Mu Chenxing could guess even with the soles of his feet what the internet would be cursing about.
He wasn’t afraid of getting scolded, but this wave was being dragged down by a pig teammate.
The matches he’d fought before—especially the planetary events—were probably going to be dug up and cursed at.
Fu Yuefeng followed behind him, still chattering nonstop: “Don’t tattle on me, okay? I didn’t forfeit the match; I just wanted you to rest a bit more. Even if you tattle, I’d be in the right.”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
He turned around and said, “Enough. Whatever you have to say, save it for later—I’m not tattling, and you don’t need me to, right?” He pointed overhead. “They’re all watching.”
Fu Yuefeng: “…”
He finally shut up.
They returned to the seating area, where the others hadn’t finished competing yet. The two sat down naturally side by side.
Because of the cameras, they didn’t speak, just stared at the arena.
“Hiss, that Old Xu!” Fu Yuefeng spotted a certain match area and slapped his knee in anxiety.
Mu Chenxing turned his head: “What’s wrong with him?”
Fu Yuefeng pointed below: “C69 zone. Old Xu’s opponent is a power type, and he’s charging head-on!”
Mu Chenxing watched for a few seconds and said, “Speed isn’t Old Xu’s strong suit. This wave is pretty dangerous for him.”
Fu Yuefeng: “I know it’s not, but he could do this and that—”
He gestured poses from his seat. “This way he can deflect the force. You’re the best at this; how come he hasn’t learned a thing.”
Mu Chenxing: “He knows how, but he’s not proficient. He probably hasn’t reacted yet—alright.”
Fu Yuefeng slapped his leg: “Finally reacted. This wave is steady now; only twenty-some seconds left.”
Just seconds before the end, the classmate on the field finally dragged his opponent out of the match zone grid.
Mu Chenxing and Fu Yuefeng both pumped their fists: “Yes!”
Then they turned in sync for a fist bump.
They stood up together to welcome the returning teammates one after another.
In the livestream chat.
Amid a barrage of endless disdain and complaints, different voices began to emerge.
“Hmm, is it my imagination?”
“These two have real chemistry.”
“They look like they get along great.”
“An Alpha and Omega looking so close means…”
“Regardless of whether Mu Chenxing is likable or not, I’m shipping this CP first.”
“Me too…”
“As long as Mu Chenxing isn’t fighting, he actually looks pretty good.”
…
Another match ended, and the competing students had a 20-minute break. The leaders on the rostrum also took a rest.
After Chief Judge Pei Yao returned from handling a sudden medical issue for an Omega contestant, someone curiously asked about Mu Chenxing’s injury.
Pei Yao gave a brief summary and explained what a minor rib fracture entailed—like it would hurt a lot, breathing and moving would hurt, but in daily life it wasn’t serious, though it would affect competition.
The leaders all expressed regret.
Pei Yao’s tone was light, a smile on his face. A few event leaders who’d dealt with him before chatted him up on a topic.
“The Admiral cares so much about that Omega; worried he can’t compete?”
Pei Yao smiled back: “This is, after all, the Alliance’s first Omega to enter the University Arena Competition and reach the finals. Even if his matches end here, his achievement is irreplaceable.”
One leader chuckled: “True, what Mu Chenxing’s done is unprecedented.”
Another leader: “It’s already a breakthrough achievement. Might as well advise him not to compete? Fighting injured is meaningless anyway.”
Pei Yao glanced at him, smile unchanged: “If he thinks it’s fine, I respect his choice. But if he can continue and luckily achieve even higher, I believe everyone would be delighted to see it.”
The leaders thought to themselves: Not necessarily.
Just then, the prompt for the next match’s entrants rang out, and everyone hurriedly shifted the topic to the competition.
“Everyone’s full of energy; hope they stay that way in a few days.”
“Haha, you’re just waiting for the laughs.”
“Definitely. Back when we competed, everyone was half-dead by the last two days.”
Someone flattered: “The Admiral’s probably the exception. With his strength, he could go another ten days without tiring.”
Pei Yao smiled calmly: “Minister Hao’s too modest. When you took the championship back then, you weren’t tired at all.”
Everyone burst into laughter; the atmosphere was extremely harmonious.
“Hey? Look at that Mu Chenxing!”
“This is… forfeiting?”
“…Not against the rules; nothing says you can’t forfeit.”
“Tch, ever since an Omega joined, I knew this day would come.”
“Cough, watch your words. If the livestream catches it, we’re in trouble.”
“No worries, the cameras are all on the arena—”
“Shut it.”
The leader who’d been griping shivered and clammed up.
The pressure from high-level Pheromones made one’s heart race in fear.
The leaders didn’t dare breathe, exchanging glances where he couldn’t see: What’s going on?
…
On the first day with his rib injury—minus the one match Fu Yuefeng forfeited—Mu Chenxing fought 12 more.
He won all 12 in a row.
12 wins while injured.
Even the leaders on the judges’ panel, caught on camera, looked grave.
The skepticism vanished from the livestream barrage.
But polarized views emerged.
One side, mainly Alphas and Betas, went wild with complaints, disdain, and sarcasm.
The other side, young Omegas from various universities—started speaking up for Mu Chenxing.
“His rib’s broken and he’s still persisting; what right do you have to call him not gentle enough?”
“He’s here to compete, not to strut for you Alphas and Betas!!”
“Effort isn’t wrong!”
“He did nothing wrong; why are you cursing him?!”
…
Mu Chenxing had no idea. At the end of the first day, he found the arena medics to spray medicine before rejoining the team and leaving the venue with everyone.
Zhang Yunli was already pacing anxiously. Spotting him, he immediately wanted to drag him for a checkup.
Mu Chenxing tried to refuse, but Fu Mingyuan arrived with three event staffers, two medics they’d met earlier, and three reporters with gear and press badges.
In other words, his treatment would all be within regulations.
Mu Chenxing had no choice but to go with them.
During the checkup, Zhang Yunli kept a Holo-Screen video call open with Luo Chen to reassure him.
Fortunately, the results weren’t bad. Despite 12 straight matches, it was about the same as morning—no worsening.
But because he’d been competing nonstop, even with several sprays, there was no recovery.
Mu Chenxing let out a huge sigh of relief: “I already sprayed earlier. Tonight I can recover properly; tomorrow it’ll be easier.”
He was dead set on continuing.
The others just felt helpless. Luo Chen and Zhang Yunli were heartbroken; both had red-rimmed eyes even across the network.
Mu Chenxing was at a loss: “Don’t do this. I’m just here to compete, not to risk my life. I’d only continue if I knew I could handle it.”
Zhang Yunli gently hugged him: “We know, we just feel bad for you.”
Luo Chen said softly over the video: “I know you have it figured out. I’m not advising against it; I just hope you’re safe and healthy.”
Mu Chenxing obediently replied: “I’ll be careful. If there’s a problem, I’ll withdraw.”
Only then did the two relax.
The group escorted him back to the hotel. Fu Mingyuan sent off the staff, and Zhang Yunli kept the interstellar video call going, staying in Mu Chenxing’s room. He even ordered food while Mu Chenxing showered.
Then they watched him eat before urging early rest. Zhang Yunli finally ended the call and left.
Mu Chenxing sighed helplessly, lifted the covers, got into bed, and turned off the light.
A faint click.
“Who?!” He sat up instantly.
A figure pushed aside the curtains and flipped in: “Me.”
A cool, refreshing aura swept in at the same time.
Mu Chenxing: “…”
He instantly relaxed.
Startled in the dead of night, old and new grudges surged. He couldn’t help snarking, “Admiral Pei graces us with his presence; should I fire off cannons and play fanfare—”
His nape was cradled, mouth blocked.
Mu Chenxing: “…”
The man was like he’d starved for decades, pinning him down and devouring fiercely. His palm on the nape wasn’t enough; he wrapped an arm around Mu Chenxing’s lower back, pulling him flush into his embrace—
Mu Chenxing flinched.
Pei Yao immediately pulled back, voice slightly hoarse: “Sorry, lost control.”
Mu Chenxing caught his breath twice and shoved him: “What are you doing here?”
Pei Yao paused, then asked: “I remember I’m still your boyfriend. We haven’t broken up.”
In the darkness, his voice carried a gritted-teeth edge.
Mu Chenxing: “Heh, I thought you’d forgotten. Or rather, I thought I had no boyfriend.”
Pei Yao: “…What do you mean? So you’re getting that close to that kid? Want to switch?”
Mu Chenxing: “…Who?”
Pei Yao: “Fu Yuefeng, Mecha Department student, 23 years old, from Linghai Star in the Central Star System, father—”
“Why are you investigating him?” Mu Chenxing cut him off.
“Someone called him the model Alpha partner; shouldn’t I check?” Pei Yao sneered. “Forfeiting in the All-Alliance University Joint Competition, flirting on the Alliance-wide livestream no less—who knows what you’re doing behind closed doors—”
A dull thud.
His abdomen took a punch.
Mu Chenxing: “First, if you’ve investigated Fu Yuefeng, you should know his boyfriend is someone else. Second, my friend forfeited out of consideration for me, unlike some people who only offer empty words—forget it, I don’t want to argue now. Leave; don’t mess up my match tomorrow.”
Pei Yao: “?”
He grabbed his hand. “When did I ever brush you off? I was patrolling the Border; whenever I could connect, I contacted you! When did I brush you off?”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
Fine, his manner of speaking could wait.
“Then you come to Changhong Star as a judge and can’t tell me, contact me, or set a time to meet?”
Pei Yao: “…Baby, though the matches use Intelligent Brain scoring and monitoring, I’m an Admiral. If I wanted someone to tweak the AI parameters, I could alter results.”
“So, the instant the venue was set, for someone like me likely on the judges’ panel, my comms get taken over and monitored first—even my guards’. Any contact with you means every process gets reviewed. Too much hassle.”
“Plus, this place had a major incident three years ago. I never expected the event here. I was notified mid-patrol; how was I supposed to tell you?”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
Guilty.
Who cared about such trivial details—wait.
Remembering something, he toughened up: “You contacted me a few days ago!”
Pei Yao gritted out: “I went through hell intercepting a few minutes to talk to you, and you’re posting Douyin pics cuddling someone! I was about to explode!”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
Silence.
Awkward silence.
Pei Yao realized.
He exhaled softly: “Forget it. You’re always missing a screw.”
In the dark, he felt for Mu Chenxing’s chin, pinched it, leaned down for a kiss, and murmured, “Seriously, three years later and you’re still this dumb—”
He took another gut punch.
Mu Chenxing ground his teeth: “Then what are you doing here now? Not afraid of monitoring?”
Pei Yao: “Fuck! If I don’t come, my wife’s gonna run off!”
Mu Chenxing flared: “You— who the hell is your wife?!”
Even as an Omega, he was a man!
—His itching fist was caught. The man pried open his fingers in the dark, something cool sliding over them—his ring finger.
He: “…What are you doing?”
Pei Yao irritably: “Proposing! So my wife doesn’t run!”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
He came loaded with grievances ready to fight, and it veered here?!
He blanked for a bit, then said dryly, “Whose proposal ring goes on the middle finger?”
Pei Yao: “?”
He pinched his cheek. “Baby, the middle finger plays a major role in sexual intercourse. For thousands of years, it’s symbolized marriage!! I may not have married, but I have common sense!! Or are you shy?”
…Major role in sexual intercourse? Why—fuck! Men with men aren’t—
Mu Chenxing was struck silent by this reasoning.
A star-spanning Alliance with thousands of years of history, and it still lacked the depth of his homeworld’s flower-growing culture?! Even wearing a ring carried sexual implications?! Was that even reasonable?!
Vulgar. Too vulgar!!
Pei Yao: “Since you have nothing else to say, that means you’re agreeing—”
“No, I haven’t graduated yet!!” Mu Chenxing struggled.
“Doesn’t matter, you’re 22 already. Marriage might be a bit early, but getting engaged is fine!”
Mu Chenxing: “…Isn’t this pace a little too fast?”
Pei Yao clicked his tongue: “You followed me at 18, so of course I have to take responsibility as soon as possible!”
Mu Chenxing: In that light, it does seem that way…
Pei Yao pondered: “Or do you want a grand proposal ceremony? That might be tricky. I only scheduled eight days for this trip. I have to leave the night the matches end, and the next holiday won’t come until my patrol wraps up—”
“That’s enough.” Mu Chenxing covered his mouth. “Just like this. I’m not interested in making a big fuss.”
Pei Yao: “Heh heh.”
He kissed the palm of Mu Chenxing’s hand and chuckled muffledly, “Wife.”
Mu Chenxing shivered: “Don’t call me that!”
Even after more than three years as an Omega, he still couldn’t get used to this gender misalignment.
To prevent Pei Yao from quibbling endlessly, he turned to switch on the light. “Let me take a look at the ring first—”
“Don’t turn it on!” Pei Yao pinned him down. “The whole Alliance is watching you, this Omega. The hotel is swarming with reporters. If you turn on the light, I’ll be in danger. What if it affects your matches?”
Mu Chenxing: “…Then why’d you even come— Never mind, I get it.”
He changed the subject. “You think I can take the championship? Afraid of others getting the wrong idea?”
Pei Yao: “No S+ grade Alphas this year. The top contender who hurt you lost to you anyway. The rest of the promising ones—you should handle them fine based on your afternoon performance. Champion—well, at least top three.”
He felt along Mu Chenxing’s injured side through his sleepshirt. “If you weren’t hurt, it’d be a sure bet.”
Mu Chenxing had already anticipated as much, but hearing the confirmation from the overwhelmingly powerful Pei Yao still thrilled him. “No worries. A medal’s enough to satisfy me.”
He could build speed and strength through training, improving his Omega fragility quite a bit, but innate constitution—especially bones—was something he just couldn’t overcome.
Pei Yao: “…”
“…”
“…”
Mu Chenxing grew annoyed and shoved him. “Why aren’t you talking? Do you look down on me for lacking championship ambition?”
Pei Yao looked heartbroken: “Baby!! Shouldn’t you be thrilled about the proposal instead?! Why are you still fixated on the matches?!”
Mu Chenxing: “…”
Because it doesn’t feel real at all.
…His excessive coolness forced him to kiss the man for nearly half an hour before he finally soothed the guy.
Worried about disturbing his rest, Pei Yao prepared to leave. Before going, he even reminded him: “Keep the ring safe. No jewelry allowed in matches.”
“I’m not an idiot!”
Pei Yao fretted: “You’re an idiot in some ways— Fine, fine, I’m going. Right now.”
Then the man slipped out the window.
He didn’t even dare lift the curtain too high, squeezing through a narrow gap sideways.
Mu Chenxing peeked through the gap after him, but the figure was already gone. He only saw the window pulled shut by some invisible force.
Pei Yao’s voice came faintly: “Baby, go to sleep. I’m off.”
“…Be safe.” This was the 28th floor, after all.
“Got it.”
Silence returned, leaving only a faint, cool scent lingering around him.
And the ring on his right middle finger.
Mu Chenxing returned to bed and activated the holo-screen on his wristband. In its dim glow, he examined the ring.
A silver-white band of irregular curves, inlaid with a circle of rice-grain-sized crystals. The setting was an enlarged version of the same crystal, about the size of a baby’s fingernail.
The crystals appeared ink-blue, sparkling clear under the light, with flecks of gold shimmering inside. On closer inspection, those flecks seemed to move.
Curious, Mu Chenxing shook the ring. The gold flecks flowed like a galaxy—
He froze.
He slipped the ring back on and raised his hand.
—Even in the low light, it was stunning.
Unable to suppress a smile, Mu Chenxing turned off the holo-screen, cupped his ringed hand, closed his eyes, and willed himself to sleep. Matches first. Deal with this after.
He slept soundly through the night.
When he woke, the pain in his ribs had eased considerably.
Star-era bone meds were highly effective, even without hormone-based boosters.
Mu Chenxing carefully stowed the ring, hummed a tune as he headed out, and joined the others for breakfast.
