Yun Mingxin spotted Zhan Mengxi’s lips moving from quite a distance.

He couldn’t make out her words at all. "Mengxi! What did you say? Speak up—I can’t hear you!" he yelled back.

"I said hurry up! We can rest just ahead. Look at you—you’re so weak!"

A vein throbbed slightly at Yun Mingxin’s temple. Anger flickered in his chest.

But it didn’t last. Helplessly, he watched her sprint farther away.

This scene felt oddly familiar.

He recalled his middle school military training days.

Middle schoolers had zero rights—not that they didn’t deserve it, given how rowdy they were. Whenever punishments came—squats, grip exercises, planks—it was always the middle schoolers getting singled out. They’d suffer through ten minutes of grueling holds while watching high schoolers finish lunch first.

The drill instructors loved inventing creative tortures.

Once, they’d suddenly ordered everyone to climb a mountain. Fail to reach the summit on time? Three hours of standing at attention.

Back then, Yun Mingxin was decently fit—not top-tier, but solidly top ten in his class.

Yet even he struggled to make the cutoff.

To them, it was obvious: the instructors just wanted an excuse to humiliate them. Standing rigid while high schoolers gawked like they were zoo animals? Unbearable.

So Yun Mingxin pushed himself to the limit.

It amounted to nothing.

His so-called "potential" never surfaced. He couldn’t even keep up with his childhood friend. He watched helplessly as she pulled ahead, even matching pace with the drill instructor.

Near the summit, he collapsed gloriously onto the mountainside.

He’d heard Mengxi carried him back…

The instructor punished him extra hard for it, while she somehow became buddies with the very same drill sergeant.

Those hypocrites. They’d brag about their own grueling training, claiming "this pain is for your own good." Then they’d ignore girls slacking off. They’d sneak off to shady spots to rest, even sneak back to the office to slack off.

Someone once risked life and limb to peek inside that office.

Rumor had it: the instructors were gaming.

Boot up the computers.

One: Master tier in Region 1. Another: straight-up Challenger.

This was right after League launched. Their slacking skills were world-class.

Yun Mingxin had hated them. But thanks to Mengxi’s rapport with them, he and his friends could occasionally slack off without getting scolded.

After climbing Zishan Mountain for a while, Yun Mingxin’s head felt fuzzy—but still manageable.

Then he saw the long stretch remaining to the summit.

*I’m about to crack.*

Suddenly, a cool sensation pressed against his forehead.

"You okay?"

Mengxi had doubled back without him noticing. She’d placed her palm on his brow.

Seemingly unsatisfied, she dropped her backpack and pressed her own forehead against his.

The cool touch snapped Yun Mingxin back to his senses. He flustered. "W-What are you doing?"

"I’m checking if you’re heatstroke!" she declared, tilting her head with innocent curiosity.

Her eyes were large, her skin dewy-smooth. She looked impossibly fresh.

Yun Mingxin was puzzled.

Skin this supple—wasn’t that only for babies with sky-high hydration?

Come to think of it, her body always ran cool. Even on scorching days, her temperature stayed low. No wonder her stamina was monstrous.

His gaze drifted downward instinctively.

Big mistake.

Her shirt, translucent under the sun, clung damply to her skin. Beneath the thin, sweat-dampened fabric, he clearly saw a pure black lace-trimmed bra.

A *mature* style.

*Since when did this kid start wearing lingerie like that?*

"Hmm… you do feel warm," Mengxi frowned. She pressed his head down slightly—he was too tall for her to gauge properly.

Yun Mingxin’s eyes betrayed him, flicking downward.

A deep, shadowed valley filled his vision.

Honestly, for someone who looked lean—almost skinny—his childhood friend had zero visible fat.

She always claimed her weight never fluctuated beyond 98 to 102 pounds.

*So where exactly is that weight distributed?*

A total novice like him couldn’t handle this.

He felt the Holy SWORD stirring beneath its twenty-year seal.

Yun Mingxin yanked himself free, voice rushed. "I’m fine! Just out of practice. Let’s go—the pavilion’s up ahead."

Under her hurt pout, he sighed inwardly.

*Kid, I’m dangerous.*

Another minute, and he’d lose control of that fully charged SWORD. Its pure white energy would unleash devastation no one could withstand.

It might even leave wounds needing ten months to heal… and permanent scars.

*See how hard I’m protecting you?*

Oblivious to her near-death experience, Mengxi kicked at roadside weeds, sulking.

Her kindness had been rejected.

She’d received over a hundred confessions since freshman year, after all.

(Though she’d burned the love letters for roasting sweet potatoes and fed the chocolates to Yun Mingxin.)

*Clearly, I’m desirable!*

Every time his mom asked when he’d marry her, he gave only two replies:

"One: Rabbits don’t eat the grass beside their burrows."

"Two: We’re too familiar. Hard to make a move."

*Damn it!* She’d gone home that day and tearfully devoured two whole plates of rabbit meat.

*Too familiar to ‘make a move’? Why not ‘take the lead,’ you idiot?*

"Ugh!"

Mengxi sighed heavily, not watching her step. Her right foot slammed into a patch of grass.

"Ah—!"

Her shriek jolted Yun Mingxin from his daze. He spun around.

Mengxi was sprawled on the ground.

He sprinted over, heart pounding.

"It hurts!" She clutched her right ankle, tears welling. Beside her, a hidden depression in the earth held crushed weeds and sharp pebbles.

Her exposed skin was scratched raw. Worse, her wrist was already bruising purple—a bad sprain, possibly a fracture.

Seeing his childhood friend sobbing, Yun Mingxin bit back his scolding.

"Hopeless," he muttered. Time to repay that debt from middle school.

He crouched low, hooking his arms backward.

"Climb on."

He glanced over his shoulder, sweat beading on his forehead from worry and exhaustion. A small, reassuring smile touched his lips.