TYMIMA Chapter 71

“Really… surprising.” Lance mobilized all his acting skills to utter these three words, thinking: he absolutely had to go to Ghost Eye Guild now.

 

Otherwise, where would he prepare a hardworking farming sister, a father with broken legs, and a tractor for little idiot?

 

Satisfied, Zhan Pingchuan asked: “What’s the good news you wanted to tell me?”

 

Lance propped himself on the pillow, crawling out of Zhan Pingchuan’s arms to sit facing him. After several breaths, he slowly said: “Last time Dean Chu visited Star University, she left a deep impression on me. I plan to go to your hometown, Ghost Eye Guild, for an internship, and also pay respects to your mother.”

 

“…”

 

The dormitory fell into eerie silence. Zhan Pingchuan’s Adam’s apple moved with difficulty before he forced a smile: “Baby, didn’t you say you didn’t want to go to Ghost Eye Guild last time?”

 

Lance: “That was my previous thinking, but after interning at Blue Pivot, I found the current workplace environment is terrible with much discrimination against newcomers. But Dean Chu said Ghost Eye Guild is very fair and friendly to low-level people, so I want to try.”

 

Zhan Pingchuan was speechless. Why did little fox have this epiphany at this particular moment? On one hand, he was relieved about bringing his wife home, but on the other hand, extremely annoyed about the upcoming long-distance relationship.

 

Zhan Pingchuan could only say insincerely: “Baby, Ghost Eye Guild is indeed fair, but I think High Tower Guild isn’t bad either. Harbor Tan has heavy humidity and many mosquitoes… I mean good environment and lots of seafood. Why don’t you come intern at High Tower with me?”

 

Lance smiled, speaking against his heart: “High Tower Guild is indeed good, but not as high-paying with low living costs as Ghost Eye Guild. You should come intern at Ghost Eye Guild with me instead.”

 

Zhan Pingchuan thought: If I didn’t have a mission, I’d wrap you in a blanket and take you home right now.

 

Zhan Pingchuan racked his brains to make up stories: “I’ve been in my hometown too long and done most of the business there. Dad also wants me to observe outside markets. How about I intern at Ghost Eye Guild with you during summer vacation?”

 

Lance was slightly shocked but still considerately offered advice: “We don’t ride bicycles in Harbor Tan, so it might not be good for developing business.”

 

She hadn’t expected Desert City to be so large that they ran out of bicycles to steal in just a few decades.

 

“…” Zhan Pingchuan smiled wearily. “Forgot to mention, Dad has switched to electric tricycle import-export business now. The Desert City market is saturated, so he’s seeing if there are opportunities in Harbor Tan.”

 

Lance pondered. No wonder little idiot said he could be self-sufficient now—he’d developed into electric vehicle business.

 

Seems he finally got smart. If he’d targeted electric vehicles instead of bicycles back then, he’d probably have achieved financial freedom long ago.

 

“How about we both follow our own plans?” Lance asked tentatively.

 

He absolutely had to go to Ghost Eye Guild. If Ghost Eye Guild really took Yan Qili, their goals might extend far beyond that.

 

“Up to you.” Zhan Pingchuan immediately took the way out, pulling Lance back and tucking him under the blanket with a kiss. “You’re all cold.”

 

“If I’m cold, why are you undoing my pajamas?” The blanket muffled most of Lance’s voice.

 

“Your pajamas insulate heat, preventing me from transferring warmth to you.” Zhan Pingchuan said righteously.

 

“But Omega body temperature is higher than Alpha’s, so I’m transferring heat to you.” Lance stated facts in a muffled voice.

 

“Really? I didn’t know that. Let me feel?”

 

“…Mm, there’s still an exam tomorrow.”

 

Zhan Pingchuan stopped his hands, sparing the sensitive, reddened areas: “Won’t tease you anymore. We’ll wait until I get first in major. Sleep now.”

 

The next day dawned, and the long exam week finally neared its end. Zhan Pingchuan’s last exam was “Mechanical Armament Practical Operation.”

 

The school prepared various armed tools designed for underground city mutant beasts, along with corresponding beast limbs or bones, to test students’ familiarity with weapons and mutant beasts.

 

This exam was easiest for Zhan Pingchuan—after all, before awakening, his survival in underground cities relied entirely on this human wisdom.

 

But the dazzling array of tools wasn’t so friendly to other students.

 

“What’s this thing called, drone camera?”

 

“No, no, I used it in practical class simulation, it’s called…”

 

“Thorn worm acid bomb.” Zhan Pingchuan lazily picked up the conversation. He put on polyethylene gloves, loaded a fluorescent green liquid sphere into a small drone, then skillfully operated the controller to make the drone explode precisely above the terror bird skeleton.

 

Green liquid splattered, the thorn worm’s bodily fluid rapidly melting the terror bird skeleton, filling the air with a fishy stench.

 

The thorn worm acid bomb could achieve maximum damage by corroding a C-level mutant beast terror bird.

 

He was first to score ten points.

 

Nearby students still selecting weapons stared at him dumbfounded.

 

Zhan Pingchuan removed his gloves, his gaze surveying the hundreds of mutant beast corpses hanging in the venue. Then he casually picked up an ignored bone-white pistol, stuffed some soft, bouncy beads into it, smoothly loaded the magazine, and fired at an A-level mutant beast bone dragon fish.

 

The bullet made from hidden dragon eyeballs unsurprisingly penetrated the bone dragon fish’s scales, leaving a smoking hole.

 

The proctor looked at Zhan Pingchuan in surprise.

 

This was a bonus question that the question committee never expected anyone to answer correctly.

 

After all, hidden dragons were S-level mutant beasts. With these students’ experience, they’d never even seen one, let alone know that hidden dragons were water-attribute creatures whose eyeball bullets only gained diamond-surpassing hardness when encountering same-attribute mutant beasts—normally they felt like QQ gummy candy in your hand.

 

But Zhan Pingchuan chose correctly, precisely piercing the scales of the venue’s highest-level water-attribute mutant beast, the bone dragon fish.

 

Could it be coincidence?

 

The proctor silently added twenty points for Zhan Pingchuan.

 

Time passed minute by minute. The hundred mutant beast corpses were quickly shot full of holes. Many students made the mistake of using sledgehammers to crack nuts, but only Zhan Pingchuan made the most precise choice every time, as if he was already thoroughly familiar with mutant beast level relationships.

 

Lance wasn’t to be outdone either.

 

His final exam was “Underground City Crystal Ore Identification,” also in practical format, but not outdoors—in Star University’s crystal ore sample library.

 

The vast sample library stored five hundred types of crystal ores recorded to date, many unpolished raw ores. Examinees needed to accurately identify crystal ore types and uses.

 

Cheap, easily obtained types were quickly identified, with most students earning basic points.

 

However, as crystal ore rarity increased, identification difficulty rose sharply. Especially toward the end, raw ore colors were extremely similar, making differences hard to distinguish.

 

In the world crystal ore trading market, unscrupulous merchants often used cheap crystal ores to impersonate rare ones, while buyers would swap goods after receiving them, then return them claiming dissatisfaction with purity.

 

So this business most required appraisal ability.

 

Lance walked at the back of the examinee queue, casually picking up identification tools to adjust.

 

As High Tower Guild’s young master, he’d participated in trading all these crystal ores, even secretly killed many buyers attempting to pull switcheroos.

 

This exam that others found impossibly difficult was nothing to him.

 

About two hours later, the proctor began collecting papers.

 

Most students only wrote names and uses for dozens of crystal ores; excellent ones could write a hundred—completely within expectations.

 

After all, this was just freshman year. After completing sophomore “Advanced Identification Course,” students could recognize over two hundred crystal ore types.

 

However, when reaching Lance’s seat, the proctor’s eyes nearly popped out.

 

Lance stopped writing at the 401st crystal ore, looking rather displeased at the proctor: “May I ask, did the school carefully calculate when setting exam time? At human writing speed, completing names and uses for all five hundred crystal ores in two hours is impossible. Also—”

 

Lance held up his ink pen: “Did you consider how many words one pen refill can write? If I hadn’t brought backup pens myself, were you planning to have me sit here spacing out for the last half hour?”

 

Proctor: “…”

 

Who could have imagined an examinee would write over four hundred types!

 

Lance heavily capped his pen, handing over the paper: “Pay attention next time. I’m quite uncomfortable whenever I can’t get full marks on any exam.”

 

The proctor frantically took the test paper, having the dazed feeling of being criticized by a dean.

 

After exam week, Star University didn’t go on holiday. Each college set up mini-semesters to make up for courses delayed by Dawn Day holiday.

 

However, course intensity wasn’t high, and students used this time to find summer internships on the school platform.

 

Lance and Zhan Pingchuan respectively submitted internship applications to Ghost Eye Guild and High Tower Guild.

 

On January 7th, Star University’s four colleges and eight majors began releasing results.

 

Zhan Pingchuan and Lance were eating in the cafeteria.

 

Lance ordered oatmeal porridge and sandwiches; Zhan Pingchuan got potato beef rice bowl.

 

They’d barely started eating when the next table began sighing: “Damn, my ranking’s out—top 20% of major.”

 

“What? You scored so high but only got top 20%? Who’s grinding so hard in this major!”

 

“Don’t mention it. One god in our major wrote over four hundred scoring points on the final exam. Can you imagine? Not that he only knew four hundred, but that exam time only allowed writing four hundred.”

 

“I know, he’s the top student—can’t be considered human. But our combat major has level requirements, so many people’s entrance scores weren’t very high. I only got top 10% of major, can’t even get second-class scholarship.”

 

“No way, weren’t you originally third place? Should’ve been solid first-class scholarship.”

 

“That guy who was dead last on unified exams got assigned to our major. Think he’s bottom? Ha! He got all the advanced questions right in practical courses!”

 

“Impossible, this is just freshman year!”

 

“What’s impossible? Don’t forget, he was already champion in the Challenge Cup competition.”

 

…

 

The conversation drifted over to Zhan Pingchuan and Lance’s ears.

 

Zhan Pingchuan released the beef he’d picked up, placing his bamboo chopsticks on the plastic plate with a crisp sound.

 

He looked at Lance with a half-smile: “Baby, writing over four hundred scoring points—so impressive.”

 

Lance had only drunk half his oatmeal porridge, his heart seemingly struck by that crisp sound.

 

Holding his spoon, he looked up: “You got all the advanced questions right?”

 

Both simultaneously thought of that face-reddening, heart-racing bet, yet overlooked how suspicious it was for an ordinary freshman to accomplish what they’d done.

 

Zhan Pingchuan tilted his chin, indicating Lance’s phone: “Not anxious to check grades?”

 

Lance gulped down that mouthful of oatmeal, wiping away the lingering sweetness from his lips: “Whether I check or not, I’m first in major.”

 

“Oh, then want to see my grades?” Zhan Pingchuan held his phone between two fingers, deliberately playing with it in front of Lance without rushing to search.

 

Lance’s gaze followed the slightly trembling phone, palms developing light sweat.

 

“You check.”

 

“Sure about that? Checking beside me means no way to cheat.” Zhan Pingchuan searched the school’s academic system, entering his student ID while meaningfully studying Lance.

 

Lance’s heartbeat actually accelerated because of Zhan Pingchuan’s words.

 

Association was truly terrifying—they were clearly in the cafeteria, in broad daylight, discussing the most normal things.

 

“I won’t cheat.”

 

Just as Lance finished speaking, Zhan Pingchuan’s grade interface refreshed.

 

Since the phone screen faced Zhan Pingchuan himself, Lance could only see faint light. He instinctively braced his hands on the table, leaning forward to see clearly.

 

But at this moment, Zhan Pingchuan turned the phone screen around, pushing it with his index finger toward Lance’s eyes.

 

He wore a lazy smile, his voice not loud but carrying just the right low, intimate tone.

 

“Here, first place in Underground City Combat.”

 

The result slip appeared in the middle of the small screen; beneath the major ranking column was a clear, bold “1”.

 

Lance felt as though he’d heard the most seductive words in the world, and his mouth went dry.

 

The screen went dark, and their eyes met.

 

Neither of them went to class that afternoon.

 

As the sun slanted west, light that could have streamed freely into the dorm room was blocked by tightly drawn curtains in room 304.

 

Lance emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, hair still damp, trailing warm, moist air behind him.

 

He clearly hadn’t had time to dry himself properly; at the hem of his towel, continuous drops of water slid down his smooth, pale calves, falling onto the marble floor and forming faint footprints.

 

Zhan Pingchuan had only waited outside for fifteen minutes.

 

They hadn’t showered together, because the bathroom was too cramped for two adults to move around freely.

 

So Zhan Pingchuan had washed up first.

 

He tossed the towel aside and looked at Lance, who seemed freshly drawn from the water, his eyes growing darker.

 

Lance’s amber eyes also appeared wet, gazing innocently at him. The water dripping from his calves had already pooled into a small puddle on the marble.

 

Zhan Pingchuan smiled, walked over, and effortlessly lifted the barefoot Lance into his arms. He brushed aside the red hair clinging to Lance’s ear with his lips and murmured, “Were you in such a hurry because you know what I’m about to do?”

 

Lance’s ear flushed pink from the Alpha’s warm breath. His hands, hidden in the towel, gripped its edges more tightly.

 

“Classmate Zhan.” Lance’s voice was soft, his suspended legs instinctively pressing together.

 

“Hm?” Zhan Pingchuan didn’t pull away from Lance’s ear, instead gently nibbling the reddened earlobe with his teeth.

 

Lance curled his toes. His earlobe grew hotter, the warmth spreading to every nerve.

 

“…I didn’t take my suppressant this month, so no matter if you came first or not, you’ll see me in heat today.”

 

Zhan Pingchuan was stunned, as if a spark had exploded before his eyes, instantly igniting a fire throughout his body.

 

He gritted his teeth, restraining the almost immediate reaction, and muttered a low curse.

 

Star magnolia pheromones spilled out uncontrollably, sweet fragrance filling the room.

 

An Omega’s body temperature is higher during heat, and Lance’s warmth quickly transferred through the towel to Zhan Pingchuan’s hands.

 

Lance hadn’t taken suppressants, but Zhan Pingchuan had taken his own.

 

He was worried his susceptible period would come early, that he’d lose control and hurt Lance.

 

After all, online news was full of stories about inexperienced Alphas who didn’t know their own strength and ended up sending their Omega to hospital.

 

Zhan Pingchuan immediately released gentian pheromones to soothe the increasingly restless star magnolia scent.

 

His fingers trailed up Lance’s spine, slipping into his hair to gently rub the pale, soft gland.

 

Soon, the area grew flushed and hot, pheromones pouring out even more thickly.

 

Zhan Pingchuan kissed Lance’s lightly trembling eyelids and praised, “So good, your gland’s so hot already. Is it almost here?”

 

Lance’s breathing was irregular. Whether it was from Zhan Pingchuan’s words or from the heat itself, he truly felt hotter, unbearably so.

 

“Hot… help me.” His voice came out hoarse, as if scorched.

 

“Then let go, baby. Let me see where’s hottest.” Zhan Pingchuan touched the tightly wrapped towel.

 

Lance obediently relaxed his grip, and the towel slipped downward.

 

Air brushed his skin, evaporating some moisture but not much of the heat.

 

Zhan Pingchuan discarded the useless towel, moved to the bed, and sat Lance between his legs.

 

His gaze roamed freely over every inch of skin before finally settling on one spot.

 

Zhan Pingchuan kissed Lance’s moist, red lips, his low, rough voice whispering into Lance’s mouth—

 

“Found it.”

 

Lance could no longer tell whether the drops on the marble were from the shower or something else.

 

—

 

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 (advanced chapters available on kofi)