TL: Hua
It wasn’t. His rut was still a long way off.
The hot water in the shower poured down violently, washing away the thin layer of sweat and soaking his sanity until it grew soft. Steam clouded the mirror in a thick fog; Pei Yingye used a wet palm to wipe away a clear streak. Droplets meandered down, and the mirror reflected several fresh bruises on his neck, shoulders, and abdomen.
As he pressed his palm against the bruises, the slight stinging sensation caused his lips to curl up inexplicably. He even found himself reminiscing about the scene on the training grounds—the supple sensation of Ji Xuan’s knee pressing against him through a layer of fabric, the clean yet alluring scent brought by their mingled breaths, and those perpetually indifferent, cool eyes.
…He wanted him.
He had heard rumors that Ji Xuan wasn’t favored by the Ji family or Shen Que. Since they didn’t want him, why stop someone else from taking possession?
He haphazardly grabbed a towel to dry his body. Beneath the few fresh bruises were older marks that had faded over the years—sinuous scars resembling electrical burns. Pei Yingye didn’t remember where they came from himself; perhaps they were related to that accident before he entered the academy. He had no memory of that period.
Echo had already made his bed and thoughtfully placed several suppressants in the nightstand.
But Pei Yingye considered it unnecessary.
As he collapsed onto the bed, dreams came easily and swiftly.
The scene of the assessment was stretched and distorted, every minute touch magnified infinitely.
Ji Xuan’s knee pressed heavily into the hollow of his shoulder. Sweat slid down the elegant line of his neck, soaking stray strands of hair that clung messily to a collarbone so white it was dazzling—a state of disarray that was breathtakingly beautiful.
In the next instant, Ji Xuan leaned down. His raised hand bypassed that damned hair tie lying on the ground, and cool fingertips lightly touched the curve of Pei Yingye’s ear.
Warm breath brushed against the most sensitive patch of skin by his ear like an elusive breeze, mingled with Ji Xuan’s airy sighs and murmurs that sounded like both pain and pleasure.
He turned his head, looking on almost greedily, just in time to see a section of a tattoo revealed on that drooping wrist—a snake’s tongue, eerie and beautiful, slowly and deliberately licking a budding flower, as if to force those fragile petals to seep glistening nectar amidst their tremors.
Pei Yingye’s breathing suddenly grew heavy. His palms snapped shut, gripping that supple waist in the dream, wanting to flip the person over completely, but then he heard the other man give a soft laugh, and his remaining sanity surrendered entirely.
“It’s okay to get a little dirty.” Ji Xuan’s cool voice was stained husky with heat and a burning dampness. Those beautiful eyes looked at him with a half-smile, appearing as if shrouded in mist: “Anyway, I’ll have you help me…”
The tip of Ji Xuan’s tongue pressed very lightly against the roof of his mouth, like a suggestive invitation. However, those last three crucial words were blocked back by Pei Yingye’s burning palm, turning into a muffled whimper.
Even so, those unfulfilled, scorching desires had already spread like a prairie fire, racing and burning wildly through every inch of his blood.
Pei Yingye snapped awake.
The bedroom was deathly silent, save for the sound of his own heavy, burning breaths. The thin quilt had long since been kicked to the floor. His pajamas clung tightly to his sweat-drenched back, and his bangs were soaked through. His throat was as dry as if it had been scorched by fire.
His intense, aggressive Alpha pheromones had already spiraled out of control, baring teeth and claws as they occupied every inch of the bedroom air, restless and thick.
He looked down, and the tightness and mess beneath his abdomen made him grit his teeth and curse under his breath.
“…F&ck.”
That shower was a complete waste.
—
Ji Xuan had no idea that someone would be tossing and turning all night because of a combat assessment.
Early the next morning, after seeing the notification pop up on his terminal, he casually sent a message to Pei Yingye and began feeding Mephisto.
Seemingly extremely displeased by his refusal to take it out, Mephisto reared up its upper body as the incubator closed, flicking its tongue and hissing in protest. But the cold and heartless Ji Xuan acted as if he didn’t understand, going off to change his clothes on his own.
[Host, if that’s the case, the results of this assessment…]
If you want me to hold back, don’t bother.
Besides, you can’t forcibly stop me from doing anything, can you?
The system went silent.
Because of the annual assessment, the Mecha Training Center had opened all its simulators. By the time Ji Xuan arrived, most of the pods were already filled with people.
The assessment was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Ji Xuan had memorized all the necessary theory. After all, this knowledge wasn’t as difficult as the old Demon Venerable’s sword manuals and cultivation techniques, but some key maneuvers and emergency Q&A still required the use of actual mecha operations.
If the school hadn’t opened the simulators temporarily, Ji Xuan might have had to trouble Lai Zhou again.
But what Ji Xuan didn’t expect was that Pei Yingye arrived even earlier than he did.
They had clearly agreed on nine o’clock.
“If we actually waited until nine, we’d be left with nothing but scraps,” Pei Yingye said, leaning lazily against the door of a simulation pod. Seeing Ji Xuan approach, he subconsciously reached out to steady him. “It’s always a spectacle like this when the simulators open, which is why I don’t like coming.”
He looked a bit unwell today, likely due to poor sleep. His palm, which pulled away as soon as it touched Ji Xuan’s arm, was dry and hot. Ji Xuan looked him over and asked, “Are you sick?”
Pei Yingye’s movements stiffened. His voice was husky as he said, “…No.”
Since he denied it, Ji Xuan didn’t pay it too much mind. He simply let his gaze slide down Pei Yingye’s neck, past the mole on his Adam’s apple, and over the jangling metal chains on his chest.
Looks like a dog collar, Ji Xuan thought.
Since there were no training sessions or important classes today, Pei Yingye was dressed quite flamboyantly. Various straps and metal accessories adorned him; the holes in his grey denim jacket revealed a highly saturated green underneath.
Ji Xuan often found the trends of this world incomprehensible.
The cabin of the simulator was very small, and it felt a bit cramped for two people. Pei Yingye specifically hunched over when he squeezed in, but he still accidentally bumped his head against the top. His meticulously styled hair became a mess; combined with the metal chain around his neck, he looked even more like a puppy out for a wild run.
Ji Xuan couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.
Pei Yingye raised a hand to touch the spot he hit, subtly smoothed his fur, and then flipped the simulator switch. The screen directly in front of the pilot’s seat lit up, and the equipment functions below appeared one by one.
Pei Yingye stood behind the pilot’s seat, one hand propping himself against the ceiling of the pod as he looked down at Ji Xuan’s operations.
The hand gripping the control stick was fair and slender, with room to spare even when wrapped around the handle; when the back of the hand tensed, the veins were clearly visible. He had gained a fair amount of weight recently; though his wrists were still thin, they were much more beautiful than when they first met.
Actually, they were beautiful the first time too. These hands seemed naturally suited to gripping something—a knife, a gun, a crushed goblet, or even…
Thinking of something, Pei Yingye felt the air in the pod grow stifling. He reached over Ji Xuan’s shoulder and turned on the smart ventilation system.
The metal buckle on Pei Yingye’s sleeve brushed against Ji Xuan’s scorpion braid. The latter cast a glance back, but his hands didn’t stop.
Natural landscapes from the simulation appeared on the screen. Pei Yingye stared at the mecha’s disastrous, amateurish movement trajectory, his brows knitting tightly. After watching for a long while, he squeezed a sentence through his teeth in disbelief: “…You can’t possibly be telling me you don’t know how to operate this thing at all, right?”
Ji Xuan wasn’t embarrassed at all. He didn’t even blink as he replied righteously, “Yeah.”
Unexpectedly, Pei Yingye didn’t question what on earth he had been learning at the military academy for over a year. Instead, he said, “So you dragged me here because you want me to be your free labor? Or…”
His gaze swept over Ji Xuan’s overly beautiful hands: “…A sparring partner for hand-to-hand instruction?”
“What do you think?” Ji Xuan looked up, his left hand pointing casually toward the simple makeshift seat behind Pei Yingye’s right leg. “You could also be a mascot. The seat’s right there; sit down.”
Pei Yingye was almost provoked into a laugh. With a hook of his leg, he dragged the simple seat over with a clatter, placing it right against the pilot’s seat and sitting down with a wide, dominant stance. The distance between them shortened abruptly; he could even smell the faint, clean fragrance from Ji Xuan’s hair.
Although his operations were clumsy at first, Ji Xuan’s comprehension was startlingly high. It didn’t take long before his control became decent. With one arm draped over the back of the chair, Pei Yingye leaned forward until his chin was almost resting on Ji Xuan’s shoulder, occasionally barking out instructions:
“Parameters! Look at the parameters! The response sensitivity is too high; the last person didn’t clear the settings.”
“The deflection angle is too weird… turn off the auxiliary balance… yeah, that thing!”
The space inside the simulation pod was narrow. Between the body heat of two people and the operation of the equipment, heat accumulated rapidly. Pei Yingye felt hotter and hotter, irritably fanning himself with his hand, yet his other arm remained firmly occupying the space above the back of Ji Xuan’s chair.
Ji Xuan seemed to feel the heat as well, slowly rolling up his sleeves to reveal his fair forearms.
His hands on the control sticks were always methodical and unhurried. That suggestively meaningful tattoo from the dream was now deliberately exposed before Pei Yingye’s eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably; he felt the temperature in the pod suddenly jump ten degrees.
“…What does that tattoo mean?”
However, as soon as the question left his mouth, Pei Yingye regretted it.
He saw Ji Xuan cast a light glance toward his wrist, and a nearly tender, reminiscent expression actually appeared on his face.
Pei Yingye’s heart sank abruptly, and his molars clenched instantly.
Don’t tell me it has something to do with that guy named Shen.
Ji Xuan thought for a few seconds before turning his head. That illusory trace of tenderness in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a casual, almost teasing smile: “If we take first place in the full-domain simulation, I’ll tell you.”
Pei Yingye snorted, “You sure have a lot of demands.”
“Don’t I have you?” Ji Xuan said slowly, his tone making it impossible to tell if he truly believed it or was just joking. “I heard you and Shen Que are tied as the school’s top two aces—”
He purposefully dragged out his words, “Surely, that isn’t just an empty reputation?”
Pei Yingye let out a cold laugh and tugged the collar of his inner shirt open a bit more. The stifling air had turned a large patch of skin on his neck red.
Of course, it was also possible he was irritated and riled up by Ji Xuan’s words.
“It’s hard to say about other things, but compared to Shen Que, it definitely isn’t.”
Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Ji Xuan smiled softly. Suddenly, he lowered his voice, his breath carrying a certain hook to it: “Then I’m counting on you.”
Pei Yingye rapped his knuckles twice against the back of the pilot’s seat, producing a dull thud.
—
After an unknown amount of time, Ji Xuan finished the basic tasks on the simulator. When he turned back to look at Pei Yingye, the latter’s head was leaning against the back of the chair, his eyelids drooping and hiding his misty blue eyes.
His black bangs cast a shadow over his face, and a few beads of sweat hung from the tip of his nose. His breathing was hot and hurried.
Ji Xuan raised his hand, but before he could touch Pei Yingye’s jaw, his wrist was suddenly seized.
Ji Xuan didn’t struggle. He simply used his cold fingertips to lightly tap the scorching inner side of the other man’s wrist, asking slowly, “Are you very hot?”
Pei Yingye seemed to shudder from that touch of coldness and snapped his eyes open. Sweat clung to his lashes, making his gaze look somewhat blurred and chaotic, the color of his eyes as deep as a sea before a storm. He stared at Ji Xuan, appearing as if he hadn’t heard the question or hadn’t fully woken up.
“…The simulation pod is just too stuffy.”
But even his voice was huskier than usual.
Ji Xuan studied him quietly while his other hand lowered the temperature of the pod. The seized wrist moved slightly, signaling him to let go.
Pei Yingye seemed to just realize what he was doing and jerked his hand away as if he’d been burned, even rubbing his palm against his trousers in a transparent attempt at a cover-up.
“Where are you at in the practice?”
“Weapon drills. I’m only average at auto-aiming. Why don’t you give me a demonstration?”
Ji Xuan turned his head to look for the simulation records on the console. Suddenly, a notification popped up without warning in the center of the main screen—
[Shaikh Roanne invites you to a match.]
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