Chapter 73

Chapter 73: One Bite From Mom and She Could Swallow Her Pride—Barking Like a Dog

“You’re sick,” Jiang Tea Tea snapped. “You and your whole family are sick!”

She shot upright, fury flaring.

She couldn’t eat enough, her magic power was bleeding away, she was already on edge—and then he called her sick.

She exploded.

“Who talks like that? Don’t think you can call people sick just because you’re the Commander-in-Chief, the Prince Regent, with power in your hands.”

“I think you’re the sick one. Sick as hell.”

Chong Ming took the spray of insults without the slightest change in expression.

He withdrew his gaze from her stomach, kept tying his line, and spoke slowly, unhurried.

“Jiang Tea Tea. Classmate. I meant no malice. I meant nothing else. I’m only concerned about your health.”

“Everyone has secrets. Everyone has privacy. Everyone has things they don’t want others to know.”

“My principle is simple.” His voice stayed calm. “As long as you don’t betray the country and don’t break the Empire’s laws, then your secrets aren’t a big deal.”

Jiang Tea Tea’s eyes widened.

What was he implying?

That she was being unreasonable? That she was the one overreacting?

He called her sick. She wasn’t allowed to get mad?

“Same principle,” Chong Ming continued.

He tied the line, baited the hook, and cast it into the sea entrance. Then he set the rod in its stand.

Only then did he lift his eyes to her—golden, steady, terrifyingly serious.

“I know you have secrets you don’t want to tell anyone. I have no interest in those secrets.”

“The only things I’m interested in are your explosiveness, your leadership, your ability to rally people, your ability rank, your flexible brain, and the way you don’t back down—you fight anything that tries you.”

“That fits what I want in a Commander-in-Chief candidate.”

He paused, then spoke with the calm of someone stating a fact he’d accepted long ago.

“M31 Star System races have an average lifespan of 150 to 480 years.”

“I’m 150 this year. If nothing goes wrong, I’ll probably live to 300 or 400.”

“Your roommate is only 17. He’s 133 years younger than me.”

“I can’t stay with him forever. I also can’t hold the Commander-in-Chief position until I die.”

“I need someone who can command all the legions of the Zhen Lin Empire.”

“You’re not my only candidate. I have many.”

“I want to choose the best among them. I want the best to pass my assessment and replace me.”

His voice remained even, but the content hit like a hammer.

“The assessment is long. It touches everything. Ten years, fifteen years, twenty years—maybe longer.”

“You eat a lot. You don’t gain weight. You’re not only not getting fat—if anything, you’ve gotten thinner.”

“When I ask if you’re sick, it’s not an insult. It’s because I want you healthy enough to endure my assessment and take my place—become the Commander-in-Chief of the Zhen Lin Empire and protect it together with your roommate.”

“And that’s all.”

Jiang Tea Tea, for once, was grateful she was a demon with too much experience—soft doesn’t work, hard doesn’t work, oil and salt don’t work.

If she’d been any other girl, that careful, earnest speech would’ve had her sobbing and pledging loyalty on the spot.

She bared her teeth in a bright smile.

“You value me so much,” she said, sweet as honey. “If I refuse now, it almost feels like I’m being ungrateful.”

Chong Ming lifted an eyebrow, like he could see straight through her. “If you agree to be my Commander-in-Chief candidate, you have no additional conditions?”

Jiang Tea Tea scooted her stool closer, inching toward him.

“As expected of you…” she started.

Then she paused, nostrils flaring.

“…Mm.”

What was that smell?

What was on him?

Chong Ming didn’t stop her from approaching. He waited, watching her.

When she fell silent, he asked, “What?”

Jiang Tea Tea leaned closer—closer—so close she was about to brush against him.

Chong Ming leaned back sharply, widening the distance. “Jiang Tea Tea. Classmate. What are you doing?”

He smelled so good.

Like food.

Like something that would nourish magic power.

A part of her wanted to kill him and bury him under her roots.

Another part of her wanted to cling to him and breathe him in.

It took all her willpower to force herself upright again. She asked as casually as she could manage, “Nothing. I just think you smell nice. What brand is it? Send me a link?”

Chong Ming went silent for a beat. Then he said, dryly, “You’re really hungry. You’ve evolved into a dog nose.”

When she sat farther away, she couldn’t smell him. No clawing urge. No frantic need to pounce and rub.

But when she got close, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to inhale him.

Jiang Tea Tea laughed. “If you tell me I’ve evolved a dog nose, I’ll assume you’re insulting me. But if you said that to Huang Da Zhuang, he’d jump up and down and think you were praising him.”

Chong Ming pulled a box from his storage button and handed it to her.

“I’m not insulting your nose,” he said. “I’m praising you.”

“The smell you’re catching on me is probably this. I watched the entire preparation process. Some of it might have clung to me.”

The box was large—nearly ten pounds.

Jiang Tea Tea set it on the ground and opened it.

“Red crab?” she said, surprised.

Chong Ming nodded. “Fermented raw red crab. When your roommate called me down, I was eating. I brought you a box.”

“A small gift,” he added, “for agreeing to be my Commander-in-Chief candidate.”

Jiang Tea Tea lowered her head and sniffed.

It smelled like crab—strong, briny, sharp.

But it didn’t match the scent on him at all.

Whatever. Food was food. She wasn’t going to be picky.

She shut the lid and tossed the box into her storage button.

Then she looked at him, chin lifted. “I have conditions.”

Chong Ming spread his hand. “Say it.”

Jiang Tea Tea pulled out three cups—each one a full liter.

“Three bottles of your blood a month.”

Chong Ming paused, gaze flicking over the cups.

“Jiang Tea Tea. Classmate.” His tone remained even. “I suggest you go see a doctor.”

Jiang Tea Tea scowled. “Why are you insulting me again?”

“I’m not insulting you.” Chong Ming’s patience was terrifying. “This is the interstellar era. Technology develops rapidly. Medical standards have advanced by leaps and bounds.”

“Except for issues related to psychic abilities—which are difficult to treat—most other conditions have solutions.”

Oh.

So he thought she was asking for too much blood.

Jiang Tea Tea sighed and slid one cup back into her storage button.

“Then two bottles a month.”

Chong Ming shook his head. “This isn’t a matter of two versus three.”

“Even if I’m dragon clan—even if I’m stronger than the average dragon clan, larger than the average dragon clan, and I eat and use higher-grade resources than the average dragon clan…”

“Even if I did nothing all month, bleeding three liters of blood for you isn’t realistic.”

“Do you understand?”

Three liters wasn’t realistic.

Two liters wasn’t realistic.

What about one?

She was so hungry. Her magic power had fallen to eighteen percent.

Chong Ming watched her slide another cup away until only one remained.

Before she could speak again, he said, calmly and firmly, “Jiang Tea Tea. Classmate. You are a legal citizen of the Empire, and you are someone I value.”

“You don’t need to fear that if we examine your body on my ship, I’ll do something to you.”

“If we find a problem, we treat it properly. You’ll still be you. I’ll still be me.”

“I won’t allow anyone to throw you into a laboratory.”

Jiang Tea Tea went quiet.

She was a tree demon.

The only tree demon in the entire M31 Star System.

If they examined her and found anything abnormal, a laboratory wasn’t a possibility—it was her fate.

Did he think she was some clueless little demon who could be tricked?

Jiang Tea Tea stood with the cup, folded up her stool, and spoke crisply.

“Sorry. If you won’t meet my condition, then pretend I called you down here to fart in your face. See you tomorrow in Round Two.”

She turned toward her flyer.

“Come back,” Chong Ming said.

Jiang Tea Tea didn’t turn around. “What?”

Chong Ming stayed seated, looking at her.

“I can give you one liter of dragon blood per month.”

“If you achieve results beyond what I expect in the next two months of competition, then for two months, I can give you three liters.”

“And after the championship ends, you won’t just study in the Pacification Department. You’ll transfer into the Combat Department, the Command Department, the Mecha Department, and more.”

“At least ten departments total. Each one must be an A.”

“If you exceed A—if you reach A+—I can increase to two liters per month. The better you are, the more blood you’ll receive.”

“If you fail to meet my standard, the blood amount decreases.”

His golden eyes were steady. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Jiang Tea Tea said instantly.

In the next breath, she was squatting right in front of him, holding two one-liter cups, eyes shining like she’d found treasure.

“Then start with two months’ worth.”

Chong Ming looked down at her, amused despite himself. “You really aren’t shy.”

Jiang Tea Tea beamed. “You should be secretly laughing. How often do you get a candidate like me—someone who isn’t fragile or performative?”

“Now hurry,” she urged. “Faster.”

Chong Ming rolled up his sleeve. His index finger transformed into a golden dragon claw.

Then he cut his wrist.

Blood flowed into Jiang Tea Tea’s cups.

The moment it came out, Jiang Tea Tea leaned forward and inhaled.

Fragrant.

That was it—the rich, intoxicating scent.

To her, his dragon blood smelled like the most perfect fertilizer. Dense, nourishing, irresistible.

Sui Xuan Chu’s dragon blood, by contrast, smelled fishy—like the insects she hated crawling on her branches.

They were uncle and nephew. Same bloodline. Same Gold Dragon Clan.

It shouldn’t be like this.

Unless Sui Xuan Chu was right—unless Chong Ming’s blood inside her hadn’t been digested and it clashed with any other dragon blood, even family.

“All right,” Chong Ming said. “Jiang Tea Tea. Classmate.”

He filled the cups, wrapped his wrist, and reminded her when she froze.

Jiang Tea Tea snapped back to herself. “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

She climbed onto her snowfield flyer and drove off.

Chong Ming got blasted by exhaust again.

He watched her vanish into the distance, then turned back to his fishing rods.

The truth was cruel: same spot, same hole, same position. If you got skunked once, you’d get skunked twice.

He cast again. And again. He set up more rods—four in total.

A minute passed. Two minutes. Half an hour.

Not a single float moved.

He hauled the lines up. The bait was still there, untouched.

So it wasn’t his rod. Or his line. Or his bait.

This hole simply had no fish.

Jiang Tea Tea drove her snowfield flyer while sipping dragon blood in small mouthfuls.

One swallow felt like rain after a long drought—her whole body loosening, warming, waking.

Her magic power, which had been sliding downward, steadied and began to recover.

By the time she finished one cup, her magic power had risen by over twenty percent.

Her body was warm. The hunger had receded.

Her lower abdomen, especially, burned like a small fire.

She pressed a hand there and made a solemn vow: if she was going to eat, she had to eat the best.

Other dragon clans wouldn’t do.

She needed Old Loach—Chong Ming.

He was the real tonic.

She returned to the lodging in a bright mood.

To prevent an emergency night assembly attack from the instructor group, the squad had already packed everything they could into storage.

Jiang Tea Tea walked in and dropped the red crab box onto the table.

“Come on,” she said. “Eat.”

Sui Xuan Chu looked like his eyeballs were about to fall out.

His uncle really went to the so-called “usual place” to see her.

And he brought her food?

He’d never brought food to Sui Xuan Chu in his life. His uncle always said things like: as a male, as the Crown Prince, as the future heir to the throne, you must learn courage, you must learn hardship. Missing one or two meals is nothing.

Huang Da Zhuang opened the box and gasped. “Red crab! Fermented raw red crab—one crab per pound!”

“Sister Tea, where did you get this? You’re insane. This is amazing. It smells so good. I love this stuff.”

Cheng Xiao Ting was already sucking meat off a crab leg. “I love fermented raw seafood too. This hits. Following Sister Tea means eating meat.”

Zhang Ting Zhou—an octopus beastfolk who also ate seafood—snapped off a claw and chewed thoughtfully.

“If it weren’t for Round Two tomorrow and the time crunch,” he said mournfully, “my tentacles wouldn’t grow back in time. Otherwise I’d cut off two tentacles, soak them in this marinade, and let you all try.”

Cheng Lin Yue brightened. “It’s fine. After the championship ends, you can cut two for us.”

Ju Que and Yan Yu nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah. After we’re back at school, cut a few and let us taste. Grilled octopus, takoyaki, spicy stir-fried octopus… everything.”

Zhang Ting Zhou had offered tentacles himself, and now they were reserving him like a menu. He didn’t get mad. He laughed and agreed.

Jiang Tea Tea didn’t eat.

She was full.

“You guys eat,” she said, waving a hand. “Don’t save any for me. I’m going to lie down.”

Their crab-cracking froze.

They stared after her as she walked into her room and shut the door.

Only then did they look at one another in disbelief.

“Sister Tea didn’t eat today. Did she already eat outside?”

“Maybe she’s not hungry?”

“That’s impossible,” someone muttered. “She eats like a black hole. You believe she’s suddenly not hungry?”

“I don’t,” another said. “But she looks rosy and energetic. She looks full.”

Sui Xuan Chu’s heart bled.

To recruit Jiang Tea Tea as his successor, his uncle not only gave her blood—he also gave her food.

“Hurry, Sui Xuan Chu, eat,” Huang Da Zhuang urged, offering him a crab.

Sui Xuan Chu stared at it like it was poison. He couldn’t swallow.

“I’m not eating either,” he said hoarsely. “You guys eat. I’m going to sleep.”

They stared again.

What did that mean?

He wasn’t eating either? He was full too?

Did he sneak food behind their backs?

Jiang Tea Tea kicked off her shoes, collapsed onto her bed, and fell asleep almost instantly.

They’d expected an instructor-group ambush in the night.

Instead, at exactly eight in the morning, a broadcast boomed from all directions.

“Dear classmates, little darlings, good morning. The squad rankings for Round One have been sent to your lightbrains. Check them at your leisure and see just how trash you are.”

“Next, welcome to Match One of Round Two in the 30-School Military Academy Championship. Rules are as follows: no matter how many people are in your squad, each squad only has three slots to enter Round Two.”

“Pick up any weapon you can pick up. Kill your teammates. Advance yourself!”