Chapter 21: High-Risk Experimental Subject  

Jing Rong smiled.  

He took hold of Jue’s hand.  

It was silent approval and consent.  

Jue paused, his voice strangely soft and subdued: “Brother, you…”  

He was injured.  

But Jue didn’t finish, feeling an intense surge of emotion.  

Jing Rong kept his eyes closed but could still sense Jue’s gaze lingering on his face—filled with curiosity and indulgence, uncontrolled and uncontained.  

Jue’s voice already sounded hoarse: “Brother, let me bandage your eyes.”  

He was eager to divert his attention. After all, Jing Rong had just expended tremendous energy and taken a direct hit from a Mental Burst Bomb. Bringing this up now seemed inconsiderate of his condition.  

A good Chief wouldn’t disregard his lover’s well-being. He wasn’t that desperate.  

Jing Rong listened as Jue rinsed the bandages in a basin of water, applied basic herbal treatment, and then came over to wrap his eyes.  

Jue said, “This is the only herb from the nearby snow mountains that has any effect on Mental Power. When we head further west to the front lines, I’ll seize the best medicine for you.”  

In truth, he would likely recover by the next morning.  

Jing Rong didn’t say anything. Once the bandages were secured, he responded with boundless enthusiasm: “Alright, I’ll wait for the Chief to seize the best medicine for me.”  

His voice was calm and steady. With his eyes bound, he instinctively tilted his chin slightly upward as he spoke, facing Jue’s direction.  

Jue didn’t respond.  

He was mesmerized—staring at Jing Rong’s nose, the line of his jaw, his distinct Adam’s apple, and the faint sheen of sweat dampening his hair.  

This handsome, bright-eyed young man was his.  

He never would have imagined that one day, he’d be utterly enchanted by an Auerke.  

Jue glanced outside the tent.  

The Auerke soldiers were dutifully standing guard. After You Tier returned, he took charge of all trivial matters. They should have the entire night to themselves without interruption.  

But the ever-rational and meticulous Chief wouldn’t allow any accidents or mishaps.  

Jue stood and called out to those outside, “All of you, go rest. Tonight, I’ll tend to our companion’s injuries.”  

The guards obeyed the order and dispersed.  

Jue extinguished the excess lamps, leaving only a single Wind Lamp by the bedside.  

Jing Rong’s features looked especially striking in the lamplight.  

As he often did, Jue pressed Jing Rong down, carefully avoiding his wounds.  

Then, time passed slowly—Jue didn’t move.  

After a while, Jing Rong asked, “Don’t know what to do?”  

Jue’s ears burned red.  

He had grown up in a lab, with no means of learning about such things. Even his understanding of couples and marriage was pieced together haphazardly from childhood observations and the people around him.  

Though his face was flushed, his voice remained composed: “Of course I know. Just like last time.”  

Last time, in the inn, they had engaged in certain activities—he assumed that was how things were done.  

A moment later.  

He whispered, “Brother, what about you? Should I help?”  

“No need.”  

Jing Rong sat up slightly, his voice cool and steady by Jue’s ear: “There’s another way you can help Brother.”  

*  

Some time later, Jing Rong murmured, “Thirsty?”

Jing Rong’s fingertips brushed over Jue’s cheek. Jue lay on the bed with his eyes closed, gripping Jing Rong’s arm tightly. After a long pause, he finally murmured, “…Thirsty.”

He’d even forgotten Jing Rong couldn’t see.

Jing Rong reached for the cup, but it was farther than where he’d last heard it placed. He clicked his tongue softly and had to get out of bed to fetch water.

For the Executor, this was already quite an emotional display.

Jue instantly realized what was making him impatient.

Though still reeling from what had happened and unsure how to react, when Jing Rong returned, Jue lightly touched his arm.

Clenching his fingers as if steeling himself for battle, Jue mustered his courage and said, “Brother, I don’t want to stop either.”

After drinking a few sips, he held some water in his mouth, rose to pass it to Jing Rong, wrapping his arms around his neck—awkward but utterly passionate and sincere.

They didn’t fall asleep until nearly dawn.

*

When Jing Rong woke the next day, the space beside him was empty.

By his estimation, it was around ten in the morning.

As expected, his vision had mostly recovered, with only the faintest haze of blood remaining.

His coat and shirt were haphazardly draped over the bedside, while a bundle of bloodied and suspiciously stained bandages—the very set Jue had changed for him last night—lay discarded on the floor.

626’s voice chimed in: “Good morning, Executor. Seems like you two had quite the intense night.”

Jing Rong picked up the tangled bandages and tossed them into water to soak. “Yeah.”

All his wounds had reopened, and Jue wasn’t much better off—his shirt and coat were smeared with Jing Rong’s blood.

Finding fresh clothes in his suitcase, Jing Rong began buttoning them up.

Jue wasn’t in the room, having left early after barely a few hours of sleep.

626 added, “You Tier came by at dawn to report on the train repairs and asked for his help. That’s when I got woken up too. Your partner left without a word.”

Jing Rong said, “He’s had a rough time.”

—Though most of Jue’s exhaustion was likely due to last night’s activities.

626 asked, “What’s next, brother?”

Jing Rong replied, “Going for a walk.”

Both sides had fared better than expected—no fatalities, and the injured had received timely treatment.

The blizzard-laden winter was now inevitable, and with the mountains fractured, the captured personnel couldn’t pose much threat. In fact, with no supplies coming through the winter, the Auerke People and residents of the Isle of Blazing Fire would have to cooperate to survive.

Jing Rong made rounds at the infirmary, tending to a few patients, then inspected the children’s camp.

For the past few days, all camp meals had been prepared by the minors.

Jing Rong taught them how to build more fuel-efficient windproof stoves and handed each child a gingerbread cookie.

In the afternoon, You Tier sought him out.

“Sir… you…” You Tier clearly struggled with how to address Jing Rong, stumbling over his words before settling on, “Sir.”

Jing Rong asked, “What is it?”

“The leader drafted a list of tasks for the coming days and asked me to bring it for your review—to see if you have any suggestions or guidance.”

You Tier looked at him with a mix of fear and reverence, his gaze shifting to the group of children near Jing Rong—they were lining up to receive gingerbread cookies.

—Damn it, these little lambs have no idea how to be afraid. They don’t realize what kind of devil stands before them!

Jing Rong took the paper but didn’t look at it immediately. Instead, a faint smile curled at his lips. “Where’s Jue? Why didn’t he come himself?”

You Tier thought for a moment, scratching his head. “The leader said he wasn’t feeling well today, so he won’t be coming.”

Jing Rong nodded. “Understood.”

After finishing the note, he handed it to You Tier and continued helping around until sunset.

At dusk, another message arrived from Jue, delivered by an unfamiliar soldier. The soldier relayed, “Sir, the leader asks that you rest early tonight. He’ll be discussing future plans with the squads and may be very late.”

Jing Rong listened, then smiled again. “Understood.”

The slow-witted 626 finally sensed something amiss. “Isn’t this a bit cold? Why does it feel like he’s avoiding you today?”

Jing Rong replied, “Even as a leader, he can still be shy.”

Jue had fled without a word that morning, clearly unable to adjust to the overwhelming shock and embarrassment.

Jing Rong added, “But his strength is how quickly he adapts. It’s the same with everything.”

Eleven at night.

Jue hadn’t stopped working all day, tirelessly pushing forward. When the time was right, he gathered the others and headed back to his tent for the meeting.

The closer he got to the tent, the faster his heart pounded, thudding loudly in his chest.

His mind replayed scenes from last night—that absurd, unrestrained evening. Jing Rong’s sharp jawline, the sweat on his skin, his jet-black hair.

Yet his expression betrayed nothing.

Until he spotted the figure waiting outside the tent.

Jing Rong leaned against the tent’s entrance, arms crossed, a light dusting of snow on his shoulders. Seeing Jue approach, he smiled.

Jue panicked, instinctively tightening his grip on his weapon.

Fortunately, he quickly composed himself, lowering his voice. “Brother, I sent you a message this afternoon. You should have rested early.”

He stopped, maintaining a polite distance between them.

Jing Rong nodded. “I know. I came to tell you—my eyes have mostly recovered.”

Before Jue could feel relieved, Jing Rong calmly added, “I couldn’t see clearly last night. Next time, I should have the chance to.”

Jue’s carefully controlled expression instantly crumbled.

His entire body burned, uncontrollably.