When Shen Mu, Da Liu, and the others found out about this later, they all dissolved into helpless laughter, slapping the table and howling, not giving even a glance to Lin Luxiao’s iron-black expression beside them.

Five minutes? You’ve got to be kidding — with Xiao Ye’s build, you’d at least have to add a zero to that. But then again, it was his first time, and that called for some understanding — when you pick up the gun for the first time, there’s bound to be some nerves. Lying underneath him was also the woman he loved, which didn’t help — one soft moan from a beauty like that and a man’s whole body goes rigid in some places and completely gives out in others. It was no wonder Xiao Ye couldn’t keep it together.

A handful of thrusts, and he’d surrendered.

And this particular circumstance could only be attributed to, as he himself put it: “Too little regular exercise in that department. Overly sensitive.”

He truly hadn’t been all that interested in such matters. Day-to-day training consumed all his energy in one direction — unlike Da Liu and the others, who had nothing better to do, their only entertainment being watching certain videos and handling things themselves.

He did have urges occasionally — watched something, handled it himself, maybe once a week or so.

His routine was impeccable, his exterior cool and detached, his expression slightly roguish but the man himself was disciplined, properly raised, genuinely clean-living — when in uniform, he even gave off a certain restrained magnetism. Not at all like Jiang Ge, who at his young age already had raccoon eyes deeper than a panda’s — handsome face, but the kind that looked unwholesome, clearly dissipated.

· · ·

Still and quiet in the room.

Curtains drawn, a single bedside lamp lit, casting a warm amber glow. The room lay in a soft dimness; two figures tangled on the bed.

Nan Chu lay on her back — not a stitch on her, skin pale and luminous, small round face flushed pink, two round eyes staring up at him, wide and guileless.

Lin Luxiao had both arms braced on either side of her, holding himself up, hovering over her. His voice was cold and flat, as though picking a fight with someone. “What kind of expression is that?”

Nan Chu blinked. “A cute expression.”

Lin Luxiao made a contemptuous sound. “Stop pretending.”

Nan Chu laughed softly. “Okay, fine. I was just thinking of someone.”

Mu Ze’s ten minutes — and that time back at the base, when Lin Luxiao had dragged her out of the bushes and said, that voice still ringing in her ears: “I’ll make you cry.”

Lin Luxiao’s eyes went wide, expression dangerous, threatening: “If you dare bring up Mu Ze, I will end you.”

The girl burst out laughing — lips red, teeth white, eyes full of light. “Didn’t I tell you?”

Mockery. She was mocking him.

Lin Luxiao lowered his head and bit her lip — deliberately hard — then rammed into her a few times with intent: “Don’t go looking for trouble. I’m serious — do you actually want me to end you?”

To be fair, one had to acknowledge the gift he’d been given.

Even after that one release, he still hadn’t softened — firm and insistent, pressing against her.

Nan Chu got the impact and cried out in broken gasps, curling her waist in plea.

But Lin Luxiao grinned and pinned her waist down, lowering his mouth to her ear to breathe into it softly: “Scared now?”

Nan Chu let out a low, blurred moan, eyes going hazy — yet she kept her stubborn tongue: “Don’t go finishing in five minutes again on me.”

He knew perfectly well she was goading him.

And Lin Luxiao didn’t fall for it — he pulled out, lay on his side next to her instead. Both of them lying bare beside each other; clothes and undergarments scattered across the floor.

His self-control had always been strong. Even handling things alone, he could manage the timing. He just hadn’t expected that the moment he touched this girl, his head went a little foggy — a few hasty moves in, and he’d heard her crying for mercy. He’d been about to ease up, started pulling back — and lost control of the finish before he could stop it.

This girl was truly… quite overwhelming.

Nan Chu turned her head toward him. “Not going anymore?”

He sat up, leaned back against the headboard, reached for the lighter and cigarette case on the bedside table, shook one out, tilted his head to light it, then squinted sideways at her, exhaled a slow ring of smoke upward, unhurried: “Relax — you’re not getting off easy.”

Nan Chu flipped over onto her stomach, lying there face-down, chin resting in both palms, chest pressed flat against the bed, pushed up into a visible line. She looked at him with clear, guileless eyes and said: “I’ll be waiting.”

Lin Luxiao, cigarette between his lips, gave a short, amused hum, reached over, and gave the soft, white cushion of flesh a squeeze. “You sure? I remember you were pretty flat a while back.”

Nan Chu glanced down at herself, let him keep squeezing, and said, “That day I was wearing a sports bra — it was squishing everything flat.”

Halfway through the cigarette, Lin Luxiao suddenly remembered something — he stubbed it out in the bedside ashtray and pulled her toward him. “I didn’t use protection just now.”

This was something he hadn’t anticipated. He’d been intending to take it slow outside, but the girl was more impatient than he was and had pushed things along on her own. He’d barely tried to withdraw and get a condom when he’d already passed the point of no return. He wasn’t worried for his own sake — if it happened, they’d deal with it — but he was afraid this girl wouldn’t want to keep it. Given her career, that was understandable.

Nan Chu lay in his arms, idly drawing circles on his chest. “I’ll buy some morning-after pills later.”

What a mess.

Did five whole minutes worth of activity — and now she had to go buy medication.

Lin Luxiao thought about it. “Are those things good for you?”

“Obviously not — why don’t you take one yourself and find out?”

“Then don’t take it. If you’re pregnant, we’ll have the baby.”

Nan Chu suddenly gave him a solid smack on the chest. “Have what baby! I’m only twenty-one!”

Lin Luxiao scratched at his brow and said, “Some people have already got two kids on their back by that age.”

“Out!”

Another smack.

Lin Luxiao stopped teasing her, ruffled her hair. It truly was hard to imagine — she was still practically a child herself. Asking her to have a baby felt absurd.

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

The man was privately a little dejected about the whole thing.

Nan Chu understood too. She lay propped against his firm chest, listening to his strong, steady heartbeat — thump-thump-thump — and it was deeply comforting.

“How old are you this year?”

They so rarely had a moment like this — lying together, murmuring to each other.

Lin Luxiao looked down at the snow-white girl in his arms, his hand tracing slowly along the deep groove of her spine, stopping at the small of her back. He said plainly, “Thirty.”

The girl burrowed in closer: “Your family must be pushing you to get married by now.”

“More or less.”

His hand wrapped around her and settled at the curve of her backside, and gave it another squeeze.

Nan Chu pinched him. “Be honest.”

Only then did Lin Luxiao exhale, lazily, and his hand slowly moved between her thighs.

Nan Chu suddenly looked up, and met his deep, dark eyes — like a bottomless pool, drawing her inward. “I’m not planning to get married in the next few years. What do you plan to do?”

In truth, Nan Chu had never expected things to come to this between them. This man was like a magnet — she felt pulled toward him at every hour. But now that he was truly in her hands, it felt almost unreal. Or perhaps she feared that she’d upend his life plans.

Director Yang, Commander Meng — they both wanted the best for him. They’d mapped out the most suitable road for him. And she had come along and thrown it into disarray.

The hand between her thighs withdrew.

Lin Luxiao asked her just as directly: “And when do you plan to get married?”

She hadn’t really thought about it. Her mother had never once married, which meant Nan Chu’s understanding of that institution was genuinely thin. She’d grown up without seeing how parents were supposed to be with each other, and she didn’t know — why did people get married? For love? For duty? For continuing the family line?

In truth, they’d only been official for a matter of days; bringing up marriage was premature. But Nan Chu was thinking about the age gap — it was significant, after all. His family pushing him wasn’t unreasonable, and her current contract required her to remain unmarried and childless for five years.

The man was very patient. His hand took hold of her small earlobe, tightening slightly, voice dropping: “Hm? Say something.”

“What I mean is — if your family is really pushing hard, you could always…”

Lin Luxiao suddenly pressed her onto her back.

Her words cut off.

“Could always what? Hm?” Eyes moving over her face. One hand slowly tucking the loose hair behind her ear. Voice dropping low.

Peach-blossom eyes, tilted upward at the corners, almost a coaxing sound — genuinely lethal.

“My contract says I can’t get married or have children for five years.” Nan Chu bit her lip; she sounded like someone deeply wronged.

Lin Luxiao laughed. “What kind of garbage company is that — burn it down.”

“Unless I quit acting.”

“So don’t act anymore — there are other things. Become a singer, something like that. Just sing.”

“Can’t — I sing off-key. I won’t rob the audience of their money.”

At least she had principles.

Lin Luxiao lowered his head and kissed her neck. “Then quit. I’ll take care of you.”

His salary wasn’t sky-high, but it wasn’t bad. Supporting a partner was fine. Luxury items would be out of reach. The first couple of years of marriage, with all the things to set up and furnish, would be tight. But once things settled, he could pool whatever he earned and buy this girl something she liked.

The one thing—

Just — with the smallest possibility, one-in-ten-thousand chance, that one day he were to give his life in service — what he’d be able to leave behind for her would be very little. And if the old man didn’t take to her, combined with her not-exactly-present mother, this girl would have a hard road ahead.

Lin Luxiao stroked her soft, fluffy hair, tipped up her chin, pressed his thumb to her lip and moved it gently back and forth: “Swearing on the national flag in front of Chairman Mao’s portrait isn’t something I do lightly — I’ve only ever done it twice. The first time was when I enlisted — I stood beneath Tiananmen Gate and pledged to defend the nation and the people with my life, that I would not shrink from laying down my own. My father used to say all the time: a man dies regardless — he either dies weightless as a feather, or heavy as a mountain. Before I met you, I never thought about what came after. But I won’t lie to you — if that day truly comes, don’t hold on for me. If you find someone who treats you well, marry them.”

He meant every word. There was no air of bravado in it.

The moment the words landed, the phone buried in his trouser pocket on the floor rang urgently. He stroked Nan Chu’s hair, flipped out of bed, grabbed it — glanced back at her once — turned away, and answered with a low hum.

The girl lay bare on the bed, gaze soft and lingering, staring at his bare back.

He was tall. Good build. Back muscles clearly defined, lines clean and flowing, a deep groove running down the center of his spine — all the way down to the line of his lower back.

It was the station calling to tell him his leave had been cancelled.

Without a girlfriend, he hadn’t much minded. With one now, Lin Luxiao still cursed inwardly — but when it came down to it, something had happened out there, and knowing his nature, he couldn’t sit back peacefully while his brothers went up to the front line while he stayed behind taking his leisure with his girlfriend.

Nan Chu was perceptive enough. Watching him put his clothes back on, piece by piece, she understood he was leaving. That was the nature of his work — nothing to be done about it. If she was truly going to be with him, this was something she’d have to get used to.

Lin Luxiao buttoned up. “Three explosive devices were found under a bridge overpass. I have to go. Rest at home — and if anyone knocks, make sure you know who it is before you open the door.”

He leaned down and gave her cheek a pinch. “I’ll also give you three more days. Think it over carefully — do you really want to be with me? Hm? My girl — she’ll need to be strong.”

Nan Chu lay on the bed, chin resting on her palm, feet swaying in the air. “What if I change my mind?”

Lin Luxiao straightened and finished the last button, glanced at her, and his gaze went distant in a particular way: “This is your last chance to change your mind.”

If this girl fully committed to him, he would also commit entirely — do his best to stay alive, and find a way to bring her into the family compound.

If she truly changed her mind, he’d accept it. He just wasn’t built for having a girlfriend.

Nan Chu’s face broke into a smile — pale and clean, she lay there in the bed, not a stitch on her, and laughed and rolled across the mattress, pulling the bedsheet around herself. Cheeks bright, she grinned up at him. “Go, then — I need to think carefully about whether I want to move into your family’s compound!”

Lin Luxiao got dressed, hands in his pockets, and stood at the bedside, mouth curving with reluctant amusement. He lifted one hand in a loose wave. “Going.”