Chapter 21 High-Risk Specimen

Chapter 21 High-Risk Specimen

Jing Rong smiled.

He took hold of Jue’s hand.

It was silent approval and unspoken consent.

Jue paused, his voice strangely soft and subdued: "Brother, your body..."

He was injured.

But Jue didn’t finish, struck by intense emotion.

Even with his eyes closed, Jing Rong could feel Jue’s gaze lingering on his face—filled with an uncontrollable, unrestrained curiosity and infatuation.

Jue’s voice was already slightly hoarse: "Brother, let me cover your eyes for you."

He was desperate to divert his attention. After all, Jing Rong had just expended tremendous energy and taken a direct hit from a mental blast. Bringing this up now seemed inconsiderate of his condition.

A proper leader wouldn’t neglect his partner’s condition. He wasn’t that desperate.

Jing Rong listened as Jue rinsed the bandages in a basin of water, then applied basic medicinal herbs before carefully wrapping them around his eyes.

Jue said, "This is the only herb from the nearby snow mountains that has any effect on mental energy. Once we head further west, all the way to the front lines, I’ll secure the best medicine for you."

In truth, his vision should recover by the next morning.

Jing Rong didn’t mention it. Once the bandages were secured, he responded with unwavering support: "Alright, I’ll wait for the Great Leader to secure the best medicine for me."

His voice was calm and steady. With his eyes bound, he instinctively tilted his chin slightly upward as he spoke, facing Jue’s direction.

Jue didn’t respond.

Instead, he stared intently at Jing Rong’s nose, the line of his jaw, his sharp Adam’s apple, and the faint sheen of sweat-dampened hair.

This handsome, composed young man was his.

He would never have imagined that one day, he’d be completely captivated by an Orc.

Jue glanced outside the tent.

The Orc soldiers were at their posts. After Youtier’s return, he had taken charge of all trivial matters. They should have an entire night alone without interruption.

But the ever-pragmatic leader wouldn’t allow any accidents or mishaps.

Jue stood and called out to those outside, "All of you, go rest. Tonight, I’ll care for our comrade."

The guards outside obeyed the order and dispersed.

Jue extinguished the excess lanterns, leaving only one bedside lamp.

Jing Rong’s features looked sharp in the lamplight, all angles and intensity.

As he often did, Jue pressed Jing Rong down, carefully avoiding his injuries.

Then, time passed slowly, and Jue didn’t move.

After a while, Jing Rong asked, "Unsure what to do?"

Jue’s ears flushed instantly.

Having grown up in a lab, he’d never had the chance to learn about such things. Even his understanding of couples and marriage was vague, picked up haphazardly from childhood observations of those around him.

Though his face burned, Jue’s voice remained steady: "Of course I know. Just like last time."

Last time, he and Jing Rong had been intimate at an inn. He assumed this was how things should be.

A moment later.

He asked quietly, "Brother, what about you? Should I help?"

"No need."

Jing Rong sat up, his voice low and steady by Jue’s ear: "You can help me another way."

*

Some time later, Jing Rong asked softly, "Thirsty?"

His fingers brushed Jue’s cheek. Jue lay on the bed, eyes closed, clutching his arm tightly before finally answering, "...Yes."

He’d even forgotten Jing Rong couldn’t see.

Jing Rong reached for the cup, but it wasn’t where he’d last heard it placed. He let out a quiet "tsk" of annoyance before getting up to fetch water.

For Executive Jing Rong, this was already an uncharacteristically annoyed reaction.

Jue instantly realized what had irritated him.

Though he was still processing what had just happened, when Jing Rong returned, Jue reached out and lightly touched his arm.

Steeling himself, Jue mustered his courage and said, "Brother, I don’t want to stop either."

He took a few sips of water, then held some in his mouth as he leaned over to share it with Jing Rong. His arms wrapped around Jing Rong’s neck—fumbling but earnest, utterly sincere.

They didn’t fall asleep until nearly dawn.

*

The next morning, Jing Rong woke to an empty bed.

By his estimation, it was around ten in the morning.

As expected, his vision had mostly recovered, with only a faint red tint remaining.

His coat and shirt were haphazardly draped over the bedside, while a bloodstained, suspiciously stained bandage lay discarded on the floor—the very one Jue had changed for him the night before.

626 piped up: "Good morning, Executive. Seems like you two had quite the intense night."

Jing Rong picked up the tangled bandage and tossed it into a basin of water: "Yeah."

All his wounds had reopened, and Jue wasn’t much better—his shirt and coat were smeared with Jing Rong’s blood.

Jing Rong retrieved a change of clothes from his luggage and began buttoning up.

Jue wasn’t in the room, and he’d left early—after barely resting.

626 added, "Youtier came by at dawn to report on the train repairs and asked for his help. That’s when I got woken up too. Your partner left without a word."

Jing Rong said, "He’s had a long night."

—Though most of Jue’s exhaustion was likely due to last night’s activities.

626 said, "What's next, bro?"

Jing Rong replied, "Let’s walk around."

Both sides were in better shape than expected—no fatalities, and all the wounded had received timely treatment.

The winter blizzard was now unavoidable, and with the mountains fractured, the prisoners couldn’t pull off any major moves. In fact, given that there would be no supplies for the coming winter, all the Orcs and residents of the Isle of Flowing Fire had to work together to survive.

Jing Rong made his rounds in the wounded camp, tending to a few patients before inspecting the children's camp.

For days now, the kids had been handling all the camp meals.

Jing Rong went over, showed them how to build windproof stoves that saved fuel, and gave each kid a gingerbread cookie.

In the afternoon, Youtir came to find him.

"Sir... You..." Youtir clearly still struggled with how to address Jing Rong, stumbling over his words before finally settling on, "Sir."

Jing Rong asked, "What is it?"

"The chief wrote up a to-do list for the next few days and had me bring it over for your input—to see if you have any suggestions or guidance."

Youtir stared at him, equal parts awe and nerves, his gaze flickering toward the group of children nearby—they were lining up for gingerbread.

—Damn, these lambs didn’t know fear. They had no clue what kind of devil stood before them!

Jing Rong took the document but didn’t read it immediately. Instead, his lips curled into a faint smile. "Where’s Jue? Couldn’t he come himself?"

Youtir thought for a moment, scratching his head. "The chief said he’s under the weather today and wouldn’t be coming."

Jing Rong nodded. "Understood."

Once he’d jotted down his thoughts, he handed them back to Youtir and kept pitching in till sundown.

At dusk, another word came from Jue, delivered by an unfamiliar soldier. He relayed to Jing Rong, "Sir, the chief says you should turn in early tonight. He’ll be discussing future plans with the squads and may be very late."

Jing Rong listened, then smiled again. "Understood."

Even slowpoke 626 caught on that something was off. "Isn’t this kinda cold? Why does it feel like he’s avoiding you today?"

Jing Rong said, "Leaders get shy too, you know."

Jue had bolted without a word that morning, clearly still reeling from the shock and shame.

Jing Rong added, "But he bounces back fast. It’s always been that way with everything."

11 p.m.

Jue had been grinding nonstop all day, keeping at it relentlessly. Only when the time was right did he gather the others to return to his tent for the meeting.

His heart hammered harder the closer he got to the tent, thudding loudly in his chest.

Last night kept playing in his head—that wild, reckless night. Jing Rong’s sharply defined jawline, the sweat on his skin, his jet-black hair.

Yet his expression betrayed nothing.

Until he saw the person waiting outside the tent.

Jing Rong was propped by the entrance, arms folded, a light dusting of snow on his shoulders. Seeing Jue approach, he smiled.

Jue froze, fingers clenching around his weapon on reflex.

Fortunately, he quickly composed himself, steadying his voice as he said, "Bro, I told you this afternoon. You should be resting early."

He stopped, maintaining a polite distance between them.

Jing Rong nodded. "I know. I came to tell you—my vision has mostly recovered."

Before Jue could feel relieved, Jing Rong added calmly, "I didn’t get a good look last night. Next time, I should have the chance to see clearly."

Jue’s carefully controlled expression instantly crumbled.

He burned up, helpless to stop it.