Before long, the roasted rabbit turned golden and crisp, oil sizzling as it dripped onto the fire. Judging by the fat, it must have been a plump one. Chi Zhan couldn’t help glancing at it repeatedly.
Apart from the snacks Chu Xingxiao gave him earlier, he hadn’t had any proper food all day—and normally, he subsisted on nutrient fluid for every meal.
Still, how could he possibly compete with the Crown Prince for food? He forced himself to look away and began strategizing for tomorrow. He’d need to defeat at least eleven others if he wanted to—
“What’s got you so absorbed?” Zhou Yanxing asked.
Chi Zhan snapped out of it, just as a piece of meat was pressed to his lips. He instinctively took a bite before realizing something was off.
This… this was the prince’s roasted rabbit. How could he just—mmph.
“Tastes alright, doesn’t it?” Zhou Yanxing said. “There’s not much out here in the wild, but at least it’s fresh.”
And it was indeed delicious.
Crisp on the outside, tender on the inside—one bite and the juices burst across his tongue. Even without seasoning, the flavor was rich and satisfying.
The next piece of meat quickly followed.
“I really can’t eat any more, Your Highness. It’s not appropriate…”
“That little bit filled you up?” Zhou Yanxing clearly wasn’t impressed. “What are you, a cat? Eat some more.”
He’d long noticed that although Chi Zhan was technically fit, he was far too thin. Not just compared to Alphas—even among Omegas, he was unusually slender.
A quick look into his habits revealed that Chi Zhan lived off nutrient fluids at the Academy.
Which wasn’t all that surprising.
Efficiency ruled the Academy. Nutrient fluid was the fastest option, and proper meals weren’t cheap. Most students relied on a mix of supplements and snacks to get by. Someone like Chi Zhan, serious and frugal, wouldn’t bother with anything else.
If this outing hadn’t been so rushed—and if Zhou Yanxing had allowed others to accompany them—he would’ve made a point to correct Chi Zhan’s dietary habits.
Under the Crown Prince’s “gentle coercion,” Chi Zhan ended up eating half the rabbit. Only once he was clearly full did Zhou Yanxing start on the other half.
He ate quickly—far faster than Chi Zhan—but not crudely. Whether due to royal upbringing or natural grace, his movements exuded a quiet elegance.
Chi Zhan never imagined he’d one day sit beside the Crown Prince, sharing roasted rabbit over a fire—though he was still bound the entire time, unable to lift a finger and waiting to be hand-fed.
Zhou Yanxing occasionally stirred the firewood, the flames dancing with crackles. Seeing Chi Zhan staring dazedly, he asked, “What, don’t want to be tied up anymore?”
Chi Zhan shook his head.
“Your Highness, I just didn’t expect you to know how to roast rabbit.”
“What’s so hard about it?” Zhou Yanxing replied lazily. “Sometimes a ship runs low on fuel and has to make emergency landfall. This kind of thing happens. You wait for supply drops. If you don’t learn to fend for yourself, you starve.”
Before his legendary fleet victory, few had truly understood the prince. And now, in this quiet, dark night, Chi Zhan had the rare chance to hear him speak—not to brag, but to reminisce about his younger days.
But before long, soft, even breathing broke through the stillness. Chi Zhan had fallen asleep.
Zhou Yanxing blinked, momentarily stunned. Very few dared to fall asleep in front of him.
Yet strangely, he had no desire to wake him.
Forget it. He’s safe with me anyway.
Seeing Chi Zhan leaning at an awkward angle, Zhou Yanxing shifted, letting him rest on his shoulder. He closed his eyes as well.
***
Roughly ten minutes later, Chi Zhan’s eyes slowly opened.
The branch binding his wrists was finally loosened.
He hadn’t been idle while listening to the prince’s story. He’d quietly rubbed the cord against the bark to wear it down, distracting Zhou Yanxing with conversation, then feigned sleep to lower his guard.
Afraid of waking him, Chi Zhan reached into his pocket and took out a small vial. He waved it gently under Zhou Yanxing’s nose. A few seconds passed. Then, in a whisper, he said, “Your Highness?”
The Academy’s knockout drug was of the highest grade—just a whiff could send someone into a deep sleep. Chi Zhan had made sure it was safe before using it; he’d never use anything harmful on the Crown Prince.
Once Zhou Yanxing didn’t react, Chi Zhan finally exhaled, lips pressed tight in concentration. He carefully started feeling around the man’s uniform.
He hadn’t wanted things to come to this—it wasn’t exactly above board.
But since the prince had laid down the challenge, Chi Zhan wasn’t going to let himself be looked down on.
He wasn’t helpless.
The man’s build was impeccable—broad shoulders, narrow waist, honed from years of mecha combat. Even in sleep, the aura of dominance clung to him. The stiff, structured fabric of the uniform felt like fine-grit sandpaper under Chi Zhan’s fingers—like the man himself, efficient and exuding strength.
He checked the breast pocket—empty. Then the side pockets. Nothing.
But he’d clearly seen the prince slip the medal in earlier. So where—
Zhou Yanxing had one long leg casually bent as he slept. Chi Zhan had to straighten up, planting a hand on that muscular thigh as he leaned down to search.
He failed to realize the position looked exactly like him leaning into the prince’s lap—and certainly didn’t see the eyes, dark as obsidian, silently watching him from the shadows.
