The flight vehicle suddenly fell quiet.
The lighting was dim, perfect for rest.
But Mu Chenxing, tumbling this way and that, felt like something was staring at him, every hair on his body standing on end.
With a mix of embarrassment and anger, he growled lowly, “Cut the nonsense and just teach me how to stabilize!”
Pei Yao chuckled softly. “I told you, this is a bed.”
Mu Chenxing rolled another loop, dizzy and disoriented. “And then?”
Pei Yao sighed helplessly. “Baby, a bed is for sleeping. Why do you keep climbing up?”
Mu Chenxing: “…Lie down?”
“Of course.”
Mu Chenxing stole a glance at him, then tried to relax his body in his all-twisted-up position.
“…Don’t fear the force. Lie back, don’t tense up—let your body weight balance you.”
Mu Chenxing closed his eyes, imagining himself on a waterbed, stretching out his limbs—
A warm updraft surged and rolled, steadily cradling him.
He opened his eyes in surprise. “I got it!”
Pei Yao praised, “Not bad.”
Once he confirmed he was rising and falling rhythmically with the airflow without rolling, Mu Chenxing started mimicking swimming strokes, paddling his arms and legs.
One stroke sent him drifting to the edge, only for the airflow to swirl him back.
He was thrilled and began paddling back and forth, left and right.
The airflow field, once so hard to tame, now felt like a swimming pool for him to frolic in.
Pei Yao chuckled lowly. “Baby’s so smart.”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
He was too lazy to care about the ridiculous pet names anymore. Excited, he swam back and forth in the air cushion.
After playing to his heart’s content, he finally remembered the serious matter at hand. He turned to Pei Yao. “And then? Just sleep like this to adapt?”
“Yeah.”
In the dim yellow light, Mu Chenxing couldn’t make out Pei Yao’s expression.
He eyed him twice, a chill creeping up his spine. He quickly lay flat, obediently bobbing with the airflow, and muttered, “So I’ve gotta sleep like this for days?”
“For the whole winter break, for now.”
Mu Chenxing: “?”
He had applied for on-campus housing for the winter break due to training—two weeks in the Command College dorms, then back to his regular one… but the whole winter break here?
He couldn’t help turning again. “Don’t you have stuff to do?”
Pei Yao: “Nothing much lately—I already entered your info into the flight vehicle’s system. You can come and go as you please, except you can’t pilot it. I’ve stocked food and water. No shower, but all the basics are here. If I’m tied up, just rest here yourself.”
“…Oh.” So the flight vehicle was his dorm now.
Pei Yao: “Sleep.”
Mu Chenxing turned his head to look at him. “What about you? Where do you sleep?”
Pei Yao raised a brow and smiled. “Want your boyfriend to hold you while you sleep? Can’t do that—I’m a man of morals.”
“…Get serious.” Mu Chenxing was speechless. “How am I supposed to sleep with you staring?”
Pei Yao: “You’ll get used to it.”
Mu Chenxing: “Come up here. Sleep with me.”
“…” Pei Yao paused for two seconds, then rubbed his forehead and laughed lowly. “My little boyfriend’s so eager—it gives me such a headache~”
Mu Chenxing: “What else? You gonna sit there all night? Just empty the garbage from your head—what’s stopping you from sleeping?”
Pei Yao patted the armrest. “You’re underestimating this pilot seat. It’s ergonomically perfect, super comfy—better than—”
In a flash, he darted out, leaving an afterimage in place.
“What are you doing?” Mu Chenxing’s tone sharpened a bit.
He’d flipped out of the airflow circle only to tumble into a warm embrace. Blinking, Mu Chenxing steadied himself on Pei Yao’s shoulder and peered down calmly. “Bro, it’s just a meter high.”
No way it’d kill him.
Pei Yao: “.”
He set him down.
“Why’d you come down?”
Mu Chenxing grabbed his arm instead. “You’re not planning to do anything anyway. Lie with me tonight—or let me sleep alone, go crash at a hotel or Principal Fu’s place. Can’t just sit there.”
Pei Yao: “…”
He ruffled Mu Chenxing’s hair, compromising. “I’ll sit one night. Was in a rush today—no time. Tomorrow I’ll add a sofa, okay?”
In other words, no getting on the airbed.
Mu Chenxing didn’t get it. “You’re in your thirties—aren’t you past that? Shouldn’t I be the impulsive one at my age?”
Pei Yao: “…”
He sighed dramatically at the ceiling. “This must be the consequence of suppressing my Heat Period for so long.”
Mu Chenxing: “…Fine, sit then.”
He let go of Pei Yao’s arm and turned to leap back into the air cushion. The instant his feet left the ground, an arm snaked around his waist—whoosh, and he was yanked into the man’s arms.
“What are you—mmph—”
Pei Yao pinned him down and kissed him senseless, leaving his lips and tongue swollen before shoving him away in a disheveled state and fleeing the flight vehicle. All he tossed back was, “I’ll be back later. Sleep first.”
Mu Chenxing was speechless.
He touched his sore, swollen mouth, then hopped into the warm airflow with good spirits, lying back contentedly to sleep.
In his haze, he sensed someone entering. Instinctively, he raised a hand—
Someone gently clasped it. A low, familiar voice soothed, “It’s me. Sleep.”
Warm heatwaves mingled with a cool aura, wrapping him and lulling him back to sleep.
…
Mu Chenxing woke to find himself in his new dorm bed, Xia Weizhen’s alarm just blaring.
For a moment, he wondered if last night had been a dream.
He squinted for a bit, then threw back the curtain and rolled out of bed.
“Huh? Xingxing, when’d you get back?” Xia Weizhen sounded surprised from the opposite bunk. “Didn’t you say you weren’t coming?”
Mu Chenxing: “…Came back early morning. Too early—didn’t wanna wake you guys.”
“Oh, got it.” Xia Weizhen yawned and staggered off to wash up.
Mu Chenxing exhaled in relief and opened his holo-screen.
No message from Pei Yao.
He sent: How’d you get into the dorm?
Pei Yao replied after a bit: Window was open.
Pei Yao: Dangerous to leave it open in this weather. I closed it for you—no need to thank me.
Mu Chenxing: …Not cool. Next time, let me handle it.
Pei Yao: Okay.
Mu Chenxing: Thanks.
Pei Yao: Then kiss me more tonight [pouty kiss.jpg]
Mu Chenxing: …
He closed the holo-screen, washed up, packed, and started the new day.
Maybe it was psychological, but after one night on the airbed, today’s zero-G training still turned his stomach—but he didn’t puke after two sessions.
They were just test trainees with low bars, so Yuan Hong eased up, letting him train with the main group.
—Of course, still with half-dose anti-nausea meds.
The zero-G threw off his edges in climbing, sprints, jumps…
Every event felt like stumbling like a drunk. Even medicated, he nearly hurled.
The other Omegas struggled too. They handled zero-G, but maintaining speed, power, and accuracy? Tough. Everyone gritted through practice.
Zero-G from dawn to dusk left everyone staggering all over by end-of-day, barely able to walk straight.
Mu Chenxing had it worse.
Not only training, but nightly—under roommates’ cover—he’d sneak out, get whisked by Pei Yao lurking in shadows to the flight vehicle for sleep, then back to the dorm come morning.
Carried and toted daily, he had zero complaints—daytime zero-G, nighttime airbed; he could barely walk. Without Pei Yao, he’d eat floor eighty times en route.
Roommates knew about the modded flight vehicle dorm. They just nagged: Not Heat Period yet—don’t get wild. Otherwise, chill—Mu Chenxing’s temperament meant worry more about the other guy getting beat.
Mu Chenxing sighed inwardly, pondering revealing Pei Yao’s identity—but freshman year? Nah.
School brass popped in occasionally for pep talks and chats with head coach Yuan Hong. Otherwise, venue and dorms stayed Omega-only.
The intense two-week bootcamp flew by.
Last day, 4:25 PM. Yuan Hong scanned the row of bright green lights on the zero-G gear and nodded with a smile. “Passed.”
“14 days, 12 events—all cleared. Congrats!”
The Omegas cheered.
Leaders, waiting eagerly, leaped up applauding.
Fu Mingyuan stepped forward, gesturing for quiet. In the Training Venue, to the Alliance’s first batch of test Omegas, he said, “Thanks for your cooperation. With this data, we can accelerate next year’s work. Your files stay confidential per regs, but scores drop post-holiday—keep an eye out. Ideas? Tell the school.”
Students blinked, confused.
A dean chuckled. “Means your scores rock. Eyeing a transfer? Watch for school policies.”
Omegas exchanged looks.
Fu Mingyuan glanced at calm Mu Chenxing. “Not just majors—med students with soldier grit hugely support the Border forces. You’re freshmen; three and a half years to learn more… I look forward to your futures.”
Amid leaders’, teachers’, and Omegas’ excitement, training wrapped.
Fu Mingyuan added, “Your scores shone brightest—we saved on projected med costs. We’ve decided: use it for return ship tickets.”
Omegas whooped, yelling “Principal forever!” “Teachers rock!”
Mu Chenxing wasn’t heading home. He hesitated, raised a hand. “Teacher, my ticket—”
Tong Xiao yanked it down.
“You idiot?” Tong Xiao hissed. “Training means no home? Give it to your dad or father—family reunion for New Year.”
Mu Chenxing: “…Can it go reverse?”
Tong Xiao: “Ask and see.”
Maybe pitying the sole stay-behind Omega, Fu Mingyuan and co. nodded generously. Fill it out.
Mu Chenxing paused, then entered Luo Chen’s info.
Back at dorm packing, unified flight bookings hit their wristbands.
Mu Chenxing, no ticket, got nothing.
He paused packing, messaged Luo Chen: Free ship ticket from school event. Staying for winter training—no trip to Galaxy Star. Yours.
Message out, Luo Chen’s video call buzzed.
Mu Chenxing glanced at chattering, packing Tong Xiao and crew, stepped to balcony, shut door, answered.
“Chenxing!” Luo Chen looked grave. “Ship ticket—”
“As you see.” Mu Chenxing cut in. “School giveaway. Take it or sell for cash.”
Luo Chen: “…Nearly 3000 Alliance Coins free? Not a Mu family ticket you sold?”
Post-original-body drama, Mu Chenxing was patient with Luo Chen. “Blocked Mu Yifan—no contact, no ticket from him.”
Luo Chen’s face drained. “Mu Yifan said block all you want—money wired direct. He didn’t?”
Mu Chenxing confirmed: “Nope. Cut him off.”
Luo Chen seemed to tremble. “H-how’ve you survived these months? I-I sent 800 last time—was it not enough? Why didn’t you tell me?!”
Mu Chenxing frowned. “Don’t worry. Got money. School life’s cheap.”
Luo Chen paled ghostly. “I thought—I thought—two-week school camp nets ~3k ticket—what camp? Food, board, and 3k Alliance Coins?!”
Mu Chenxing sensed trouble. “Big school project—classified for now. We’re pioneers; rewards good. Legit.”
“Not shady, so dangerous?! You—” Luo Chen shook so hard the feed wobbled, face ashen. “Mu Yifan—he didn’t—”
The view jerked.
Thump.
Rusty old table corner and worn floor filled the screen.
Mu Chenxing: “!!!”
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