Xiang Yu had just finished bathing. His hair was half-wet, a white towel draped over his shoulder, and he was shirtless, wearing only a pair of pajama pants. He looked like a robust playboy or a virile drake.

He was chewing on a fork, sitting in a swivel chair with his legs crossed, holding a bowl of instant noodles and reading a novel online.

"Eat less," Zheng Rong said irritably. "You stay home all day, lacking exercise. You're going to end up with a belly. I really don't want to have to stop and wait for you to catch up when we're digging up ancestral graves."

Zheng Rong casually poked Xiang Yu's toned abs with a military shovel. Xiang Yu played along, exaggeratedly making a "puff" sound.

"Stop fooling around. I'm getting old," Xiang Yu laughed as he peeled back the aluminum lid of his noodles and began stirring them with the fork. The way he called himself "big brother" was natural and affectionate, without the slightest awkwardness.

Zheng Rong liked him a lot. Unconsciously, he had projected all his expectations and feelings for an older brother onto Xiang Yu, who fulfilled them perfectly.

Xiang Yu treated everyone with humility and respect, neither too humble nor too proud. In private with Zheng Rong, he never quarreled or caused issues. When it was time to speak, he would. Whenever Zheng Rong introduced Xiang Yu to his friends, the "Overlord of Western Chu" would greet them warmly—not too enthusiastic, but never cold.

When it wasn't his place to speak, Xiang Yu would remain silent, becoming a quiet listener. Lin Siyan described him as "a gentleman steeped in Chinese tradition."

Zheng Rong attributed this to Xiang Yu's good upbringing; after all, he had been a noble in the State of Chu.

Xiang Yu chuckled and said, "These books talk as if they know everything."

Zheng Rong replied, "In times of war, people like to project their hopes onto fantasy. When the army can't win, the authors fantasize about leading troops themselves, fighting off aliens. It’s understandable. Other than writing unrealistic things online, what else can they do?"

Xiang Yu commented, "You're a cynic, and that’s not a good thing."

Zheng Rong said, "You finally noticed. Congratulations."

The phone rang. Xiang Yu was about to answer it, but Zheng Rong picked up the receiver first. "Joseph?"

"Good," Zheng Rong said. "I have a blood sample report for you, but it’s private and can't be handed over to the institute. I’ll come right over."

Zheng Rong hung up the phone and put on his jacket. By this time, Xiang Yu had finished his large bowl of instant noodles and was getting up hurriedly. "A physical checkup?"

Zheng Rong frowned. "Why do you ask?"

While searching for the underwear he had bought a few days ago, Xiang Yu held them up to his waist and said, "If I’m going for a checkup, I’ll wear these."

Zheng Rong: "..."

It took a moment for Zheng Rong to realize what Xiang Yu was referring to regarding that day’s physical, and then he roared in anger, "I swear, if I ever get the chance, I will kill Lenny! She will never be redeemed! Never!"

As Zheng Rong walked down the empty street in the middle of the night, under the city’s curfew, the entire underground city was dark except for the solitary glow of streetlights. Occasionally, a patrol of militia would pass by, and Zheng Rong would show the documents that Lance had arranged for him, and the guards would let him pass.

"You didn't have to come out," Zheng Rong said with his hands in his pockets.

Xiang Yu, with his arm around Zheng Rong's shoulders, casually replied, "How could I let you walk alone at night?"

The ground temperature in Northern Ireland was already low, and the entire underground city switched to energy-saving mode at night. Cold air gusted from the vents, as sharp as a blade. Zheng Rong unconsciously shrank his neck, and Xiang Yu, noticing this, wrapped his coat around him as they hurried to the research facility.

Inside the well-lit relic display room, a "No Visitors Allowed" sign was propped up at the door, while Joseph was in the middle of a flurry of activity. He was surrounded by a jumble of ropes and was holding an unusual iron tool, explaining something to two researchers.

"Dean Sicamon, good evening." Zheng Rong didn’t greet Joseph but instead walked straight through the crowd of researchers and students, politely extending his hand to an elderly man standing nearby.

"Zheng Rong, I’m deeply sorry for the loss of your brother," said the dean. "And this is…?"

"Rain," Xiang Yu replied politely as he shook the dean’s hand. His pronunciation was flawless, having clearly rehearsed it, and he sounded smooth and charming when introducing himself.

The dean, holding a document, pulled out his glasses and put them on. "Joseph applied for some funding for you, for investigating the genetic traits of ancient humans…"

"No, no, it's not like that. When's the press conference? I've already prepared everything and even drafted a speech to systematically explain my ideas."

The dean was silent for a moment, then said, "That won’t be necessary. After much discussion, the senior staff think your application is very unlikely to succeed."

"What's your opinion?" The dean put away the document and looked at Zheng Rong over his glasses. "Can you present solid evidence to prove your theory?"

Zheng Rong felt uneasy. "With enough time, I could use ancient texts alongside biological analysis…"

"No need," the dean interrupted.

Zheng Rong frowned as the dean placed a hand on his shoulder and led him to the dark corner of the hall, walking slowly.

"Ten years ago, your father and I submitted our first research proposal. Sadly, due to differing research directions, we didn't continue working together."

Zheng Rong’s breath hitched, as if something in the darkness was obstructing his thoughts.

"Your brother, Zheng Feng, found your father’s notes and refined the hypothesis five years ago."

"That was me," Zheng Rong whispered. "I was the one who finished it."

Stolen novel; please report.

The dean smiled kindly. "I recognized your handwriting in the notebooks, Zheng Rong. Your Chinese characters are very similar to my wife’s. She was the one who taught me."

Suddenly, a new idea occurred to Zheng Rong. He reached into his coat pocket. "I also have something else—a blood sample that can completely prove my father’s hypothesis!"

"No, no," the dean stopped him. "It's not the right time, but I believe in you."

Zheng Rong took a deep breath. The dean said, "Personally, I have no reservations about believing in your family’s theory. Your father’s thoughts live on through you and your brother. I deeply regret that as a brilliant scientist, Zheng Feng left us too soon."

"I’ll carry on his work and see this through," Zheng Rong said earnestly.

The dean nodded. "The defense can be skipped. I look forward to the day you stand on the stage and announce your groundbreaking achievements. But until then, I doubt many in the review committee will support your endeavor."

Zheng Rong rubbed his temples. "It doesn't matter. I can fund it myself."

The dean smiled. "I’ve used my authority to allocate the largest amount of funding available for you to carry out your research on the surface."

Zheng Rong was overjoyed. "Thank goodness! That’s fantastic!"

The dean chuckled. "Of course, my efforts alone wouldn’t have been enough. A gentleman came to me yesterday afternoon, offering to sponsor your project—on the condition that he accompanies you."

Zheng Rong frowned. "Who?"

"The person will meet with you before departure and has promised not to interfere with your work."

Lance? Zheng Rong’s first thought was of Lance. But that was impossible. Lance wouldn’t have the guts to defy the military, nor would he have the time to follow him around digging up graves.

Li Ying? Zheng Rong felt a chill as the terrifying thought crossed his mind, and he quickly shook it off. Just as his mind was becoming a jumbled mess, the dean continued:

"Also, a group of talented young people are willing to join your expedition. They’ll assist you on the surface, though they know nothing of your actual research. It’s up to you whether to inform them of the details."

"No need," Zheng Rong started to refuse, but then, seeing Joseph’s eager expression, he changed his mind.

Joseph was packing a large outdoor survival bag. He was an expert in wilderness survival and a veteran of navigating labyrinths. Having him on the team would significantly increase their chances of success. However, the two people next to Joseph didn’t seem to be as well-prepared.

"I only need Joseph," Zheng Rong said, casting a glance at Lin Siyan, who stood beside them, twisting a handkerchief and looking tearful.

"I don’t need anyone else. Thank you for your kindness," Zheng Rong said despondently.

"You do," Xiang Yu interjected. "Why reject their help? Many hands make light work."

Lin Siyan said, "We’ve already discussed it. Joseph formally applied to the dean. There’s no way we’d leave you to handle this alone."

"Siyan, you..." Zheng Rong’s emotions were complex. Lin Siyan had sat next to his brother Zheng Feng during university and had almost become his sister-in-law. She had been married to Joseph for less than three years, and now she was sending her husband into danger.

"Hey! What are you talking about?" Joseph said in his usual sarcastic tone. "It was Siyan who pushed me to go. Who else would want to accompany you on a tomb-raiding mission?"

Zheng Rong could only give in. Joseph said, "Come on, let me introduce you to two members of the archaeology team."

Zheng Rong nodded. Joseph stepped aside, revealing a man and a woman. "This is Zheng Rong, as you all know, the head of the Office of History and Mystical Cultures and Zheng Feng’s younger brother."

"This is Dr. Ugos Skorodovska, from the Continental Plate Research Association, an expert in forestry and geography."

Joseph introduced a tall Polish man with gold-rimmed glasses. The man extended his hand, and Zheng Rong shook it, barely registering the man’s name. "Hello… Mr. Umlich… Ubu… Balaradolas."

"This is senior computer programmer and kimchi expert, Miss Kim Puae."

Zheng Rong: "..."

If there had been a table nearby, Zheng Rong would have flipped it. The woman was in her early twenties, not tall, with a typical Korean appearance.

Zheng Rong’s mouth twitched, and he couldn't find any words for a long time.

Just let me die, he thought. This kind of expedition team... Zheng Rong cursed in his heart and decided to escape this hellhole by tonight.

The Korean woman widened her almost nonexistent eyes and said, "Hello, Mr. Zheng Rong."

Seeing through Zheng Rong’s thoughts, Xiang Yu said, "How rude?"

Zheng Rong had no choice but to shake her hand. Xiang Yu scolded him in Chinese, "These are your comrades, people entrusting their lives to you. How could you disrespect them?"

Zheng Rong perfunctorily replied, "Hello, Miss Kim Puae."

Kim Puae said, "I greatly admire your brother, ssi-bal-da."

Zheng Rong muttered under his breath, "He's actually a Korean, ssi-bal-da."

Xiang Yu: "?"

Joseph clapped his hands. "Alright, it’s getting late. You all go rest. I need a bit more time... I have some things to explain to my students. We might be gone for a long time, and Miss Kim and Mr. Skorodovska need some time to say goodbye to their families."

Xiang Yu suddenly said, "We’ll be back."

Lin Siyan smiled, "I believe you, gentleman. Please take care of them."

Xiang Yu nodded. "I’ll protect everyone. No need for any tearful goodbyes. It’s just a field trip. Let’s go home, Zheng Rong."

Xiang Yu led Zheng Rong away like a caring older brother.

"I hate Koreans!" Zheng Rong exclaimed as he slammed the door when they got home. "Don’t lecture me. Sooner or later, you’ll hate her too. Whatever you scold me for now, I’ll give it all back to you. Thank you!"

Xiang Yu laughed, threw a pillow at him, knocking Zheng Rong onto the bed, and bent down to unlace his boots. "Why do you hate her?"

"The world belongs to Koreans, the universe to ‘bbaengi.’ Maybe the Maya were their descendants too..." Zheng Rong muttered from under the covers.

Xiang Yu changed into slippers and walked around the room, tidying things up as if preparing for a trip.

Zheng Rong lifted the blanket and asked, "Aren’t you going to ask anything? How are you so calm?"

Xiang Yu nonchalantly replied, "Didn’t you explain everything earlier?"

Zheng Rong said, "I’m not talking about that... I mean, don’t you have any of your own thoughts?"

Xiang Yu replied in a serious tone, "Since I’ve taken his place as your older brother, I must fulfill his unfinished duties. Besides, now that I’m reborn, I need to find something to do. Why not?"

His words were so natural, and his tone so familiar, that Zheng Rong’s heart trembled. On the day his parents had died, his brother Zheng Feng had spoken in exactly the same way.

Zheng Feng wasn’t as gentle as Xiang Yu, nor as polite or cultured. But his tone had been identical—unwavering and filled with conviction.

Yet the scales tipped slowly, one side carrying his faith in science and his trust in Lance, the other, his promise to his younger brother. Finally, Zheng Feng said, "Zheng Rong, we’ll keep working, and one day, we’ll meet again."

Then he packed his bags and left for Siberia, and was gone for five years.

Xiang Yu, now folding clothes, overlapped in Zheng Rong’s mind with the image of his brother Zheng Feng.

Zheng Rong stared blankly at Xiang Yu for a while, and then Xiang Yu looked up, smiled, and asked, "What’s wrong?"

Zheng Rong closed his eyes, shook his head, and fell asleep in exhaustion.

Half asleep, he could feel Xiang Yu’s large, warm hand helping him take off his shirt and tucking him in. The blanket brushing against his bare chest felt comforting.

Until the doorbell rang.

Xiang Yu was sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking. When he heard the doorbell, he put out his cigarette and went to answer it.

Zheng Rong groggily opened his eyes and saw that it was Lance. His mind was still foggy, and he struggled to sit up, wrapping the blanket around himself.

"Go brush your teeth, Zheng Rong. It’s time to go," Lance said.

Zheng Rong stared into space for a while before regaining some clarity. "You’re here to say goodbye?"

"No, I’m going with you," Lance replied, looking at Xiang Yu, who nodded understandingly and took out a lighter.

Lance and Xiang Yu sat together, and the "Overlord of Western Chu" lit the German general’s cigarette. The two of them puffed clouds of smoke.

Watching this scene unfold, Zheng Rong felt as if he’d been struck by lightning. He frowned and said, "What?! You’re coming with us?"

Lance replied, "I’ve forcibly retired. No, to be exact, I’ve decided to desert. I stole a helicopter and a few comrades from the United Forces. They’re willing to help you complete this daunting task. The helicopter is on the roof of the research institute..."

"Don’t joke around!" Zheng Rong threw off the blanket, jumped out of bed, and scrambled to find his pants, hopping as he pulled them on.

Lance said seriously, "I’m not joking."

Zheng Rong replied, "This is impossible! Xiang Yu, get rid of him!"

Lance said, "I have no other choice, Zheng Rong. I made a deal with the institute. I’m the one funding your plan. I handed over all my savings from my years in the military to Dean Sicamon, and he agreed, on the condition that I protect you."

Zheng Rong: "..."

Xiang Yu patted Lance’s shoulder, as if they were old friends, and smiled, "Welcome aboard."

Lance said, "We’d better hurry. In no more than two hours, the military will realize I’ve stolen a helicopter."