Yú Chén’s patience had completely run out. He paused the exam and took off the virtual battlefield helmet.

With the exam interrupted, Yún Xúnlán also instantly disconnected from the virtual battlefield. As he opened his eyes, he saw Yú Chén’s expressionless face, extending his right hand with his index finger and thumb touching to form a “0” gesture, and said, “Zero.”

Yú Chén had figured out Yún Xúnlán’s true capabilities—
“Zero.” He emphasized again, “I’m giving you a zero.”

“Your Highness, could you first tell me how you managed to score in the teens or twenties before?”

Yú Chén couldn’t understand how any examiner could see Yún Xúnlán’s performance in the virtual battlefield and resist giving him a zero. How could he even have a chance to score in the teens or twenties?

“The first duty of a soldier is to obey orders.” Yú Chén was so angry he wanted to curse, but he clenched his fists and restrained himself. “Your Highness, you can’t even do the most basic thing.”

Moreover, the order he gave was simply to gather outside.

Yún Xúnlán wouldn’t even comply with that; it was utterly ridiculous! No wonder he had gone through eight remedial teachers in a year!

If Yún Xúnlán were truly one of his soldiers, Yú Chén would have kicked him out on the first day.

Hearing Yú Chén say this, Yún Xúnlán also took off the virtual battlefield helmet, lowering his gaze and letting out a lonely and helpless sigh: “Sigh…”

The system in his mind sighed along with him: “Sigh… This thing can be so annoying.”

Once Yún Xúnlán entered the virtual war through the helmet, all memories related to the system would be deliberately faded. But from his past life to this life, Yún Xúnlán had been bound to the system for over two thousand years. The thought of “completing the daily tasks assigned by the system to survive” had become his survival instinct, an inseparable part of him. Even if he forgot the existence of the system, Yún Xúnlán would still react instinctively.

Yú Chén was curious about how he managed to score in the teens or twenties.

It was simple. The characters that appeared in the virtual battlefield, aside from the examiners, were all intelligent AIs. Some of these AI commanders were designed to be fierce and rough, loving to curse. If Yún Xúnlán was randomly assigned to one of these AI commanders and got scolded a couple of times, he would leave. Although he often felt invincible and fearless, leading to his death during missions, he would still manage to score one or two points, not ending up with a zero.

Today was purely bad luck; he was randomly assigned to a very well-mannered AI commander, and Yú Chén was also very well-mannered, not cursing at him at all. That’s why Yún Xúnlán’s performance was so poor.

Why was taking an exam so difficult? Yún Xúnlán felt troubled.

Yú Chén was also troubled.

He was worried about how he could tutor Yún Xúnlán.

For others, tutoring was about filling in the gaps, like fixing a hole in a roof. Just patch it up, and it’s done.

But Yún Xúnlán? He had no roof at all; he was completely exposed. Even Nüwa would struggle to fix that.

Yú Chén felt he didn’t have that ability.

And was Yún Xúnlán’s issue really that he hadn’t learned the course on “War Psychology” well?

Yú Chén tried to be gentle with his words, saying to Yún Xúnlán, “Your Highness, the military is a place that values discipline and obedience. To be frank, you… are not suited for military service.”

“I know, but only this way…” Yún Xúnlán raised his gaze, staring into Yú Chén’s deep blue eyes, and slowly said, “can I qualify to go to the border battlefield.”

Yú Chén frowned slightly: “But there are other ways to qualify for the border battlefield besides joining the military.”

Medical personnel, logistics staff, mecha maintenance engineers… These people also serve on the border battlefield, using their skills to fight against the insect race for the future of all humanity. The psychological pressure required for their professions is not as high as that of soldiers, and the mental health assessments are relatively easier to pass.

Since Yún Xúnlán could develop the ninth-generation omega estrus suppression agent, it proved that he could completely try for a medical worker’s identity, passing the psychological health assessments required by that profession to qualify for the border battlefield.

Why did he have to join the military?

Yú Chén was puzzled.

“I also know that I am not suited for military service, nor can I become a qualified soldier,” Yún Xúnlán said, “but I must go to the border battlefield as a front-line soldier, so I can only join the military.”

Hearing this, Yú Chén directly asserted, “Impossible.”

Even if Yún Xúnlán handed in a perfect score on “War Psychology,” it still wouldn’t be possible.

The reason was that to ensure the continuation of the royal bloodline, the Galactic Empire had constitutional regulations stating that, barring special circumstances, the royal family could not have two royal members deployed to the front lines at the same time.

Currently, the border battlefield already had two royal family members, Emperor Yún Qī Hè and Second Prince Mù Xīng Yǔ, stationed there. Even if Mù Xīng Yǔ did not have royal blood, Emperor Yún Qī Hè did, and he was guarding the most dangerous front line.

In this situation, would the Galactic Empire Council agree to let Yún Xúnlán go to the border battlefield as a front-line soldier?

Unless Emperor Yún Qī Hè died in battle, or the Sè Wēi’ěr insect army broke through the second border line and pressed against the third border line, otherwise, it was absolutely impossible.

To take it a step further, even if the worst-case scenario happened, and Yún Xúnlán failed the “War Psychology” exam and could not pass the mental health assessment, he still wouldn’t be able to go to the border battlefield.

—The law was set this way; it could not be violated.

Just as Yú Chén’s denying words fell, Yún Xúnlán raised an eyebrow and gave him a “little” shock: “Why is it impossible? I can go illegally, can’t I?”

Yú Chén: “…”

Can he?

If he broke the law, what couldn’t he do?

Yún Xúnlán’s “War Psychology” score might be lacking, but his ability to leave others speechless was something Yú Chén truly admired.

Perhaps seeing that Yú Chén was at a loss for words, the silver-haired alpha smirked as if ending a joke and returned to the serious matter, saying, “Of course, we absolutely cannot do anything illegal, so I must study ‘War Psychology’ well, pass the assessments, and go to the border battlefield through legal means.”

“In the next assessment, I will strictly follow your orders, so…”

“Don’t be angry.”

Yún Xúnlán rested his arms on the table, leaning slightly toward Yú Chén, his golden eyes sparkling in the night, with a gentle smile on his lips and brow, softly asking, “Can you forgive me this time, Teacher Yú?”

—Another “can you?”

As if Yún Xúnlán were something marked by Yú Chén, every word and action was under Yú Chén’s control. To gain Yú Chén’s approval, he had to be freed from the bonds that tied him.

Yet in the virtual battlefield, he clearly didn’t listen to himself at all.

But when Yú Chén’s gaze met those golden eyes, he found himself unable to utter a word of denial.

…Who could refuse that?

If it were Fù Yánxī or Guì Yán, they would probably forget how to write the word “no” and become living illiterates.

Yú Chén pressed his lips together, noncommittal, and turned away from the silver-haired alpha’s warm gaze, helplessly asking, “Your Highness, did your previous teachers leave because they listened to you say these things?”

“I only dare to say these things to you, but they still left me.” Yún Xúnlán recalled his previous teachers’ evaluations of him and relayed them to Yú Chén, “They said that being my examiner and watching me take the exam was a form of torture.”

Yú Chén couldn’t help but nod: “Comparable to torture.”

In just a few minutes, it could shorten someone’s life by a decade. What a terrifying level of torment!

Yún Xúnlán sincerely admitted his fault: “Yes, it’s all my fault. I will work hard to correct it.”

He was genuinely afraid that Yú Chén would also be driven away by his scores—those teachers who had tutored him before had such good tempers at first, but in the end, they were all driven to the brink of madness by his performance in the virtual battlefield, nearly cursing him out.

And Yú Chén’s temper was already bad; if he got so angry he left, that would be a big problem.

Yún Xúnlán felt that if he missed Yú Chén, he might never encounter such a capable tool… Ah, no, a good brother and a fierce general again in this lifetime.

As long as he could keep Yú Chén, he was willing to pay any price!

So Yún Xúnlán stared intently at Yú Chén’s face, lowering his voice to show humility, and with the most sincere tone, he pleaded, “Teacher Yú, please stay by my side a little longer.”

Yú Chén, however, felt that Yún Xúnlán was flirting with him again.

Although he didn’t look at Yún Xúnlán, he could feel the silver-haired alpha’s gaze on him never leaving for a moment. That slightly hoarse and gentle voice sounded more like seduction than a plea.

But no matter which it was, Yú Chén seemed unable to refuse.

The inherent instinct of confrontation and repulsion between alpha and alpha seemed to completely vanish when he faced Yún Xúnlán.

The only thing Yú Chén could refuse Yún Xúnlán was one thing—
“…Your Highness, I will continue to tutor you, but please don’t call me ‘Teacher Yú’ anymore.” He also spoke in a low voice, reminding Yún Xúnlán, “You said that when it’s just the two of us, you would call me by my name.”

He couldn’t bear the title of “teacher,” and the way “Teacher Yú” sounded was too ambiguous. Yú Chén would rather hear Yún Xúnlán call him by his full name.

As a result, Yún Xúnlán smiled and teasingly said, “Then… Teacher Yú Chén?”

Yú Chén: “…”

“Okay, Your Highness Yún Xúnlán.” Yú Chén finally raised his gaze, his eyes slowly returning to Yún Xúnlán, “If you like it.”

The smile in Yún Xúnlán’s eyes deepened, reminding Yú Chén that he had said more than just that: “Actually, I prefer you to call me by my name, without ‘Your Highness,’ and not just ‘Your Highness’—when it’s just the two of us.”

“…”

Yú Chén truly found himself at a loss with Yún Xúnlán.

Why did he always call Yún Xúnlán “Your Highness”? Wasn’t it to maintain an appropriate distance between them, to prevent Yún Xúnlán from sinking deeper into this hopeless feeling of unrequited love?

But Yún Xúnlán didn’t appreciate it, and he couldn’t argue with Yún Xúnlán, so he had to grit his teeth and agree: “Alright, alright, Yún Xúnlán, Yún Xúnlán.”

After agreeing, he directly called the young man’s name twice in succession, his tone a mix of helplessness and frustration, the complexity rivaling that of a 3S mecha design blueprint.

And Yún Xúnlán understood the principle of moderation, knowing that going too far could lead to excess. He was afraid that if he continued to tease, Yú Chén would also be driven away, so he immediately concluded tonight’s tutoring session: “Let’s stop here for today’s tutoring; I feel…”

The silver-haired alpha smiled: “You’ve been tormented by me quite a bit.”