Since Luo Wenchuan had given him this invaluable opportunity, he had to successfully modify the Twin Star mech and win the match against He Haoming.
Otherwise, wouldn’t it be a waste of Luo Wenchuan’s efforts?
Luo Wenchuan stood up to look for the equipment needed to modify the Illusion Silver. Glancing back at Yun Xingze, he asked, “If we use it sparingly, it should be enough, right?”
“More than enough. Senior, thank you.” Yun Xingze looked at Luo Wenchuan earnestly. “In the future, if you start a factory, I’ll work for you for free.”
Luo Wenchuan shot him a glance, his tone calm. “Focus on winning the match first.” Yet, there was a faint trace of amusement in his eyes that was hard to detect.
After confirming all the necessary equipment for modifying the Illusion Silver was available, Luo Wenchuan said to Yun Xingze, “Feel free to use anything here. But…”
Yun Xingze turned to look at him.
“I want to ask you,” Luo Wenchuan said, staring at Yun Xingze, enunciating each word clearly, “exactly how do you plan to modify the mech?”
Only then did Yun Xingze realize that Luo Wenchuan had never questioned his modification plan before offering his full support.
Organizing his thoughts, he replied, “The main focus of the modification will be on the mechanical beast.”
As Yun Xingze explained his modification ideas, Luo Wenchuan’s eyes gradually widened, taking a long moment before returning to their usual calm.
Luo Wenchuan voiced his concern, “With less than three days, can you really complete the modifications?”
“Actually, it’s not that difficult,” Yun Xingze answered honestly. This type of modification was something he had done many times in his previous life. “I think three days should be enough.”
Luo Wenchuan frowned slightly and asked again, “What about piloting after the modifications? Are you confident? Are you sure your mech won’t overload?”
Overloading meant the mech’s operational difficulty exceeded the pilot’s mental capacity.
“I’ll do my best to prevent that,” Yun Xingze said. Though he could pilot mechs beyond his level, the physical toll was severe. The last time he fainted in class was due to overloading.
Instead of discouraging him, Luo Wenchuan simply said, “Alright, give it a try then.”
After confirming the materials available in the modification workshop, Yun Xingze began sketching the modification blueprint on a light screen, relying on his experience.
Luo Wenchuan watched for a while, drawn in by the precision and speed of Yun Xingze’s drafting.
As the blueprint grew more complex, Luo Wenchuan’s brows furrowed involuntarily, his eyes filled with confusion. Where had Yun Xingze learned such advanced modification techniques?
Not even the students in Starsea University’s mech design department, let alone the Imperial Military’s mech design institute, could possess such formidable design capabilities.
Could Yun Xingze have learned from the designers at the Yun family’s mech company?
Luo Wenchuan found this explanation somewhat plausible.
Yun Xingze worked swiftly, yet the modifications were intricate, and he still hadn’t finished after a long time.
Moreover, given the preciousness of the Illusion Silver, he had to ensure no mistakes were made during the modification to avoid wasting the material.
Luo Wenchuan found himself unable to comprehend the subtle annotations Yun Xingze had made as he continued reading.
It was worth noting that ever since Luo Wenchuan enrolled at Starsea Military Academy, no matter how difficult the coursework or how complex the blueprints, he could always grasp the underlying logic and direction within minutes.
Yet now, he was actually struggling to understand Yun Xingze’s diagrams—so much so that he felt a hint of…
The frustration of a struggling student facing an incomprehensible problem?
Afraid that he might end up interrupting Yun Xingze’s modifications by asking questions if he kept staring, Luo Wenchuan decided to stop looking. He moved to a nearby chair, opened his personal terminal, and began browsing Imperial news.
Unbeknownst to him, night had fallen.
Just as Yun Xingze began to feel the pangs of hunger, the aroma of food wafted into the room.
He was nearing the end of his drafting, with only the material usage estimates for the mech modifications left to finalize. As he considered taking a short break, Luo Wenchuan walked in carrying two plates of food.
Yun Xingze blinked in surprise. “Oh, you bought food?”
“There weren’t many shops nearby,” Luo Wenchuan said as he set the two steaming plates on the table. “I ordered delivery half an hour ago.”
In this era, a half-hour wait was already considered quite long.
“Thanks, Senior.” Yun Xingze took a bite, and the explosion of flavors on his taste buds made him sigh in relief—this meal had arrived at the perfect time.
“Professor Zhuo was right,” Yun Xingze said between sips of soup, giving Luo Wenchuan a thumbs-up. “You’re really good at taking care of people.”
Yun Xingze had merely said it offhandedly, but Luo Wenchuan froze.
He had no idea when he’d acquired the label of being “good at taking care of people.”
Zhuo Feiyue said that?
Luo Wenchuan was certain the man was talking nonsense.
After all, this was the first time in his life Luo Wenchuan had ever ordered food for someone else.
Yet, as he watched Yun Xingze’s satisfied expression after finishing the meal, his own appetite improved, and he ended up eating more than usual.
Once done, Yun Xingze returned to work, and time flew by unnoticed.
By the time he finally completed the Twin-Star mech modification blueprint, he stretched with a satisfied smile, ready to inform Luo Wenchuan—only to find.
Luo Wenchuan had fallen asleep at the table, his terminal still on.
Yun Xingze was stunned. He checked the time and realized it was already past two in the morning.
A pang of guilt struck him. He hadn’t realized he’d spent so long in the workshop, keeping Luo Wenchuan here with him.
Moving quietly, he stood up and took off his uniform jacket, intending to drape it over Luo Wenchuan’s shoulders.
But just as he reached out, Luo Wenchuan stirred.
Before Yun Xingze could react, Luo Wenchuan abruptly sat up and seized his wrist.
Startled, Yun Xingze was surprised by the strength of the grip.
Luo Wenchuan’s eyes snapped open, sharp with vigilance and a trace of killing intent.
But the moment his gaze landed on Yun Xingze, that edge vanished instantly.
Dazed, Luo Wenchuan stared at him, his bangs slightly disheveled from sleeping on the desk, his eyes faintly red, and a faint crease mark from the fabric pressed into his left cheek.
Since Luo Wenchuan was seated and Yun Xingze standing, the former had to tilt his head slightly to meet the latter’s gaze.
Their eyes locked.
Luo Wenchuan’s usual aloofness vanished in this moment, and Yun Xingze even found him somewhat adorable.
It was also at this instant that Yun Xingze suddenly noticed how close they were almost pressed together. He could clearly see the faint mole beneath Luo Wenchuan’s right eyelid.
Yun Xingze’s breath inexplicably hitched.
Luo Wenchuan’s heart pounded wildly.
He was always sensitive when sleeping, maintaining constant vigilance. At first, he thought the racing heartbeat was from being startled awake, but as time passed, the thumping grew louder, aching against his chest.
This was the second time Luo Wenchuan had experienced such palpitations since catching Yun Xingze’s pheromones that day now even more breathless than before.
Yet this time, pheromones weren’t to blame.
Yun Xingze couldn’t decipher Luo Wenchuan’s gaze, only feeling how the calloused palm gripping his wrist burned startlingly hot.
