Chapter 16: Exhausting Training

After a full day of military training, Ji Xu felt as if he had been disassembled from the inside out and then reassembled.

However, a few parts seemed to be missing during the process, leaving his arms and legs disobedient and barely functioning.

In the morning, he had still thought that military training was nothing more than standing and walking around under the sun; with so many people on the sports field managing to pull through, he, an Alpha—no matter how small and thin—was hardly going to fare any worse than anyone else.

As it turned out, he had vastly overestimated his physical energy reserves.

While Alphas theoretically possess the highest physical potential, that assumption holds true only under the prerequisite of systematic physical conditioning.

An Alpha like Ji Xu, who had never engaged in any serious exercise growing up, possessed a physical foundation equivalent to that of an ordinary high school student—perhaps even slightly inferior to certain Omegas who exercised regularly.

To make matters worse, the Alphas were assigned the heaviest workload in training.

For the same standing stance drills, the neighboring Beta company was allowed a break every half hour, and the Omega company rested after roughly forty minutes, whereas their Alpha company was required to stand for a full hour before taking a break.

By the end of the morning, his knees had grown completely stiff.

When it came to the afternoon’s split-action marching drills, where one leg had to be held up at a constant height without dropping, his thigh muscles trembled violently like a sieve.

The instructor stared right at him, eyes practically writing out the words: “How can an Alpha fail to endure even this much?”

By the time the final assembly-dismissal whistle blew before dinner, the bottoms of Ji Xu’s feet were numb with pain.

Both of his calves had swollen unevenly, and reaching a hand into the rim of his military training shoes revealed the unmistakable onset of blisters.

He dragged his legs back toward the dormitory.

On the way, he saw that the cafeteria was already packed to the brim.

Freshmen wearing camouflage uniforms flooded toward the cafeteria entrance from all directions in a dark, densely packed crowd.

The queue extended all the way from the food windows to outside the main doors, winding in several long loops.

A single glance was enough for him to give up, deciding against squeezing his way inside.

The very first thing he did upon returning to the dorm was take a shower.

Stripping himself bare, he stepped into the shower stall.

As the hot water poured down, he let out a sharp hiss of pain; the skin across his back and shoulders was flushed red and hot from the sun, stinging finely and densely under the impact of the water jets.

He tilted his head to let the warm water wash over his stiff neck, watching the stream carry away the sweat and dirt clinging to his body.

The whirlpool at the drain swept away the murky, yellow-gray muddy water.

He leaned against the bathroom wall to catch his breath for a long while before picking up the body wash to lather himself up.

Stepping out after his shower, he felt two pounds lighter overall, though the muscular soreness was impossible to wash away.

Toweling off his hair, he sat down at his desk.

His military uniform had already been thrown into a laundry tub to soak, replaced by a clean, oversized T-shirt and a pair of very short loungewear shorts.

The white hem of his shorts reached only to mid-thigh.

As he sat down, the fabric rode up further, leaving his two bare long legs crossed over the crossbar of the chair, their skin raising fine goosebumps in the cool breeze of the air conditioner.

He dried his hair with a hairdryer, leaving his long locks draped over his shoulders, the ends curling up slightly.

There were two notifications on his phone, one of which was a delivery notice from an ordering platform.

Leaning out the window to look down, he spotted a delivery rider in a yellow uniform standing below the dorm building making a phone call.

He shouted “That’s me!” toward the ground, and the rider looked up, waved, and placed the food bag on the delivery rack by the entrance.

Slipping into his slippers, Ji Xu dashed downstairs to retrieve it.

Inside the plastic bag was a serving of malatang, a large, steaming bowl full of broth.

He set it on his desk and popped off the lid, letting the hot vapor rise along with the fragrant aroma of chili oil.

Unwrapping his chopsticks, he was just about to dig in when he paused, picked up his phone, and opened a video streaming app.

Lately, a tremendously popular drama series had been airing—a tearjerker about the misunderstandings, reconciliation, and tragic separation between an Alpha and an Omega.

Ji Xu had originally lacked interest in the genre, but short-video platforms had been relentlessly pushing highlight clips of it every day.

The two lead actors were undeniably stunning—one cold and handsome, the other bright and striking—and their emotional crying scenes were both beautiful and heartbreaking.

He tapped on the latest episode, propped his phone up on a stand, picked up a mouthful of glass noodles, blew off the heat, and popped it into his mouth, watching the screen while eating.

The plot was actually quite cliché—full of misunderstandings, missed chances, illness, and amnesia—and he could guess the next move for almost every scene.

Yet the cast’s faces were far too pleasing to the eye to resist.

During the shot where the Alpha knelt on the street holding the Omega in the rain, although Ji Xu found the scene a bit exaggerated, he couldn’t help rewinding it to watch twice.

Slurping up a potato slice from his malatang, the corners of his mouth curled into a faint smile, though whether from the spiciness or the drama was hard to tell.

It was at this moment that Yuan Hanfei pushed the door open and walked in.

He was carrying the small satchel used for military training, a light layer of sweat glistening on his forehead.

As he changed his shoes, his peripheral vision caught sight of Ji Xu sitting at the desk—Ji Xu was completely curled up in his chair, his broad white T-shirt slumping loosely over his shoulder to reveal one collarbone and half a shoulder.

The shorts below were excessively short, his legs extending all the way from the hem down to his ankles, smooth, white, and straight, crossing without any cover, his toes curling slightly against the chair’s crossbar.

The pink hair tie atop his head bound his hair into a low ponytail, faintly exposing the pinkish hue of the skin underneath.

Yuan Hanfei’s movements hitched for a beat.

He placed his military training bag onto his desk, casually picked up a bottle of water to gulp down a couple of mouthfuls, and let his gaze fall naturally onto those crossed long legs before shifting away to focus on the side of Ji Xu’s face as he watched his phone screen.

“Ordering takeout, huh?” he initiated the conversation, his voice dropping slightly softer than he had anticipated.

Ji Xu turned his head to look at him, still chewing on a piece of luncheon meat, and nodded.

“Yeah, the cafeteria was way too crowded, didn’t feel like waiting in line.” He swallowed his food and pointed to the food packaging on his desk.

“The cafeteria was basically a battlefield tonight; I took one look at the tail of the line and immediately turned around.”

Yuan Hanfei nodded in agreement, walking over to glance at the bright red broth in Ji Xu’s bowl and the chili pieces floating on the surface.

“It really is packed, everyone’s acting like hungry wolves.”

He opened his wardrobe, retrieved a clean T-shirt and shorts, draped a fresh towel over his shoulder, and headed toward the bathroom.

When he pushed the door open and stepped inside, the steam in the bathroom had not yet dispersed completely.

A fine layer of water droplets clung to the tiled walls, and the air retained a lingering scent of shampoo mixed with body wash.

Yet the strongest aroma was not from those chemical products, but rather a subtle, warm sweetness—the scent of honey.

Yuan Hanfei stood inside the bathroom, shut the door, and twitched his nose.

That honey fragrance lingered in the air and off Ji Xu’s skin—not overpowering, but distinctly clear, as though someone had dissolved a spoonful of honey into warm water, soaking the entire bathroom in its sweet richness.

Standing beneath the showerhead as he turned on the water, he was still thinking about that scent.

He was an Alpha, and Alphas were naturally repelled by the pheromones of their own kind.

The operational mechanism of pheromones inherently included the property of “same-s*x repulsion”; most Alphas who caught the scent of another Alpha’s pheromones would experience an instinctive sense of vigilance and discomfort, which functioned as a signal of competition at the hormonal level.

Yet with this honey scent, as Yuan Hanfei rinsed his face under the hot stream and took another sniff of the lingering trail in the air, he realized the smell did not trigger any discomfort in him whatsoever.

On the contrary, it was gentle, warm, and non-aggressive—like a comforting presence that made one want to draw closer.

It was his first time encountering an Alpha whose pheromones didn’t repulse him.

Perhaps the scent was simply too faint to convey any aggression.

By the time he finished his shower and stepped out, Ji Xu had already finished his malatang.

He was leaning back against his chair, the empty bowl and utensils tidied up to the side.

The drama on his phone was still playing, showing the Alpha male lead sprinting wildly down a hospital corridor with his sleeves heavily stained with blood.

Ji Xu watched with relish, switching the pose of his crossed legs—knees together, calves slightly apart, toes absently drawing circles on the floor.

Yuan Hanfei glanced at him, sat back down at his desk while drying his hair, and pulled up the campus forum on his phone to browse.

“Are you going to the evening event?” Yuan Hanfei asked, leaning back against his chair and turning sideways.

Over by the sports field tonight, there was a joint social activity organized by the colleges.

He had heard a neighboring dorm member mention it briefly—a bonfire-style gathering featuring games, snacks, and performances, serving as a rare chance to unwind during military training.

Ji Xu shifted his gaze away from his screen, a look of genuine reluctance washing over his face.

He rotated his neck, producing a crisp cracking sound from his joints, and then slumped his entire body against the back of his chair, all four limbs hanging loosely: “I don’t wanna go. Today’s training was way too exhausting; I don’t want to step a single foot out of this dorm right now.”

Watching him collapse into a limp heap, the corners of Yuan Hanfei’s mouth twitched upward slightly.

“Alright then, I’ll go by myself. Want me to bring back some snacks for you?”

“No need, no need,” Ji Xu waved his hand.

“I’m full and don’t feel like moving.” He had already begun climbing up to his bed, taking the ladder steps one by one.

Reaching the top mattress, he threw his body backward, sinking into his pillow with a comfortable sigh.

Yuan Hanfei stood up from his desk, changed into a set of clean clothes, checked his phone and keys, and cast a glance back before stepping out—Ji Xu had already pulled his duvet up to his chin, holding his phone in front of his eyes.

The screen’s glow reflected off his face, his lips turned up slightly, likely amused by some funny pop-up comment.

Yuan Hanfei gently pulled the door shut behind him.

Ji Xu lay in bed scrolling through his phone for a while.

Just as he finished the latest episode of the tragic romance drama, a WeChat notification popped up.

Chu Siran’s black avatar lit up: “Wanna play games?”

When Ji Xu saw those three words, the corners of his mouth instantly curled up.

He was thoroughly exhausted today, but being tired didn’t conflict with gaming; he still had just enough energy for an activity that required lying still and moving only his fingers.

He quickly texted back a single word: “Yup.” Then he opened the game in a split second and entered a room to invite Chu Siran.

Chu Siran joined just as fast.

The two didn’t even need to discuss their positions before locking them in—Ji Xu on Support and Chu Siran on Marksman.

From the hero selection screen to the loading screen took less than twenty seconds.

Once the game commenced, Ji Xu’s mouth never stopped moving.

Lying tucked in his duvet with his earphones plugged in, he kept his voice low, yet his talking speed was lightning-fast.

He babbled on about everything—from today’s standing drills to the split-action marching practice, from their instructor’s unsmiling face to a Beta in the neighboring company who fainted and had to be carried to the infirmary, and from the endless line at the cafeteria to the extra serving of sliced beef he had added to his malatang.

“Brother, you have no idea, our instructor is practically inhumane,” Ji Xu rambled continuously while trailing Chu Siran down the bottom lane.

“We had to stand in position for a whole hour without moving a muscle. Even when sweat dripped right over our eyelids, we weren’t allowed to wipe it! An Alpha in our company got a leg cramp and squatted down, only to get chewed out by the instructor and ordered out of rank to do a hundred squats!”

The Support character he controlled followed Chu Siran’s Marksman into a bush, casually planting a vision ward.

“And our Alpha company gets the heaviest workload of all! The Beta company next door got two rounds of rest while we were still roasting under the sun. I feel like a layer of my skin is about to peel off today.”

As he spoke, he cast a protective shield over Chu Siran.

The opposing Jungler ambushed out of the brush, but Chu Siran sidestepped to dodge the skill shot, instantly turning around with a full combo that reduced the enemy to low health.

Ji Xu promptly followed up with a crowd-control skill to secure the kill.

“Hehe, Brother, you’re so awesome!”

Chu Siran barely spoke throughout the match.

Through the earphones, only his occasional, concise calls of “fight” or “retreat” during crucial team fights could be heard; most of the time, there was only his quiet, steady breathing.

Yet he listened carefully to all of Ji Xu’s fragmented, lively complaints and venting—hearing the tiredness and feeling of injustice in his tone, as well as the sudden, flustered “Oops!” when he made an operational mistake, followed immediately by self-consoling words like “It’s fine, it’s fine, Brother, I can still fight!”

Chu Siran felt that voice was like a stream of living water—constantly flowing and splashing, stirring up the quiet, almost stagnant air in his own room that remained unchanged day after day.

Ji Xu’s Support followed dutifully behind him, going wherever he went.

Whenever Chu Siran dropped to low health, Ji Xu stepped up to absorb the incoming skills; whenever Chu Siran dived under an enemy tower, Ji Xu followed right behind to stack healings and shields on him.

Ji Xu continued talking non-stop—about in-game moments, about military training, about the two quail eggs he found in his malatang, and about how his roommate had brought sunscreen spray and sprayed his entire body.

Every single sentence was trivial yet vibrant, like clusters of wild flowers blooming along a roadside—not precious, yet bound to lift one’s mood.

Chu Siran used to play games alone most of the time.

Occasionally, real-life friends would pull him in for a game, but everyone played independently; even with voice chat on, they merely made small talk before parting ways once the match concluded.

Ji Xu was different from those people.

Ji Xu meticulously executed every detail, praised his every play, never made things awkward when he fell silent, and naturally filled up every silence.

Chu Siran suddenly realized that despite playing games for several years, he had never known duo-queuing could be this entertaining.

Having a chatty little Support trailing behind him was vastly more enjoyable than quietly pushing down the enemy’s Nexus all by himself.

After one match concluded, Ji Xu immediately queued up for the next, their synergy flowing even smoother than in the first round.

This time, Ji Xu’s Support earned the MVP title.

He excitedly shouted into his mic, “Brother, look, look at that!” Though keeping his voice down, his gloating pride was impossible to hide.

Chu Siran still only uttered a single “Mm,” yet he gave Ji Xu a thumbs-up on the end-game screen.

The music from the social event on the sports field drifted over faintly from afar, allowing Ji Xu to hear muffled drumbeats and lively noise through the window.

But as he lay on his dormitory bed with game sound effects and Chu Siran’s occasional deep responses filling his earphones, the air conditioner blowing a steady cool breeze, and his golden Support character leisurely pushing toward the enemy’s high ground alongside Chu Siran’s Marksman, the day’s exhaustion seemed to be gently diluted by these fine, joyful moments.

Leaning against his pillow with half-closed eyes, an unnoticed smile played on the corners of his lips while his fingers tapped nimbly across the screen, as if playing some happy melody.

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