Mu Chenxing wasn’t the quiet type, and with the holiday just two days away, he took the initiative during dinner to bring up New Year’s topics, asking what they needed to prepare.
As an outsider, he wasn’t familiar with the customs. He’d looked some up before the break, but his knowledge was shallow. Pei Yao had spent over a decade at the Border and knew a little, though not much.
Only Luo Chen knew the most.
Luo Chen explained the customs to them while eating, along with the origins of each one.
The New Year here followed the transition from winter to spring, called the Welcoming Spring Festival, meant to celebrate and pray for blessings in the coming year.
The various customs were much like those in China—family gatherings for meals, along with special seasonal dishes and fruits.
Some small details were strikingly similar too, like changing out home decorations for new ones and buying fresh flowers to celebrate.
Beyond that, places all over held big and small celebration events.
The biggest difference from China’s New Year was probably the thinner sense of reunion here, with no promotions or ideals about heading home for the holidays.
It might’ve been because the Alliance’s territory was so vast—people away from home could be separated by several star systems, with round-trip flights taking three to five days. Ordinary folks simply couldn’t afford the hassle.
By the time Luo Chen finished outlining the customs, dinner was over.
Mu Chenxing held Luo Chen back and cleared the table and kitchen with Pei Yao. Then he suggested heading out to soak in the planet’s New Year’s atmosphere and shop for holiday essentials.
Pei Yao had no objections, of course.
But Luo Chen hesitated.
Mu Chenxing decisively dragged him out the door. “Hesitating means you want to go. Let’s move.”
With Spring Festival two days away, celebrations had already kicked off everywhere, lasting several days. Mu Chenxing had checked—the event for their district was in a park on the city outskirts.
Since it was just a casual stroll, and Luo Chen mentioned crowds, they opted for public transit.
Pei Yao bundled himself up tight, even throwing on sunglasses.
In the depths of winter, plenty of people wore hats and scarves, so he didn’t stand out on the street.
Luo Chen, on the other hand, glanced at him several times.
Mu Chenxing noticed and asked, “What’s up?”
Luo Chen shook his head. “Nothing.”
He’d just suddenly gotten a tiny bit of real sense about Pei Yao’s Admiral status, that was all.
Mu Chenxing didn’t get it but didn’t press.
The public flight vehicle reached the suburban park in just ten minutes or so. Once they got off, Mu Chenxing spotted colorful decorations floating in the sky not far away.
Towering trees filled the park, but the pre-festival setup in the open space ahead loomed even taller—multicolored and drifting mid-air, festive as could be.
The crowds thickened, and the noise picked up.
The three of them couldn’t walk side by side anymore.
Pei Yao shoved his hands in his pockets and fell back. Mu Chenxing turned and reminded him, “If we get separated, meet up at the station.”
Pei Yao nodded. “Got it.”
Mu Chenxing relaxed and slung an arm around Luo Chen’s shoulders as they looked around.
They followed the flow into the plaza.
Several massive characters floated overhead: District 67 Su Welcoming Spring Gala.
The huge letters hovered in the air—neither flying off nor falling, just drifting lazily.
Cute, colorful animal images surrounded them.
Mu Chenxing stared curiously. “How do they stay up there?”
Luo Chen couldn’t help laughing. “Asking the same questions as when you were a kid? They’re hollow inside, filled with special gas that adjusts height based on the planet’s gravity. Mix in some magnetic material, and they lock in place mid-air.”
Mu Chenxing got it.
They crossed the enormous plaza, where rows of colorful houses in all sorts of shapes appeared—some mimicking plants and animals, others spaceships and flight vehicles, plus geometric forms or wonky abstract designs. They dotted the square at varying heights, a spectacular sight.
Crowds jammed in front of each one, packed with tons of kids.
“Are these buildings temporary?”
Luo Chen nodded. “Yeah, up for ten days or half a month, then gone. Mostly game booths—some with contests, prizes sponsored. If you don’t win, you can buy. Others sell crafts. Fun for kids and adults alike.”
Just like the holiday markets back in his old world. Mu Chenxing got excited. “Come on, let’s check ’em out.”
He plunged into the crowd, pulling the smiling Luo Chen along.
The first booth was a towering mushroom shape, packed with trampolines. Little dolls dangled from the ceiling, and kids bounced around grabbing them—snag one, and it was yours.
All kids, so Mu Chenxing and Luo Chen backed out for the next.
Three or four in a row were kids’ zones—bumper cars styled like toasters, spinning rides like carousels.
Luo Chen saw him eyeing the machines and coaxed along the way, “You could try one. You’re basically still a kid—no one’s gonna laugh.”
Mu Chenxing waved it off repeatedly, insisting he wasn’t interested.
Luo Chen looked a bit disappointed. “Not into it anymore? You loved these as a kid. I’ve always wanted to bring you to play.”
Mu Chenxing gave a dry laugh. “Something else, then—I’m all grown up now. How about this!”
The building ahead was sleek and streamlined, twisting into a funky shape, blue-purple with major sci-fi vibes. Inside: Shooting.
Adults and kids alike, everyone gripping mock guns and blasting at Holo-Screens deep within. The screens simulated an ocean world, swarming with darting little sea fish of varying speeds and types.
Solo rounds, three minutes each—score based on hits, redeem for prizes.
Mu Chenxing perked up and turned to drag Pei Yao over. “Bro, let’s do this one together.”
Pei Yao: “Sure. What do you want?”
Only then did Mu Chenxing check the prizes.
Walls full—from candy and drinks to toys. Top shelf: a pair of delicate dancing dolls holding hands on a little balcony-like base.
Music box, Mu Chenxing thought. Doesn’t look worth much.
“Doesn’t matter, just for fun,” he said.
Pei Yao asked the staff nearby, “How many rounds per person per day?”
“Three.”
Pei Yao thanked him, then turned back. “Pick three, then.”
Mu Chenxing huffed. “Pick? Nah, let’s compete.”
Pei Yao smiled faintly. “Alright.”
Left wall listed fish scores, biggest to smallest, speeds ramping up with value—peak at 8 points for the tiniest, fastest.
They sized it up in two glances.
Waited a beat—guns freed up.
Mu Chenxing and Pei Yao stepped up together.
Mu Chenxing tested the controls, eyed Pei Yao. “No holding back.”
Pei Yao smiled. “No pressure on you, either.”
Mu Chenxing snorted, shouldered his gun, hit the timer.
Mock guns—no recoil, just sound effects. Aiming via sim calc, invisible to players—pure feel.
Hit a fish, and its code and score popped up. Simple.
Screen crawling with big and little fish, all moving.
Nail a small one behind a big one? You got the big score.
Mu Chenxing heard bangs from next door, stayed cool, fired steady.
Gasps rose behind them.
“Damn, that’s sick.”
“Every shot hits.”
“No aiming thought needed?”
“Pros or what?”
…
Timer beeped at three minutes.
Mu Chenxing set down his gun. 822 points: 98 eights, rest fives, sixes, sevens from misses.
Next to him: 3 minutes, 180 seconds, 158 eights. Total: 1264.
Mu Chenxing: …Freak.
Crowd oohed; phones snapped pics.
Pei Yao leaned in. “Fish respawn too slow—sniped a few of yours. You said no letting up, so you won’t mind?”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
One screen—how’d this guy tell whose fish?
Whatever. Not important.
He asked the staff, “What prizes we get?”
Staff gawked at scores, stammered, “P-pick anything. Whatever.”
“Oh.” Mu Chenxing pointed top-shelf at the hand-holding dolls, teasing. “Which for you, bro? Suits you.”
Pei Yao laughed. “Nah, I’ll take this.”
Pointed bottom row: some snack.
Staff hesitated.
Pei Yao: “My boyfriend loves ’em. Thanks.”
Mu Chenxing: …Liar, he’d never even tried it.
Staff glanced, handed the snack over pronto.
Mu Chenxing peeked. “This good?”
“Mm.” Pei Yao pocketed it in his jacket. “Later.”
“…Oh.” Mu Chenxing coughed lightly, told staff, “Hey, can I get that little insect specimen?”
Fourth row: palm-sized clear orb encasing a chubby bug with colorful patterns—kid bait.
“Sure.” Staff handed it over.
Mu Chenxing eyed it, then passed to Luo Chen. “For you~”
Luo Chen, who’d been staring at his pocket, blinked. “Me?”
“Yeah. Saw your certs are all plants and animals—figured you’d like it.”
Luo Chen froze.
Folks crowded in, some with kids.
“You shooting athletes?”
“Insane aim—are you trained?”
“Where do you practice?”
“Brothers, you’re awesome~”
“Omegas do shooting too? Are you…”
Mu Chenxing grinned, bullshitted replies, grabbed both guys, bolted from the booth.
Ten meters out, no pursuit—he stopped.
“Let’s hit that one.” He scanned, pointed ahead.
Pei Yao fine with it. Luo Chen, fiddling with the specimen, glanced and nodded.
Mu Chenxing bee-lined for the geometric house.
He’d figured it: plant/animal shapes = kid stuff. Modern/abstract = adult games.
He hustled ahead eagerly; Pei Yao and Luo Chen trailed casual.
Luo Chen sidled to Pei Yao, whispered a question.
Pei Yao tilted his head slightly, murmured back.
Right then—a pack of kids barreled from the crowd. Front-running Mu Chenxing pivoted on tiptoe, dodged smooth—
“Fuck!”
Slammed someone else.
The guy—a half-head taller Tiger-Back type—whirled, glaring. “Watch where you’re—” Cut off, scanned him, sniffed, grin spreading. “Yo, little Omega! Hurt ya? Lemme rub it better.”
Hand out—
Wrist snagged firm.
“Ow who?!”
Mu Chenxing, hand raised but untouched, eyed smiling Pei Yao.
Pei Yao ignored him, smiled at the guy. “Hurt you just now? Lemme rub it.”
“Ow ow ow—” Tiger-Back yelped in pain.
His two burly buddies couldn’t stand it—fists up, lunged.
“Dead man!”
“Let go!”
Mu Chenxing instinctively clenched—
Pei Yao flicked twice, light as air—sent them stumbling back, shook free, smiled. “Holidays here—cool it, just an accident… My little one’s sorry, unintentional. We good?”
Tiger-Back eyed his wrist’s fresh red ring, furious. “You hurt me—what about that?”
Buddies chimed righteous:
“You started it and wanna call it even?”
“Brat, apologize first.”
Luo Chen, who’d jumped back startled, rushed up, tugged Mu Chenxing. “You okay?”
Mu Chenxing shook head. “Fine.” To them: “I apologize—I dodged those kids and bumped you by accident. But your mouth was rude, and you tried grabbing me. You gonna apologize too?”
Tiger-Back laughed mad. “Two words from me is rude? And ‘tried grabbing’? New crime name?”
Others:
“Yeah, you struck first.”
“His wrist’s proof.”
Mu Chenxing calm: “So, how you wanna handle this?”
Luo Chen nervously grabbed hold of him.
Pei Yao shoved them both behind him with one arm.
I… Mu Chenxing thought.
Whatever. I’m just a student now—leave it to the adults.
Pei Yao smiled at the three Alphas up front. “So, how do you want to settle this? Just a heads-up—I’m on vacation right now. Starting a fight would count as nothing more than picking a fight at worst.”
“Hahaha, ‘picking a fight’? Look at you, so well-read. Who gives a damn about legal terms in a brawl?”
” Hilarious. Did all that book-learning rot your brain? ‘Picking a fight’?”
“Hahahaha, what an idiot.”
Pei Yao patiently waited for their laughter to die down before smiling sweetly. “If you guys have no ideas, how about I suggest one?”
Tiger-Back’s crew glared at him. “What the hell do you have to suggest? You hurt me? No need for an apology—just send that little Omega over here to let me grope him a few times. If I get my fill, we’ll call it even—”
Bang—
A dark shadow hurtled through the air, crashing two meters away.
Thanks to their argument, the crowd around them had already backed off, so no one else got hit.
That Tiger-Back thug lay sprawled on the ground, curling up in agony as he clutched his gut.
Everyone was stunned.
Even Mu Chenxing was shocked. Wasn’t Pei Yao’s temper supposed to be pretty good?
Pei Yao turned to the other two, keeping his mild smile. “I can’t really go for your friend’s suggestion. Got any better ones? I’m pretty easygoing, you know.”
The two guys: “…”
They glanced at their companion, who still hadn’t managed to crawl back up—and this was “easygoing”?!
