Mu Chenxing made several video calls to Luo Chen, but he didn’t pick up any of them.
Pei Yao ruffled his hair. “Stop calling. I’ll handle things with the police. You just focus on training.”
Mu Chenxing said, “…I’m not worried about the police report. I’m afraid I’ll give my dad a heart attack.”
Pei Yao couldn’t help chuckling. “He won’t keel over. Your dad’s swift and decisive—that kind of personality doesn’t die from anger.” He leaned down to look at him. “Not surprising, though. He’s just like you.”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
The resemblance really is just a coincidence.
With Pei Yao handling the fallout from the police report, Mu Chenxing washed his hands of it. He didn’t dare poke the bear with Luo Chen, either.
The two of them calmly grabbed breakfast, then strolled leisurely toward the Army Academy where the intensive training camp was held.
It was a bit of a hike. After walking a short stretch, Pei Yao even played delivery man, air-shipping Mu Chenxing right to the spot.
Mu Chenxing had gotten used to these daily sneak-attack carry-jobs lately. He could even squeeze in time to send a few messages, reminding the little Omegas in the Association to stay safe and all that.
Dozens of events, fifty people per event—even with folks double-dipping across projects, there were still two or three thousand participants in the training camp.
With that many people, they couldn’t all cram together for drills.
Nor could they tailor training precisely to every single event.
So the camp was divided by categories: strength, speed, shooting…
Most of the day was group intensive training, with afternoons reserved for individual event practice.
During group sessions, instructor teachers led the way. For solo event training, it was fifty per group, swapping events daily if there were overlaps—maybe one or two a day, staggered.
Mu Chenxing had arrived late thanks to the Omega training camp, but he’d joined the group chat early. He already had a solid grasp on the schedule and events, and he wasn’t worried about rubbing elbows with a bunch of Alphas or sparking any awkward reactions—
Because this was genuine Military District boot camp. The kind that trained you like hell.
Other than the extra medical teacher on duty by his side, the instructors didn’t give this Omega any special treatment—or rather, after two weeks of camp, they’d come to treat him equally.
The teachers just didn’t seem to have high expectations for his performance scores.
So not only was Mu Chenxing unworried, Pei Yao and Zhang Yunli didn’t show any concern either.
The first two weeks, Zhang Yunli had been off-planet tying up loose ends on his other projects. He’d kept data synced with the medical center the whole time, occasionally checking the group chat for updates on the Omegas’ mental states. He was wound tight.
Then came Mu Chenxing diving headfirst into the Alpha horde for camp. Zhang Yunli was a nervous wreck. The moment he landed back from his trip, he dumped his luggage on Fu Mingyuan and bolted straight to the Land Warfare Academy to check on things.
After hovering anxiously in Mu Chenxing’s Training Hall for two hours, he slunk away quietly.
…Rest breaks were only ten minutes long. Every Alpha was sprawled out, too wrecked to even talk, with medical and instructor staff watching, Suppressants stocked at every station, and Pheromone surge protocols in place across the Training Venue. Worrying about Mu Chenxing’s safety was less pressing than fretting over his stamina and health.
Mu Chenxing didn’t have time for him anyway.
The intensity was a breeze for his old self, but with his current physique… it was a real challenge.
Ever since joining the finals training camp, Mu Chenxing had nothing but high praise for Pei Yao’s daily “air-shipping” service. He almost wished Pei Yao could do point-to-point pickup and drop-off.
But they were just about there.
Pei Yao couldn’t fetch him right at the Training Hall door, but otherwise, he was one step shy of tucking him into bed.
Mu Chenxing took advantage of having the whole dorm building to himself, letting Pei Yao shuttle him through the window—no stairs required. After a full day of training, his legs barely worked anyway.
Manual pinpoint delivery was just more convenient. Point and ship, hassle-free and quick.
Even in his exhausted state after such brutal training, he still remembered Luo Chen’s job application. Every day, he’d check his email and scour School Official Websites for personnel announcements. A true model citizen.
Unfortunately, three days into camp, still no word.
Mu Chenxing figured if nothing by tomorrow, he’d activate Plan B.
“…What hotel stuff?” Pei Yao leaned against the flight vehicle outside, arms crossed, puzzled.
Mu Chenxing snapped back, pulled down his pant leg after spraying it, shrugged off his jacket, hiked up his base layer, and gave his lower back a good spritz. Casually, he added, “Where else do you shower every day? Where does all this come from? Don’t tell me it’s from Principal Fu’s place.”
If it was, Zhang Yunli would’ve said something—with his personality, he sure as hell wouldn’t let Mu Chenxing bunk with Pei Yao.
The camp intensity had ramped up hard these past few days. Every inch of him was screaming in protest. Pei Yao had scored him some medicated spray, which he used every night.
Right now, he sat on Pei Yao’s makeshift sleep mat, spritzing away.
Pei Yao waited outside.
The flight vehicle doors were open, and they chatted across the gap.
Pei Yao said, “Didn’t I tell you I bought a place nearby?”
“…No.” Mu Chenxing waited for the spray to dry, then tugged down his shirt and yanked open his collar to mist his neck and shoulders. “When did you mention that? I thought you booked a hotel nearby for washing up.”
Pei Yao replied, “I told you—I was house-hunting before. This one’s temporary, just for a few years. Kinda small.”
He sounded explanatory. “Wasn’t keeping you away ’cause it’s small. It’s the school logs—if you go in and out, it’ll flag records. Bad for you, cuts into your rest. That’s why.”
Mu Chenxing fell silent.
A bona fide Admiral buying a place near the Military Academy… just for a few years…
He finished spraying his neck and shoulders, let it air-dry for a couple seconds—the stuff dried fast—then dropped his collar. “If you bought a house, why sleep on the floor mat here at night? Your own bed would be comfier.”
Pei Yao chuckled lowly. “Nah. If I leave, how will I catch glimpses of my baby’s adorable sleep poses?”
Mu Chenxing shivered. “Fuck, talk normal—achoo!—” He set the spray bottle down quick. “Get in here, I’m freezing.”
No sooner said than Pei Yao’s hulking frame barreled in.
Doors still sliding shut, Mu Chenxing—who was still shrugging into his jacket—found himself airborne. Next instant, the mat under his ass turned into a lap cushion of pure muscle.
Pei Yao yanked up a blanket, wrapped him tight, and held him firm. Grinning, he said, “Warming up my baby now~”
…The climate control was cranked high, humming at full blast. A few seconds and it’d be toasty. No need for this nonsense.
Mu Chenxing squirmed.
Pei Yao pinned him. “Hold still. Your hands are still cold.”
Mu Chenxing said, “Put me on the mat, or I’m done.”
“…” Pei Yao reluctantly scooped him up, parted his crossed legs, and plopped him back on the mat.
Mu Chenxing tried scooting away. “You have to—” Someone hooked an arm and yanked him back into an embrace.
“…You’ve got another three-k run coming up soon.”
Pei Yao: “…”
The arm around his waist didn’t budge. “Beauty in my arms? Three-k feels like a breeze.”
Mu Chenxing huffed. “Beauty my ass.”
He switched topics. “How’ve you been so free these two weeks? Getting laid off?”
Pei Yao took the out, resting his chin on Mu Chenxing’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Holidays are coming—work slows down.”
Mu Chenxing said, “End of year means tons of banquets and schmoozing, right?”
Pei Yao laughed. “Baby, you really don’t know your boyfriend—”
A vibration buzzed.
They both glanced at Mu Chenxing’s wristband. Two characters blazed on the Holo-Screen: Luo Chen.
Mu Chenxing: “…How’d you handle the police last time? Pick up or nah?”
Pei Yao: “…Told the cops to relay to your dad: this is your custom training flight vehicle. Solo use. I just happened to swing by.”
Mu Chenxing: “He buy it?”
Pei Yao admitted, “Dunno.”
Mu Chenxing figured Luo Chen wasn’t fully convinced, or he wouldn’t have gone radio silent for three days.
He eyed the stubbornly vibrating wristband and decided fast. “Out. I need to talk to him.”
Pei Yao let go easy this time. “Sure.”
He stood, headed for the door.
“Wait.” Mu Chenxing rolled over, nudged the mat. “Take this.”
Pei Yao: “…”
Crestfallen, he bundled up the bedding, opened the door, and slunk out.
Mu Chenxing waited for the door to seal, scanned the room to confirm it was clear, then answered the call.
Luo Chen’s face was dark. “Took you long enough.”
Mu Chenxing pretended to rub his eyes. “I was napping. Didn’t notice.”
Luo Chen narrowed his eyes. “This early?”
“Yeah. Training’s brutal. Wiped out.”
Luo Chen grunted, gaze shifting. “Where are you?”
Mu Chenxing coughed lightly. “flight vehicle. My boyfriend’s… But last time, I lied. We don’t sleep together. I’m just crashing on the Hover Bed—my zero-g scores suck.”
He twisted the Holo-Screen camera around while explaining, giving a full tour, zooming in on the Hover Bed’s air vents to demo it for Luo Chen.
Luo Chen: “…I know. I used to—”
His voice hitched, then cut off.
Mu Chenxing played oblivious. “See? Tiny space. Just me.”
Good thing the sink was partitioned off by metal panels. A quick pan probably hid the nook—that had two sets of toiletries. One glance and the lie crumbled.
“Where’s he stay?”
Mu Chenxing: “His place is nearby school, but I haven’t gone.”
Luo Chen stared for seconds, seemingly buying it a bit. His expression softened. “You applied to a bunch of schools for me?”
“Yeah.” Mu Chenxing asked, “Any contact you?”
“…Yeah.”
Direct to him, not email reply. Thorough!
Luo Chen fixed him through the Holo-Screen, eyes complicated. “Why apply for jobs… You want me moving to Central Star to settle?”
“Yep.” Mu Chenxing owned it. “College four years on Central Star. Then border service after graduation. Wherever I end up post-service, I’m not going back to Galaxy Star.”
Luo Chen froze. “Not going home? What about your father—”
“If he needs support later, I can wire money. That’s it.” Mu Chenxing met his gaze. “You know damn well what life was like for me in the Mu family, right?”
From what he’d pieced together, anything but good.
Luo Chen’s eyes reddened, as expected.
He shut them, then opened again—the same stern, bespectacled young man. Harshly, he said, “You want me on Central Star to take care of you? Even at the best-paying school, my salary barely covers me—”
“So what.” Mu Chenxing cut in. “Better job, free ship tickets, and me. What’s the reason to stay on Galaxy Star?”
Luo Chen went still.
“Because of Uncle Shen? Or someone else?” Mu Chenxing went for the kill.
“Of course,” he dropped his head, voice low, feigning pathetic abandonment. “You’ve ditched me for 18 years already. One more time after that? I get it… Don’t come, then. I’m used to it.”
Silence stretched forever on the other end. Long enough he thought the call dropped.
About to look up, he heard a quiet—
“I got it.”
Call ended.
Mu Chenxing exhaled, killed the Holo-Screen, and hauled in the pitiful Alpha clutching his sleep mat and blankets.
Pei Yao dumped the bundle the second he was inside, latched on, and peppered him with kisses. Still hungry, he murmured, “So thrilling. Like we’re sneaking around.”
Mu Chenxing rolled his eyes, flipped onto the Hover Bed, sprawled limp, and conked out coolly.
…
The next two days, Luo Chen didn’t reach out.
Uncle Shen video-called a few times instead, but Mu Chenxing was training and missed them.
That night, Uncle Shen texted: Heard you’re in training, probably no time to pick up. Just wanted to say—your dad’s headed to the spaceport, boarding soon.
Mu Chenxing lit up, video-called back instantly.
Uncle Shen was pumped too, wiping tears as he chatted—flight deets, pickup reminders, then remembering he was still a kid, told him to stay put at school and wait for Luo Chen…
Mu Chenxing hung up, wide awake. He pulled his memo logs and rented a beat-up two-bedroom near Luo Chen’s top school pick.
Then, he waited.
The winter vacation training camp dragged on until just four days before the New Year. Around the Spring Festival, Mu Chenxing had a total of eight days off. The moment the holiday ended, he had to return for more training until school resumed.
The day after training paused, Mu Chenxing finally indulged in a rare lie-in. He didn’t lazily roll out of bed until Pei Yao returned with breakfast.
After washing up and scarfing down his meal, Mu Chenxing bossed the already-on-vacation driver Pei around, having him pilot the flight vehicle straight to the city where Luo Chen would soon be working.
