hovered smoothly in space.

Because it was in near-Earth orbit, the general outline of the planet Stan was clearly visible. It looks so beautiful, slowly rotating against the black velvet backdrop of space, a serene blue, shimmering with light.

But as I looked at Stan, I also saw countless tiny black dots, getting closer and closer to us, becoming clearer and clearer.

“That is Nuo’er,” Kenya said in a hoarse voice. “Now set up the faster-than-light jump engine. The fighter can navigate automatically; we just need to set the jump coordinates.” He recited a string of numerical coordinates.

“Where to?” I could not help but ask.

“It belongs to my space station,” he replied in a low voice.

I set it up as he instructed, then turned to him and asked, “Is it just a matter of pressing the jump controller?”

He did not answer.

The head, wearing a flight mask, slumped motionless against the chest. The eyes behind the mask were tightly closed.

I froze; my mind went completely blank.

Is he dead?

No, he was not dead. My heart suddenly relaxed—because there were still wisps of heat spraying onto the glass mask, condensing into a light mist, which showed that he was still breathing.

He fainted, and even the arm that had been pointing the gun at me slumped limply onto the armrest.

I held my breath and carefully took the gun from his hand. He still did not move.

I was completely relieved; he was truly unconscious.

I looked down at the flight control panel. The radar in the center showed a large number of flying objects silently following us not far behind. That was Mu Xian.

Now I could turn back immediately, hand Kenya over to him, and I would be safe. Then it would all be over.

Should we go back?

I looked at the already set-up faster-than-light jump engine. A daring idea ignited in my brain like a blazing flame, and I became incredibly excited and impatient.

I quickly deleted the coordinate data that Kenya had just given me and instead used Stan to search for the third planet in the solar system—Earth—in the flight system.

About half a minute later, a series of coordinates appeared on the screen.

I pressed confirm with trembling hands. Soon, a message appeared on the screen, stating that according to the programming calculations, the entire flight would take thirty-two days, involving six hops, and that the time and location for refueling at the intermediate space station had been calculated.

What were we waiting for? I could not even imagine what it would be like to pilot an alien fighter jet into Earth’s atmosphere. There might even be an alien prince on board.

When Earthlings learn of the existence of extraterrestrial civilizations, the scientific and political communities would inevitably be thrown into turmoil, and I would be the sole witness. At that time, who would be able to force me to leave Earth?

I pressed down hard on the jump handle with both hands!

After a brief moment of calm, the screen displayed a countdown of numbers for Star Stan: 10, 9, 8… 3, 2, 1!

A blinding light suddenly blazed on, and I immediately closed my eyes, unable to see anything. At the same time, a deafening “bang” resounded, the aircraft shook violently, and I felt a powerful vortex-like force violently throw me and the plane off!

I figured this was a necessary part of the jump, so I gritted my teeth and endured the dizziness and nausea. But there were constant clicking and rumbling sounds all around me, and I felt my body being tossed and turned rapidly, like someone was grabbing me by the hair and shaking me like a doll.

After a while, the jolt finally subsided, and the surroundings returned to silence. I immediately opened my eyes, wanting to see exactly where I had jumped to.

Then I was stunned.

I was sitting in space.

Yes, I was still sitting in my chair, but there was nothing left except the chair under my butt. I saw the nose of that plane floating not far from me; a black wing was spinning rapidly a dozen meters below my feet; large and small metal blocks were floating around me, and I could even see the jump handle I had just pressed. I soon saw Kenya, floating straight ahead, but his chair was nowhere to be seen.

I stared in disbelief, my body going limp—even though I knew that people did not fall in weightlessness. But all around me was the unfathomable universe, and I felt as if I could be swallowed by that darkness at any moment!

Did I make a mistake and damage the plane when I jumped?

No, it was not.

Because at that moment, I saw the tranquil and beautiful Stan Star right in front of me, slowly and tirelessly rotating.

We were still in the same spot! That tremor was not a jump at all; someone fired a missile and hit the plane!

Just then, I felt a dazzling light appear in the upper right corner. I looked up blankly and saw a dark gray plane slowly approaching me. The cabin door was open, and a dark figure suddenly jumped out.

I felt a jolt in my heart.

That person seemed to be able to skillfully control their direction in space, slowly floating towards me. As they got closer, I could see that they were also wearing a spacesuit, and their face behind the mask was handsome and aloof.

I stared blankly as he floated in front of me, looking at me quietly with a deep and unfathomable gaze.

After a few seconds of silence, he suddenly reached out and unbuckled his seatbelt. I was terrified at losing my support and instinctively tried to grab his arm, but he grabbed my waist first with surprising strength. I was held tightly, my face pressed against his chest, completely unable to move.