TL: Hua

Chapter 61

“Who’s that? The bartender?”

In a nearby booth, an Alpha leaning back brazenly on the sofa lifted his eyes.

“Since when did Zephyr develop a taste for that?” Leon sneered, swirling his glass as his gaze swept toward the bar.

They had been making such a racket earlier that they hadn’t noticed when someone had arrived at the bar. If Zephyr hadn’t suddenly brightened up mid-drink as if he’d spotted a treasure, no one would have paid any attention to the activity over there.

Leon rarely visited bars in the lower city and had zero impression of the staff here.

Behind the bar, a young man wore a white shirt with the top two buttons casually undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The lights rippled over the tattoo on his right wrist—a blue-belly snake coiled between his shoulder and upper arm, flickering its tongue.

Seemingly hearing something the man said, Zephyr leaned forward excitedly, his bright red hair shaking a couple of times. Leon let out a disgusted click of his tongue, thinking that Zephyr’s inability to walk away from an Omega was a real embarrassment to them.

“That doesn’t look like the bartender…” The Beta, who had been watching the scene, suddenly backed away. “I recognize the guy next to him. He’s…”

“He’s from Mars Military Academy,” another Alpha chimed in. “The one sitting there is Pei Yingye from Mars. He’s the one you’ve been nagging about wanting to duel for the last two years, Leon. As for the other one—”

As he spoke, he pulled a terminal from his pocket, tapped away at an interface, and handed it to Leon. The screen displayed a specific thread from the Mars Military Academy’s internal forum.

“That’s the top-ranked student from this year’s assessment at Mars. His name is Ji Xuan,” the Alpha said.

“When did you get your hands on their internal account?”

“It’s obvious he must have gone to Mars Military Academy to pick up Omegas again.”

“You’ll collect all the military academy forum accounts in the First Galaxy sooner or later. Getting ready to ‘know your enemy’ for the League?”

“But I have to say, this Omega is damn attractive.”

As the banter from those around him rose and fell, Leon lowered his eyes, scanning the photo on the screen with cold indifference. It was likely a screencap from a full-domain simulation livestream; the Omega, dressed in a training uniform, had just stepped out of the simulation pod. He stood under the screens of the central hall, gazing calmly at the rankings scrolling across the giant display above.

“Omega?” Leon’s lips curled into an undisguised sneer. He tossed the terminal back to his companion and said disdainfully, “Is Mars Military Academy out of people? Letting an Omega take first place in the annual assessment…”

He tilted his head back and downed a mouthful of liquor. “The so-called number one military academy is nothing more than this.”

“You can’t put it like that, Leon,” the Alpha who recognized them interrupted. “This Ji Xuan is quite something. I heard his scores for both individual combat and full-domain simulation were rank one. Even Pei Yingye couldn’t beat him.”

“Pei Yingye?” Leon’s attention was snagged by the name for a moment. He had indeed once felt competitive towards this fellow Alpha who had risen to fame at the military academy in the capital, but he quickly turned his gaze mockingly toward the bar. “To be beaten down by an Omega, he’s all talk and no action.”

“It seems there really won’t be any suspense in this year’s Military Academy League.”

–

At the Bar

Hearing Ji Xuan mention “three hundred thousand,” Zephyr didn’t feel any discomfort; instead, he was exceptionally happy.

“You actually remember me!” Zephyr pulled out a chair and sat down of his own accord. “What a coincidence, running into you here. I heard your field training at Mars just ended, right? Did you just get back to the capital planet?”

Ji Xuan glanced at Pei Yingye, who was radiating a low-pressure aura beside him, and gently pushed the painstakingly mixed drink in front of him.

“I just got back,” Ji Xuan said.

“Since we’ve met by such a coincidence, why don’t we have a drink together? My treat! To celebrate the end of your training.”

Pei Yingye grabbed the drink Ji Xuan had mixed and took a long, slow gulp.

Swallowing the liquid, he smacked his lips as if savoring it carefully before looking up at Ji Xuan. “Tastes good… but compared to that cup of sweet water you treated me to on our last date, it’s still lacking a bit of meaning.”

Then, he turned to Zephyr. “Sorry, I’m stuffed. Can’t drink any more today.”

Zephyr wasn’t lacking in social awareness; hearing Pei Yingye say this, he understood the underlying meaning immediately. He just hadn’t expected the two cousins to have such identical taste. Compared to those two, he didn’t have the confidence to compete in any aspect.

Zephyr had no choice but to say, “Next time, then? Next time is on me.”

After receiving a noncommittal nod from Ji Xuan, he tactfully departed.

Only the two of them remained at the bar. Ji Xuan stepped out from behind the counter and sat back down on a high stool. One long leg was bent with his foot on the rest, while the other stretched out casually, his toe nearly touching the leg of Pei Yingye’s chair.

“When was this date you mentioned? How come I didn’t know about it?” Ji Xuan asked with a half-smile.

As he spoke, his body leaned imperceptibly toward Pei Yingye. Sitting adjacent to each other as they were, Ji Xuan’s knee almost pressed against the outside of Pei Yingye’s thigh. The warm, almost-touching sensation through the thin fabric was incredibly alluring.

“Don’t remember?” Pei Yingye stared into Ji Xuan’s eyes, which were inches away. “Do you need me to help you recall?”

His hand reached through the narrow gap, the back of his fingers brushing lightly against Ji Xuan’s wrist, which was resting on the bar.

“Back when you said you were accompanying me behind… what’s-his-name’s back.”

Ji Xuan didn’t dodge, allowing the slight sensation at the center of his wrist to surge up his arm like an electric current. He even tilted his chin up slightly and let out a light laugh. “So that counts?”

“Does it not?” As Pei Yingye spoke, the leg he had pressed against the crook of Ji Xuan’s knee instinctively applied a bit of pressure, blocking his attempt to pull back. “What did you mean by ‘three hundred thousand’?”

“It didn’t mean anything.” Ji Xuan glanced at the thigh wedged against his. “I borrowed money from him before and bet three hundred thousand on 761.”

Pei Yingye’s eyes widened.

“Actually, it wasn’t just that. Later, every time a certain person ran over here, I also had someone place bets.”

“But thanks to his brilliant performance, I basically made back the principal plus interest that same night.” Ji Xuan spoke nonchalantly. He lifted the leg that had been pressed against Pei Yingye’s chair and used the inside of his ankle to lightly rub against the other man’s calf, gesturing for him to move his leg. “Alright, the snake has been picked up, and the drink has been drunk. I want to go back.”

Pei Yingye, however, caught his wrist and asked, “Do you want to watch today?”

“Watch what?” Ji Xuan was puzzled.

“Watch 761 take the stage.” Pei Yingye leaned forward, his other hand bracing against the edge of Ji Xuan’s chair. “Should I go have them squeeze me in?”

“Let’s not.” Ji Xuan patted his leg, pushing against the tensed muscle to shove it aside. “You really think I’m some kind of thrill-seeking young master just because I asked you to act in a mission together? Besides, I saw everything I needed to see since you’re basically shirtless every day at the fortress. Get up; take me back.”

Pei Yingye remained braced against the chair in a stalemate for a few seconds before suddenly breaking into a wide grin. “It’s probably not that you don’t want to see, but that you’re worried about me.”

Ji Xuan said nothing.

So, Pei Yingye leaned closer again, pressing the question: “Isn’t that right?”

Ji Xuan looked down at him for a while, seeing the undisguised expectation and that hint of uncontainable joy in his eyes. Finally, his own eyes curved as he laughed.

He didn’t answer directly but instead raised a hand to gently create space between their overly intimate distance, then tapped that handsome face twice.

“If you know, then don’t ask so much, Ah Ye.”

Pei Yingye stared straight at him. After a long moment, he dully squeezed out an “Oh.” The end of the sound trailed off, sounding a bit dazed and intoxicated.

Ji Xuan withdrew his hand, using the space just created to hop off the stool and straighten the hem of his clothes. “Let’s go.”

Pei Yingye’s reaction was a few seconds slow before he belatedly jumped off his stool, catching up easily with his long stride.

After dropping Ji Xuan off at the dormitory and watching him go upstairs, he left the school and took a taxi back to his own home.

The spacious villa was unusually brightly lit. When Pei Yingye opened the door and went in, Pei Yun was in the kitchen having a fierce battle with Echo.

“How can you put greens in fishballs! Whose house puts greens in fishballs? Tell me, which sinister fellow implanted this mess into your basic data?!”

“Sir, statistics on StarNet show that fifty percent of people include greens when eating fishballs, thank you.”

Pei Yingye dropped his suitcase in the living room and headed straight for the kitchen, covering his ears. The sounds of bowls and chopsticks clattering came from inside, and then, Echo was forcibly pushed out.

Echo’s appearance had been changed back to that red-and-green floral coat. A pair of colorful mechanical arms waved futilely in mid-air, while an aggrieved emoticon flashed on the electronic screen.

“Even for a late-night snack, please accept reasonable dietary suggestions, Sir.”

Pei Yingye pressed down Echo’s arm, wishing he had an extra hand to cover that damn eye as well. He poked his head into the kitchen; his father, Pei Yun, was hurriedly turning off the stove. In the pot was a green vegetable mush of suspicious color with charred fishballs floating in it. The air was thick with an indescribable smell of burning.

“I think the biggest suggestion you should make is that the master and the dog are not allowed in the kitchen,” Pei Yingye said to Echo, leaning against the door frame and looking at his father’s disheveled appearance.

Pei Yun, coming out with a bowl, made a gesture as if to hit him, but unfortunately, his hands were full. His gaze swept over his son’s face, and suddenly thinking of something, he threatened, “You don’t want the stuff anymore?”

Pei Yingye immediately lost all his bravado and stepped forward to take the bowl of evil fishball soup from his hands. “How could that be, Dad? I was just talking nonsense. From now on, me and dogs are not allowed in the kitchen.”

Pei Yun huffed, seemingly satisfied with his son’s quick submissive attitude. He casually pulled a tissue to wipe the soup that had splashed onto his hand. “You really know how to make things easy for yourself. The stuff is in my study; go get it yourself.”

Pei Yingye helped him set the soup on the dining table and said, “Understood, your humble servant—”

“Wait.”

Pei Yingye’s step came to a sudden halt. “What now?”

Pei Yun pointed to the terminal in his pocket. “Cash on delivery.”

Pei Yingye rolled his eyes, pulled out his terminal, and tapped it rapidly. “Sent. You can have as many photos as you want.”

Pei Yun’s terminal immediately emitted a crisp notification sound. He tapped it open to see various candid shots of Ying Xun on the screen. The angles were tricky and the images clear. Pei Yun saved the photos with satisfaction, backed them up to the cloud, and then waved his hand. “You may leave now.”

Pei Yingye was speechless. He turned and headed upstairs.

Familiar with the way, he entered the study and, sure enough, found a large stack of documents in a conspicuous spot on the desk. Placed right on top were the character settings for “Nine Days and Nights Across the Sea.”

Thump, thump… In an instant, his heart beat fast and heavy, like a drum. Pei Yingye stood still by the desk. His fingertips barely touched the cover of the documents before it stopped, as if a pause button had been pressed. He didn’t dare continue.

Anticipation? Trepidation? Unease? It was hard to summarize his current state of mind with a single emotion. He stood frozen; time felt as long as a century, yet also like a mere flash.

Finally, Pei Yingye let out a breath and, somewhat nervously, flipped open the first page.

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