Lin Luxiao’s dormitory room was the same size as the others, only with fewer belongings — one person living there, it felt more spacious. A single bed, a dark red wooden desk, a wardrobe and a washbasin behind the door.

The whole place was clean and orderly, everything laid out with precision. The military-green blanket was folded into a perfect tofu block — every corner crisp and sharp, as though cut by a blade. This was the first time Nan Chu had ever seen how he made his bed here in the unit. Lin Luxiao pulled her over to it, reached behind the bed, and pulled out a folding stool. He opened it, set it flat, and patted it. “Sit.”

Nan Chu stood and didn’t move.

Lin Luxiao straightened up and met her gaze. He tilted his chin slightly, indicating she should sit — saying nothing, but those black eyes saying it all: don’t make me say it twice.

Nan Chu sat down.

Lin Luxiao then hooked a dark red wooden chair out with his foot and set it facing her. He dropped into it with easy swagger, legs apart, arms folded, his gaze deep.

After a long silence, he pressed his lips together. “I owe you an apology.”

Nan Chu suddenly looked up at him. Lin Luxiao had both hands braced on his knees, body leaning slightly forward, expression steady.

“……Why?” Nan Chu asked.

Lin Luxiao was the type — had been since he was young — who could be casual and breezy with you one moment, then decisive and ruthless when it mattered. He held people to standards, not to relationships. He could go at you hammer and tongs in the moment, but the instant he recognised he was wrong, he owned it — no hesitation. His fault, his responsibility: he never dodged it. That was on the job, in the unit.

In matters of the heart, he was at a loss. Eight years ago, at twenty-four, he’d encountered this girl. He couldn’t deny it — she’d gotten to him. But she’d only been sixteen at the time, and if he’d been entertaining any wayward thoughts, he truly would have been no better than an animal.

Still — he had to admit — that night, he’d gotten aroused.

The girl, soft and yielding, had been curled up in his blankets. The moment he sat down on the edge, he’d known something was off. But then he’d looked up and met a pair of clear, soft eyes — hazy with water-light, full of shy timidity — and at that age, with blood running hot —

He’d put all of it down to having been single too long.

At the time, he’d taken her in with only the faintest shred of guilt toward Nan Chu, given her the place to stay, let her have the apartment.

She’d been there two days — and this slip of a girl had gotten to him. He’d felt uneasy about it. She was only sixteen, for god’s sake. He’d had that kind of thought about her, which was pure depravity. He turned it over in his mind: was Da Liu right — that he just needed a girlfriend?

So that night, he’d gone out with Da Liu and the others, occasionally letting his gaze drift over women with alluring, curvaceous figures. Even Shen Mu had said he’d changed.

A man’s first awakening to desire usually traced back to a handful of films from a certain island nation. Lin Luxiao hadn’t watched many — only on occasion, when he needed a physical outlet — and they were full of the usual: big chests, youthful faces, long legs… and so on. After a while, it all blurred together.

The girl he’d met at one of Da Liu’s gatherings.

Big chest, slim waist, a good figure by any measure — her face was average, and even now he couldn’t quite reconstruct her features. If he passed her on the street and she didn’t call out to him, he’d have walked right past her. He had a mild form of face-blindness.

The girl was impatient. After meeting him just once, she’d gotten his address from Da Liu and shown up at his apartment, only to collide straight into the little girl he was putting up. Yet the girl had been sensible enough to come up with the cover story of the “distant cousin” — and at the time, he’d felt equal parts irritated and amused.

The third time they met, he had just returned from a mission. After dinner, he drove the woman home. In the car, she kept shooting him meaningful looks and hinting that he might like to “come up for a sit.” Lin Luxiao, driving at his leisure, had taken a long slow drag of his cigarette — the more she chased, the less he hurried. He sat back in his seat and languidly flicked ash.

The woman was a seasoned player. She leaned over, blew softly in his ear, and slipped her hand under the hem of his T-shirt, giving him a suggestive invitation: “Come up and do it?”

He wore a lazy, carefree smile on his face. One hand dangled out the car window, flicking ash. The other pulled her hand away: “Do what?”

His voice was naturally appealing — carrying a restrained, cool quality.

The woman practically melted on the spot. She pouted and swatted at his hard chest. “You’re actually quite bad, you know.”

Lin Luxiao leaned back in his seat. At those words, he glanced at her, turned back to the road, and gave a quiet, derisive laugh. He put out the cigarette, undid his seatbelt, got out, and walked around the car to open her door. He lifted her out. “Go on inside.”

The woman stared. “You’re not coming up?”

“Not interested. Not right now.”

He leaned against the car door, hands in his pockets, brow arched, with that insolent, reckless look about him — the kind that made wanting something desperately while being denied it quite impossible to resist.

Lin Luxiao revved the engine and drove off, leaving behind a cloud of burning exhaust. The woman stood in the street and stamped her feet in fury.

Damned firefighter!

He had only just come down from his first posting at the time — headstrong and brash, with a wild, showy edge. The years had filed some of it down, but the dangerous gleam in his eyes never left. Especially when he said something outrageous — the reckless spirit of his younger self surfaced completely.

……

And now, quite seriously, he had pulled someone close, sat them across from him, and was apologising. First time in his life.

He smiled a little, shifted his posture — arms crossed, leaning back, slowing his speech. “I went into the military academy at eighteen. Everyone around me had a temper — instructors, political officers, including my father, and Lin Qi, though he was slightly better because he hadn’t been in this environment. We were all used to being out in the wind and the rain, where being a second too slow could mean a whole family destroyed. When I was young, talking reason wasn’t something you did with your mouth — not in a fire either. If things were already burning down around you and I was still standing here giving you a logical explanation, that wouldn’t work at all. In any case, that’s my character self-criticism. Criticism noted — but I won’t be changing.”

“……”

Nan Chu’s face remained perfectly impassive: so who exactly are you self-criticising to, then?

He scratched his hair. “But I do owe you an apology for what just happened. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I shouldn’t have said you were an embarrassment.”

Nan Chu nodded. “Right. I forgive you.”

“……”

Just like that? He was a little caught off guard.

He leaned forward. “You really forgive me?”

Nan Chu’s expression was perfectly calm. “Truly.”

She sounded unhesitating, and her expression showed nothing out of the ordinary — she should have forgiven him, then? Yet something still felt off. That aura of hers — warm one moment, distant the next — gnawed at Lin Luxiao with a particular irritation.

He bent down and studied her face for a good long while, searching for even a trace of something different. The girl simply stood up, perfectly composed, and said to him: “Team Leader, if this was all you wanted to say — I’ve already forgiven you. And I didn’t take it to heart, either. Yang Zhidao told me something about your situation. You’re at a critical point right now — I shouldn’t have caused you so much trouble. Allow me to bow in apology.”

She finished her speech, gave a proper, solemn bow.

Lin Luxiao picked at his ear. “Hold on, you —”

Nan Chu didn’t stop. She went for the door. A hand appeared from behind her, pressing the door firmly shut.

Lin Luxiao had her backed against the door again.

The door was practically becoming a piece of set dressing — most of their conversations had taken place with it behind them.

“What did Yang Zhidao say to you?”

He braced against the door, looking down at her.

Just a moment ago, when she’d been heading downstairs, Yang Zhenggang had intercepted her and said a few things. Nothing particularly kind, but Nan Chu had only smiled. Everyone in this unit treated Lin Luxiao like a son — she understood that Yang Zhenggang was doing it for Lin Luxiao’s sake.

Nan Chu pressed a fingertip to his chest and pushed — gently but firmly. “Back up a little, would you. You’re so close I can’t breathe.”

“……I need to go. Someone might see us, and that won’t look good.”

She’d changed. She’d really changed.

Before, she’d found every possible way to take advantage of him. Now she was trying to put distance between them. Lin Luxiao was, if he was being honest with himself, a little thrown off.

“Who exactly are you trying to distance yourself from?!” He frowned in displeasure, grabbed her, and deposited her back onto the wooden chair. “Sit. Let them see if they want to see. This is my territory — no one here would dare say a word.”

Fine, fine — your territory, you’re the king.

Lin Luxiao’s gaze swept over her. The girl’s hair was soaking wet, and the front of her military shirt had a soaked patch — the fabric was thin enough that the damp material clung to the outline of her undergarment, half-visible, half-concealed. He cast one fleeting glance and looked away. He cleared his throat and said: “Did you get into another fight with Yan Dai just now?”

“No fight.” Nan Chu sat with rigid-straight posture, chest defiantly forward.

Lin Luxiao’s gaze skimmed past. He reached out and ruffled her hair, then turned to rummage through the cupboard. “Then why are you so wet?”

“I was washing clothes just now, and the water pipe burst. I was on my way to find the political instructor when you dragged me off.”

When he turned back, he had a small brown medicine bottle in his palm, and had pulled out two cotton swabs from the cupboard. He soaked the tips, bent down to her level: “Stay still. Let me put some medicine on that.”

The medicine had a strong, sharp smell. Nan Chu pinched her nose and pulled back. “What is this?”

Lin Luxiao simply hooked an arm around her neck and pulled her toward him. “Stop dodging. A friend gave me this when I was out supporting the county over. It’s a local medicinal ointment — it heals cuts remarkably fast. If you don’t treat that face of yours and you end up with a scar, how are you going to get by in the entertainment industry?”

There was a brief icy sting as it was applied. Nan Chu hissed. Lin Luxiao’s voice softened, unusually so: “Bear with it. It heals quickly.”

They were pressed very close together now, breaths overlapping. His face was right in front of hers — every pore visible. Nan Chu noticed his skin was actually quite good. Not pale, more of a warm wheat tone. His features were strong and clean, and when his brow arched up, there was an undisguised arrogance in it that was impossible to miss.

He really was captivating.

Her gaze drifted to his lips — thin, well-shaped.

This kind of closeness was its own form of temptation.

Nan Chu was fairly certain he was doing it on purpose.

His emotional intelligence wasn’t as low as he made out — every look, every small gesture, every movement was quietly, precisely reeling her in.

One kiss wouldn’t be a crime, would it?

Thinking it, she had already looped her arms around Lin Luxiao’s neck — and bitten down on his lips.

……

Lin Luxiao held the medicine bottle, hands frozen in the air. His eyes went wide. His instinct was to push her away — but Nan Chu had her arms locked firmly around his neck, soft lips pressing against his, and then the tip of her tongue traced along his lip, licking and brushing with practiced technique.

Nan Chu was drawing on his lips, when she noticed him slowly curving into a smile. The next second, she had been lifted off the stool and shoved against the wall.

Nan Chu had her arms hooked around his neck, her whole body pinned to the wall by him. Lin Luxiao pressed one hand behind her head, using the back of his hand to cushion her from the wall surface. The other arm hooked around her waist. He smiled with something dangerous in it: “My neck is getting sore.”

Nan Chu jolted back to her senses, hands going to his chest to push him away.

He turned her hands behind her back, pinning them there. She was pressed firmly against his chest — nothing between them but the thin fabric, carrying through every bit of the heat radiating from his body and the hard planes of muscle beneath. His voice came just beside her ear: “What are you pulling away for? What did you just do to me — you’ve forgotten already? What did I say to you last time? Try pulling that again, and see what happens.”

“……”

Lin Luxiao finished speaking, then dipped his head to look at her. The girl was in his arms, looking up at him, her long, curled lashes trembling. Both those dark eyes brimming with light. His gaze deepened. He slowly lowered his head, his breath coming closer — warm, unsteady.

Nan Chu tilted her face up, and slowly let her eyes fall shut.

The noise of the world outside — opinion, convention — was sealed behind that door.

Right next door was Shao Yijiu’s dormitory. The sound of people moving back and forth still drifted through — the clatter of washbasins, and voices that were too muffled to make out clearly.

It was precisely that thrill — that risk — that coaxed the small flame between them to life. It flickered and sputtered, then burned hotter and hotter.

Lin Luxiao let out a low laugh. He tilted his head just slightly, caught her lip between his teeth, pressed and licked — then gradually applied more force, drawing on the corner of her mouth. The tip of his tongue forced its way in, pushing deep, and within seconds Nan Chu was breathless and dizzy, barely able to stand. Lin Luxiao caught her around the waist, pulled back a little, and smiled wickedly: “Your stamina’s something else. Looks like I’ve got some work ahead of me.”

Nan Chu slapped him. “Get lost.”

Lin Luxiao went back in for another deep kiss — lingering, twisting gently. Nan Chu couldn’t catch her breath. He shifted his focus, trailing soft, quick kisses to her ear and the corner of her mouth, speaking low and husky against her ear: “Keep it quiet — the soundproofing here isn’t great. I can’t promise no one’s got their ear pressed to the wall right now.”

Nan Chu raised her foot, aiming a kick between his legs. He sidestepped it with ease, frowning in reproach: “Why do you go for that spot everywhere you kick?”

Nan Chu turned her head away with a light, disdainful sound.

Lin Luxiao studied her for a moment and decided this was quite entertaining. The girl’s face had gone pink. “I’ve noticed something about you — you like to swagger at me when we’re just talking, but when it gets real, you get scared. A seasoned driver whose wheels start to slip?”

He was the one who was a seasoned driver here, honestly.

To be fair to both of them: neither Lin Luxiao nor Nan Chu was at all experienced in matters of the heart.

Lin Luxiao was the slow-to-warm type. Once you got through his walls, there was no subject he wouldn’t broach — but until then, he could sit right in front of you and be pure ice.

Nan Chu was the kind of woman who stood and looked right through you, so that you never knew what was going on behind those eyes.

These two were well matched. Equally formidable.

When it came down to it, neither would ever concede defeat.

Nan Chu pushed him away. “I’m leaving.”

Lin Luxiao grabbed her and pinned her back against the wall. His eyes bore into her, dark and still. “What are you playing at? Stringing me along?”

“I’m not stringing you along. We’re in a military unit — be serious. What’s between us — let’s talk about it after the show wraps.”

Yang Zhenggang had a point. This really wasn’t the time to be causing him trouble.

Lin Luxiao: “What did Yang Zhidao say to you?”

Nan Chu smiled. The corner of her eye curved with a subtle charm — genuinely alluring. She patted his face lightly. “Don’t get stuck on that. There are only a few more days left in filming. Hang in there. Don’t come looking for me during this time. Once it’s done, I’ll come find you.”

With that, she pushed him aside and walked out.

Lin Luxiao stood motionless.

Damn. He had the distinct feeling he’d just been claimed by someone.

……

When they saw each other again at afternoon training, both were perfectly composed. Nan Chu behaved as if nothing had happened. Lin Luxiao’s gaze rested on her for only a moment before moving on.

The afternoon involved the small woodland — low-net crawls, including mud pits, all harder than yesterday’s obstacle course — plus high-net crossings and professional drills like ladder-hook building climbs.

Lin Luxiao stood in front of the low-net crawl with his timer board, leaning loosely against a tree.

Nan Chu came through with her water cannon. The man by the tree had a slight smile as he watched her. He turned off his earpiece and murmured: “You can take it easy for a bit.”

Nan Chu shot him a sharp glare — her expression saying: be professional.

Lin Luxiao gave a low laugh and turned his earpiece back on. To Yan Dai, who was approaching from behind, he called: “Move it. Below standard means ten laps as penalty!”

Yan Dai was drenched in sweat, completely exhausted, barely able to hold herself upright. She was close to tears. “I can’t do this, Team Leader Lin — I need a rest.”

Lin Luxiao raised one hand and pointed forward. “Can’t hold it? Then go run your ten laps first. Come back and carry it afterward. Your choice.”

Yan Dai stamped her foot. “I’m a girl!!”

Lin Luxiao glanced at her, face blank, and dropped his attention back to his timer board, ticking something off with cold indifference: “Right. Doesn’t matter if you’re a girl or not.”

Yan Dai: “……”

Yan Dai had discovered that these military men all had hearts of stone. Gritting her teeth, she had no choice but to bend down and hoist the water cannon.

After training, Xu Ya asked her: “Do you still like Team Leader Lin?”

Yan Dai hissed. “I feel like he’s been deliberately picking on me lately. Don’t you think?”

Xu Ya had an epiphany. “Come to think of it — yeah.”

Yan Dai turned it over in her head. “You know how some guys, when they like a girl, they deliberately pick on her just to get her attention?”

Xu Ya was stunned: “Is the Team Leader picking on you because he likes you? He’s deliberately doing it to get your attention? Like that?”

Yan Dai gave a smug snort. “Isn’t that what men always do — playing hard to get.”

“The Team Leader is not a primary school kid.”

Nan Chu added silently to herself: that’s right — it’s genuinely childish.

……

The next day brought specialised firefighting training.

Partway through the session, Yang Zhenggang came to find Lin Luxiao. The two of them leaned against a tree and talked. Lin Luxiao watched the figures suspended on ropes overhead. “What’s up?”

Yang Zhenggang said: “The director just came to me. There are still four or five training days left, and they’re hoping you can step it up a bit.”

Lin Luxiao continued watching the aerial exercises. “Got it. We went over this before.”

Yang Zhenggang pressed on: “Their point is that the last few days of training haven’t had much tension — apart from that fight between Nan Chu and Yan Dai, there hasn’t been much conflict. The director wants you to build in more suspense.”

Lin Luxiao turned to look at him sidelong. Unhurried: “Suspense? What do they think we’re filming — a thriller? How am I supposed to generate suspense?”

“Their idea is to raise the difficulty — have each of them go into a fire scene alone. Create some dangerous footage. The kind that has viewers on the edge of their seats.”

Lin Luxiao found it almost funny. “Alone? Those three women can barely lift the water cannons. You want to send them in to die?”

Yang Zhenggang: “It’s all staged — the production team is just going for the effect. Besides, compared to what’s next, these girls have had it easy. I heard the third leg is some kind of jungle survival show — that one’s genuinely brutal. Let’s just get the protective measures sorted, wrap this up, and move on. We still have a mountain of work to get through this year.”

Lin Luxiao paused. “Jungle survival? What’s that?”

“No idea — I only heard it from one of the crew. Apparently they put these performers in a remote wilderness and whoever survives wins the season. It’s the first season’s championship on the line.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“How should I know? It’s a television show — it’s not going to get anyone killed. The whole point of using these lower-profile performers is so they go through something hard. If it were a comfortable show, they’d have booked A-listers. Anyway — what I’m telling you is what the production team wants. Think through how to arrange it. Once we film it, we’re done. You hear me?”

Lin Luxiao leaned against the tree, brow furrowed, and said nothing.

……

That night, Lin Luxiao received a call from the brigade and went straight over.

The moment he walked through the door, a training report was flung in his face. Director Meng Guohong’s voice rang out like a thunderclap: “You’re getting more out of hand by the day!”