Chapter 22
Because they still had military training the next day, Lin Zhe borrowed senior’s dorm to crash.
Zhao Ge, anwhile, chained herself to her keyboard all night to et a deadline.
His sudden visit had delighted her, but it had also derailed her word-count.
So she forced down the urge to linger with him and dragged herself back into the zone.
That stubborn focus was one of the things Lin Zhe loved about her: once Zhao Ge decided on sothing, she would finish it—even if it ant no sleep, no rest, no rcy.
The next morning the wake-up bell rang; Lin Zhe killed his phone alarm and started to sit up.
Still half-asleep, Zhao Ge instinctively caught his arm. A waterfall of black hair slid across his skin, tickling.
“Mmm...”
She nuzzled her forehead against his shoulder and curled against him like a cat.
Lin Zhe had no idea when she’d crawled in, but the fool had clearly never left her chair—she’d face-planted into bed fully dressed.
Black hair spilled over the pillow, framing a face so pretty it looked unreal—except for the faint bruises of exhaustion beneath her eyes.
Carefully he lifted her hand away, dressed, and slipped out of bed.
He’d ant to cook her breakfast, but with more than an hour until roll-call that felt pointless.
Instead he padded to the window and drew the curtains tight, shutting out the dawn.
He tucked the quilt around her, closed the bedroom door, and tied on an apron.
Breakfast was a lost cause, but lunch would keep.
In twenty minutes he knocked out three dishes, sealed them with cling-film, and left them on the table.
He rinsed yesterday’s rice and set the cooker on delay start.
Finally he peeled a sticky note and slapped it on her monitor: Heat the food when you wake up.
If you can’t cook, at least you can microwave—right?
Door shut, he jogged back to campus with ti to spare.
Dorm 502.
Yang Zhen and the others were heading downstairs when Lin Zhe walked in.
Liu Xuefei draped an arm over him, grinning. “Morning, Hai-U’s No. 1 Deeply Affectionate. Where’d you crawl ho from?”
Lin Zhe shrugged the arm off. “Stayed at a friend’s. Let change, okay?”
Han Xinglong waved him on. “We’ll wait.”
A small warmth flickered in Lin Zhe’s chest—idiots, but decent idiots.
Camouflage on, the four of them trooped to the canteen, wolfed down stead buns, and reached the south-east corner of the drill ground.
Han and Liu peeled off to Second and Third Platoons while Lin Zhe joined the stragglers of Third Company, First Platoon.
People greeted him like a celebrity.
“Yo, Hai-U’s No. 1 Deeply Affectionate!”
Two days and the nickna had already infected every freshman.
He doubted half of them knew his real na.
By the fence a cluster of girls giggled, glancing his way.
Sothing slamd into his back.
Instinct said dodge, but he caught the shoulders instead—whoever it was would’ve face-planted.
Turned out to be a girl; her friends watched like they’d just launched a rocket.
Prank, obviously.
“You okay?” he asked, steadying her.
She looked up, bangs almost hiding a pair of pretty, lancholy eyes.
At this distance she realised he was, inconveniently, good-looking.
Flustered, she stamred, “I—I’m fine, thanks...”
He let go and stepped back. “Take care.”
Hand to his glasses, he turned to his mates and resud chatting.
The girl whirled on her friends, mortified.
They’d been gossiping about Lin Zhe—and those idiots had shoved her straight into him.
A sudden, heavy collision triggered the scene.
The guys who’d just been chatting with Lin Zhe stared in open envy, jaws clenched, then grabbed his shoulders and started whining.
“Damn it, Xiao Lin, why are you so popular?”
The rest of the row chid in at once. “First the pretty senior sister, and now other girls throwing themselves at you.”
“You jerk, hurry up and get a girlfriend so those girls give up and the rest of us have a shot!”
Then soone hatched an idea. “Hey, Xiao Lin’s the only one in the whole platoon who hasn’t gan-ed the pillar yet!”
“Can’t let that tradition die!”
Sleeves were rolled, and the pack lunged at Lin Zhe.
A mont later they hoisted him bodily and marched off to slam him into the post.
Gan-the-pillar—basically the most ti-honored guy-ga ever invented.
Every other cadet had already been forced through it; even the instructor hadn’t escaped.
Only Lin Zhe always managed to slink into a corner when the ritual began, sparing himself the bruises.
Not this ti.
Yang Zhen gave an apologetic pat to Lin Zhe’s shoulder. “Xiao Lin, I can’t save you now.”
The words were barely out before he grabbed Lin Zhe’s calves without hesitation and sprinted with the mob toward the basketball pole on the drill ground.
Yang Zhen hadn’t dodged the pillar back then, and Lin Zhe had simply patted his shoulder and wished him luck.
Now the wheel had turned; it was Lin Zhe’s turn at last.
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