Chapter 36

Since the dual-instructor system had been implemented, Class Zero's practical combat classes had doubled in intensity.

Wu Changkong was responsible for building the frontal offense system, while Lu Menge handled tactical breakdowns and striking weaknesses. One played the strict disciplinarian, the other the gentle one—Wu Changkong's strictness was the bone-chilling kind, while Lu Menge smiled as she told them, "That mistake just now would have 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 strength left to brag.

But Gu Yue noticed something. Ever since Tang Wulin handed her the spear-tip component that night in the forging room, their coordination in practical combat class had become different. Before, when Tang Wulin shouted, "Gu Yue, cover," it was a tactical command, crisp and decisive, without any unnecessary emotion. Now, when he called "Gu Yue," his tone had not changed, but after calling her, he would glance at her once more—not to confirm her position, but to confirm that she was there.

"Tang Wulin looked at you again just now. Sixth time." During the break, Xie Xie lowered his voice as he spoke to Gu Yue, wearing the expression of someone who had uncovered an earth-shattering secret.

Gu Yue was wiping the sweat from her neck with a towel. She did not stop moving when she heard him. "He was confirming the formation."

"When you confirm a formation, you look at positions. He was looking at your face—does a position need you to look at its face?" The moment Xie Xie finished speaking, he leaped back two steps to avoid the ice chips Gu Yue casually flicked at him. But he did not give up. He circled around and sat beside Tang Wulin, nudging him with his elbow. "Wulin, how many times did you call Gu Yue during combat just now?"

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

"Seven times." Wang Jinxi spoke from nearby, his tone calm, though his eyes clearly showed he was enjoying the spectacle. "Three times in the first round, four in the second. Twice, the two of you were fighting Zhang Yangzi and me in a two-on-two match. After you called for her to cover you, she didn't answer—because she was already trapped on the other side. But your rhythm of calling her never stopped. Before, whenever she was pinned down, you stopped calling for her and switched directly to Xie Xie."

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

Tang Wulin tightened the cap on his water bottle and said nothing. But the tips of his ears began to redden. Xie Xie wanted to keep digging, but Gu Yue froze him in place with a single look. She stood, draped her towel over the back of the bench, and walked toward the center of the field. As she passed Tang Wulin, her steps slowed for half a beat. In a low voice, she said, "Next time, just confirm it—no need to call it out." Then she calmly walked to the middle of the field to discuss adjustments for the next round's formation with Lu Menge. Tang Wulin sat on the bench, gripping the thermos in his hand as he watched her back stretch straight beneath the training ground lights. The Golden Dragon King let out an extremely low dragon roar within his sea of consciousness. "She's waiting for you to take the initiative." Tang Wulin did not reply within his sea of consciousness, but he set down his thermos, rose to his feet, and strode toward the center of the training ground.

Lu Menge's strategist notes were getting thicker and thicker. From the Golden Dragon King's bloodline energy he had given her for weapon quenching, to his heart falling into chaos after holding her finger for two seconds, to the doubled frequency of him actively calling her name in combat class, and now to that quiet instruction just now. Sitting in a wicker chair at the edge of the field with a pen cap between her teeth, she turned a page and wrote beneath the heading "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 tucked the pen into the notebook and closed the cover. "It means that on an instinctive level, he already can't do without you, but his rational mind still needs an opportunity. His attitude toward you has completely changed now—he's only one final step away. That final step can't rely on hints, and it can't happen in the forging room. He has to say it himself. Or on the battlefield—people are most likely to tell the truth when facing life and death."

Gu Yue's black eyes sharpened slightly in the sunlight. Her combat instincts understood the meaning behind Lu Menge's words more clearly than anyone—not literal life or death, but making him face a choice that could not be solved through battle and could not be 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 ground, her back as cool and composed as ever. 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 the notebook. Lu Menge watched her walk over to Xie Xie and Zhang Yangzi and resume discussing how to coordinate in the next round, the curve of her lips lifting slightly.

Gu Yue did not secretly send a message to Di Tian again that day. But in her heart, she turned Lu Menge's words—"seventy-five percent," "rely on the battlefield"—over and over again. She decided that next time, she would not need to wait for Lu Menge to set the question—she could pull him over and ask him clearly herself. She looked toward Tang Wulin. His profile beneath the training ground lights was exceptionally focused as he discussed the timing of position swaps with Wang Jinxi, still unaware of her gaze. Then she would wait a little longer. When training ended, she would stop him directly.

The whistle signaling the end of practical combat class sounded at sunset. Tang Wulin had just put the training equipment into the storage box and was crouching on the ground tying his shoelaces when a pair of familiar ankle boots stopped before him. Gu Yue stood in front of him with the light behind her. Once he stood up, she got straight to the point. "Come to the back mountain tonight. I have something to tell you."

Tang Wulin froze for half a beat. Gu Yue rarely took the initiative to ask him out alone—before, every trip to the back mountain had been arranged by Sister Lu, with Gu Yue and him arriving one after another, 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 shoelaces, stood up, and brushed the dust from his hands. His hand hanging at his side loosened, then clenched again. Two seconds passed before he spoke. "Which tree on the back mountain? That crooked-neck tree?"

"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 turn and head toward the dormitory building. He spoke within his sea of consciousness. "Golden Dragon King. Tonight's extra training will be delayed by two hours—she has something to ask me."

The Golden Dragon King rolled over, his tail lazily sweeping across the edge of the platform. "Delaying it is fine. She said she 'needs you'—have you finally caught on?"

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

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

The night breeze on the back mountain carried the scent of ginkgo leaves. Gu Yue sat atop the large stone beneath the crooked-neck tree, her black hair lifting slightly in the wind. A cup of soy milk that was nearly cold sat beside her. When Tang Wulin came up the mountain, his steps were half a beat quicker than usual. Gu Yue noticed a small patch of charcoal ash still clinging to the Blue Silver Grass around his wrist—he had probably tossed the freshly quenched rough blank onto the forging table and rushed over immediately.

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

Tang Wulin stopped. He stood three steps from the stone, looking at Gu Yue's profile illuminated by moonlight. The wind had disheveled 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 while. Gu Yue did not urge him, simply sitting quietly on the stone as the moonlight made her black eyes look clear and translucent. Her black hair fell over her shoulders. She was not wearing her school uniform jacket, only a thin shirt, its collar fluttering slightly in the night breeze. After a moment, Tang Wulin stepped forward two paces and sat in the grass beside the stone.

"Just now, I thought of several answers—'a teammate,' 'my most important partner,' 'a friend I grew up with.' But none of those 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 call your name for reasons that have nothing to do with 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 set the cup of soy milk on her knee.

"Seven times. I called you seven times in practical combat class today. Gu Yue." He called her name once more, 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 my position. You're someone whose place 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 trying to test a new soul skill. But I still came up. Whatever you tell me to do, I'll come—whether it has anything to do with soul skills or not. It has to do with you."

Gu Yue's eyelashes trembled faintly in 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 breeze was too cold or because of something else. Slowly, she said, "Sister Lu said you're hopelessly dense. Dense people don't say things like that. She said you're hopelessly dense—so it could only be because you had never met someone willing to let you speak honestly. She didn't teach you what you just said. You were willing to say it yourself—so don't hide things anymore." She raised her eyes to look at him. Her voice remained 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 heart, he pinned the Golden Dragon King's tail down deep within the seal before that old fellow could interrupt, then hurriedly spoke first. "All right. No more hiding. From now on, every time you cover me in practical combat class, I'll call your name first. Not as a tactical confirmation—I just want you to know that I'm always listening to you. If you hear me, tap your finger. Like this." He stretched out his hand and tapped the stone surface between them three times.

Gu Yue lowered her eyes and did not answer. But Tang Wulin saw her right index finger silently tap the rim of the soy milk cup three times. Not once too many, not once too few—its rhythm matched his exactly. Her fingertip paused against the rim. His hand resting on the stone did not pull back, and after tapping, she did not immediately curl her finger away. The familiar hum of their soul power resonance gently rippled between them for an instant. It was far weaker than their combined attacks on the battlefield, yet it steadily enveloped the entire patch of grass beneath the crooked-neck tree.

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

The night breeze stopped. The ginkgo leaves no longer rustled, and even the insects in the cracks between the stones went quiet for a moment. Gu Yue lifted her head and looked at him, her black eyes clear beneath the moonlight. Her index finger tapped the rim of the cup again, slower and gentler than before, as though she were settling on an answer she had prepared for a long time.

"...Idiot."

When she spoke those two words, the silver light in her eyes finally stopped hiding beneath the moonlight and shone forth completely. Tang Wulin blanked for a moment, then laughed aloud. It was not the spirited laugh he wore on the training ground, but an awkward laugh with nowhere to hide after someone had seen through all his thoughts, one that sent even his usual confidence retreating to the side. Gu Yue said nothing more. She merely turned her gaze toward the charcoal fire pit, and Lu Menge's words floated up beside her ear: "Only that final step remains—a moment on the battlefield that can force the truth from him." There was no battlefield now, no quenching tank, no soul skill name to decide. He was merely sitting in the grass beside her, telling her, line by line, the words he had practiced for so long.

Sister Lu had been right. This person had been waiting just like her. He simply needed more time to confirm—not to confirm the other person's feelings, but to confirm whether he deserved them. When she invited him to the back mountain today, she had originally planned to use Lu Menge's final trick: "Pretend you have something to say but won't tell him, and make him ask on his own." But when the words reached her lips, 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 most wanted to ask directly. And he had answered—more completely than every answer she had copied into her diary. When the Dragon God Armament was being engraved, he had not been distracted enough to look at her. Yet during those three taps on the stone, he had watched her eyes the entire time.

"Wulin."

"Mm."

"Tomorrow in practical combat class—keep calling for me."

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

"...When did you buy these?"

"At dinner. You said we were coming to the back mountain, and I thought, since there were no grilled skewers, I couldn't let you drink only soy milk." 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 pull open one corner of the oil-paper bag. The fragrance of sesame mixed with the caramelized sweetness of sugar. At the bottom of the bag was also a small packet of honey dipping sauce 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 mouthful. Then the two of them rose at the same time and walked down the mountain side by side.

Not long after they left, a faint crack of a branch came from deep within the crooked-neck tree's canopy. Lu Menge flipped down from a branch and landed without a sound, the hem of her white lab coat lifting in the night breeze before falling again. Little White Tiger sprang from a higher branch to her shoulder, its tail curling around the back of her neck. She had come in advance to stake out the place. When Gu Yue invited Tang Wulin, she had already guessed where the conversation was headed. She simply had not expected the two little ones to actually open up to each other beneath the crooked-neck tree—she had thought that at most, Gu Yue would probe indirectly, Tang Wulin would stammer, and she would have to step in to rescue the situation in the end. Yet that dense little boy had not stopped once he opened his mouth, 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 ones you split into halves—tonight, beneath your tree, they nearly handed over everything they had. Half of you is housed within him; his half is using the spear forged from your ribs and the blade engraved with half your soul, handing it all back to her. The things you never had time to give her back then—he gave them to her in your place."