“A chicken leg is not an item.”
“What?”
“A. Chicken. Leg. Is not an item.”
The second lieutenant repeated loudly, placing a lunch on the table that was as bland as yesterday’s without any expression.
Qi Ying’s eyes widened. “…Then what does it count as?”
“A chicken leg counts as food.” As the second lieutenant spoke, he pulled out a watch-like device from his pocket. “This is the ambient pheromone concentration detector you asked for. It’s extremely sensitive—a second-generation product newly developed to adapt to pheromone battlefields.”
Qi Ying didn’t care at all whether it was first or second generation, taking it casually and strapping it onto his wrist. “I know it’s food, but your form only has a spot to write items.”
“Mm. So you can only write items.”
“…” Qi Ying scratched his head, briefly unsure whether his expressive ability was broken or if the other guy had a comprehension issue. “My point is, how can I request food preferences then? For example, can I change ‘Items Needed’ on the log to ‘Food Needed’?”
The second lieutenant’s response was concise and to the point: “You can’t request it.”
“That’s unreasonable!” Qi Ying was shocked; eating broccoli for 30 days was a form of torture. “So if you feed me trash, I can’t request a change either?!”
The second lieutenant “repeater” said, “That situation is unlikely to happen, but yes, even if you eat trash, you can’t request a change.”
“?” Qi Ying stared at him with wide eyes.
The second lieutenant locked eyes with him for a short moment, choosing to offer a brief explanation: “Our meals are pre-portioned and sent over from the urban area, arranged uniformly over there.”
“Prepared meals?”
“…I wouldn’t call it that, but you could say so.”
Qi Ying couldn’t understand it. “So why do you military troops pay such a high salary, yet only provide prepared meals?”
The second lieutenant lowered his head to set the chopsticks in order, acting nonchalant. “Is it high? How much are you getting?”
Qi Ying didn’t know whether this was an interrogation or just gossip between colleagues. He hesitated before speaking: “8,000?”
The second lieutenant mouthed a curse word.
“Huh?”
The second lieutenant promptly restored his professional composure: “That’s already higher than my salary. What more do you want?”
Qi Ying replied, “It’s not about what I want. My demands are small, but Mr. Lu’s unbalanced diet is a major issue. If he lacks high-quality protein, he’ll become manic and start hitting people!”
The second lieutenant pressed his lips together and fell silent.
This intense negotiation actually yielded results. Because as soon as the second lieutenant showed up at dinner time, Qi Ying saw two braised chicken legs sitting on the top tray.
However, that top layer was quickly pulled back, and the second lieutenant said, “This top one with the chicken legs belongs to Lu Mengzheng. The bottom one is yours—don’t mix them up.”
“…Is this right?” Qi Ying said incredulously. “The prisoner gets chicken legs, but I don’t?”
The second lieutenant looked at him with a serious expression on his baby face: “Are those two things even comparable? You’ve only lost two ‘legs,’ but he has lost his freedom.”
“…”
Qi Ying couldn’t muster an argument on the spot, but after the second lieutenant left, he placed his meal tray and Lu Mengzheng’s meal tray side by side.
Greens vs. Red sauce.
Unfair! Totally unfair!
Then again, names weren’t written on the trays anyway. If he gave his portion to Lu Mengzheng, the man would never know.
Qi Ying felt a bit happier, but his conscience still nagged at him. After all, Lu Mengzheng was an Alpha; his physical consumption was far greater, and he had no freedom on top of that—he was already pitiful enough. Chewing on the tip of his chopsticks for a bit, Qi Ying decided that to be fair, one leg each would do.
Qi Ying picked up a chicken leg from Lu Mengzheng’s tray with his chopsticks, transferred it to his own, and then picked up the tray to walk toward the conveyor belt.
Pressing the intercom button by the door, he called out, “Mr. Lu, time to eat. There’s a chicken leg today.”
The heavy footsteps reappeared, and Lu Mengzheng stopped in front of the small hatch. Before he could reach out, Qi Ying declared with animated delight, “I fought for it on your behalf. I hope you enjoy your meal, Mr. Lu.”
Lu Mengzheng looked down at the compartment on his tray. A single chicken leg occupied only half the space; the other half was completely empty, though suspicious drops of sauce remained at the bottom of the tray.
“What? A colonel needs to ‘fight’ for things too?”
Only then did Qi Ying realize he had used the wrong word, correcting himself: “Commanded. Commanded them to give you a chicken leg.”
Lu Mengzheng didn’t make a sound, but Qi Ying inexplicably felt that he was probably laughing again.
“Thank you.”
This time, the Alpha didn’t dwell on the matter, picking up the tray and leaving.
That night, Lu Mengzheng’s workout lasted even longer than the night before.
At certain moments, rather than calling it exercise, it was more like self-torture. Through the camera lens, Qi Ying could clearly see the bulging veins at his temples, as well as the dense scars on his back reddening from dilated blood vessels.
Dr. Qi’s procedural memory led him to make a quick judgment: Lu Mengzheng was venting his energy so he could better control the pheromones inside his body. All in all, Lu Mengzheng was a model prisoner who was good at self-management and hated causing trouble for others.
Slurping instant noodles, Qi Ying wandered aimlessly around the monitoring room. There was no TV, and the only computer couldn’t access the external internet. His mouth was so bored it was practically itching; at nine-thirty, after struggling with himself for a bit, he ended up making a bowl of instant noodles anyway. He wasn’t prone to weight gain, so instant noodles were just a little snack.
Suddenly, the intercom crackled with static. Lu Mengzheng pressed the button to request a call. His post-workout voice was deep, lazy, and sounded somewhat like a post-intimacy state, making one’s ears tingle.
“Are you there? I need another towel.”
This was the first time since Qi Ying took the job that he heard Lu Mengzheng state a need of his own. Most of the time, this Alpha was quiet and reserved, even borderline introverted. Flustered, Qi Ying set down his noodle box and wiped his mouth: “Okay, sending it over right away.”
The intercom didn’t close immediately; tiny electric currents could be heard rushing through it. Lu Mengzheng searched around, quickly finding the direction of the camera, and tilted his face up slightly. His features were the exact opposite of a typical Jasu local—high cheekbones, a sharp bridge of the nose, and a pair of heterochromic eyes deep as a galaxy. As a result, even though Qi Ying knew full well the man couldn’t see him, he still felt the uncanny sensation of making eye contact.
Lu Mengzheng asked, “What are you eating?”
He was smacking his lips just now when speaking, and the guy heard it. Qi Ying immediately swallowed awkwardly.
“Instant noodles,” Qi Ying answered. “Brought them myself.”
Lu Mengzheng fell silent. Just as Qi Ying was finding it odd, Lu Mengzheng asked again, “What flavor?”
“Laksa.”
Lu Mengzheng didn’t catch it: “What?”
“Oh, it’s a local Jasu flavor. Fish soup base, plus shrimp and lemongrass—sour and spicy…”
Lu Mengzheng gave an absentminded “mhm,” his tone sounding entirely natural and entitled: “Can I have some?”
Introverted my ass.
Qi Ying slammed the lid onto his noodle box with a clatter and pulled it tightly into his arms: “No!”
“Why?” Lu Mengzheng raised his arms, wiping his neck and hair back and forth with a sweat towel, slicking back his bangs to reveal his smooth forehead.
Qi Ying said with difficulty, “I only brought five packs with me, and today is only day two…”
Lu Mengzheng shrugged, expressing understanding. But a moment later, he stopped his hands and burst into a smile, one corner of his mouth curving higher than the other, looking quite handsome.
“But, Sir…”
Before Qi Ying could even secretly feel smug over the title, he was choked by the second half of the sentence—
“You ate one of my chicken legs.”
It was a statement, not a question. Lu Mengzheng was absolutely certain this guy had pocketed part of his lunch.
Unable to refute it, Qi Ying gritted his teeth for a moment: “You wait right there!”
Ten minutes later, in stark contrast to his tough tone, Qi Ying reluctantly placed his beloved noodle box onto the conveyor belt. He slapped the intercom button with a click and said testily, “Eat your noodles!”
Lu Mengzheng dragged his feet over. Qi Ying suddenly felt the detector on his wrist begin to vibrate in a steady, low frequency. Taking a look, he was surprised to find the numerical value bordering on the threshold limit.
He couldn’t directly sense the concentration of an Alpha’s pheromones, which was why he had applied for an ambient detector. The numbers on it made Lu Mengzheng’s danger level starkly visible.
“Careful, it’s a bit hot.”
Lu Mengzheng’s fingers rested on the aluminum noodle box, not pulling away immediately.
“Thank you,” Lu Mengzheng said. “I haven’t eaten this in a long time.”
“Don’t pull that routine on me.” Qi Ying turned his face away. “Your Republic is so advanced, you can’t even eat instant noodles over there? I’m not stupid. You just wanted to provoke me and steal my noodles on purpose.”
Everyone knew Jasu was one of the most backward nations in Asia. The Jasu government refused to join the New Asia Republic alliance, repeatedly rejecting the signature of a ceasefire agreement, and insisted on fighting back with North American military support. The war had left it riddled with holes. By contrast, New Asia had entered a state of peace and was developing rapidly. Thus, Lu Mengzheng’s words sounded much more like sarcasm no matter how one looked at it.
“I am a soldier,” Lu Mengzheng explained. “In order to balance nutrition and stabilize pheromone levels, the Federal military only provides nutrient supplements. We rarely ingest real food, let alone junk food like instant noodles.”
On one hand, Qi Ying felt Lu Mengzheng was a bit pitiful; on the other, he felt looked down upon.
“How are instant noodles junk food?” Humans not relying on eating food to obtain nutrition was inherently counter to human nature and nothing to be proud of. Qi Ying launched into a unilateral debate: “Although instant noodles lack nutrition, they’re hygienic, convenient, rich in flavor, and delicious. That’s already enough to make a person happy. For the sake of happiness, it’s completely fine to sacrifice a bit of health.”
Someone in his memory had once articulated a similar perspective. Lu Mengzheng’s fingers rubbed against the noodle box once more. His perception of temperature was also beginning to experience issues, and he drifted off for a moment.
“Is that so? Is happiness really that important?”
“Of course it’s important! It’s the most, most, most important thing!”
In fact, for a period of time, Qi Ying had felt that recovering his past was the most important thing. He often asked himself just how much of a failure his previous life must have been for not a single family member or friend to look for him and tell him who he actually was.
But sinking into that mood long-term did no good. Fires of war raged everywhere; people who could share a meal today might be reduced to a handful of yellow dirt tomorrow. It was better to be happy day by day. Whether eating instant noodles in Jasu or drinking nutrient supplements in the New Asia Republic, he didn’t have a residence permit anyway, making it impossible to apply for exit visas or emigrate to a peaceful country. He comforted himself that at least Jasu was in chaotic wartime, where the household registration system existed only in name, filled with refugees who had lost their records and identities—it could accept his unknown origin.
In this world, not everyone had choices to begin with. He was just an ordinary Beta living in the slums.
Lu Mengzheng fell quiet for a moment, as if muttering to himself rather than holding a conversation: “But I have something even more important.”
His voice wasn’t loud, yet it carried an underlying tone that brooked no argument. Whether the motive was personal, or derived from a soldier’s responsibility and some grand ideal, Qi Ying couldn’t be sure.
Both of them fell silent for a short while, as if discussing this kind of topic under their current opposing stances wasn’t quite appropriate. Furthermore, Qi Ying subconsciously felt that this “more important thing” likely had a major connection to Lu Mengzheng’s arrest. With his bad luck and fragile life, it was better not to meddle in other people’s business.
Before Lu Mengzheng left the hatch window, Qi Ying lowered his head and pushed a towel and a thermometer inside.
“Report your temperature to me in a bit.”
While waiting for the results, Qi Ying still thought he couldn’t possibly be that unlucky.
This was his second day on the job. On the first day, he had been told that Lu Mengzheng would most likely pass the month smoothly and wouldn’t necessarily enter a heat period.
Yet on just the second day, he discovered the other man’s pheromone levels were already about to blow past the limit.
Of course, it hadn’t reached the worst-case scenario of complete loss of control just yet. Lu Mengzheng seemed capable of managing his own pheromones; if things went smoothly, he might be able to tough out these few days of fluctuation. Just to be safe, though, Qi Ying decided he’d better apply for a batch of stronger suppressants first.
“37.8°C.”
Looking at the thermometer glowing with a red light, Qi Ying still felt as if the sky had fallen.
Lu Mengzheng was running a low fever, which meant he had completely entered his heat.
My god! This is way too unlucky—my hand was always so good when I played cards with Ning Jiaxin!
It took Qi Ying some time to accept this reality before he turned on the intercom: “You’re running a low fever.”
“Mm.” Lu Mengzheng sat leaning against the bed, resting with his eyes closed, not surprised in the slightest.
“If you feel uncomfortable anywhere tonight, call me.”
Only after a pause did Lu Mengzheng reply: “Thank you.”
Although he had sacrificed a pack of instant noodles, Qi Ying felt that, no matter what, this was a sign of their relationship improving. Work was work—cooperating with each other and making money comfortably was what mattered most.
“Goodnight, Mr. Lu!” Propping his chin on his hands, he spoke to the prisoner just as he had last night.
He received no response.
“Hey, can’t you hear me?” He tapped the intercom button repeatedly. “Goodnight goodnight goodnight goodnight…”
Just when he finally decided to spare the Alpha and go write his work log, Lu Mengzheng pulled up the blanket, lay down, and casually replied.
“Goodnight.”
– November 4 –
[Event Log]
07:30 – 08:00 Making bed (folding tofu-block corners), Breakfast
08:30 – 10:00 Reading
10:15 – 11:00 Exercise
11:30 – 12:00 Lunch
12:30 – 13:30 ~~No idea, because I fell asleep haha~~ (Deleted) Afternoon nap
14:00 – 16:00 Reading
19:00 – 19:15 Dinner
20:00 – 21:50 Exercise
22:00 ~~Insisted on eating my instant noodles (◣＿◢)~~ (Deleted) Shower
22:30 Sleep
[Abnormalities]
22:15 Temperature measured at 37.8°C, suspected onset of heat
[Items Needed]
High-strength Suppressants