The military females’ eyes sparkled as they stared at that person.
Winslow blinked his eyes slowly, proving that the person on the bed was not a sculpture. By the time Lu Yu returned, he would likely only find the inheritance Winslow had left behind. Fortunately, he had left a significant amount, including a quiet little courtyard where Lu Yu could move in.
Winslow had a congenital lack of emotion and was extremely insensitive to feelings. Under his parents’ careful guidance, he understood worldly wisdom and the classification of emotions, but he rarely experienced them himself. To “feel” was difficult for him. Yet tonight, thinking of his deceased parents and Lu Yu—who had smiled and promised to return for his birthday—an inconspicuous ripple rose in his heart for reasons he could not explain.
It was silent and stirless. His breathing did not even falter, and his butterfly-wing lashes fluttered at a steady pace. Under Winslow’s hand, the white snake seemed to sense something. It slowly crawled out and wound itself around Winslow’s pale, slender wrist where the bone protruded, coiling tighter and tighter. The icy white snake wrapped around the icy wrist. Under this slight restraint, Winslow closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
The next day, Winslow was woken up by the little white snake pressing against his face. Expressionless, he pinched the snake’s limp body, tossed it aside, and got up to wash. The white snake rolled twice on the bed before coming to a halt. Waking from its dreams, it raised its head and looked confusedly with blood-red pupils at the departing Winslow before laying back down to continue its nap.
When Winslow returned from washing up, he encountered a strange scene: the little white snake was lying as stiff as a stick on the quilt, snoring away. Winslow’s footsteps paused. He did not understand why his spiritual manifestation needed to sleep, let alone sleep in such a peculiar way. He silently looked away.
Just then, a knock at the door caught his attention. Chris’s voice sounded from outside. “Your Excellency Winslow, are you awake?”
Winslow opened the door to find Chris standing tall and straight in a well-tailored, silver-gray military uniform. His short, dark silver-gray hair was neat and crisp, making his sharp features appear even more cold and stern. Upon seeing Winslow, Chris’s stern face instantly softened. He lowered his head slightly and spoke warmly. “I apologize for disturbing you. I wanted to ask if you would like to dine in your room or go to the military district canteen.”
Winslow considered the military canteen. Although he did not want to leave this small, enclosed room, he needed to observe his new environment. He might need to find a suitable job, as he likely would not be able to return to his original world. With this in mind, he accepted Chris’s invitation.
Just as he stepped out, Winslow paused. “Wait a moment,” he said, turning back into the bedroom. He scooped up the still-sleeping white snake from the bed and tossed it into his spiritual realm before following Chris toward the canteen.
The military canteen was bustling in the morning. This was the time when the military females were most active, especially after hearing about Winslow performing a mental combing for Ylair.
“A one hundred percent mental combing! I have never heard of such a thing in my life!” said one soldier, shocked by the results.
“I heard that male Excellency is of a very high rank and looks breathtakingly beautiful. I really want to become his female, even if it is just as a female attendant!” another soldier added, captivated by the legends of Winslow.
Someone interrupted dismissively, “You? Thinking of a high-ranking male? Keep dreaming!”
There were also those who envied Ylair. “Colonel Ylair is so lucky. His spiritual sea went into a riot just as a male Excellency arrived at the military district, and he even received a mental combing from him.”
The noisy chatter lasted until Winslow entered with Chris. A military female caught sight of Winslow and let out a sharp gasp. Immediately, the entire canteen fell silent; it was so quiet a needle could be heard hitting the floor.
The beauty of the male before them was beyond words. Though the silver-gray military uniform was slightly oversized, the belt still traced his lean, upright waist. His limbs were long and well-proportioned, and the loose collar revealed pale, delicate skin and collarbones. Further up, silver-white hair reached his waist, draped over his straight back. The sunlight streaming through the door cast a faint halo over him, making him look like a deity. When his emerald eyes, cool as a misty frost, lifted for a casual glance, the soldiers in the canteen involuntarily held their breath.
Chris had not expected Winslow’s impact to be this great. The looks of admiration and obsession from some of the insects could hardly be concealed. His face darkened. If the male felt offended by being stared at like this, what would they do? He shifted his body inconspicuously, trying to use his tall, sturdy frame to block the prying eyes, but it was not very effective since the stares were coming from all directions.
Realizing this, Chris’s expression grew even more grim. He quickly looked down to check Winslow’s reaction, worried he might feel uncomfortable. While many males in the Federation enjoyed being the center of attention, Chris felt Winslow was not that type of person, though he did not know why he felt that way.
For Winslow, who possessed powerful mental strength, sensing the fiery, admiring, and worshipful gazes around him was easy, especially since these soldiers had no intention of hiding them. Winslow felt a bit of social anxiety. He did not know the term, but his fingers trembled slightly. He was indeed uncomfortable. However, having been expressionless for years, he did not show it at all.
From Chris’s perspective, the male beside him looked indifferent, his eyelashes slightly lowered, casting a small shadow beneath his eyes. He seemed not to care about the surrounding gazes, appearing noble and detached. Chris thought that as a high-ranking male, he must be immune to being the center of attention. Relieved, he led Winslow forward.
In reality, Winslow already wanted to turn back to his bedroom. He felt that if he could not adapt to this new environment, then so be it. Ultimately, he did not turn back but silently followed Chris’s lead. The two soon took their seats. The surrounding gazes lessened slightly but remained numerous and intense. Winslow felt he could overcome it; he used to receive similar looks at the White Tower, though they were never this many or this fervent.
Both of them, wanting to finish and leave as soon as possible, made quick work of their breakfast. To Winslow, the meal was tasteless. To Chris, it did not make much difference. As a soldier who spent most of his time in the field, he was used to tasteless nutrient solutions. Today was the first time he had tasted the canteen’s breakfast because he was accompanying the male. To be honest, eating breakfast was a bit of a hassle, but doing so with the Excellency made him feel quite satisfied.
Though they ate quickly, their plan for a swift exit was interrupted because a military female with fiery red hair was walking toward them. It was Ylair. He wore the same ubiquitous silver-gray military uniform with a cold metallic glint on his belt, but on his shoulders, Winslow saw the shining rank of Colonel.
Winslow looked up at the red-haired, arrogant-looking soldier. In the Zerg race, appearance was tied to rank; the higher the rank, the more exquisite the appearance. This was true for both males and females. Ylair undoubtedly possessed a superior face: his jawline was as sharp as a blade, and messy red hair hung over his forehead, making his black eyes appear startlingly bright.
Upon seeing the cool, distant Winslow, Ylair’s eyes grew even brighter, his affection seemingly undisguised. There was a reason for this affection. While clearing interstellar beasts, Ylair had been ambushed by a hidden beast that polluted his spiritual sea. As his spiritual sea rapidly collapsed into a riot, he knew he likely would not make it back to the home star alive. He had no male lord, so his assets would eventually be turned over to the Federation. That would be his final contribution. His only regret was that he could no longer follow the Marshal.
He was losing his last bit of sanity in despair when, through the haze, he felt a gentle, warm touch. A mild, warm breeze brushed over his spiritual sea, and his consciousness gradually returned. He tried hard to open his eyes to see who had saved him. But the wind brushing his spiritual sea was too warm and comfortable; his pain and fatigue were swept away, and he fell into a deep sleep.
It was not until midnight that he finally opened his eyes. He had never felt his spiritual sea so clear or his body so relaxed; he had even regained his peak strength. When he learned he had been mentally combed by a high-ranking male to a degree of one hundred percent, his eyes were filled only with shock. Once he snapped out of it, his heart burned with restless heat. He could not wait to see that Excellency, but he was stopped by other soldiers because it was the middle of the night and the Excellency was resting.
Ylair’s urgency and fervor were not without cause. Due to the nature of mental combing, a female who has been combed by a male will experience a massive surge in favorability toward that male. Ylair was no exception. The reason males held such a high status and were so pursued by females was not just because their pheromones could fascinate and satisfy females while producing offspring, but also because of the spiritual sea repair and the surge in affection brought by mental combing.
After finally suppressing his urge to see the male, Ylair could not sleep. He began selecting gifts for him: countless star coins, expensive decorations, and sparkling gems, all packed into a spatial button to be presented the next day.