Mu Chenxing’s four events were all over, so he could finally relax and watch the competitions.
The afternoon was packed with shooting events—fixed targets, moving targets, shots at varying distances, even firing at moving targets while in motion or hovering mid-air in flight vehicles.
The competing students operated in simulated environments, while the audience watched 3D simulated scenes. Full panoramic views of the students and their moving targets were projected onto the holo-screens.
Mu Chenxing watched with rapt attention, itching to jump in and give it a try himself.
During training camp, the coach who’d guided him had swapped seats with the Beta medical teacher and came over to talk. “I reviewed your training data. You’ve made huge progress in aerial events, but your fundamentals are still weak.”
Mu Chenxing turned to him in confusion.
The not-so-young coach’s face was stern. “With your shooting skills, train aerial maneuvers for another half year, and you’ll snag a medal in a tougher shooting event at next year’s games for sure.”
Mu Chenxing: “…Huh? But—”
Coach: “That old Yuan Hong guy is useless beyond basic fitness drills. Listen to me from now on. I’ll set up a training plan for you once you’re back.”
Mu Chenxing said weakly, “But Coach, I don’t plan to compete in the games next year.”
Coach: “??”
His eyes bulged. “Are you nuts? You snagged four golds as a first-year, and now you’re skipping the games in your second year?! Flight shooting and mobile events are carried by second-years.”
Mu Chenxing: “…But I’m a Medical College student.”
Coach: “…And you still got four golds at the Medical College. If you could this year, you can next year!”
Mu Chenxing: “…Classes get way heavier next year.”
This semester’s classes were already ramping up, with stuff like dissection labs.
The coach was heartbroken. “You’re at the bottom of your class at the Medical College!! The school’s opening up enrollment soon—you’re a pioneer, so why waste time there?”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
No need for personal attacks.
The coach furrowed his brows. “Fine, you’re young and don’t get it. Have your parents come talk to me!”
Mu Chenxing: “I make my own decisions.”
Coach: “You kid, how…”
Blah blah blah, blah blah blah.
Mu Chenxing endured nearly an hour of nonstop nagging.
If the coach’s trainees hadn’t needed to compete, he probably would’ve kept going.
Once the coach left, the Alphas from the back row who’d overheard crowded over, whispering why he wasn’t transferring colleges.
Mu Chenxing joked, “The battlefield needs medics too. Wouldn’t it be better to have a bunch protecting you guys?”
The Alphas: “…”
Ouch, that stings.
One Alpha grumbled, “You beat us this year, maybe you’ll have a shot next year too. But after our Heat Periods pass and with four years of training, we won’t lose.”
Mu Chenxing nodded. “Good luck!”
That Alpha: “…”
Similar conversations kept popping up through dinner, even right before heading back to the dorms. Fu Mingyuan called him over too, bringing it up again.
This time, Mu Chenxing answered seriously.
“I signed up last semester to build my fitness and gauge everyone’s level. Now I have a sense of it. Next year’s games mean nothing to me. I won’t be competing.”
“Transferring colleges is even less likely.”
“But hey, I got the school four golds. I deserve some perks, right?”
Fu Mingyuan: “Name it.”
Mu Chenxing: “I want training access to the other colleges’ facilities.”
Fu Mingyuan: “Aren’t you skipping competitions?”
Mu Chenxing grinned slyly. “I just said no games.”
Fu Mingyuan: “…You want other ones?”
Mu Chenxing bared his teeth in a cheeky smile. “Yeah. By my junior year, I’ll enter the University Arena Competition.”
Fu Mingyuan: “…”
He stared at Mu Chenxing for a full minute, long enough that the waiting Beta teacher a few meters away called out, “Principal Fu?”
Fu Mingyuan snapped back, waved him off, and lowered his voice. “Have you mentioned this to Pei Yao?”
Mu Chenxing blinked in confusion. “Why would I need to tell him about competing?”
Fu Mingyuan: “Games are games, arena fights are arena fights. What’s an Omega like you doing brawling with Alphas?”
Mu Chenxing tilted his head. “Does the Alliance ban Omegas from competing?”
Fu Mingyuan: “No, but you’re—”
“If not, that’s fine.”
Fu Mingyuan rubbed his temples. “Why enter that thing?”
Mu Chenxing: “Top three in the University Arena Competition gets you a military rank promotion for Military Academy students.”
Fu Mingyuan: “…”
He couldn’t help swearing. “You’re a damn med student!”
Mu Chenxing: “Can’t med students be leaders?”
Fu Mingyuan exploded. “What does a med student need to lead for?! No—why’s an Omega chasing ranks?! Can’t Pei Yao support you?!”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
He pulled up the holo-screen. “Principal Fu, say that again. I’m recording.”
Fu Mingyuan: “?”
Mu Chenxing: “I’ll tell Teacher Zhang you think his job and achievements are worthless, that he should quit striving and just let you keep him.”
Fu Mingyuan: “…”
Damn, he knew this tattletale was tough to deal with.
Seeing Fu Mingyuan deflate, Mu Chenxing smiled again. “Principal Fu, University Arena Competition sign-ups start junior year at earliest. Who knows, I might drop the idea by then. No need to stress.”
Fu Mingyuan stared for two seconds. “I’ll tell Pei Yao about this.”
Mu Chenxing shrugged. “Whatever.”
Fu Mingyuan: “Not scared he’ll stop you?”
Mu Chenxing: “First, competing’s my call—he only gets a say. Second, swapping boyfriends isn’t a hassle. I’m just a freshman. Two years to junior year—who knows if he’s still my guy then.”
If he’s stuck on the battlefield with no contact, I get it. I’ve served. But first relationship. Long-distance. Spotty contact, and when it drops, he’s in combat, fate unknown… frustrating.
Fu Mingyuan: “…I’ll pass the message to Pei Yao.”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
Deadpan stare. “Principal, at your age, quit acting like a kid running to tattle.”
Fu Mingyuan smiled back. “Learned from you.”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
…
Competitions flew by one after another. Day one’s events were mostly basics, but each subsequent day doubled the difficulty. Competitors were mostly second-years, a few third-years—no more gold medal disputes.
—Mu Chenxing later learned Alphas post-Heat Period couldn’t compete in the games.
Dozens of golds were awarded daily, difficulties escalating, making Mu Chenxing’s golds seem trivial.
And they kinda were—each gold was just a measly thousand Alliance Coins. Wait, he had four thousand.
If he weren’t an Omega, no one would’ve cared.
Anyway, Mu Chenxing watched every event, got a solid read on college students’ fitness and speed, and recorded tons of data for his own training reference.
He shared his gold medal news with his Omega buddies, Zhang Yunli, and Luo Chen. Congrats poured in; they plotted celebrations. Luo Chen—who’d wanted to visit the past few weeks—didn’t ask, but Mu Chenxing didn’t dwell.
Zhang Yunli spammed red envelopes in the group chat to celebrate.
Mu Chenxing, the medalist, didn’t snag a single one. Furious, he raged in the group: If you trained with this speed, the finals wouldn’t have been just me!
Everyone cracked up, excitedly chaining more red envelopes, staring at the chat to block him.
Mu Chenxing shut the group in a huff.
…
On the flight back, prize money hit the winners’ accounts.
Mu Chenxing was pleased with the Alliance’s efficiency and wired his winnings to Luo Chen.
It was morning; Luo Chen was probably working, no reply.
Mu Chenxing reviewed coursework on the flight vehicle until Luo Chen’s video call came in.
These long-haul flight vehicles had single seats with private compartments for rest and privacy.
So Mu Chenxing answered casually.
Luo Chen connected and saw him yawn. His question veered off. “Tired from the games?”
Mu Chenxing: “Nah, not the games. Memorizing lessons has me drowsy.”
Luo Chen: “…”
“Why send me money? I try giving you living expenses and you refuse. Since when does a son pay his dad?”
Mu Chenxing: “It’s prize money. I’m loose with cash—hold it for me. I’ll hit you up when I’m broke.”
Luo Chen fretted. “I can save the prize money, but you’re a student. Even with pocket money, you need living expenses… %￥#%￥&…”
Mu Chenxing had heard this lecture before. His head throbbed at the opener; he pivoted quick. “Dad, settling into the new school okay? Made new friends?”
Luo Chen knew he was dodging, frowned. “I’ll buy you stuff later.” Then, “What kinda talk is that? I’m not a kindergartener. It’s just work—who needs friends?”
“Friends make work more fun.”
Luo Chen: “Your twisted logic… Oh, right.” He lowered his voice. “That guy of yours—busy lately?”
That guy? On the flight vehicle, scared others might hear? Mu Chenxing chuckled wryly. “Busy, yeah. What’s up?”
Luo Chen whispered even softer. “Heard Admiral Wu from Northwest Military District died in battle. Sigh, good he transferred back last year, or… Even a veteran like Admiral Wu couldn’t hold. No telling how many’ll die this time.”
Mu Chenxing paused. “How’d you hear?”
Luo Chen: “Alliance just issued the obituary.”
Mu Chenxing relaxed inwardly.
An obituary meant the border situation had stabilized.
He thought, then said, “War’s brutal… But trust the Alliance military. Years of progress against Star Beasts—this was probably a fluke.”
“Mm.” Luo Chen eyed him, hesitated two seconds, whispered, “His job’s too risky. Maybe you should…”
Mu Chenxing met his gaze.
Luo Chen trailed off.
Mu Chenxing softly: “Dad, I’m a Military Academy student too.”
Luo Chen pursed his lips. “That’s different. You’re med, Nursing Major—even if frontline, it’s rear hospitals treating wounded.”
Mu Chenxing fell silent.
Luo Chen tensed, thinking him upset. “Just worried. Up to you—if you like him, I won’t object… Just scared if you have kids later and something happens to him, what’ll you do?”
Mu Chenxing: “…I’m a freshman, and you’re already at grandkids?”
Luo Chen coughed awkwardly.
Mu Chenxing sighed helplessly. “We’ll deal with the future when it comes. Don’t preempt anxiety over hypotheticals—it’s pointless.”
“…Oh.” Luo Chen wilted, schooled by his son. “Got it.”
Mu Chenxing pondered. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. If you’re free, come stay a couple days.”
Luo Chen’s eyes lit up. “You’re free? Great, booking a flight and hotel now.”
“Just the flight. Skip the hotel.”
Luo Chen: “?”
Mu Chenxing: “Pei—that guy transferred the house to me. We’ll stay there.”
Luo Chen: “…Transferred?”
Mu Chenxing: “Yeah, got the deed email a few days ago.”
Back then, grinding extra for games while he went radio silent, MIA… That email just pissed me off more. Didn’t even wanna look.
He fake-smiled. “So relax. If he dies early, I inherit a fortune. No worries.”
Luo Chen: “…”
Amid Luo Chen’s shocked, complicated expression, Mu Chenxing hung up. The more he thought, the angrier—opened that guy’s chat, typed: Hang in there a few more years. Don’t die so soon.
The guy who’d vanished half a month suddenly replied: ?
Mu Chenxing bolted upright: You done with work??
Pei Yao: What do you mean by “don’t die so quickly”? Is little star worried about me? [snake wriggling.gif]
Pei Yao: Just thinking of little star washing his face with tears every day out of worry for me makes my heart ache so much I can’t breathe. [burly man clutching his heart.jpg]
Pei Yao: Mwah! [hugging and kissing wildly.gif]
Mu Chenxing: …
Good. Looks like he’s not dying after all.
Mu Chenxing gnashed his teeth as he typed: Of course I’m worried.
He sent another: You can casually gift a whole house, so you’re clearly loaded.
And continued: You have to live until I reach legal marriage age. You can die after we get married—then all your money will be mine.
Pei Yao: !!
Pei Yao: Oh my god! Baby, you’re actually proposing to me!
Pei Yao: [thunderstruck shock.jpg] How can an Omega be the one doing this!?
Pei Yao: I get it.
Pei Yao: Even though you haven’t come of age yet! I’m willing to take the risk for you, plunge into the abyss of crime! I’ll prepare a grand proposal ceremony for you right away!!
Mu Chenxing: …
The biggest drawback of a long-distance relationship rears its head—can’t beat his ass, frustrating as hell.
