Vol2 Chapter 7: Anyway…

Bai Ci, head wrapped in bandages and wearing her senior’s clothes, was irritably mopping the floor at Lu Mingfei’s uncle’s house.

It was all that dragon’s fault—popping up out of nowhere, ruining her day, breaking her phone, and losing her wallet.

Though she’d failed… she felt this dragon, likely a First-Generation, wasn’t invincible.
It carried the same oppressive aura as Constantine or Norton but lacked the overwhelming power of the Bronze and Fire Kings that made her tremble.

More precisely… this dragon was weaker in raw strength but terrifyingly skilled.
She’d naively assumed First-Generations were all-powerful—her mistake.
She vowed to herself: next time, she’d cut it down.

Glancing at the time, she hurriedly rushed to a mall to pick a gift for Lu Mingfei.
Patting her pockets, she remembered her wallet was gone.
All she had was the 200 yuan her senior had shoved at her.
After much thought, she bought him a bracelet.

She grabbed her luggage from the internet café and headed to Lu Mingfei’s house.
Knocking, a burly figure opened the door, eyes sharp as an eagle behind sunglasses, coldly sizing her up.
His right hand held a U.S. military M9 knife, flecked with wisps of green onion.

The house was filled with neatly sliced radish pieces, each one-centimeter thick, stacked with sushi-chef precision in every container—on the dining table, coffee table, even the fridge.
Sprinkled with green onions, they gleamed under every light in the living room, translucent and sparkling.

What was with all these radishes?
Planning to hand out porridge on the street?

“Agent Bai?
Weren’t you injured?”

“…”
Bai Ci rubbed her forehead, sighing.
Lu Mingfei clearly wasn’t here, nor were his uncle and aunt, or this thug-like crew wouldn’t be here.

“Why are you here?”

“Taking annual leave during summer break to travel in China.
Planned to visit Mount Putuo to pray to Guanyin tomorrow, but President Chu called, so we rushed over,” the burly man said.
“President Chu’s now Agent Lu’s deputy.
We followed his orders and installed the toilet seat.
Want to try it?
It’s top-grade teak.”

“No thanks, I prefer squat toilets.
Where’s Lu Mingfei?”

“Per President Chu’s arrangements, Agent Lu will arrive in an hour.”

A second man emerged from the bathroom, carrying a power drill, dusting off plaster from his body.
His military boots left clear prints on the hardwood floor Lu Mingfei’s aunt polished weekly.
He approached, removed the No. 1 cigar from his mouth, and flashed a man-to-man grin.
“We’ve installed the toilet seat per Agent Chu’s orders.
Solid as a rock, no issues.
You’re the evaluator for this task.
If anything’s off, we can fix it now—swap screws, whatever.”

“Get out.
I’ll handle the rest.”
Bai Ci could already imagine his aunt’s reaction to this gang of hooligans.
If she didn’t step in, she’d get an earful.

After all, Cassell wasn’t for normal people—nothing normal came out of it.
Who slices up all their onions and radishes for one meal?

“But—”

“No buts.
Go.
I’ll take responsibility if anything happens.”

“Understood.”

After shooing them out, Bai Ci got to work.

She turned off all the lights—Lu Mingfei’s stingy aunt would only keep one on to save electricity.
She cleared the radish slices, bought more onions and radishes to put on the balcony, took out sausages, swept the bathroom’s drill debris, and mopped the floor.

Finished, she checked the wall clock, estimating Lu Mingfei’s return.
She opened her luggage, took out some things, and went to the bathroom.
Stripping off her clothes, she stepped into the shower, cold water washing over her, relaxing her body.
Then blood began to seep from her skin.

That dragon’s tap on her forehead had used precise force, instantly disabling her.

During Bloodrage, her dragon lineage suppressed the bleeding, adrenaline masking the pain.
But now, relaxed, the blood and pain were unstoppable.

Her senior was kind, slipping her 200 yuan before leaving, but she couldn’t relax, still tense.

After ten seconds, she poured medical alcohol over herself, waited a minute until the bleeding stopped, then resumed showering.

Luckily, no visible wounds—nobody would notice.

She wiped the bloodstains off the floor, used alcohol to erase the smell, then dressed.
Looking at her pale face in the mirror, she dried her hair.

Wearing her undergarments, she thought for a moment, dragged her luggage to Lu Mingfei’s room, and entered.

The room was small, simply furnished: a single bed, a desk, a wardrobe.
Plain sheets and covers, a roll of tissue by the bed.
The old desk held study materials, the wardrobe his everyday clothes.
A small trash can sat on the floor, surrounded by crumpled tissues.

She sat on his bed, put on her Cassell uniform, and walked around the room, stopping by the bed.
Then she gently lay down.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a honeyed glow.
The white sheets, warmed by the sun, felt fluffy and soft.
Her fingers sank into the marshmallow-like blanket, pulling it slightly.
Her face nuzzled the pillow, shoes kicked haphazardly to the bed’s end, revealing white socks swaying lazily in the air.
Her lips curved up briefly.
The cicadas outside seemed distant.
She curled her socked toes, nudging the bed, tugging the blanket higher, burying her face deeper into the fabric’s forest, like a cat in a cozy nest.

It just… felt inexplicably safe.

She just… wanted to lie there a bit.

“Did you slice all the radishes?”
His aunt’s key turned in the lock.
Amid Lu Mingfei’s mumbling, the door opened.
The air smelled of sausages, a bucket of radishes sat on the table, the floor spotless.

Lu Mingfei gaped.
Chu Zihang was a president for a reason—how’d he pull this off so fast?
Even mopped the floor?
Hired a pro cleaner?

“Not bad,” his aunt nodded, somewhat satisfied.
“Mingze is leaving for the States soon—we’re eating big tonight!
Mingfei, go get those…”

“Mingfei’s heading back to school tomorrow.
Stop making him run errands—he needs time to pack,” his uncle interrupted, patting Lu Mingfei’s back.

“What’s that?
He can’t help me after college?”
His aunt rolled her eyes.
“I raised him all these years!”

“He’s done everything you asked, hasn’t he?
Pretty well, too,” his uncle said generously.
“He’s a kid—give him a break today.
Let’s eat together.
Mingfei, go to your room.”

“Uncle, I’m eating out later, and my flight’s tonight… I won’t join you.”

“Alright…”
His uncle nodded, disappointed.
He’d hoped to share a few more drinks with the Lu family’s pride.

Lu Mingfei sighed in relief, nodded, and went to his room.
Closing the door, he took two steps, flopped onto the bed to rest, and planned to grab clothes and go.

Weird… his bed wasn’t this hard before, and something felt lumpy…

“Mmph…”

What was that sound!?

He shot up, turned, and saw a figure clutching her waist, legs splayed in an M-shape, sitting on his bed.

“You… hurt me a bit…”

She looked at him faintly, rubbing her waist.

Lu Mingfei’s mouth twitched.
Forget why you’re on my bed—why that look?
I just wanted to rest!
I didn’t do anything wrong!

“Uh, want me to rub it?”

He regretted it instantly, but before he could backtrack, she spoke.

“Sure.”

She flopped back.

Slap.

Lu Mingfei smacked his right cheek.

Stung a bit, not sure.

Slap.

Left cheek stung too.

Yup, not a dream.

“You broken in the head?”

“Nope.”

“Then come on.”

Lu Mingfei swallowed, his fingers brushing her uniform like an electric shock, pulling back.
Her waist rose and fell with her breathing, like a taut bowstring.

“Maybe we should—”

A glare cut him off.
Resigned, he warmed his palms, found her lower spine through the shirt.
His knuckles rustled the fabric.
Bai Ci stiffened, her white socks revealing reddened ankles.

“Easy,” her voice muffled into the pillow.
“You kneading dough or what?”

I wish it was dough, Lu Mingfei wailed inwardly, sweat beading on his forehead.

Bai Ci clutched the pillow, warmth spreading from her tailbone.
His clumsy hands hit ticklish spots, and she bit her lip to stifle trembling.
The cicadas outside grew loud, her neck hairs prickling.

“Eaten yet?” she asked, grasping for words.

“Nope, Chu’s taking me out soon,” Lu Mingfei said, staring at his reddened fingers.
Was she saying he was too weak?

“Oh…”

Bai Ci buried her face deeper, the sun-warmed fabric scent enveloping her.
For a moment, the warmth on her waist became vivid, her muscles tensing like a startled cat.
Through the uniform, fine shivers rippled along her spine.
Her curled toes nudged the sheets back half an inch, damp hair leaving winding streaks.

Lu Mingfei’s hands paused.
“Uh… that’s enough, right?”

“Don’t stop.”
Her voice carried an urgency she didn’t notice.
She heard him swallow, the old bed creaking.
As his warm palm pressed her lower back, a jolt shot up her spine, her fingers clutching the sheets, rippling them.

The cicadas roared, mixed with a scrap collector’s shouts downstairs.
Her nails dug into the pillow, a kitten-like whimper escaping her throat.
Her taut waist arched like a bow, her ankle brushing his knee by the bed, her sock slipping halfway, revealing a pink heel.
It itched.
His fingertips traced her spine’s groove, sparking tiny currents.
The rustle of her uniform grew unnervingly clear.

“Enough!”

Bai Ci shot up, voice trembling.
“Your technique’s awful.”

“I-I’m getting water!”
Lu Mingfei scrambled up, bolted out, and slammed the door.

Bai Ci collapsed back, pulling the blanket over herself.
Clutching the pillow, she curled up, biting it as if it were that idiot.

Something was wrong.
It was just a massage, but she felt like she was burning up.

Must’ve caught a cold from the shower…