In truth, the demands from this group of Omegas weren’t excessive at all.
The most outrageous thing these adorable little ones could think of was to be allowed showers during training, contact with their families, use of sunscreen products, and—most crucially—no public release of footage from their training sessions.
The key point was that last one.
Since the Alliance had records, no Omega had ever entered a field or profession related to physical strength or endurance.
Never.
Even now, in professions requiring physical fitness, Alphas dominated, with Betas in supporting roles.
The military academies were the epitome of this.
Take their school as an example: in majors demanding high combat prowess, ninety percent were Alphas. Only in logistics, medical, or equipment maintenance fields did Betas hold sway.
But across the entire military academy, aside from the Medical College, no other major had a single Omega.
Never.
To emphasize the importance of this training camp, Mu Chenxing also shared the school’s preparations: if the tests went smoothly, the school would fully open recruitment next year.
The group chat immediately buzzed with analysis:
The tests were crucial.
The results would impact next year’s recruitment, so the school might use their data as a case study.
Their school was the Alliance First Military Academy, the top one on Central Star. Other military academies—even other schools—would be watching. The school’s open recruitment would ripple across the entire Alliance.
…
That meant their training would likely be recorded in full.
The people in the Association weren’t fools—Omegas who had braved hordes of applicants to get close to the Alliance First Military Academy’s Medical College weren’t idiots.
Mu Chenxing was a man at heart, a soldier, and on matters of training and major developments, his principles were obedience and cooperation, sacrificing personal interests for the collective good.
Moreover, he believed that no matter how things developed in the future, participating in physical training would only benefit this group of Omegas, with no downsides. So he chose to cooperate with the school and deployed his art of persuasion.
But these Omegas were different.
They weren’t purely men; they had no thirst for power.
They felt a sense of belonging to the Alliance, but without military training or battlefield experience, they lacked the concept of following orders.
Most importantly, every one of these Omegas was more introverted and low-key than the last. They couldn’t accept their images becoming military academy recruitment ads—or even broadcast across the entire Alliance.
They accepted the training, but not becoming propaganda footage.
Mu Chenxing understood completely, so he turned around and went to knock on Zhang Yunli’s door—he didn’t have Fu Mingyuan’s contact info.
No one knew how he negotiated with Fu Mingyuan, but the next day, the school sent them another agreement. It not only detailed training discipline and benefits but also specified rules for all data and footage from the camp, including usage rights and scopes.
When the Omegas saw that their biggest worry—footage—was classified as confidential, not to be released publicly, with only data shared openly, they all breathed a sigh of relief.
Mu Chenxing reminded them: “Our training is all on campus. There will be plenty of students staying over, plus those from the sports meet retention program. Someone’s definitely going to snap videos or photos and post them online. We can’t completely prevent it.”
Tong Xiao: “That’s fine. At worst, it’ll spread in small circles and get buried under entertainment or social news in a few months. But official certified stuff? That lasts for centuries!!!”
“Yeah, yeah! I can handle being gossiped about for a bit, but I don’t want to end up in textbooks!”
“Names are okay to record, but footage absolutely not!”
“I heard Alpha training involves scaling walls and crawling—looks so embarrassing!”
“Exactly! Names can make our families proud, but ugly photos and videos? No way!”
They chattered away with complaints.
Even the half-outsider Shen Mingshu chimed in: “My brother looks hideous during training. I’m not putting out any footage.”
Is this Omega thinking? Mu Chenxing thought. “…Fine.”
This document didn’t require parental signatures—just their own.
After discussing, they decided to keep the training camp under wraps from their families for now. They’d think about it after—if they passed. If not, no need to worry their parents.
And so, the matter was temporarily shelved.
Because next, they had to prepare for finals.
Everyone was in standard review mode, still gathering at the Association activity hall daily to study together, then heading out for runs at the usual time.
The only tense one was Mu Chenxing.
To shake off his dead-last-in-grade title, he pulled out his high school entrance exam intensity again.
Before his dormmates even woke, he’d brave the cold winds for a run, earbuds in, voice companion reciting lessons as he memorized aloud.
During Association runs at night, he’d recite while jogging.
Not to mention the rest of the time.
He memorized nonstop, studied relentlessly. The other Omegas watched, gathered together feeling too guilty to chat or game, and all buckled down to study hard too.
Mu Chenxing jumped around anxiously, wailing: “Stop trying so hard, you guys! I can’t catch up!”
Everyone burst out laughing, thinking he was joking, and doubled down—one by one coming to recite in front of him, spurring Mu Chenxing on until he studied even harder, so fiercely he forgot all about his newly minted boyfriend.
Yes, two weeks before exams, Mu Chenxing had told Pei Yao he was prepping for tests and going radio silent for a bit.
Pei Yao thought it just meant no training or dinner dates. But two days later, messaging Mu Chenxing got an auto-reply: Your partner is studying hard. Do not disturb. Leave a message if important; otherwise, talk later.
Pei Yao laughed in exasperation.
So after two days of auto-replies, he marched straight to the dorm to catch him.
Mu Chenxing was deep in review when his ankle suddenly snagged on a Cool Silk Thread. He froze, then switched apps to see Pei Yao’s messages.
He quickly replied: How’d you get here?
Pei Yao: Finally checking messages?
Mu Chenxing: Something up?
Pei Yao: What book are you reading that you can’t even reply?
Mu Chenxing: …Nothing urgent, so I’m memorizing.
Pei Yao: I do.
Mu Chenxing: ?
Pei Yao: Last saw you at the Command College—didn’t even talk. Before that, half a month ago. Studying hard or not, you gotta eat. Dinner tomorrow.
Mu Chenxing: …No time.
Pei Yao: ?
Mu Chenxing explained: Really no time. Xiaoxiao and them are quizzing me over dinner.
Pei Yao: ??
Pei Yao: What, professional cert or Alliance-level comp? This intense?
Mu Chenxing: Not bad. Just wanna go from dead last to top of the grade.
Pei Yao: …Maybe we should call it quits. Bad grades don’t bother me.
Mu Chenxing ignored that: Gotta finish this chapter today. No more chat.
Pei Yao: …
Pei Yao: Sigh, life’s rough~~
Pei Yao: Little boyfriend too young to eat from, and now this mountain of mega-exams blocking the way. Harder to see you than the Alliance Chairman~~
Mu Chenxing: …
Pei Yao kept going: Flew twelve hours today, just to see my boyfriend~~
Pei Yao: Studious types are heartless indeed!!
Mu Chenxing: …Ten minutes, Lakeside Dormitory District north side little garden entrance.
That garden was their old Association run starting point, and where he and Pei Yao had trained two months back.
Pei Yao: ?
Pei Yao snapped normal in a second: Weren’t you busy?
Mu Chenxing didn’t reply.
He shut off the Holo-Screen, grabbed his jacket, and shrugged it on.
Xia Weizhen, reviewing nearby, looked up: “Huh? Going out? This late?”
The other two glanced up too, staring.
Mu Chenxing: “Yeah, my boyfriend misses me. Gonna placate him quick, back soon.”
The Cool Silk Thread wound a few loops around his ankle.
He couldn’t help smiling; his book-fried brain felt lighter.
Dormmates: “…”
Tong Xiao exploded on the spot: “What boyfriend? Any hindering your progress should be ditched!”
Mu Chenxing zipped up, grinning: “Won’t happen. Back quick—he can’t stop me.”
He yanked the door open. “Heading out.”
“At least change pants—”
Door slammed shut.
Mu Chenxing wiggled his foot, signaling to release.
The Cool Silk Thread slid off.
He fired up the Holo-Screen, voice companion mode on, reciting as he jogged out.
A cold gust hit as he exited the building; he shivered, zipped to the top, and picked up speed.
The ten p.m. winter night outside the Omega Dormitory District was empty. Under dim yellow streetlights, only his footsteps echoed.
He paid it no mind, finishing the recitation: “Associated with Group A beta-hemolytic streptococcus infection—”
His waist suddenly cinched tight; his body flew sideways.
He instinctively twisted for a flying kick—
“It’s me.”
The newcomer effortlessly caught his calf, pulled him into an embrace, and dragged him into the shadows.
Mu Chenxing was speechless: “Warn me next—”
“How’re you wearing so little?” Pei Yao, midway kidnapper, unzipped his coat and bundled him inside.
Mu Chenxing was suddenly wrapped tight; the chill vanished, replaced by Pei Yao-scented warmth enveloping him—he froze.
“Subzero out here and you run out in single pants.” Pei Yao touched his icy ear, a bit mad. “No time for messages, but time to freeze?”
Mu Chenxing snapped back, replying belatedly: “Wasn’t planning long. Say a few words and head back.”
“Ten minutes there, ten back?” Pei Yao pinched his cheek. “Might as well video call twenty minutes.”
Pressed together, their height gap stood out starkly.
Trapped under the man’s long coat, Mu Chenxing craned up with effort: “Dormmates around. Video’s inconvenient.”
Pei Yao: “Text then.”
Mu Chenxing: “Texting’s slower. Back-and-forth wastes half an hour for two sentences.”
Pei Yao: “Then next time, post-exams.”
Mu Chenxing huffed: “Weren’t you mad I ignored you?”
Pei Yao: “You don’t get it—this is classic Alpha ploy. No whining, how’s an Omega supposed to feel sorry?”
He stroked his warming nape, relaxed with a low chuckle. “You pity me now—next time, maybe let me take more advantage—”
Mu Chenxing clutched his shirt, tiptoed to seal his mouth. His roundish eyes curved in a smile as he gazed up.
Pei Yao: “…”
The hand on his nape lifted; the initiator’s lips were invaded instead. Mu Chenxing pressed flush against the man, feeling the instant… reaction down there.
Mu Chenxing: “…”
Damn, that fast?
Alpha trait or Pei Yao trait?
Before his lip broke under teeth, Pei Yao finally released him.
Pei Yao touched his cheek, opening his mouth—
“I didn’t come out ’cause you whined.” Mu Chenxing panted twice, cutting in first.
Pei Yao paused, dark eyes locking on, voice low and husky: “Then why?”
“Because,” Mu Chenxing met his gaze earnestly, “I missed you too.”
