Chapter 97

Li Jun might have been on the verge of a breakdown, but Mu Chenxing didn’t care. After washing up, he plopped down casually and opened his military handbook to kill time.

As eight o’clock approached, everyone started getting up one by one.

Mu Chenxing finally put away his holo-screen.

At eight-ten, the group set off running again, squeezing in some fasting cardio before breakfast.

Tong Xiao and the others led the pack as usual, with Mu Chenxing bringing up the rear.

After passing two cabin districts, they entered the territory of “those Alphas,” and Mu Chenxing paid extra attention.

They were running early today, and the ship’s passengers’ schedules were starting to overlap chaotically. Plenty of capsule cabin doors remained shut, but the ones who were up… were watching those Alphas gamble.

Yes, those Alphas had started gambling bright and early. Their shouts echoed from far away.

Before setting out, Mu Chenxing had pondered how to fish for info, but no one paid them any mind. Over a hundred runners thundered past, and the Alphas didn’t even lift their heads, still hollering “Pung!” and “Win!”

Each one had their head and body plastered with strips of paper.

…Paper strips? Mu Chenxing mulled it over, matching his sluggish jogging pace to open his holo-screen and message Qiao Da: Big Bro Qiao, we’re just students—not into anything too wild. If you’re playing among yourselves, you could up the stakes.

Mu Chenxing didn’t bother shoving through. He messaged Qiao Da: Here.

“…I’ve got a concealed meld—concealed meld means one less strip!”

“But you discarded and let me win! Your fault entirely!”

“Doesn’t count, doesn’t count—I hadn’t drawn yet. If I had, I wouldn’t have played that card—hey! Little Omega’s here!”

The next second, Qiao Da popped out, head festooned with paper strips. He glanced around and waved Mu Chenxing over: “Come on, over here!”

The onlookers and players all turned to stare.

Tong Xiao and the others tensed up a bit.

Mu Chenxing feigned hesitation: “You guys play so intensely… If money’s involved, wouldn’t that be…”

Qiao Da: “No worries, no worries. Us brothers just love hollering for fun—nothing intense.”

The other Alphas chimed in:

“No intensity here, we just got big voices.”

“These paper strips are a hassle—takes forever to cut enough for two hands!”

“Money makes it thrilling, otherwise it’s no fun!”

Qiao Da: “Come on, teach us.” He nudged one Alpha. “Make some room!”

“Sure thing!”

Mu Chenxing didn’t stand on ceremony. He calmly squeezed in and sat cross-legged under the gaze of Alphas and passerby Betas.

Shen Mingshu dragged Tong Xiao and Chu Yuan in, standing firmly behind him to block others out.

Mu Chenxing flashed them a smile, then turned back, taking the cards from the neighboring Alpha. He shuffled while explaining the basics.

After shuffling, he said: “Roughly like that. Don’t sweat if it’s unclear—we’ll figure it out after a couple rounds.”

The Alphas nodded.

Mu Chenxing: “But no real money. I’m just a poor student. We’ll count points for demo purposes.”

“Sure, sure, no problem.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t fleece a student’s pocket money.”

Only then did Mu Chenxing deal.

The paper cards weren’t as hefty as Mahjong tiles, roughly stacked into four piles. Everyone reached to draw per Mahjong rules.

“With card games, there’s casual scoring and formal scoring. Casual is simple: win a hand for one or two points, no melds or suits—just chill. No need to elaborate.”

“For formal, we’ll use 123 scoring: one point per meld, one per suit…”

…

They played and calculated via various hands for four or five rounds, covering the basics. Then he explained banker bonuses.

“…You can also have bystanders buy horse bets for extras. Buy horse is drawing random from the deck, starting count from the current banker. Say you draw Five Bamboo—from this hand’s banker, circle around: fifth is back to banker. So if banker wins this hand, bettor wins too. If banker loses, bettor loses…”

Qiao Da asked: “How much?”

Mu Chenxing: “Tied to the pot. Winner’s 30? Bettor gets 30. Loser pays double.”

Qiao Da: “What if I buy multiple?”

“Any number you want.” Mu Chenxing smiled. “But we’re playing for fun. I suggest max four—more than that, even at 123, swings get wild. Win or lose, it’ll strain friendships regardless of money.”

An Alpha asked: “Just 123—how big can it get?”

Mu Chenxing: “All Pairs is manageable, but Thirteen Orphans with four or five bets? One hand could hit hundreds. All night? Thousands up or down. Too steep.”

“Nah, we’ve played forever—no one’s hit Thirteen Orphans. Not that easy.”

Mu Chenxing still fretted: “Thirteen Orphans is rare, but All Pairs happens. Stick to 123 casual, whatever you do—don’t go 246 or 555. Even Chicken Win hurts at those rates.”

The Alphas:

“Don’t sweat it!”

“Nah, no worries—bros got cash!”

“Money? Just a wave of the hand.”

Onlooker Betas shot envious looks.

These Alphas looked high-spec physique-wise; they could top any industry easy. Cashflow? No issue.

Mu Chenxing set down his cards. “Rules in a nutshell. Questions? Big Bro Qiao can thwack me.”

Qiao Da: “Oh—you guys get it?”

“Got it, got it.”

“Simple math—nothing to it.”

“All clear! Deal ’em up!”

Qiao Da relaxed: “Thanks, little buddy! We’ll test it now!” He eagerly gathered the cards, then leaned to Mu Chenxing: “Don’t worry—we’ll play till two! Cards back safe.”

Mu Chenxing nodded and left with Tong Xiao and the others.

On the way back, Shen Mingshu murmured: “Why teach them all that?”

Mu Chenxing calmly: “Just a little game—what’s teaching?”

Shen Mingshu muttered: “Feels like a trap.”

Mu Chenxing said nothing.

A few steps later, entering 1-11 cabin range—no more clustered Alphas in sight—he spoke: “Three things in the world you absolutely can’t touch.”

Shen Mingshu and the others looked at him.

“Sex, drugs,” Mu Chenxing smiled, “and gambling.”

Alliance history had opium-war-like tragedies, nations ruined by lust culture—but with abundant cosmic resources, those primitive-planet eras felt trivial in millennia of interstellar time. Folks grasped the concepts dimly, at best.

Gambling, though…

Shen Mingshu: “Gambling? Worst case, lose some cash—broke and done. What else?”

Tong Xiao: “Might drag family down.”

Chu Yuan: “But everyone’s on the ship—no family harm.”

Mu Chenxing: “Just wait and see.”

Shen Mingshu and the others exchanged glances.

Back at the cabin district, folks chatted in clusters, a few networked into games—bored out of their skulls.

Mu Chenxing pulled all squad captains and vice-captains into a group and laid out instructions.

Aside from Shen Mingshu’s trio, the rest were baffled, but years of rapport kept them from prying—they just relayed to their squads.

Midway, Mu Chenxing excused himself to the bathroom and vanished solo for ages. Tong Xiao and crew itched to search, but he stopped them in the group, forbidding alerting Li Jun’s bunch.

When Mu Chenxing returned, Tong Xiao’s three pummeled him—careful not to yell, lest panic spread. (Mu Chenxing pulled stunts daily; everyone was used to “ganging up,” even cheering it on.)

Thus, under Tong Xiao’s trio’s death glares, Mu Chenxing grinned cheekily and talked his way out. Naturally, no details on his errand.

Tong Xiao’s lot had no recourse but to babysit—even bathroom runs.

Mu Chenxing found it helpless yet amusing, and stayed put.

Noon, the big group lunched together. Back, Mu Chenxing considerately urged naps.

Tong Xiao eyed the clock—nearly one. Nap now, wake at two. He fretted: “Anything else to do?”

Mu Chenxing puzzled: “What’re we supposed to do?”

Tong Xiao jabbed his waist, hissing: “Two o’clock! Two!”

Mu Chenxing innocent: “What’s that got to do with us?”

Tong Xiao: “What about them? Just a handful.”

Mu Chenxing: “They won’t die.”

Tong Xiao gritted teeth, yanking Shen Mingshu: “You—get answers!”

Prodded in the back, Shen Mingshu coughed lightly: “I’m not rushed. It’s dangerous anyway—normal.”

He patted Tong Xiao: “Chill. I got family back home—I can handle my folks.”

Tong Xiao: “…”

He yanked free and stormed off.

Shen Mingshu hugged him: “Big Bro Tong, nothing to say?”

Tong Xiao, icy: “Nap time.”

Shen Mingshu: “Nooo—you ditching my bro?! He’s so pitiful!”

Tong Xiao: “None of my business.”

Shen Mingshu: “Then why so tense earlier?”

Tong Xiao: “…That was for everyone!”

Shen Mingshu: “Oh~”

Mu Chenxing: “Oh~”

Tong Xiao, furious, chased them fists flying. Three ahead, one trailing peacekeeper Chu Yuan—they lapped the cabin district before quitting.

Mu Chenxing laughed till tears streamed, shoving him into a capsule cabin: “Nap. Might be up late tonight.”

Ship docked at Henghe Star for nine hours—2:30 port arrival, late-night departure. No rest, and they’d crash.

Tong Xiao glanced at still-giggling Shen Mingshu outside, hesitating: “Really no trouble?”

Mu Chenxing sobered, voice low but steady: “He’s logistics medical. If he needs frontline, things are already dire.”

Tong Xiao paled.

“But,” Mu Chenxing eyed him, whispering, “if his team—knowing all this—still needs a medic up front, then danger or not this time, future risks won’t shrink. One safe run doesn’t guarantee tomorrow.”

Tong Xiao: “…I get it.”

“Xiaoxiao, we’re soldiers now.”

Tong Xiao met his gaze.

“Danger’s always lurking. We can’t do much.” Mu Chenxing ruffled his hair. “Charge brave ahead, cherish who’s here.”

So he hooked up with Pei Yao at 18.

He’d seen too many partings—he wouldn’t let love become regret.

“You’re too smart, so when you do things, you like to consider all the consequences, weigh the pros and cons, and hesitate before acting. But life doesn’t have that many things worth fretting over. Choose what you value. Believe that your choice is the best one right now.”

Tong Xiao lowered his gaze and said nothing.

Mu Chenxing patted his shoulder. “Ponder it later. Sleep now—there’s plenty to do after you wake up.”

Tong Xiao let out a soft “mm,” watching as he exited the Capsule Cabin.

Mu Chenxing shoved the still giggling Shen Mingshu back into his Capsule Cabin, then herded the rowdy kids one by one into theirs. Only then did he lean against the wall at the entrance to Cabin District 29 and close his eyes to rest.

An hour slipped by in a flash.

The two o’clock alarm blared. Mu Chenxing opened his eyes and roused each squad captain in turn.

“No need to rush—just get up and go for a run to wake everyone up,” he said.

Tong Xiao and the others nodded, slapping their cheeks and taking deep breaths before fanning out to call their teams.

Mu Chenxing stayed posted at the cabin mouth, checking messages as he waited.

2:17 p.m.

Over a hundred people stirred to life, hitting the bathrooms, packing up, grabbing water, and chatting away. The place buzzed with energy. Qiao Da—who was supposed to show at two—finally came hustling over, clutching a bag of decks.

“Aiya, lost track of time.” Qiao Da wiped the sweat from his brow as he jogged up. “Kid, here’s your twenty decks back. And the cash—I’ll scan and send it over.”

Mu Chenxing flashed a smile and called out, “Brother Qiao.” He added, “We said it was a loan for half a day. Why bring up money?”

“That won’t do—you lot have been cooped up forever—”

“Out here on the road, those we meet are friends. Brother Qiao, mentioning money just makes things distant!”

Qiao Da paused, then barked a “haha!” twice. “Alright, for calling me a friend like that, I’ll have your back from here on out—Qiao Da guarantees it!”

Mu Chenxing replied, “Thanks, Brother Qiao.”

Qiao Da checked the time, words tumbling out fast. “Catch you later—gotta bounce.”

“See you around.”

Qiao Da turned and bolted.

His figure vanished at the corridor’s end.

Mu Chenxing glanced at the time too. 2:19 p.m.

Under the tense stares of Tong Xiao and the others, he calmly crossed his legs on the floor, pulled up his Holo-Screen, and dove into a match-3 puzzle.

Tong Xiao and crew: “…”

After Mu Chenxing finished a few rounds, the broadcast finally chimed in—

“Dear passengers, we are approaching Henghe Star Port. Docking time: nine hours. Passengers preparing to disembark, please get ready. Those planning to tour the port or shop, mind the time and boarding announcements…”

It repeated three times.

Mu Chenxing listened through the broadcast, calmly closed his game, and opened the all-group chat. “Everyone, pack your personal items into your luggage, lock ’em in the cabins. We’re heading to the port for a stroll—pick up some local specialties.”

The crowd: “!”

Cheers erupted.

Even the Betas got hyped.

Locked on the ship for two days, anyone would want to stretch their legs.

Everyone swiftly packed their bags and fell in behind their squad captains and vice-captains. Mingling with the disembarking tourists, they shuffled out over the gangway and stepped onto the massive Henghe Star Port.

The orbital spaceport—built beyond the atmosphere—was sealed on all four sides. Standing on the platform, metal frameworks and conveyor belts crisscrossed in front of them and overhead.

Countless robotic arms whirred back and forth, pulling cargo from the docked ships’ bays and loading it onto the belts.

Mu Chenxing had seen port operations like this before, but this time he studied it intently—even snapping a few photos with his wristband.

Tong Xiao sidled up, whispering, “This is the unloading zone. Loading’s gotta be at the other end.”

Ships handled unload and load at both ends for max efficiency.

Mu Chenxing murmured, “Mm, I know.”

He zoomed in on the photos, a smile tugging at his lips. “Pretty good.”

Tong Xiao blinked, puzzled. “What’s pretty good?”

Mu Chenxing replied, “Fully automated gear. Not a single person in sight.”

No people means room for plenty more.