Chapter 86: Trembling Eyes, Tight Lips
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
The bed Lu Yao had assembled was far too narrow. The two of them had no choice but to lie on their sides with their legs pressed tightly together. Zhou Yunchen had just slept for a while, planning to get up once Lu Yao drifted off. Yet the warmth of skin against skin quickly eroded his willpower, and he slipped back into drowsiness.
This time, though, he didn’t sleep long. After a short nap, Zhou Yunchen woke up before Lu Yao. Rising from the makeshift bed, he leaned down to tuck the edges of the blanket more securely around Lu Yao, even pulling it over his cool, rounded toes.
It was then he realized that the bedding beneath them was actually reflective fabric from the mecha’s rear cabin—metal-coated on one side, with the slightly plush surface set facing upward. The blanket over them was a tightly woven anti-fall net.
Zhou Yunchen lingered for a moment, watching Lu Yao’s faintly flushed cheeks and nose, before turning away to gather their discarded uniforms. The dried fluids clinging to the fabric gave off a heavy, sweet-iron scent that refused to disperse in the enclosed cockpit.
Lu Yao couldn’t smell it, but Zhou Yunchen could, and it was overwhelming. He opened the ventilation system and carried the bundle of clothing to the rear of the cabin.
Lu Yao woke from the lingering heat of sleep to the sound of splashing water and vigorous scrubbing. He reached out, found the bed beside him empty, and in a daze glanced through the half-round hatch to see Zhou Yunchen already dressed in his combat uniform.
The uniform fit him perfectly—neither loose nor overly tight—showing off the General’s powerful frame, full of alpha strength and masculine presence. He looked every bit as though he could raise an energy sniper rifle and charge straight into battle, ripping beasts apart with his bare hands.
And yet here was this Federal General, a fleet commander, engaged in work that had nothing to do with bloodshed or combat glory. In the trickle of running water, Zhou Yunchen bent low, scrubbing diligently at the collar and hem of Lu Yao’s gray uniform where the worst stains had set in. Both his and Lu Yao’s traces marked the fabric.
He looked strangely domestic, like a dutiful husband washing clothes late at night by a dim lamp for his wife and children. Even the small light above the sink seemed to conspire in setting the scene.
Lu Yao had never imagined that the washbasin he’d installed during cockpit design—meant for pilots to freshen up during long missions—would end up serving such a purpose.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t interrupt. Zhou Yunchen rinsed the garments twice over, wrung out Lu Yao’s shirt and pants separately, and finally looked up—meeting Lu Yao’s gaze. “You…” Zhou Yunchen’s voice faltered. “You’re awake.”
“Mm.” Lu Yao’s reply was soft. His face was flushed from the heat of sleep, even the sharp, icy edges of his features blurred by the warmth of color. The habitual coldness in his eyes had melted into clarity. Zhou Yunchen hung the uniform aside, dampened a towel, and returned to the bed. Tilting Lu Yao’s chin, he carefully wiped his face, especially the sweat along his forehead and temples where strands of hair clung to overheated skin. After smoothing his hair, Lu Yao tipped his chin higher. “Neck.”
His voice was still cool, still detached, but paired with the blush across his face, the effect was jarring enough to make Zhou Yunchen’s head swim. In a daze, he flipped the towel and wiped the pale column of Lu Yao’s throat. “Take off your shirt. I’ll wash it.”
Lu Yao frowned, suspicious he was growing addicted to laundering. “I don’t have anything else to wear.”
Zhou Yunchen opened his mouth, realizing the truth—he had spare combat uniforms stored aboard the Distant Star, but Lu Yao didn’t. And his own uniforms would be far too large for him. “I’ll dry your coat first. Just a few minutes,” Zhou Yunchen said.
He retrieved the gray uniform, opened a panel in the cockpit, disabled the cooling system, and used the infrared scanner’s high heat to dry the fabric. Soon, the still-warm coat and trousers were back in Lu Yao’s hands. After a moment’s thought, Lu Yao began unbuttoning his shirt in front of Zhou Yunchen.
The Chief Engineer’s sense of gender propriety wavered unpredictably, sometimes sharp, sometimes faint, hard to grasp. Zhou Yunchen coughed lightly and turned away.
Lu Yao didn’t quite understand. After everything that had already happened, what was Zhou Yunchen still avoiding? He slipped into the uniform coat without the shirt and handed the latter back to Zhou Yunchen. “Your sensitive period hasn’t ended yet?”
Zhou Yunchen stared at him, jaw shifting as though he wanted to speak, but no words came. Finally, he answered simply, “No.”
Fine, Lu Yao thought. In sensitive periods, alphas could act strangely out of character. If Zhou Yunchen wanted to play at being a laundry-loving Cinderella, so be it.
While Zhou Yunchen hunched over the basin again, Lu Yao slipped on his shoes and moved to the console. Activating the holoscreen, he saw that a full day and night had passed since he’d boarded Distant Star. In that time, aside from occasional tremors from the Ares’ distant cannon fire, the hangar had remained utterly quiet.
When the sound of water finally ceased, Zhou Yunchen returned to the pilot’s chair. “Yaoyao, why did you suddenly come here?”
Lu Yao glanced at him. Zhou Yunchen pressed his lips together, unsure if he had said something wrong. Testing, he asked, “May I call you that?”
“You’ve called me that many times already.” Only now, after a day and night of chaos aboard Distant Star, did Zhou Yunchen remember to ask. He found himself at a loss for words.
“Call me whatever you like, as long as I know it’s me you’re calling,” Lu Yao said. “Zhao Minghe told me you’d entered a sensitive period, so I came.”
“And your competition?”
“They’re in the mecha assembly stage now. They have the blueprints. They don’t need me there in person,” Lu Yao replied. “Do you want to keep resting?”
“No, I’ve slept enough.”
Lu Yao nodded, falling into silence. A mecha cockpit was no vacation villa. Without battles to fight, there was little to do besides sleep. He thought for a moment, then pulled Zhou Yunchen back onto the bed, shifting the holoscreen in front of them. He brought up Distant Star’s past battle records. “Why watch these?” Zhou Yunchen sat slightly behind him, letting Lu Yao lean back against his waist.
“Strategy analysis is part of mecha design,” Lu Yao said. Zhou Yunchen simply wrapped an arm around his shoulders. When Lu Yao grew tired, he fetched a nutrient vial, and after Lu Yao drank it, the two of them curled up to sleep again. They spent two days this way, night and day reversed, until an urgent message from Zhao Minghe broke the warmth and quiet.
Zhou Yunchen led Lu Yao off Distant Star and out of the mecha hangar. Zhou Yunchen needed to head to the command room to discuss the next strategic shift with the other generals. Seeing that his mind had mostly stabilized, Lu Yao asked, “Has your rut ended?”
Zhou Yunchen’s steps faltered sharply. His expression shifted before settling into a restrained look as he turned back to Lu Yao. “No.”
Lu Yao considered this, but before he could reply, Zhou Yunchen continued, “Stay in my quarters. Wonderland will take you there.” At the side, Zhao Minghe kept his gaze fixed politely downward, pretending not to hear his superior’s private words.
Lu Yao didn’t think too much of it. Following the guidance of the AI, he made his way to Zhou Yunchen’s quarters. A robot delivered his suitcase, and Torque was brought along as well. While Lu Yao showered and changed, the white cat sat at the window, paws pressed against the glass as he meowed at the flickering stars and distant bursts of artillery.
Once he had freshened up, Lu Yao settled at Zhou Yunchen’s desk with Torque in his arms. He opened the mecha data records Wonderland had provided and began analyzing them. Zhou Yunchen had said the snow leopard had been transferred to a rear starship far from the battlefield to avoid stress from noise and shaking. Lu Yao couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.
As the outside world claimed, field data analysis wasn’t something he needed to do himself. The work was simple, nearly mechanical. He quickly finished the spreadsheets and models, then opened his work inbox and remote conference channel to contact the New Blue Star research base, confirming progress on the NTL prototype construction.
When Zhou Yunchen finally returned from his long strategy meeting, he was greeted by this sight: Lu Yao seated upright at the desk, voice sharp as he directed the mecha assembly process on the screen. His occasional pointed questions left the technicians cold with sweat, stammering as they answered.
But beneath the desk, half-hidden from view, Torque lay sprawled across Lu Yao’s lap, belly up, paws wrapped around Lu Yao’s hand as he nibbled playfully at his fingers. Lu Yao, unbothered, stroked the cat’s long fur with quiet patience.
The sound of the door opening made Lu Yao turn his head. In that split second, the stern, battle-hardened General Zhou Yunchen—the man whose stride carried enough cold authority to freeze the air around him—shed all of his imposing aura. His lips lifted into the faintest curve, his deeply furrowed brows eased, and the rigid tension along his jaw and eyelids softened. What remained was a face both handsome and restrained, carrying traces of urgency, endurance, and an unmistakable vulnerability.
Lu Yao’s gaze lingered on him. The hand petting Torque stilled, and a faint crease appeared between his brows. Zhou Yunchen’s steps quickened as he crossed the room. His face disappeared from the view of the technicians on the other side of the screen, leaving them with only the image of two strong hands gripping Lu Yao’s shoulders, veins and knuckles starkly defined beneath the lamplight. The brass cuffs of his uniform gleamed under the light.
Though Lu Yao’s shoulders weren’t especially narrow, they were slender, and Zhou Yunchen’s grip sank in as though he could press through to the bone. Possessiveness radiated from the touch without restraint. The technicians’ voices faltered, shrinking as if they shouldn’t be there at all.
From Lu Yao’s angle, he could see the tight line of Zhou Yunchen’s lips and the tremor at the corner of his eyes—an image of a man barely holding back the pain and fragility of his rut. The harder a person appeared on the outside, the more their brief glimpses of vulnerability could stir emotions in those who witnessed them.
Lu Yao lowered his gaze for a moment before telling the technicians, “Handle it yourselves. I’ll check in again later.”
The screen went dark. Just as he had patted Torque earlier, Lu Yao reached up and patted the back of Zhou Yunchen’s hand. What he didn’t know was that on the other side of the universe, the technicians staring at the black screen were exchanging uneasy glances. In each other’s eyes, they saw the same worry: that Chief Engineer Lu was about to be swept away by a certain General.
Author’s Note:
#General Zhou, the virtuous husband and father#
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