“WTF! Last time betting was voluntary, and now it’s mandatory? I don’t even know how to pick QuQ”

“You don’t even need to ask — obviously bet on Jiang Lin to win!”

“President Rong absolutely can’t lose! But I really want to see the steamy kiss, sob—”

“Why is Jiang Lin the one who has to lead everyone to punishment if he loses, but if Rong Shi loses it’s just shrugged off?!”

“This punishment system only punishes the people who bet on Rong Shi’s opponent winning. Song Beauty is so biased!”

Jiang Lin was also waiting in the prep area.

He hadn’t been on duty outside last time when Rong Shi fought Liu Hong, so he didn’t even know there’d been betting.

Hearing the new terms now made him furious.

“Kissing your partner as a punishment?!” Jiang Lin opened his mic, voice loud. “I won’t accept such an unfair rule!”

Song Yu propped his chin on his hand and lazily glanced at the comment feed. “You, the number one third-year mecha major, are lecturing me on fairness in a freshman match?”

Jiang Lin was stumped for a moment, then bristled: “I already said it’s an exhibition—more for instruction than competition.”

“If it’s just an exhibition, doesn’t adding stakes make it more fun?” Song Yu said, unhurried. “Anyway, you’re not going to lose — what’s there to be afraid of?”

The betting pool numbers shot up crazily because of their conversation.

Rong Shi glanced once, shrugged in helplessness.

When Song Yu coddled someone, he’d already dug the hole beneath them and, when the moment came, pushed them right in.

Jiang Lin didn’t know that about his style, so he might still be smug right now.

Seeing that the number of people betting on him winning exceeded those betting on Rong Shi by tenfold, Jiang Lin felt pleased.

Right — he wouldn’t lose. Nothing to worry about.

Many people in the comments spammed support for Rong Shi, but their fingers were honest and they immediately bet on Jiang Lin.

“Chairman, I suggest you just forfeit now. I want to see the next opening program lol.”

“Even with these stakes, no one wants to see you win. Chairman, spare yourself — surrender?”

“No suspense here. It’s not shameful for the chairman to lose to Senior Jiang; plus there’s a kiss with the goddess as consolation. [doge]”

“Why is there someone called 01 in the list? Whoever hasn’t changed their name, hurry up!”

“From my years of betting on star wars, I can say: Jiang Lin not winning is unlikely.”

“Go Senior Jiang! If you lose, thirty-five teachers will come after you — oh, now it’s add three more.”

One minute before the match, Song Yu booted out the 300+ people who’d planned to feign sleep and freeload the stream.

“Both sides, pick your mecha model. Brother, you go first?”

Finally given a chance to speak, Rong Shi: “Anything.”

Song Yu: “Then let Senior Jiang pick.”

Jiang Lin scanned the line of mechs and stopped on the E300—the same model used when Rong Shi faced Liu Hong last time.

With that prior match as reference, picking the same model now would make for a clearer direct comparison, he thought.

“Let’s use the E300.” Jiang Lin selected it. “He’s a freshman; I’m worried he won’t be familiar with other models.”

“How considerate of you, Senior Jiang — thanks on Brother’s behalf,” Song Yu said with a light chuckle. “The match begins now.”

The map loaded: an ancient forest planet, trees thick enough for several people to hug around their trunks.

Jiang Lin pushed the E300’s throttle and looked disdainful.

That model had been phased out by the military years ago. Its key layout was poorly designed, its AI primitive, the cockpit uncomfortable — he couldn’t understand why the academy still used it for instruction.

He scanned with radar, locked on Rong Shi’s position, and launched a volley of tracking missiles.

Rong Shi had just landed and immediately fired his thrusters, ducking behind a trunk and flashing several times. The missiles lost potency and finally detonated.

Nearby trees were blown into rubble; dust filled the air, reducing visibility to less than a meter.

Jiang Lin flew high, braced the gun mounted on the mech’s shoulder and arms, locked on with radar, and began sweeping continuous fire downward.

Song Yu commented lazily: “A homing-missile strike followed by 30-caliber machine-gun bursts. Jiang Lin chose to do long-range attrition first — a conventional opening, pretty ordinary.”

“Ordinary?!” Jiang Lin’s anger flared.

Early attrition is crucial! As long as the opponent’s mech is damaged, the rest of the fight becomes much easier. Rong Shi might dodge, but he’d still take significant harm.

After he expended the preset ammo, Jiang Lin didn’t give any breathing room — he drew the sword mounted on his back and dove into the dust.

Comments—

“Holy shit! Senior Jiang’s attack is brutal!”

“At this range, the sweeping bursts are hard to dodge. Chairman, are you going to get wrecked right away?”

“Totally different from the Liu Hong clusterfuck last time!”

“Chairman’s out! He’s unscathed?!”

The sim system auto-cleared the fog on the public screen, and Rong Shi’s position became clear.

He’d jumped up onto a fallen log; Jiang Lin had already driven his blade to his back.

Rong Shi raised his hand to draw a sword and parried reflexively.

As he parried, Jiang Lin increased thruster power and slashed with a sweeping kick.

“Jiang Lin spins to follow up, a strong transition attack, but it misses; super-momentum forward leap into a rotary side-cut, blocked—” Song Yu narrated Jiang Lin’s moves precisely, with a trace of amusement. “This combo isn’t easy, but after three minutes he still hasn’t broken through the defense — Senior Jiang’s holding back way too obviously.”

The comment feed turned into a blur—

“Senior Jiang is so handsome! So many A-grade moves!”

“Kneeling, kneeling—he’s pressuring so hard; the chairman might break.”

“It’s already impressive the chairman’s held up to this much.”

“Jiang Lin, don’t hold back! Knock him down!”

Everyone assumed Jiang Lin wasn’t using his full strength; with his top mecha major record, beating a freshman should be ridiculously easy.

But Jiang Lin was starting to doubt himself more and more.

How is this possible?! Rong Shi can’t be holding against this many moves!

Higher-difficulty maneuvers require more key inputs; completing one move can require pressing more than fifty keys.

After three minutes of high-intensity attacks his fingers were numb from pressing, but Rong Shi remained unscathed.

Where is the problem?

Jiang Lin glared at the mech ten meters away, his face dark, his heart pounding. A bad feeling crept up.

He replayed the Rong Shi–Liu Hong fight in his head. He’d watched that video dozens of times and mastered Rong Shi’s patterns.

But now, not only couldn’t he beat him in a few moves, he couldn’t even break his defense!

“Is it over?”

Rong Shi’s cool voice came over the public channel: “Then it’s my turn.”

Jiang Lin: “?”

What does he mean? Did Rong Shi not even bother fighting earlier?

Question marks filled the comment feed; the worshipful praise for Jiang Lin suddenly fell silent.

Before anyone could react, Rong Shi’s mech vanished from the screen.

A cold sweat broke out on the back of Jiang Lin’s neck; something detonated in his head.

He heard a faint roar, turned instinctively, and raised his sword to block.

Bang.

Almost simultaneously, two blades collided with a tremendous clang.

The force numbed the hand holding his throttle.

How much strength did that take?!

“Looks like Brother’s launching a counterattack,” Song Yu’s voice grew a touch serious. “Spin slash into strong transition — you learned from it well. Senior Jiang, you couldn’t dodge in time; the left arm’s primary line has been cut.”

Jiang Lin staggered backward and immediately switched to his left-hand backup system.

Before he’d finished switching, Rong Shi attacked again.

“Super-momentum leap into rotary side-cut — another learned combo.” Song Yu’s amusement deepened. “Jiang Lin sidesteps, uses thrusters to decompress and accelerate backward, but can’t avoid it; left-side hip struck, which will likely affect rotation agility.”

The comment section fell quiet for a moment, then erupted—

“Crying! My first love is finally rising!”

“Using the same combo, Jiang Lin can’t break the defense — every move from Daddy Rong is deadly!”

“So arrogant! Daddy Rong is still your daddy!”

“I haven’t learned such high-difficulty moves—please tell me they’re easy?”

“Learned after watching once?! Rong Shi, are you even human?!”

“This is the salted-fish counterattack? He didn’t bother to invent moves; he just used the opponent’s own combos?” Being injured by his own moves, Jiang Lin’s headspace utterly collapsed and fury shot through him.

He did an emergency patch, pushed power to max, and charged at Rong Shi.

But even that full-powered strike was sidestepped with finesse, and as he tried to continue his assault, Rong Shi had already struck first.

“Half-rotation sweep into reverse thrust — Jiang Lin can’t dodge, the left-shoulder machine-gun controller’s damaged… defensive lateral-slide into direct strike, A-grade difficulty, this move is unbeatable; Jiang Lin’s right-leg primary line has been severed…”

As Rong Shi executed his actions, Song Yu’s commentary sped up.

“Spiral reverse cut into inverted sweep, super-A-grade difficulty, Jiang Lin’s left-leg primary line cut — Brother is a little too much now…”

The comment feed grew wilder.

“Is Brother Rong suddenly fired up?!”

“A deluge of attacks! Jiang Lin can’t handle it!”

“Whoa! This is Daddy Rong’s true strength? My scalp is tingling!”

“Amazing! Daddy Rong has hidden so much!”

“Ahhh so handsome! Top alpha A++!”

“I don’t understand the difficulty level, but the stance is incredible!”

Song Yu glanced at the comments in a spare moment and smiled: “Thanks to Senior Jiang for inspiring Brother’s fighting mood.”

The comments rowed with laughter—

“No way, I think he just didn’t want to kiss him in public lol.”

“Haha, blatant lie — he was clearly pissed off.”

“Too petty! What if he loses once?!”

“Difficulty keeps rising! Shit! Senior Jiang’s mech is being sliced to pieces!”

On the virtual battlefield, Jiang Lin had completely lost the rhythm.

Song Yu cheerily switched the viewpoint: “In high-intensity fights like this, just one missed block throws off your tempo. If you can’t make an emergency adjustment, one mistake leads to total collapse.”

Jiang Lin cursed and tried to regain rhythm, but couldn’t handle everything at once — he couldn’t adjust in time.

Why?!

Isn’t Rong Shi a freshman?!

He’d never even been on the sim more than twice — why is he this strong?!

While he couldn’t stop thinking that, the whole mech suddenly shook violently.

[Mecha damage exceeds 70%; no longer operational.]

Has it overheated? Jiang Lin couldn’t believe it.

He, the proud top of the third-year mecha department, had been beaten flat by a freshman who’d barely trained?!

“Nice!”

Liu Hong, Chen Chen and the others in a small viewing room high-fived and cheered.

“After seeing this, I finally know how much face he left me last time,” Liu Hong laughed.

Bai Ting: “Exactly — people like Rong Shi don’t show off; you never know how much power they have.”

Hu Feng: “This opening exhibition was a disaster — who’d want to watch amateurs now?”

Chen Chen: “I’ll be analyzing Rong Shi’s moves all week — too flashy!”

On the field, Rong Shi sheathed his sword and looked at the immobile E300 in front of him. He said plainly, “Thanks for the instruction, Senior Jiang.”

Bang.

Jiang Lin slammed his hand on the control console, face twisted with rage.

The teachers in the viewing area who’d been fighting over recruits suddenly went silent after Song Yu’s reminder.

Song Yu: “Since the match result is out, those who bet wrong — teachers and students alike — remember to accept your punishment.”

The comment section wailed.

“Shit! How did I forget about this?!”

“I only wanted to see the kiss, sob—”

“Senior Jiang’s the worst off — not only did he lose, he has to lead everyone running laps shouting ‘Daddy Rong’, pity.”

“It’s okay — thousands of people are with him.”

“Shouting ‘Daddy Rong’ isn’t shameful.”

“Will I ever see the first-love goddess kiss in my lifetime? QuQ”

Thinking about the punishment, the teachers’ faces went green.

Some bargained with Song Yu in the comments—

“Can we negotiate? Running laps is fine, but can we just chant the slogan silently in our hearts?”

“If you remove the slogan, I’ll run an extra hundred laps.”

“We’re teachers, not students; this would be a bad example.”

Song Yu smiled leisurely and said, “A bet is a bet — no bargaining.”

Teachers: “…”

When Rong Shi returned to the dorm, the room was quiet and dim.

He closed the door gently and turned, only to be pinned to the wall with an arm around his waist.

In the dark, Song Yu chuckled by his ear.

“I thought you might purposely forfeit. What a wasted opportunity, Gege.”

Being called “gege” all night, especially in the dark and alone, tends to make odd thoughts pop up.

Rong Shi relaxed against the wall, looped his arm around him: “Don’t call like Mian Mian.”

Song Yu: “You clearly like it.”

Rong Shi: “…”

Rong Shi: “Are they asleep? Why didn’t you turn on the light?”

Song Yu smirked and teased: “Not turning on the light’s more convenient for doing bad things.”

A corner of Rong Shi’s mouth tugged; he was in a good mood.

Clingy Song Cat was unbearably cute.

It was late, and after whispering, Song Yu prepared to go back to his own room.

“Sleep here tonight,” Rong Shi said, grabbing his hand and heading into the bedroom.

“There are two little kids in there; waking them would be a hassle.” Saying that, Song Yu obediently followed him inside.

Rong Shi: “We’re not going to do anything that’ll wake them.”

Song Yu paused as he walked toward the doorway. “Then I’ll go back.”

Rong Shi: “…”

He’d taken one step out when Song Yu’s waist was wrapped suddenly; a warm body pressed against his back.

Rong Shi kissed his ear and murmured, “My pillow misses you.”

Song Yu’s eyes brightened; he couldn’t stop the smile on his face.

After they fell asleep, the academy forum was still buzzing; every discussion about the exhibition match refreshed into dozens of new posts.

“I can’t wait for the analysis posts QwQ”

“My head is a mess — where did Daddy Rong come from?”

“An instructor said tonight’s match exceeded academy-level standards.”

“My master’s team is working overnight analyzing Rong Shi’s combos! Good lord, again I feel the gap from a genius.”

“I predict next week the whole mecha department will deconstruct this fight — President Rong’s skill is insane!”

“Given this skill, it’s no wonder Elder Qian took a shine to him!”

After the exhibition, all the doubting posts about the mission from before quieted down; nobody dared question anything anymore.

Chen Chen stayed up and, before the next match, posted part of his analysis on the forum.

[Morninglight: Daddy Rong’s combos are many — I’ll split them into three posts. Warning: not suitable for those with heart disease or high blood pressure.]

As usual, the post analyzed each of Rong Shi’s combos frame by frame, gave key mappings, suggested combo pairings and use-cases.

Within five minutes it blew up.

“These key mappings are serious? Four hands and I still can’t press them cry”

“The chairman casually shows one thing and it’s nuclear-level awesome, so damn OP!”

“If I analyze this match properly, my skill level will have a qualitative leap.”

“I tried practicing after last night. The chairman’s combos look silky-smooth but are actually so hard; I practiced all night and still can’t complete a set.”

The moves Rong Shi displayed were well beyond what ordinary students could realistically learn; many replied under the post with questions.

Chen Chen refreshed and watched the replies surge from 10,000 to 15,000 posts — five thousand new comments per minute; he rubbed his temples.

He was the type who understood theory and dissected others’ moves well, but couldn’t translate it into hands-on skill.

Some practical learning problems he’d never attempted and couldn’t answer.

Rong Shi woke from the heat of the night.

Half-asleep, he opened his eyes to find the two little dumplings had squeezed into their bed: one on his chest, the other sprawled on the pillow, both sleeping soundly.

Song Yu was still wrapped around his waist, sleeping.

Rong Shi: “…”

No wonder it felt warm. Waking, he couldn’t get back to sleep and idly browsed the forum.

He clicked into Chen Chen’s analysis post, skimmed, and lazily replied to a few sharp questions.

“Gege?”

Song Yu’s voice came, and Rong Shi turned toward him.

“You awake?”

Song Yu shifted closer, nuzzled his cheek, and only then seemed fully awake.

His voice had that gravelly, magnetic timbre: “I had a weird dream.”

Rong Shi: “What dream?”

Song Yu’s expression turned slightly odd. “I dreamed you were lying on a snowy mountain—”

Hearing snow mountain made Rong Shi’s heart skip a beat; he didn’t betray it. “And then?”

“And then?” Song Yu frowned, trying to recall; the more he tried, the more the memory slipped away — he only remembered having walked for a long time and still being far from him.

The dream’s images flashed like lantern slides, leaving no trace.

“So tired.” Song Yu leaned against Rong Shi and stroked Mian Mian’s squishy face. “It must be because you’re too cold and distant; that’s why I had a dream where I couldn’t get close to you. You should reflect on that properly.”

Rong Shi: “…”

Rong Shi narrowed his eyes. “So you get to dream, and I’m the one doing the reflecting?”

Song Yu smirked. “Got a better idea?”

Before Rong Shi could reply, a sudden roar from outside cut their squabbling short.

He tucked the two little dumplings back under the covers, then followed Song Yu out onto the balcony.

Down on the parade ground, a sea of students milled about. Morning drills had just ended, and they were pouring out of the eastern gate in a chaotic rush.

“Daddy Rong, I was wrong—Daddy Rong, I was wrong—again! Daddy Rong, I was wrong—”

The chant rang out in perfect unison, loud enough to wake every last student still in bed. More and more people spilled onto their dorm balconies, whistles shrilling, phones raised high. Drones hovered overhead, their lenses glinting in the sunlight—there were so many it looked more like a military parade than a morning run.

Song Yu doubled over laughing. “Look at Jiang Lin—he’s got the expression of someone walking to his own funeral.”

Rong Shi’s face stayed perfectly blank, completely missing the joke.

“I seem to remember a certain someone once saying they wouldn’t take my kisses even if they were free.” Song Yu tilted his head, eyes dancing with mischief. “And now?”

Rong Shi: “…”

__

Author’s Note:
Song Cat: And now?
Rong Bunny: Turns out my wife is irresistible.

#Sweetness may arrive late, but it always arrives#