“……”
So it was true.
Goddamn it—this was how they treated his Gege?
The moment Chu Xingxiao had wrapped his arm around Chi Zhan’s waist, he’d silently taken stock of its circumference. Though the older man had lean muscle from high-intensity training, his waistline was still far too slim—below normal, even.
Now… how should he go about fattening Gege up?
Chu Xingxiao was still deep in thought when—
“In that case,” Chi Zhan mused, “I assume you’ve looked into other people’s information too. Care to share a bit?”
Chu Xingxiao smiled. “Is this a pop quiz? Sure, why not.”
Not that he’d be speaking all truths, but to keep tabs on potential variables, he had done some digging—especially on the top-ranked students in each division, just in case.
Chi Zhan hesitated for a beat.
“Tang Ling—do you know anything about him?”
The name had barely left his lips when the smile on Chu Xingxiao’s face vanished—as if the air itself had been sucked out of the atmosphere. The pressure in the air shifted palpably.
But in the next second, he snapped back to normal.
“Why the sudden interest, Gege?” he drawled. “Didn’t he just transfer in?”
“He’s strong. And today…” Chi Zhan trailed off before continuing, “I feel like there’s something different about him.”
“Different how? His looks? His pheromones?”
He frowned suddenly, irritated. “Right… I forgot Gege’s a Beta. You can’t smell pheromones.”
Actually, Tang Ling was just… weird.
His name clearly wasn’t Qi Song—so why had he told him to call him that?
And this afternoon, when Chi Zhan had passed out, Tang Ling didn’t take his ID badge—instead, he let him lean against him to rest.
Chi Zhan had been dead set on treating Tang Ling as a rival, but now he just couldn’t figure him out.
He’d asked Xiao Xing because he sensed something odd between the two. Their interactions didn’t feel like strangers meeting—they had the sharp edge of familiarity, like two old players in a game of chess.
***
“You’re not just curious because he ranked first, are you?” Chu Xingxiao said lightly. “Though it’s nothing special. He’s just an ordinary Beta—transferred in recently, a year younger than you. That enough intel for you, Gege?”
He gave extra weight to the last sentence.
Watching Chi Zhan ponder seriously, a complicated feeling twisted in Chu Xingxiao’s chest.
Back before they came to the Empire, he and Qi Song had made a pact—for the sake of the plan, they absolutely couldn’t reveal their true identities. They couldn’t forcibly take Chi Zhan away either.
But no one had expected that Gege… would forget everything.
If that had been the end of it, maybe it would’ve been fine. But even without his memories, Gege was still curious about Qi Song.
That feeling—
That word alone was a knife to the gut. Did Qi Song really matter more than him in Gege’s subconscious?
“Then… did he go by another name before?” Chi Zhan murmured. “The surname Qi… it’s pretty uncommon…”
The last line was just a muttered aside, something said thoughtlessly while lost in his own head. But the second it left his lips, Chu Xingxiao latched onto it.
“He told you his real name?!” He stared in disbelief, then burst out angrily, “I knew he’d cheat—why am I the only one keeping the damn agreement? That’s not fair!”
“Hmm?” Chi Zhan blinked, caught off guard by his outburst. “You know his name too?”
Chu Xingxiao looked like he wanted to say more, but after swallowing hard twice, he held it back. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he forced out a more casual tone.
“Yeah… he changed his name before. Not many people know.”
“I see,” Chi Zhan replied with a soft “oh.”
“But, Gege,” Chu Xingxiao added quickly, “could you not tell anyone? He doesn’t really want people to know.”
Chi Zhan frowned slightly. If he didn’t want people to know, why tell him?
There was definitely something off here—but with Xiao Xing staring straight at him, Chi Zhan could only nod. “Alright.”
Damn it…
He wanted Gege to know his real name too.
But if the fact that both of them were using aliases came out, Gege would start questioning things—and if he started asking around, it’d be a disaster.
In the end, whoever spoke first had the upper hand.
In his mind, two little versions of himself bickered furiously. One screamed, Qi Song broke the rules first—so screw him! The other insisted, Focus on the bigger picture. Just hold on a bit longer.
The argument circled endlessly, with no clear winner.
Chu Xingxiao turned to speak again, but stopped short.
Chi Zhan had nodded off.
His head drooped forward, occasionally bobbing, clearly asleep. He curled into himself, brows slightly furrowed, as if wrestling with some unsolvable problem in a dream.
Well, it was late. And they’d been through a lot today.
Gege must be exhausted.
Chu Xingxiao inched a little closer. Gege always had this natural distance about him—he’d sit close, then subtly inch away, thinking no one noticed.
But Xiao Xing did.
He slowly edged in bit by bit, each movement feather-light, careful not to wake him. Then, gently, he reached out and tugged Chi Zhan over until his head rested on his shoulder.
Chi Zhan, even in light sleep, was acutely sensitive to touch. His lashes fluttered as if he were about to wake, and Chu Xingxiao immediately began to hum a lullaby under his breath.
It was a famous cradle song from the Federation.
Back when he’d been a troublemaker who refused to sleep, Gege used to sing this lullaby to coax him into slumber.
The moment he heard Gege’s voice, his eyelids would grow heavy—pulling him into dreams filled with warmth and joy. Gege, do you still remember this song?
Chu Xingxiao’s voice was naturally suited for singing—part of why he’d launched a music career on the Empire’s star network to build connections and influence.
And tonight, that talent served its truest purpose.
Bathed in his gentle, soothing voice, Chi Zhan didn’t stir again. Instead, he slipped into deeper, more restful sleep.
Chu Xingxiao reached up and gently brushed the bangs from Gege’s forehead.
