The Young Master Who Covered a Mouth and a Case of Red Bull

Early in the morning, the sky had only just begun to brighten.

Dorm room 504 was unusually quiet. Even the birds outside had yet to start chirping.

Chen Ziang lay awake in his bed, staring at the underside of the bunk above him. He had barely slept a wink all night. Whenever he closed his eyes, his dreams were filled with images of goose-stepping under the blazing sun today. The phantom pain of his soles treading on red-hot iron plates burrowed up through his nerves.

He rolled onto his side, then rolled back.

After a night of torment, the young master's pride had finally bowed to the pain of the flesh.

No matter how much face he had to save, it wouldn't stop blood blisters from forming on his soles.

He held his breath and pricked up his ears, listening for any movement in the room.

Han Dong's quiet snores rose and fell steadily. Not a sound came from Zhao Yifan's or Lu Chuan's bed; both were fast asleep.

Chen Ziang lifted his thin blanket.

Like a thief, he hardly dared breathe as he inched down the ladder. When his toes touched the floor, he landed as lightly as he could, afraid his slippers might scrape against it.

He tiptoed over to his desk.

The two pink-and-blue packs of sanitary pads still lay quietly on its corner.

Chen Ziang's face grew hot, and he could feel the heat spreading to the base of his neck.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he, a dignified young master born and raised in Jiangcheng, would one day sink to getting up early in his university dorm to sneak this stuff into his military training shoes as padding.

He swallowed and reached for one of the packs.

It felt soft and squishy in his hand.

He gritted his teeth, pinched the edge of the plastic wrapper, and prepared to tear it open.

The stuff looked unassuming enough normally, but in a dorm room so quiet that morning you could hear a pin drop, even the slightest crumpling of the wrapper sounded piercingly loud.

He took a deep breath and yanked hard.

"Riiip-"

The sound of the plastic film tearing was magnified infinitely in the silent room.

Chen Ziang shuddered all over, his hands freezing instantly. Not daring to breathe, he turned his neck little by little, like a rusted gear, and looked at the other three beds.

Han Dong had stopped snoring.

Chen Ziang's scalp went numb.

Han Dong smacked his lips and rolled over, his eyes opening a sleepy crack.

He poked his head out and looked down blearily.

His eyes met Chen Ziang's, who was clutching the pink wrapper with a look of sheer terror.

Han Dong stared blankly for two seconds.

He looked first at Chen Ziang, then at the thing in his hand. His not-yet-awake eyes instantly went round.

That booming voice, unique to someone from Northeast China, was about to erupt from his throat.

"Holy shit! Ziang, didn't you say..."

He didn't get to finish.

Chen Ziang's soul nearly flew out of his body.

If he let this guy bellow the rest of that sentence in the dorm, he might as well skip military training today, pack his bags, and drop out! His face as a local young master would be shattered to pieces at Jiang University.

There was no time to think. Chen Ziang didn't even stop to put his slippers on properly.

He forgot all about dignity and pounced like a tiger on its prey.

He clamped a hand firmly over Han Dong's mouth.

The sudden attack startled Han Dong so badly that the rest of his words were forced back into his stomach. His face turned bright red as he flailed on the bed, making muffled noises.

Chen Ziang's palm was covered in sweat.

"Shut up!"

He kept his voice low, hissing the warning through clenched teeth.

Han Dong's eyes rolled back as Chen Ziang held his mouth shut. He clawed at Chen Ziang's arm and nodded desperately, indicating that he absolutely wouldn't make a sound.

Only then did Chen Ziang breathe a little easier.

Still shaken, he turned to see whether the other two had been woken up.

His mind went buzz.

Lu Chuan and Zhao Yifan weren't asleep at all.

Both of them had woken up at some point. Lu Chuan was half-reclining against the head of his bed, phone in hand. Zhao Yifan was sitting on his bed, seemingly lost in thought.

The two of them just watched him in silence.

They watched the pink wrapper clutched in his hand and his entire thief-like performance as he stood barefoot beside Han Dong's bed, clamping a hand over his mouth.

Chen Ziang's face instantly turned the color of pig liver.

He felt all his blood rushing to the top of his head and wished he could find a crack in the floor and crawl right into it.

It's over.

All over.

He steeled himself and let go of Han Dong, then stood there, not knowing what to do with his hands or feet. The sanitary pad in his hand was now like a hot potato: he couldn't throw it away, but he couldn't keep holding it either.

He stammered, making one last desperate struggle.

"I... I just wanted to try it."

"I wanted to see how hard this stuff was to use, so I could properly criticize it during training today!"

The excuse was so rotten that even he didn't believe it.

Han Dong had just caught his breath and opened his mouth to expose him.

"That's not what you said last night..."

"It is pretty hard to use."

Lu Chuan cut Han Dong off.

He casually set his phone beside his pillow, his tone utterly calm, as if he hadn't seen Chen Ziang's sorry display at all.

"It's just about good enough to pad your soles and make them a little softer."

As he spoke, he turned over and climbed out of bed.

"Hurry up and wash up. They'll be blowing the assembly whistle soon."

No laughter.

No looks of amusement.

And no teasing him by picking up where Han Dong had left off.

With that one casual remark, Lu Chuan caught Chen Ziang's teetering face before it fell.

Zhao Yifan silently pulled back his blanket too. Without a word, he climbed down the ladder, picked up his washbasin, and walked straight into the bathroom.

Everyone had a tacit understanding.

A perfect way down had been laid securely at Chen Ziang's feet.

Chen Ziang stood there, watching Lu Chuan walk toward the balcony. His tightly drawn shoulders slowly relaxed.

He didn't say a word.

He just quickly stuffed the thing in his hand into his shoe, gave a little cough as if to cover it up, and turned to fetch his toothbrush.

That morning.

Under the blazing sun, Jiang University's athletic field was like a giant steamer.

The most grueling drills, goose-stepping and standing at attention, officially began. The sun baked the rubber track until it was scorching hot, and through the thin soles of their shoes, the heat bore straight down on their feet.

Chen Ziang stood in formation.

He brought one foot down hard.

The sharp pain of hard sole striking hard ground that he'd expected never came. Inside the camouflage shoe's paper-thin sole, that thick, soft cotton layer perfectly cushioned the impact in an instant.

Not only did it not hurt.

It even absorbed all the sweat from his soles, leaving them dry and comfortable.

Chen Ziang stood ramrod straight, eyes forward, looking every bit the aloof, expressionless young master.

But inside, he was shouting wildly.

This stuff is the light of humanity!

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the freshmen from other dorms beside him. Every one of them was drenched in sweat from the heat, sucking in sharp breaths from the pain in their soles as they stood at attention. Some had even started limping as they goose-stepped.

Chen Ziang's steps, however, were lighter than ever.

Even when standing at attention today, he stood straighter than he ever had before.

That evening.

Military training finally ended for the day.

The four of them dragged their exhausted bodies back to dorm room 504.

As soon as they entered, Han Dong collapsed into a chair, stretching his legs out and letting out a howl like a pig being slaughtered.

"My god, are they trying to train us to death today?"

"Good thing we had Brother Chuan's secret weapon, or my feet would've been done for on that field today. Even now, my soles keep going numb."

Zhao Yifan put down his water bottle and rubbed his aching calves.

Lu Chuan took a towel and went to wash his face.

Chen Ziang didn't hurry to take off his shoes and change clothes as he usually did when he got back.

He stood beside his desk, neither collapsing nor complaining. He looked at Han Dong slumped in his chair, then at Lu Chuan, who had just come out after washing his face.

Suddenly, in a departure from his usual behavior, he turned, pushed open the door, and went back out.

Han Dong stared after him.

"What's Boss Chen going out for? It's so late. Why isn't he resting?"

Nobody knew what he was going to do.

About ten minutes passed.

The dorm door was kicked open.

Chen Ziang came in from outside, panting. In his arms was an entire unopened case of chilled Red Bull, its intact clear plastic wrap covered in tiny droplets of condensation.

He walked over to the table in the middle of the room.

With a muffled thud,

the whole case of Red Bull landed heavily on the tabletop.

Chen Ziang was breathing hard from exhaustion, the hair over his forehead damp with sweat. When had he ever done physical labor like carrying a case himself in all his life?

He casually wiped the sweat from his forehead.

He turned his face away, looking at no one.

His tone carried the awkwardness and haughty pride unique to a Jiangcheng young master.

"Training was too tiring today."

"This young master's treat. Drink as much as you want."

"None of you can say I don't look after you."

The room fell silent for two seconds.

Han Dong was the first to jump up with a cheer.

"Boss Chen, you're generous!"

Without standing on ceremony, he tore open the plastic wrap, grabbed a can of ice-cold Red Bull, popped the tab with a click, and tipped his head back for a big gulp.

"Ah, that hits the spot! This ice-cold stuff is a miracle life-saving medicine!"

Zhao Yifan came over and took a can too, saying softly,

"Thanks."

Lu Chuan leaned against the table and reached for a can of Red Bull.

He popped the tab and took a sip. The cool, slightly sweet liquid slid down his throat, easing his fatigue.

He raised his eyes and looked at Chen Ziang, who was standing to one side, covered in sweat but still trying to maintain his aloof persona. He looked at his awkward yet earnest expression.

The corners of Lu Chuan's mouth lifted slightly.

On this stifling early autumn night, beneath the exhaustion of high-pressure military training,

dorm room 504 truly gained the first touch of a solid foundation of brotherhood.