Still being kissed, Ji Chenxi was the first to laugh, “What if I say no? What are you going to do then?”
Chi Zhuo looked seriously into Ji Chenxi’s eyes, seeing his own reflection in those blue depths. Up close, the blue wasn’t just like the deep sea—there were layers of color hidden within: purples, blacks, and even hints of yellow. Now, a faint mist hovered in them, making those eyes less like an ocean and more like a starry sky—deep, captivating, impossible to look away from.
“What do you think I should do?” Chi Zhuo asked, tilting Ji Chenxi’s face up and leaving a kiss right on his eye.
As Chi Zhuo leaned in, Ji Chenxi had already instinctively shut that eye, so the kiss landed just on his eyelid.
The intimate gesture made Ji Chenxi blush with embarrassment, almost shy enough not to tease him back. He only let the tail of his words rise playfully, like a little hook: “How should I know what you’re going to do, Brother Chi Zhuo? You’re not exactly honest.”
“I’d say I’ve been pretty honest,” Chi Zhuo replied, “but maybe you should be honest too—tell me where you got that dating guide from.”
“Oh, that~” Ji Chenxi dragged out the word, “that’s a long story.”
“You can make it short if you want,” Chi Zhuo countered.
“Short version? I didn’t really read any dating guide before,” Ji Chenxi confessed with a laugh, laying his cards on the table.
He couldn’t keep pretending anymore—he was afraid that if he kept acting like he had it all figured out, he’d get slapped in the face later. And if Chi Zhuo got interested in this so-called dating guide and went looking for it… that would really be a loss. Ji Chenxi didn’t even want to think about the online love guides for another second.
Chi Zhuo fell into an awkward silence for a long moment after Ji Chenxi’s sudden confession.
He reached up and touched Ji Chenxi’s chin. “Weren’t you acting like you understood everything just now? How come you’re denying it so quickly?”
Being teased, Ji Chenxi didn’t flinch. “Even if I didn’t read some dating guide, I still understand it better than you, Brother Chi Zhuo.”
“Then why don’t you tell me what should or shouldn’t be done when sending someone home?”
“I obviously know that,” Ji Chenxi replied, “but if I just tell you, wouldn’t it seem like I’m telling you what to do?”
A faint, almost unnoticeable smile curved Chi Zhuo’s lips. “That’s true, but now that you’ve said it, won’t it make every future time go smoothly?”
“Well, that’s reasonable.”
Chi Zhuo waited a moment but didn’t get any more from him. He turned to look at Ji Chenxi. “Your Highness?”
“I just said it’s reasonable,” Ji Chenxi said casually, “didn’t say I’d tell you. Compared to laying out the answers so you’d get a smooth result every time, I’d rather have you guess on your own, Brother Chi Zhuo.”
“I understand.”
They chatted loosely, back and forth, until the estate came closer into view. Ji Chenxi then casually said, “I heard the Royal Academy is planning a month-long trial starting in August, inviting top graduates to come and really put us freshmen through the wringer.”
“Huh? Why are you telling me this all of a sudden?”
Ji Chenxi raised an eyebrow, confident Chi Zhuo had picked up on the hint. “Just thought I’d mention it, since soon we’ll be out of touch for a month.”
This time, Chi Zhuo couldn’t pretend he didn’t understand. He nodded and said, “Alright, got it.”
Ji Chenxi liked to drop hints and leave them hanging. Mentioning it once was already a signal; whether Chi Zhuo would actually go or not was entirely up to him.
The two walked in easy silence all the way to the estate gates.
By now, they were very close to the vast Rose Estate. Normally, Chi Zhuo should have stopped and let Ji Chenxi walk the rest alone—after all, the closer they were, the greater the risk of being seen—but he accompanied him right up to the door.
“You’ve got me confused—are you trying to be low-key or high-profile?” Ji Chenxi shook his head with a sigh.
“It just shows I’d rather get you home than stay low-key,” Chi Zhuo said.
If anyone else had said that, Ji Chenxi would’ve thought it was some cheesy line. But coming from Chi Zhuo, it was almost certainly what he genuinely meant. After all, this was a man who rarely wasted words on lies.
A flicker of emotion passed through him, and he smiled. “Just sending me home?”
“Yes, just sending you home.”
Ji Chenxi tilted his head slightly, pretending to ponder. “Oh, so all you want is to send me home, huh, Brother Chi Zhuo?”
Chi Zhuo felt a subtle weight behind those words again.
Ji Chenxi could be blunt at times. He asked directly, “Want to stay with me? It’s not the first time you’ve spent the night anyway.”
Chi Zhuo was a careful, deliberate man. Today he had successfully confessed; the joy was piled high, and sending someone home was already one of the things a boyfriend was supposed to do. Staying over was clearly not on the list. Yet, in that moment, he wavered—more than wanting to go home, he wanted to stay with Ji Chenxi.
Just as Chi Zhuo almost opened his mouth to agree, Ji Chenxi suddenly shifted tone, waving goodbye with a smile. “Just kidding. I’m off, Brother Chi Zhuo. Thanks for taking the trouble to walk me home.”
Chi Zhuo, nearly caught off guard, felt no irritation at being teased—just a mixture of helplessness and affection. “Alright, see you next time.”
He watched Ji Chenxi walk away, but as the other turned to leave, Ji Chenxi suddenly ran back, caught Chi Zhuo’s chin, and pressed a brief, gentle kiss on his lips.
After the kiss, he laughed. “Almost forgot—the parting kiss.”
Chi Zhuo stared after him, watching Ji Chenxi’s figure fade. Soon, someone came to greet him at the estate gates, and Ji Chenxi, who had walked quite a distance, stepped back into his floating car.
Was he trying to walk farther? Of course not. He just wanted to spend a little more time with him.
Ji Chenxi always seemed to do things—half intentionally, half by chance—that made Chi Zhuo’s heart skip.
Throughout their time together, neither of them mentioned the spiritual form still held in Ji Chenxi’s hand, as if the Black Mamba didn’t even exist.
A month passed in the blink of an eye, and suddenly it was time for the trial at the Royal Academy.
At first, Ji Chenxi thought this was just the Royal Academy’s own trial. After all, in the original story, the First Military Academy had gone with a completely different type of trial. The two top universities hadn’t cooperated at all. But perhaps Ji Chenxi had messed with the storyline too much—now it seemed he had to fix it himself. To his surprise, the Royal Academy and the First Academy had decided to hold this freshman trial together.
Among the new students, he spotted Bai Anran, who had made a small effort to tidy up his face. Ji Chenxi wasn’t surprised in the slightest. He just nodded lightly at him, calm and composed.
Seeing a familiar face, Bai Anran paled slightly. He had risked coming to the First Military Academy because almost everyone there was a civilian, and his chosen field made it very unlikely he’d run into anyone he knew. Who could have guessed that the First Academy and Royal Academy would quietly organize a sort of “meet-and-greet”?
Ji Chenxi gave Bai Anran a reassuring glance and then didn’t pay him any more attention.
Thanks to what had happened with Que Qi, a lot of online fans already knew his true identity. Plus, there were several freshmen he could casually chat with, so it wasn’t long before a crowd gathered around him. Many even wanted to team up with him for the upcoming trial.
At first, Ji Chenxi didn’t take the trial seriously at all—just thought it was childish play. But once it actually started, he found it kind of interesting. Most trials usually start by making the candidates cooperate, and only after everyone’s progress has been leveled out do they start competing.
This time, however, the trial kicked off directly with a point-grabbing competition.
Those around Ji Chenxi hesitated at first, but no one expected him to act immediately and decisively, striking first.
While the freshmen fought among themselves, there was also an external threat: the top graduates recruited by the Royal Academy. At first, Ji Chenxi only “counterattacked” one senior and successfully grabbed the two points he was carrying. But that single move caught the attention of that senior, his friends, and their extended circle.
Right now, Ji Chenxi hated people with ridiculously good connections more than anything.
As he ran and dodged, Ji Chenxi was already planning how to take out the whole group in one go. Hidden in the shadows, quietly counting the right moment to strike, he suddenly sensed a familiar presence again.
The only difference this time was that the presence was far away. Ji Chenxi released a faint thread of his spiritual energy in response.
Then he crouched again, waiting for the right moment. When he responded to Chi Zhuo, Chi Zhuo’s spiritual energy directly linked to that faint trace he had sent out.
[How’s it going?]
Ji Chenxi answered honestly: [Surrounded by over a dozen people.]
[Got it, understood.]
Ji Chenxi wanted to reply further. He didn’t want to reveal too much; otherwise, he could have taken them all out in a few swift moves. Unfortunately, the spiritual energy he had sent out before was minimal, and after just a few exchanges, their connection was cut off.
Ji Chenxi clicked his tongue lightly and struck with lightning speed.
He didn’t go all-out; instead, he pulled and took them out in small groups, handling three at a time. It didn’t look abrupt at all—it actually seemed natural.
By the time Chi Zhuo arrived, he caught Ji Chenxi finishing off the last of them. The silver-haired alpha looked insanely handsome and wild after defeating everyone. His gaze toward Chi Zhuo was pure danger. “You’re here for the points too?”
Before Chi Zhuo could answer, Ji Chenxi lunged straight at him. Chi Zhuo dodged with a twisting, unpredictable motion, but Ji Chenxi managed to land a perfect kick, shattering the recorder drone behind him.
The fierce, untamed expression on Ji Chenxi’s face melted into a smile almost instantly. “How did you know I wanted to go after the recorder behind you?”
“Because there are already a bunch of recorders scattered on the ground, it wasn’t hard to guess. But the commotion’s a bit loud—probably more will come soon.”
Noticing the fine sweat on Chi Zhuo’s forehead, Ji Chenxi asked, “Running over here?”
Chi Zhuo nodded.
Ji Chenxi laughed again. “I really—love you to death, Brother Chi Zhuo—”
Chi Zhuo’s calm expression faltered. In the summer sunset, the silver-haired youth was all smiles, his body bathed in a warm, golden glow that made hearts skip a beat. Chi Zhuo’s own heartbeat went haywire, completely out of control.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but the tips of his ears betrayed him with a faint flush. Every ounce of self-control melted against a single confession from the boy. He wanted to sound authoritative, to speak like an older, composed man—but all that came out was a low, muffled “Mm,” unsure if it was a response or an acknowledgment.
“…That’s the worried look you give me, huh?” Ji Chenxi added between breaths, finally finishing his teasing with a laugh.
Chi Zhuo: “…”
Feeling completely baited, his brain practically staging a revolt, Chi Zhuo turned on his heel and walked away.
Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters. (๑>ᴗ<๑)
