That night, Wuning slept in Bo Yin’s bed.
The others had not yet returned from their mission.
As the leader of the Polluted, holding the rank of major general and being widely renowned, Wuning had assumed Bo Yin’s room would at least be of high standard, if not luxurious.
But upon pushing the door open, she found it pitifully small.
It was the size of a prison cell, and even the decor resembled one.
Light gray walls and floors, standard-issue wardrobe, desk, storage cabinet, and a single bed—all in the same light gray, without any other colors for contrast.
The other room was a bathroom.
Bo Yin didn’t seem to find anything amiss with this. Seeing the slightly stiff, surprised expression on the girl’s face, he lowered his eyelashes. “If you don’t like it, you can check the others’ rooms.”
“But I think you probably wouldn’t care much for post-war or terrorist-style decor.”
Recalling the dented walls and weathered table in the meeting room, Wuning wisely chose Bo Yin. “Sorry for the intrusion.”
She had brought simple luggage—a few sets of training clothes and personal items. Other military equipment would be issued by the base later.
After showering, Wuning lay down on the bed, rolling over a few times.
It was a bit narrow. If a man lay here, he’d probably take up the whole space—did he not roll over at all?
When Bo Yin returned to the room, Wuning offered to help him sort out his mental sea. “I think I’ve got a bit of a handle on it now. It won’t be as messy as the first time.”
But Bo Yin refused. “I don’t need it for now.”
Wuning was taken aback. Logically speaking, shouldn’t Bo Yin’s symptoms be the most severe?
The man said nothing more. “You rest. I’ll be right outside.”
Still, this was probably the safest place around—the only danger came from their own people.
A few days later, Wuning finally saw the other members of Squad 191 again.
Cook stepped lightly off the fighter jet, practically flying back to his room to shower.
Garnet, however, had no such inclination. He wandered around the base looking for Wuning. “Where did she go?”
Wuning emerged from Bo Yin’s room and waved at him.
“Ah, there you are! Look, I brought you a gift.”
Garnet pulled out a bag, turned it over, and a cascade of crystals spilled out.
Various gemstones shimmered brilliantly under the sunlight.
“They’re precious. For you.” Garnet pushed the pile of gems forward, his eyes beneath his combat cap sparkling brightly.
Wuning really liked Garnet’s eyes.
Their shape was somewhat rounded, perfect for making innocent expressions—like a Samoyed.
Especially now, as he crouched before her, it was hard not to imagine a wagging tail behind him.
His pupils were a pure, standard ice-blue, like clear, transparent ice.
As for the looks of these five masked men, Wuning had never worried—the male leads couldn’t possibly be ugly. Still, she was curious about their individual types.
So far, she had only seen Sanchez’s face—handsome yet sinister, with a strong villainous vibe.
“Thank you,” Wuning praised sincerely. “Gani’s eyes are even more beautiful and precious than these gems.”
Garnet’s eyes trembled slightly, unable to utter a single sound as he stared blankly at the girl.
He could feel his body temperature rising uncontrollably, as if he were about to be burned alive by Cook’s Mental Power.
Even though he hadn’t undergone mental power guidance yet, just being praised once had left him flustered, his heart racing wildly, almost unable to suppress the shock.
Damn Cook! He was so jealous that Cook was the first to receive comfort!
Garnet couldn’t keep his thoughts focused on one thing.
As soon as he thought about being jealous of Cook, he forgot about wanting to snuggle and nuzzle against Wuning. Instead, he vanished like a whirlwind, determined to challenge Cook to a duel.
Cook was still in the shower.
The poor bathroom door was sent flying by Garnet. “Garnet! You idiot! What are you doing!”
Wuning listened to the clattering, crashing, and chaotic noises coming from that direction, nearly dropping her jaw in shock.
She was then caught by Sanchez, who pressed close from behind and hooked her cheek.
“Don’t worry, this kind of thing happens at least eight or ten times a day.” The man carried a damp scent, and droplets of water from his hair rolled down onto Wuning’s neck.
“Uh, okay.” Wuning thought to herself that it was a good thing she hadn’t checked out the others’ rooms.
“Do you like these?” Sanchez picked up the gemstone in her hand, leaning his entire body over Wuning’s shoulder.
Wuning staggered under his weight. “Do you really not know how heavy you are?”
Sanchez realized belatedly, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as he offered a half-hearted apology. “Oops, forgot. Our little lamb is so delicate.”
“It’s you guys who are over the top. My physique is rated among the top among Medics.” Wuning retorted defiantly.
The man leaned in again, this time controlling his strength, burying his handsome face in the girl’s neck. His tone was lazy. “What have you been doing with Bo Yin these past few days, little lamb? Any Mental Power guidance?”
“Physical training, Mental Power control training. He said he doesn’t need guidance for now.” Wuning answered simply.
Sanchez chuckled softly, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, his voice muffled as he made a request. “Dear Medic, please give this poor Polluted a little Mental Power.”
Wuning complied, her gaze meeting Eli’s from a distance.
Eli narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing them as if torn between wanting to come over and not wanting to.
The two over there finally ended their fight. Cook walked over and unceremoniously pushed Sanchez aside, then asked Wuning to examine him.
“I’m injured,” he said softly.
Cook’s voice was a seductive bass, low and magnetic without any forced breathiness.
When everyone spoke together, his and Bo Yin’s deep voices stood out, pleasant and captivating.
It was just that he didn’t talk much before and would deliberately lower his voice further, making it rough and startling.
At their core, Medics were still doctors. After all, the number of Polluted was small, and their self-healing abilities varied.
Wuning looked him up and down with concern. “Where are you injured? There’s no medical equipment here. You should go to the Treatment Pod for a scan first.”
Cook’s eyes flickered, his eyelashes drooping, making him appear fragile. His voice grew softer and more pleading, carrying a tone of utter pitifulness. “Hmm, maybe you need to come to my room to check on me.”
“It hurts. I need Mental Power, and if you could touch me, that would be even better…”
Wuning grew even more worried and nodded. “Okay.”
Just as Cook was about to carry the girl away, he heard Sanchez let out a melancholic sigh.
Wuning turned to look and suddenly widened her eyes. “You’re bleeding!”
Indeed, the man who had been fine just moments ago now had a small pool of blood gathering at his feet.
Since the standard training uniforms were black, it wasn’t immediately obvious where the bleeding was coming from.
But with that amount of blood loss, was he really okay?!
Sanchez leaned against the wall, his usually flippant and slick tone now tinged with melancholy and sorrow, carrying a hint of sadness that anyone could detect.
“How could he be injured? Even when his mental state was at its worst before, as the tactical core, he rarely got hurt.”
“Not to mention he’s already been soothed by you now. His mental state is far better than ours, so it’s even more impossible for him to be injured.”
Sanchez spoke, gently biting his lip as he turned his head, leaving Wuning with a perfect profile. His eyelashes fluttered as he swiftly cast a fragile, lingering glance her way.
Wuning was almost frightened by the amount of blood Sanchez was losing. After all, this was a person, not some horror boss she had encountered before, and she immediately moved to approach him.
Before Cook could even reach out to hold her back, Sanchez let out a genuine cry of pain and a curse, “Damn it, Eli!”
A throwing knife had plunged directly into Sanchez’s abdomen, gushing out a large pool of blood.
Behind him, the tall and slender Eli curled the corners of his eyes mockingly, speaking softly but with venom, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was listening and felt so disgusted that I had to make you shut up.”