Chapter 109#

Distant Star Reflection 17#

Pheromone response came quickly. Soon Yu Feichen heard their breathing becoming uneven.

Yu Feichen called: “Anphiel.”

Anphiel slowly opened their eyes. Yu Feichen turned on light. Those pale ice-green pupils squinted slightly at the sudden illumination, the motion lazy, even peripheral vision glimmering brilliantly. This person remained silent—tacit consent. When lifted, their skin, separated by thin silk fabric, touched Yu Feichen’s fingers—temperature and sensation so real they resembled lies. Like deities should be intangible drifting smoke while Yu Feichen should be a temperature-less puppet.

Anphiel still watched Yu Feichen’s eyes, pupils carrying silver tints, appearing empty. As if never understanding them, they thought.

From when manipulating starship dashboard instruments, back further still—always like this. They never changed, leaving people uncertain of inner nature.

Yet some things weren’t taught. Hurt from side-neck bite, they leaned, butterfly-kissing the same area on Yu Feichen’s neck.

Yu Feichen learned. They’d always enjoyed the deity’s hair falling on their shoulder—but showed no interest in such distant-yet-near tricks. Tonight they hadn’t planned tormenting Anphiel.

Yet uncertain what impression previously given. This person opened mouth: “I haven’t slept well. You cannot do as before.”

The tone wasn’t command, merely habit—speak and others obey. The only redeeming quality: voice carried softness, making one willing listening.

Yu Feichen examined their relative positioning. To completely extract Anphiel from blankets, he placed them against himself, facing him directly.

A possibility occurred to him.

“Then you can do it yourself,” he said.

Anphiel: “…”

Yet when Anphiel actually followed instructions, Yu Feichen felt he’d made an error.

They truly lacked strength. Weakly kneeling on him, they were damp with sweat. Several hair strands clung to cheeks. Rising and falling inevitably brushed against the reproductive cavity’s opening—each time they convulsed like electric shock, closing eyes gasping, taking seconds recovering from exhaustion.

Most often they simply hung eyelashes, watching him. Desire as tangled as the golden hair, yet their soul remained forever calm and open. As if this also constituted one way of divine bestowal—they still held the lofty position grasping keys opening heavenly gates, deciding whether granting grace.

Indeed, Yu Feichen thought. Regardless which name inwardly called, their essence remained the eternal day’s deity.

Those wielding divine authority residing above—couldn’t touch secular power. What about secular desire?

Realizing this moment, he became a completely impious believer, counter-gripping Anphiel’s wrist pulling downward, pinning them firmly against himself without lifting half an inch, robbing that key opening heaven’s gates, then occupying initiative through completely aggressive means.

Ending left the deity utterly exhausted, leaning on his shoulder unmoving. Yu Feichen’s slightest touch made them convulse, sounds between crying and gasping choking in throat, transformed into warm breath caressing his neck.

Further teasing would cause tears, Yu Feichen thought. Whether genuine conscience or laying groundwork for more impious acts, he soothingly embraced them. As if recovering, the deity struggled several times, wanting returning to their position.

Excessive inhibitor heat cycles proved hardest managing. Prolonged close contact became unpredictable afterward.

Yet Yu Feichen had no intention releasing, and carelessly brushing their side while gripping made him ask: “Would you have children?”

Theoretically, this world’s omegas could.

This question caused the deity pause for one or two seconds.

“You…” they said, “aren’t someone raising children.”

Yu Feichen naturally never considered raising children—too troublesome—but since the deity answered evasively, he continued questioning.

“Then you are?”

The deity: “Tan Per’s excessive inhibitors—cannot.”

Yu Feichen: “Oh.”

Causally he asked next: “Did you have before?”

For deities’ secular roles, those things called children. For deities themselves, those called “creations.” Since the deity could do anything, naturally creating living beings required nothing. He even felt curious, thinking if visiting Twilight Temple again eventually, he wanted seeing.

They softly said: “Never had.”

Then the deity completely ceased speaking, unsure which statement offended. Yu Feichen even found this refreshing.

He placed them flat on bed, emulating their previous manner, kissing the neck wound once, then once lower. The deity said nothing, yet fingers passed through his hair, softly caressing. They’d always given whatever requested.

Slept very late that night. By next day, even Yu Feichen’s unvarying epoch-long biological clock stopped, waking late. Instructing the kitchen to prepare breakfast once the bishop awoke, outside news arrived.

Windsor came visiting.

“Abruptly calling without knowing if disturbing your rest, dear Duke Landon. I didn’t bring Little Kayan because their Extinguish Star Festival work proves busy, recently frequent rehearsals—he lacks time.”

Yu Feichen heard the tone contained deception. Indeed, after sitting in the reception room, Windsor opened directly: “I learned from Little Kayan that the pope plans simultaneously extinguishing 300 newstars demonstrating strength. Before hearing no hints. Landon, your thoughts?”

The pope probably intended sudden shock, then rapidly striking. Information remained secretive—even Tan Per knew nothing, checking memories found nothing. Fortunately Bai Song maintained the festival, obtaining this intelligence.

Yu Feichen: “Others?”

Windsor: “Others don’t yet know.”

Yu Feichen: “You could consider letting them know.”

Windsor lowered eyes contemplating briefly, smiling gracefully.

“Duke Landon,” he said, “you’re disloyal to His Holiness.”

Yu Feichen: “So are you.”

Speaking with pretentious feudal nobles proved efficient—mutual interests aligned. Windsor quickly revealed his bottom line: “In certain senses I’m only loyal to Windsor family’s lands. Simply put, I want 300 earthstars, yet wish surrendering nothing. Honestly, I feel we individually have nothing left surrendering.”

The answer matched Yu Feichen’s expectations. Decayed noble lords naturally consumed everything. Centuries cathedral constrained all fields. Everyone accepted—yet suddenly added new pressure forced reassessing the cathedral relationship.

By analogy, with Windsor as evidence, he easily concluded: genuine piety never truly existed. People genuinely wished maintaining only their possessions.

His own impiety seemed excusable then.

He withdrew thoughts from the deity, yet secretary and driver came rushing frantically: “Duke! Trouble!!”

Escorted viewing, observing mysterious marks in the initial black-white bedroom where Duke Landon resided, they fell into brief silence.

The floor and ceiling bore deep indentations. Wall paintings and walls simultaneously vanished. The bed was brutally halved. Similarly, other rooms on this floor showed matching marks.

Surveillance footage showed two snowmen appearing at early dawn before daybreak.

“I heard snowmen activity intensified these days. I didn’t expect…” the secretary said, “Duke, henceforth I’m stationing 24-hour watchers wherever you are.”

“No need,” Yu Feichen, contemplating the snowmen’s eerie annihilation scenery, then the emperor’s sudden death, the capital’s circumstances… suddenly grasped a thread, correctly telling Windsor: “You personally tell Kayan—”

Tan Per somehow received news arriving here, standing beside him, also observing the room.

“So the bishop switched persons too,” Windsor, observing a moment, interestedly said: “Duke, did you know you two resemble somewhat?”

Tan Per suddenly looked at Windsor once more.