“What took you so long? Hurry up and get in here.”
Breaking the heavy silence, the Dean of the Research Institute frowned and gestured for Yan Xun to come over.
Yan Xun withdrew his gaze, crossing the room in a few swift strides before taking a seat beside him.
The Dean took one look at him, his brow furrowing even deeper. “Put your uniform on properly!”
The Imperial Military Academy had always maintained notoriously strict codes of conduct. Outside the training grounds, proper dress was mandatory. Looking around the conference room, not a single person had strolled in like Yan Xun…slouching in a short-sleeved shirt with his jacket casually slung over his shoulder.
Fu Siheng couldn’t help but glance in his direction. Aside from the first-year recruits, students in higher year levels weren’t required to wear buzz cuts.
Yet Yan Xun preferred keeping his hair cropped short, highlighting his sharp, deeply carved facial features. His skin was a light bronze tone, with a fine sheen of sweat lingering at his temples, and his brow line carried a sharp, unbridled edge. His eyes, however, were classic peach-blossom eyes…teasing and wickedly alluring whenever he looked at someone. He was the polar opposite of Fu Siheng.
His left ear bore a piercing, left empty since jewelry was strictly forbidden.
Facing the Dean’s scolding, Yan Xun lazily threw on his uniform jacket, fastening a couple of buttons so loosely that he might as well not have bothered at all.
Fu Siheng turned his face away, adopting an out-of-sight, out-of-mind attitude toward the man’s arrogant posture.
Once Qu Mengda finished his report, the Dean of the Research Institute took the floor. “This year’s ‘Excellence Program’ is open to all third-year students in the Command Academy. Because slots are limited, we need to select the top-performing class from among the three.”
Hosted annually by the Research Institute, the “Excellence Program” aimed to recruit top talent from the Command Academy. Graduates would either be retained by the Institute or directly funneled into elite military units.
The program was exclusive to the Command Academy. Years ago, Fu Siheng had been one of its selectees. Students from the Mecha Academy…like Shi Yuanyang…could only join the Institute by taking the grueling entrance exams on their own.
The Command Academy consisted of three classes, each with roughly thirty students. Only one class would earn a spot in the program.
While the Dean spoke, Yan Xun lazily scribbled on a piece of paper with his right hand, his left hand resting against the high bridge of his nose as he tapped his fingers in a slow, careless rhythm.
“I will now outline the evaluation criteria for the upcoming phase, which includes assessments across various stages and projects. Most notably, the upcoming Interstellar Mecha League will award fifty bonus points to the winning team…” The Dean read through the document before looking around the room. “Any questions?”
The instructor for Class 1 raised a hand. “If we require simulated battlefield setups, will funding be provided?”
“Your Department Head will discuss the specifics with you,” the Dean replied.
Qu Mengda nodded. “Yes, funding will be made available. We’ll go over the details after the meeting. Anyone else?”
Fu Siheng raised his hand. “I have a question.”
All eyes turned toward him. Yan Xun lowered his hand as well, shifting his gaze over.
In truth, Fu Siheng had wanted to ask this question years ago.
“If the objective of this evaluation is to select the most exceptional talent,” Fu Siheng said calmly, “then why structure it by class instead of by year level?”
“Are you suggesting we simply select the top thirty students across the entire year level?” the Dean asked.
Fu Siheng nodded. “Selecting an entire class inevitably allows certain individuals to coast by on the efforts of others.”
Fu Siheng was the lead instructor for Class 3. The moment those words left his mouth, the expressions on the Class 1 and Class 2 instructors shifted.
Classes at the Command Academy were divided based on entrance exam scores. Naturally, Class 1 and Class 2 contained the so-called “elite students.” Qu Mengda had deliberately assigned Fu Siheng to Class 3 under the guise of “tempering” him, effectively sealing the likelihood that Fu Siheng’s class wouldn’t make the cut.
After all, Class 3 had never qualified for the Excellence Program in the school’s entire history.
Qu Mengda had his reasons. He assumed Fu Siheng was only here to gain field experience and wouldn’t stay long. Assigning him to an elite class would needlessly overload his schedule.
However, having not worked alongside Fu Siheng for so long, Qu Mengda had forgotten how uncompromisingly serious his former student was…especially when it came to his duty.
The Dean’s face stiffened slightly, clearly caught off guard that a Class 3 instructor harbored such ambition.
Yan Xun spoke up suddenly. “Instructor Fu, the academy’s rules and regulations have stood the test of time. As the Dean mentioned, beyond individual merit, the Excellence Program evaluates team coordination. It isn’t a solo selection process.”
His final sentence carried a subtle double meaning, laced with an undeniable trace of provocation.
Fu Siheng was strictly professional in his work and rarely brought personal feelings into play, yet at this moment, a spark of irritation flared inside him.
His voice chilled a notch. “If memory serves, President Yan was also selected through the Excellence Program during his university days. Speak candidly…among your classmates at the time, were there truly no free-riders who rode the coattails of others?”
The roomful of senior directors and department heads froze, entirely unprepared for the two of them to lock horns right then and there. Qu Mengda, who knew Fu Siheng’s temperament best, was especially baffled as to what had gotten into him today.
Yan Xun stared into Fu Siheng’s eyes, a flicker of something resembling dark excitement flashing deep within his gaze.
Ever since entering the room, apart from that brief glance outside the door, Yan Xun hadn’t looked at Fu Siheng once. But the moment Fu Siheng spoke, his eyes were drawn back to him almost involuntarily.
Leaning back against his chair, Yan Xun crossed his long legs, looking every bit intent on thrashing this out with Fu Siheng to the bitter end.
“A squad of rebellious elite soldiers versus a group of mostly top-tier, two-percent slacker recruits who coordinate seamlessly…as a commander, which group would you choose? I’m sure you know the answer better than anyone, Instructor Fu,” he said languidly.
Yan Xun’s argument was grounded in cold logic. Harsh as it sounded, everyone present knew it reflected reality.
The chill in Fu Siheng’s eyes deepened. “Prioritizing ease of control at the cost of discarding vast amounts of talent…is that the academy’s philosophy on education? There are no untrainable soldiers, only incompetent instructors.”
The moment those words were uttered, Qu Mengda knew he had to step in. If they let this back-and-forth continue, the two might actually throw blows the moment they walked out the door.
The Dean realized it too and quickly cut in, “Little Fu makes a valid point. We will take this into consideration. Does anyone else have questions?”
Hearing such a cookie-cutter brush-off, Fu Siheng lost interest in speaking further. He lowered his head and began jotting notes in his binder.
Yan Xun, however, kept his eyes fixed on him. Without blinking, he raised his hand again. “I have a proposal.”
The Dean desperately wanted him to zip his mouth, but gritting his teeth to save face, he asked, “What proposal?”
“To streamline the Research Institute’s evaluations, perhaps we should train alongside the Command Academy?” Yan Xun proposed, his lips curving into a slow, deliberate smirk as he looked in Fu Siheng’s direction.
Fu Siheng continued writing, still annoyed by the previous debate, and barely paid attention to their exchange.
The Dean stroked his chin thoughtfully. “That proposal is feasible, though joint training all the time might prove cumbersome. How about joint morning drills instead?”
“Sounds good. It’ll put some pressure on those three classes as well,” Qu Mengda agreed with a nod.
When the meeting adjourned, everyone gathered their notebooks and filed out.
Fu Siheng deliberately lingered behind, casually helping to shut down the projector and equipment.
He had been the same back in his university days. As Qu Mengda’s student, he always stayed behind to tidy up, often being the last one to leave the room.
Stepping out of the conference room doors, he saw Yan Xun leaning against the hallway wall with a notebook in hand, looking as though he were waiting for him.
It seemed Yan Xun had merely stood outside watching earlier without lifting a finger to help clean up. Fu Siheng didn’t even spare him a second look, intending to walk straight past him.
Yan Xun extended an arm, blocking his path. “Hey, wait up.”
He had grown a few centimeters taller over the past two years, standing nearly 190 cm tall and towering over Fu Siheng by three or four centimeters. With his long reach, he blocked the corridor with ease.
Fu Siheng glanced at him coldly. “Are you talking to me?”
“Who else? Is there a third handsome guy standing here?” Yan Xun raised an eyebrow, looking around in mock surprise.
Ever since the meeting, every time Yan Xun opened his mouth, Fu Siheng was reminded of that long-forgotten, infuriating tone of his…and it was especially pronounced now that they were alone.
Yan Xun stared at Fu Siheng’s side profile. Wisps of silver hair brushed against the skin beneath his ear, revealing a tiny mole on the left side of his neck. Though faint, it stood out vividly against his pale skin.
In that split second, Yan Xun recalled the tactile memory of placing his palm right over that spot. Smooth, cool, and warm…as if holding the very pulse of life itself within his grasp.
A momentary daze washed over him.
Fu Siheng’s stern voice shattered his train of thought. “Improper uniform, failing to salute a superior officer, incorrect greeting. Do you know how many academy regulations you’ve just breached?”
Yan Xun blinked. “…Are you actually being serious right now?”
“Do it again, and you’ll salute a hundred times on the training field and copy the academy rules five hundred times,” Fu Siheng said icily.
Yan Xun had no choice but to drop his arm, muttering a barely audible “Holy crap.”
Fu Siheng had no desire to keep talking to him. Just as he turned to leave, Yan Xun spoke up again, reluctant to let him go: “Can I get your contact info?”
It was a strange thing to reflect on. Back when they were together, the Imperial Military Academy enforced even stricter rules than now, prohibiting enrolled students from using personal communicators. Consequently, right up until their breakup, neither of them had added the other on any messaging platform.
Fu Siheng intended to refuse outright, but after a moment’s thought, he pulled out his communicator and let Yan Xun scan it.
Yan Xun’s eyes lit up. Feigning composure, he casually pulled out his own device and added Fu Siheng.
The instant the request went through, Fu Siheng turned on his heel and left without looking back.
Upon returning to his office, Fu Siheng was called in for another brief meeting with Qu Mengda.
After handing over the remaining workload, Qu Mengda instructed, “Tomorrow morning, you’ll be leading the morning drills with the others. Make sure to put on a good performance. After all, you’ll be working alongside the Research Institute, so leave them a solid impression.”
Fu Siheng froze. “…What?”
Qu Mengda could tell at a glance that he had zoned out during the meeting. He patted his shoulder. “Starting tomorrow, we’re doing morning drills together with the Research Institute. Look at you—what were you even listening to back there?”
Fu Siheng: “…”
Meanwhile, the moment Yan Xun walked back into the Research Institute, a crowd of guys swarmed around him.
Among them was his close buddy, Yi Fengbei, who threw an arm around Yan Xun’s shoulder with a broad grin. “So, how was it? Word on the street is the new instructor is quite something. The group chats are going wild over it.”
Yan Xun shook his shoulder to shrug off his hand. “Get lost. If you’re this gossipy, why don’t you go sell suppressants instead?”
“Screw off, I’m just asking! The Dean said you two almost went at each other’s throats. Is the new instructor really that fierce?” Yi Fengbei pressed.
The others chimed in with teasing laughter.
“Someone who actually dares to pick a fight with Senior Yan? Now that’s impressive, haha!”
“Guess the new instructor lacks situational awareness. Doesn’t he know who runs the show around here?”
“Hahaha, stop messing around before Senior Yan beats you up!”
Yan Xun couldn’t be bothered to respond to them. Stepping over to the window, he unlocked his communicator.
What should I text him?
[Don’t take what happened earlier to heart, but the Excellence Program really isn’t that simple…]
He typed half the sentence, then deleted it.
[Don’t join the Excellence Program. The waters here run very deep.]
Deleted again.
[Honestly, I didn’t mean to argue with you back there, it’s just…]
Deleted once more.
Finally, he typed out:
[Are you free to grab dinner sometime? My treat, take it as an apology.]
He tapped send.
The moment the message was delivered, a small red exclamation mark popped up right next to it.
[You have been deleted by this contact.]
Yan Xun: “???”