Chapter 36

Since Class Zero had adopted the dual-instructor system, the intensity of their combat training had doubled.

Wu Changkong was responsible for building their frontal assault framework, while Lu Menge handled tactical breakdowns and striking at weaknesses. One played the strict instructor, the other the gentle one—Wu Changkong's strictness was the kind that chilled one to the bone, while Lu Menge smiled as she told them, "That mistake just now would've gotten you killed three times." After daily training, the six members of Class Zero returned to their dorms so exhausted that even Xie Xie had no energy left to brag.

But Gu Yue noticed something. Ever since Tang Wulin had handed her that spear-tip component in the forging room that night, their coordination in combat class had changed. Before, when Tang Wulin called, "Gu Yue, cover the gap," it had been a tactical command, crisp and decisive, without any unnecessary emotion. Now, when he called her name, his tone had not changed, but afterward, he would look at her one extra time—not to confirm her position, but to confirm that she was there.

"Tang Wulin looked at you one extra time just now. That makes six." During their break, Xie Xie lowered his voice as he spoke to Gu Yue, looking as though he had uncovered some earth-shattering secret.

Gu Yue was wiping the sweat from her neck with a towel. Without pausing, she said, "He was confirming the formation."

"When you confirm a formation, you look at positions. He was looking at your face—do positions need you to look at someone's face?" The moment Xie Xie finished speaking, he leaped back two steps, dodging the ice chips Gu Yue casually flung at him. But he did not give up. He circled around and sat beside Tang Wulin, nudging him with an elbow. "Wulin, how many times did you call Gu Yue during the fight just now?"

Tang Wulin was drinking water and choked at the question. "...I didn't count."

"Seven times," Wang Jinxi answered from the side. His tone was flat, but his eyes clearly showed that he was enjoying the show. "Three times in the first round, four in the second. Twice, it was the two of you against Zhang Yangzi and me. After you called for her to cover the gap, she didn't respond—because she was already trapped on the other side. But you didn't break your rhythm of calling her name. Before, whenever she got tied down, you stopped calling for her and switched directly to Xie Xie."

Zhang Yangzi also put down his tactical manual for once and added, "And when you call her now, you're not giving an order to a teammate—you're instinctively confirming that she's still there. Before, you confirmed positions. Now, you're confirming a person."

Tang Wulin screwed the cap back onto his water bottle without replying. But the tips of his ears began to redden. Xie Xie wanted to dig deeper, only to be frozen in place by a single look from Gu Yue. She stood and draped her towel over the back of the bench. As she headed toward the center of the field, her pace slowed by half a beat as she passed Tang Wulin. In a low voice, she said, "Next time, just confirm it—there's no need to say it out loud." Then she walked on as though nothing had happened and began discussing adjustments to the next round's formation with Lu Menge. Tang Wulin sat on the bench, holding his thermos as he watched her straight silhouette stretch beneath the training ground lights. The Golden Dragon King gave a very low dragon roar within his spiritual sea. "She's waiting for you to make the first move." Tang Wulin did not answer within his spiritual sea, but he set down his thermos, rose to his feet, and strode toward the center of the training ground.

Lu Menge's strategist's notes were growing thicker and thicker. From the Golden Dragon King's blood essence he had provided to temper her weapon, to his heart falling into disarray after holding her finger for two seconds, to the doubled frequency with which he called her name during combat class, to that quiet remark just now. Sitting in a wicker chair at the edge of the field with a pen cap between her teeth, she flipped to a fresh page and wrote beneath "Tang Wulin's Current Psychological Defenses": "Tactical command → instinctive confirmation. Progress: seventy-five percent."

"What does seventy-five percent mean?" Gu Yue's voice came from behind her shoulder.

Lu Menge clipped the pen into the notebook and shut the cover. "It means that, on an instinctive level, he can no longer do without you, but rationally, he still needs a trigger. His attitude toward you has already changed completely—he's only one final step away. That last step can't come from hints, and it can't come from the forging room. He has to say it himself. Or on a battlefield—people are most likely to speak the truth at the brink of life and death."

Gu Yue's black eyes sharpened slightly in the sunlight. Her battle instincts understood the meaning behind Lu Menge's words better than anyone—not a literal brush with death, but forcing him to face a choice that could not be resolved through combat or completed through forging. She did not ask what that choice was, but she remembered those words. Then she continued toward the center of the training field, her back still carrying that same cool, composed air. Only when she passed the edge of the field did she bend down, pick up Lu Menge's fallen pen, and place it back on her notebook. Lu Menge watched her walk over to Xie Xie and Zhang Yangzi to resume discussing how to coordinate in the next round, and the curve of her lips rose just slightly.

Gu Yue did not secretly contact Di Tian today. But in her mind, she turned Lu Menge's words—"seventy-five percent," "use the battlefield"—over and over again. She decided that next time, she would not need to wait for Lu Menge to set the question herself—she could pull him over and ask him directly. She looked toward Tang Wulin. His profile seemed especially focused beneath the training ground lights as he discussed the timing for switching positions in the next match with Wang Jinxi, still unaware of her gaze. Then she would wait a little longer. Once training ended, she would stop him directly.

The whistle marking the end of combat class sounded at sunset. Tang Wulin had just put away the training equipment and was crouching down to tie his shoelaces when a familiar pair of short boots stopped in front of him. Gu Yue stood before him with the light at her back. Waiting until he stood, she got straight to the point. "Come to the back mountain tonight. I need to talk to you about something."

Tang Wulin froze for half a beat. Gu Yue rarely took the initiative to ask him to go somewhere alone—before, every trip to the back mountain had been arranged by Sister Lu, with Gu Yue and him arriving one after the other, usually bringing him along as well. He instinctively asked, "Is it urgent?" Gu Yue thought for a moment, then answered calmly, "Not urgent. But I need you."

Tang Wulin tied his laces, stood, and dusted off his hands. The hand hanging at his side loosened and clenched again. After two seconds, he asked, "Which tree on the back mountain? The crooked one?"

"Mm. Sister Lu isn't grilling skewers today—it'll just be the two of us."

With his sports bag slung over one shoulder, Tang Wulin watched Gu Yue's retreating figure head toward the dormitory building and spoke within his spiritual sea. "Golden Dragon King. Tonight's extra training will be delayed by two hours—she needs me for something."

The Golden Dragon King rolled over, his dragon tail lazily sweeping past the edge of the platform. "Delaying it is fine. She said she 'needs you'—have you finally gotten a clue?"

"...I haven't even gone yet."

"Go on, then. Call me if you can't handle it." The Golden Dragon King's tail tapped happily against the platform, producing a deep, metronome-like thud.

The night wind on the back mountain carried the scent of ginkgo leaves. Gu Yue sat atop the large rock beneath the crooked tree, her black hair lifting faintly in the breeze. Beside her was a cup of soy milk that had nearly gone cold. When Tang Wulin came up the mountain, his steps were half a beat faster than usual. Gu Yue noticed a small patch of charcoal ash still clinging to the Blue Silver Grass around his wrist—he had probably set the freshly tempered rough piece on the forging table and rushed straight over.

Once he approached, Gu Yue did not beat around the bush. "Tang Wulin. What am I to you?"

Tang Wulin stopped. He stood three steps from the rock, looking at Gu Yue's profile illuminated by moonlight. The wind had tousled several strands of black hair across his forehead, but he did not brush them aside, nor did he answer immediately. The silence lasted for a moment. Gu Yue did not press him, merely sitting quietly on the rock as the moonlight made her black eyes clear and translucent. Her black hair rested over her shoulders. She was not wearing her school jacket, only a thin shirt, its collar lifting slightly in the night breeze. After a moment, Tang Wulin stepped forward two paces and sat on the grass beside the rock.

"Just now, I thought of several answers—'a teammate,' 'my most important companion,' 'a friend I grew up with.' But none of them are right. Xie Xie is also a teammate, but when he gets hurt, I only feel sorry about the tactical arrangement. Every time you get trapped on the field, I don't call your name because of tactics. I tried calling Xie Xie, Zhang Yangzi, and Wang Jinxi with the rhythm of a tactical command—it was completely different. Calling you is instinct. They were right."

Gu Yue's fingers trembled lightly as she placed the cup of soy milk on her knee.

"Seven times. I called you seven times in combat class today. Gu Yue." He called her name again, not as a tactical command, but simply because he wanted her to hear it. "To me, you aren't a teammate who needs to cover a gap. You're the person whose presence I always want to be able to confirm. When training ended, you told me to come to the back mountain tonight—I actually knew you weren't planning to test some new soul skill. But I still came. I'll come whenever you ask me to do anything—it has nothing to do with soul skills. It has to do with you."

Gu Yue's lashes trembled faintly beneath the moonlight. She lowered her head and looked at her fingers—the finger that had once lightly held his fingertip in the forging room was now gripping the rim of the soy milk cup, her knuckles faintly white. She did not know whether it was because the night wind was too cold or for some other reason. Slowly, she said, "Sister Lu said you were hopelessly dense. Dense people don't say things like that. She said you were hopelessly dense—so it could only be because you never met someone who made you willing to tell the truth. What you just said, she didn't teach you. You were willing to say it yourself—so don't hide it anymore." She raised her eyes to him. Her voice was still soft, but every word landed steadily.

Tang Wulin turned to look at her profile. The moonlight made the faint silver glow in her eyes seem gentle. In his mind, he firmly pinned down the Golden Dragon King's tail deep within the seal. Before that old fellow could interrupt, he spoke first. "All right. I won't hide it. Every time you cover for me in combat class from now on, I'll call your name first. Not as a tactical confirmation—I just want you to know that I'm always listening for you. When you hear it, tap your finger. Like this." He extended his hand and tapped three times against the stone between them.

Gu Yue lowered her gaze and did not answer. But Tang Wulin saw the index finger of her right hand silently tap three times against the rim of the soy milk cup. Not once too many, not once too few—her rhythm matched his exactly. Her fingertip paused on the cup's rim. His hand remained on the rock, and after she finished tapping, she did not immediately curl her fingers back. The familiar hum of their Soul Power resonance rippled softly between them for an instant, far weaker than a combined strike on the battlefield, yet it steadily enveloped the entire patch of grass beneath the crooked tree.

Tang Wulin did not withdraw his hand. Looking into her eyes, he spoke his final question. "Then what about you? What am I to you?"

The night wind stopped. The ginkgo leaves no longer rustled, and even the insects in the cracks between the stones fell silent for a moment. Gu Yue raised her head to look at him, her black eyes clear beneath the moonlight. Her index finger tapped the cup's rim again, slower and gentler than before, as if she were settling upon an answer she had prepared for a long time.

"...Idiot."

As she said those two words, the silver glow in her eyes finally stopped hiding beneath the moonlight and shone out completely. Tang Wulin blanked for a moment, then laughed. It was not the spirited laugh he wore on the training field, but an awkward laugh from someone whose every thought had been seen through, leaving him nowhere to hide, even his usual confidence retreating to one side. Gu Yue said nothing more. She merely turned her gaze toward the charcoal fire pit, and Lu Menge's words surfaced in her mind: "Only that last step remains—a moment on the battlefield that can force the truth out of him." There was no battlefield here, no tempering trough, no soul skill name to decide. He was merely sitting on the grass beside her, saying words he had practiced for a long time, one sentence at a time.

Sister Lu had been right. This person, like her, had been waiting. He simply needed more time to confirm—not the other person's feelings, but whether he deserved them. She had asked him to the back mountain today intending to use the final trick Lu Menge had taught her: "Pretend you have something to say but refuse to tell him, and make him ask." But when the moment came, she changed her mind. She did not want to test him with tricks taught by a strategist anymore. She only wanted to sit before him and ask the one question she wanted to ask most directly. And he had answered—more completely than every answer she had copied into her diary. When the Dragon God Armament had been engraved, he had not spared her a glance, but when he tapped the stone three times just now, he had never stopped looking into her eyes.

"Wulin."

"Mm."

"Tomorrow in combat class—keep calling me."

Tang Wulin stood and gently set the oil-paper package he had placed beside the rock into her hands. Gu Yue squeezed the bag. Inside were several warm sesame sugar cakes.

"...When did you buy these?"

"At dinner. You said we were coming to the back mountain, and I thought that since there weren't any grilled skewers, I couldn't exactly let you drink soy milk by yourself." He scratched the back of his head. "I ran over before the cafeteria closed—Xie Xie almost caught me."

Gu Yue lowered her head to look at the sugar cakes and used her thumb to peel back one corner of the oil-paper bag. The fragrance of sesame mixed with the caramel sweetness of sugar. At the bottom of the bag was also a small packet of honey dipping sauce that she had casually mentioned last time. She pushed the cup of soy milk toward him, meaning, "You should drink some too." Tang Wulin took the cup and drank a sip. Then the two rose at the same time and walked down the mountain side by side.

Not long after they left, an almost inaudible creak of branches sounded from deep within the crooked tree's canopy. Lu Menge flipped down from a branch and landed without a sound, the hem of her white coat lifting in the night breeze before falling again. The Little White Tiger darted from a higher branch onto her shoulder, its tail curling around the back of her neck. She had come early to stake out the place. When Gu Yue invited Tang Wulin, she had already guessed where this conversation was headed. She just had not expected the two little brats to actually open their hearts to each other beneath the crooked tree—she had thought that at most, Gu Yue would probe around the issue while Tang Wulin stammered, and she would ultimately have to step in to save the situation. Instead, that dense little Tang Wulin had not stopped talking once he began, directly doubling her three-year assessment of his emotional intelligence. She looked up at the moonlight filtering through the treetops.

"Dragon God, the two little brats you split into halves—tonight, beneath your tree, they nearly handed over every last secret they had. Half of you is housed within him; the other half is holding the spear forged from your ribs and the blade engraved with half your soul. He gave them all back to her. What you never had the chance to give her back then, he gave in your place."