Yú Chén felt his spine stiffen under his touch, like a string pulled taut to the limit, unable to make a sound, only silently questioning in his heart.

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before, accompanied by a slight pain, Yú Chén felt Yún Xúnlán remove the small blue gem that had been pinned to his ear bone.

“Sorry, Major Yú Chén, Ní Chūn mixed my communicator with yours,” His Highness the Prince apologized to him, “What you took was my communicator.”

After saying this, the young man handed over another blue gem communicator with his left hand: “This one is yours.”

The blue gem lying in the palm of His Highness the Prince was cut in a Cupid style, perfectly symmetrical with eight hearts and eight arrows. As long as there was a hint of light around, it would refract dazzling colors that could mesmerize anyone.

But Yú Chén’s gaze was not on the stunning gem; it was on Yún Xúnlán’s fingertip.

Because there was a hint of red there—his own dried blood.

Blood can dry, but pheromones cannot.

The scent of the ocean still swirled around them, causing Yú Chén to suddenly realize something quite inappropriate: Yún Xúnlán must be soaked in the scent of his pheromones right now.

He had suffered countless injuries during his previous duties, not knowing how many times he had left blood on others, and he had also left the blood of hundreds of enemies on himself.

But what about Yún Xúnlán?

He was the most favored and esteemed prince of the Galactic Empire, a top alpha born into royalty. How many times could he have had the scent of other alphas, which only emanates from bodily fluids and glands, like today?

Realizing his thoughts were drifting in an inappropriate direction, Yú Chén subtly lowered his eyelashes, timely stopping his wandering mind, and reached out to take the gem communicator handed to him by the young man.

As soon as he put it back on, he heard Yún Xúnlán ask again, “Major Yú Chén, you chose blue; do you like blue too?”

“Too?”

Yú Chén noticed the special word in His Highness’s sentence.

“Yeah.” Yú Chén answered honestly, “Blue is my favorite color.”

Yún Xúnlán said, “What a coincidence, blue is also my favorite color.”

The system criticized him after hearing this: “No way, what’s the use of this line? Liking the same color doesn’t make you good brothers! It doesn’t. Don’t forget our purpose for keeping Yú Chén here today; you need to find a way to let him know you really appreciate him, so you can become confidants and close friends!”

Yún Xúnlán accepted the system’s criticism and quickly remedied it, saying to Yú Chén, “It’s like your eyes and your pheromones, just like a sea—the sea of stars we both long to conquer.”

The system was even more anxious: “Do you hear what you’re saying? Does that sound like you appreciate him?”

What’s the difference from bluntly saying “I want to conquer you”?

Anyway, it couldn’t hear any hint of appreciation.

The system said, “If Yú Chén were gay, he might think you want to sleep with him, to hook up. But he’s not, so he’ll just think you’re provoking him, wanting to fight!”

But in reality, Yú Chén didn’t think Yún Xúnlán wanted to fight him.

He also didn’t think Yún Xúnlán was trying to hook up with him.

Of course, the possibility of the former was greater than the latter—unless Yún Xúnlán had fallen in love with him at first sight.

But that was absolutely impossible; it was more far-fetched than a fairy tale.

First of all, why would the esteemed Prince fall for an ordinary major like him?

Secondly, they were both alphas, and the nature and instincts of alphas had long determined that they would always repel, suppress, and oppose each other, and there could never be any attraction.

So Yú Chén still believed that Yún Xúnlán just wanted to ask him for tutoring in “War Psychology.” It was just that this was their first meeting, and His Highness didn’t know how to bring it up, especially since that score of less than 30 was indeed hard to mention. The consequence of forcing a conversation would easily lead to inappropriate wording, causing misunderstandings.

However, a high-ranking person can make mistakes, but a subordinate cannot follow suit.

Yú Chén decided to remain silent and wait for Yún Xúnlán to continue speaking, and he would respond when the prince brought up the tutoring matter.

Meanwhile, Yún Xúnlán was also calming the system: “Don’t rush, just listen to me slowly explain.”

He stepped away from Yú Chén, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the deep blue sky where a few scattered stars had begun to appear, deliberately adjusting his tone to a more somber and melancholic pitch: “Major Yú Chén, have you been to the border battlefield?”

The border battlefield is located at the outermost edge of the silver disk where the Milky Way meets the Silver Halo, about fifty thousand light-years from the Silver Heart—this was once the first border line of the Milky Way. It was established as the first line of defense against the invasion of extraterrestrial life from other planets.

It fell eighteen years ago, breached by the Sè Wéi’ěr insect race, becoming a war zone, and to this day, humanity has not been able to reclaim it.

The Sè Wéi’ěr insect race is physically formidable; unlike humans who need to rely on building interstellar teleportation gates and piloting spaceships to protect their bodies for jumps, they can directly open wormholes for long-distance jumps using Leviathan biological ships.

The K-79 star where Yú Chén used to be was invaded after the first border line fell, attacked by the Leviathan insect race through secondary jumps, resulting in heavy casualties, with only a few survivors.

But there were more than just one star like K-79 that suffered the bloody massacre of the Sè Wéi’ěr insect race.

How many people died at the hands of the Sè Wéi’ěr insect race?

Yú Chén’s gaze suddenly darkened, and he replied solemnly, “No, Your Highness. I haven’t been to the border battlefield yet.”

“That means you will go in the future.”

The silver-haired alpha caught his implication and turned back to walk towards him: “I want to go too.”

“I want to reclaim our lost first border line, and even more, I want to conquer the vast sea of stars beyond the Milky Way.”

The beautiful and brilliant sunset glow poured through the wide floor-to-ceiling window, like a layer of broken gold spilling over the young man. He turned all his ideals into a sigh: “But I can’t go.”

Upon hearing this, Yú Chén finally couldn’t help but raise his gaze to the handsome alpha standing before him.

He knew why Yún Xúnlán couldn’t go.

There are three border lines in the Milky Way, and to reach the first border line, which is currently the border battlefield, one must first pass through the third and second border lines. However, the fortresses that allow safe passage through these two border lines are strictly controlled by the military of various countries in the Milky Way. So generally speaking, the only legal way for ordinary citizens to go to the border battlefield is to enlist in the military.

But even if you enlist and become a soldier, you may not necessarily be able to go to the border battlefield.

After all, the border battlefield is a special situation; it is the most important defensive line for all humanity. The soldiers stationed there cannot retreat in the face of even the strongest insect race. If they are psychologically weak and flee or collapse during the war, the serious consequences would be unimaginable and unbearable for people—no one would forget that the first border line fell eighteen years ago due to an officer acting on his own and abandoning his post in battle.

So any soldier wanting to go to the border battlefield must first submit a passing score of 60 or above in “War Psychology.”

Unfortunately, Yún Xúnlán’s score in “War Psychology” was not even 30…

He thought that His Highness had laid the groundwork for so long, and they should be getting to the point of discussing tutoring soon.

As expected, the young man quickly called out to him: “Major Yú Chén.”

His Highness the Prince slightly raised his face, gazing into Yú Chén’s eyes: “I remember you scored full marks in ‘War Psychology,’ which is an extremely excellent score. I would need to take the exam four times, and only then could I accumulate such a score.”

His expression was calm as he spoke, seemingly unbothered by mentioning his poor score.

“Major Yú Chén is exceptionally talented, surpassing others, and is truly admirable.”

Yú Chén even saw the silver-haired alpha’s eyes curve slightly, those golden pupils sparkling with laughter, like diamonds shattered by the gods, constantly refracting dazzling light: “You might not know, but actually among all the guards…”

His Highness tilted his head, his alluring, husky voice cutting through the air ignited by the sunset, reaching Yú Chén’s eardrums: “I admire you the most.”

Yú Chén had known long before becoming Yún Xúnlán’s guard that although this prince of the Galactic Empire was an alpha, he was extraordinarily beautiful.

It was as if the gods had used all the colors in creation to outline that face, resulting in such a spring-like, charming visage that was captivating even without a smile.

Anyone who was caught in those golden eyes would feel a sense of being deeply loved by him.

Yú Chén felt the same illusion when Yún Xúnlán gazed at him.

He also clearly understood in his heart: an illusion is just an illusion.

But in that moment of being watched by Yún Xúnlán, his heart still couldn’t help but skip a beat.

As if that momentary pause was because his heart had been briefly captured by this alpha, imprisoned in those golden eyes.

Yú Chén lowered his eyelashes again, avoiding Yún Xúnlán’s gaze. His face showed no expression, and his eyes didn’t change at all, only his voice was lower and hoarser than the young man’s: “Thank you for your appreciation, Your Highness.”

As soon as he said this, the system in Yún Xúnlán’s mind excitedly shouted: “Sorry, I spoke too loudly just now. Your operation was really good! The emotional groundwork was laid perfectly, and then you used yourself as a contrasting example, directly highlighting how extraordinary Yú Chén is. He must be feeling your strong appreciation now.”

Yún Xúnlán had lived two lifetimes, adding up to over two thousand years, yet it was still the first time he actively sought to befriend someone and become close friends.

Plus, given the previous unsuccessful attempts to befriend Yú Chén online, he was feeling a bit insecure: “Really? Xiǎo Jū, we didn’t misunderstand him again, did we?”

“How could that be? You heard Yú Chén’s voice is hoarse; he must be desperately suppressing his excitement at being appreciated and valued.” The system retorted, even searching for evidence for him, “Don’t doubt yourself; we’re right. Keep going, and add some fuel to the brotherly bond you’re about to form!”

“Alright.” Yún Xúnlán agreed in his mind.

Then he gently cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound more credible: “You might not know, but your oath has deeply shocked me.”

Yú Chén: “…”

Yú Chén’s silence was deafening.

Unheard, Yún Xúnlán continued to praise: “So I think, with your talent, it would be a pity to only be my guard.”

Yú Chén: “…………”