Clownfish reacted quickly, pulling Firefly behind a rock. The rock on the shore was large enough to hide both of them.
Firefly was still lamenting the ice cream stuck to his foot when Clownfish quietly peeked out, watching the two people kissing amidst the wet sand and water. He clearly saw that the omega passionately kissing the instructor had a translucent blue fishtail below the waist, and he also noticed the fresh wound on the merman’s arm.
The merman’s voice sounded exactly like the one they’d heard on the voice chat last time—back when they’d been speculating about which domineering CEO alpha it might be. So it turned out that the one who called the instructor “kitty” was him. It was also him they had seen on the bus.
For a moment, Little Clownfish’s mind went blank, and he forgot to pull his head back in time. The merman suddenly turned around and locked eyes with him without Bai Chunian realizing it. His lifeless blue eyes were like a bottomless ocean, The merman’s lips curled upward, and the icy smile made Little Clownfish’s knees go weak. By the time he came to his senses, he found himself kneeling on the ground, his knees buried in sand.
The firefly quietly crawled closer, pressing down on the little clownfish’s head to peek at the spectacle. All he could see was the instructor standing up, lifting the beautiful omega with one arm, pausing in the wind, and then throwing him into the sea.
The omega swam out about twenty meters from the shore, then suddenly leaped upward, his long fish tail carving a ghostly blue arc through the air. A whale-like call rose from his throat, and then the merperson dove back into the water, disappearing from view.
The two little omegas huddled together, whispering in awe. “I’ve only seen merpeople in documentaries! Last time it was too dark to see anything, but he… he’s too beautiful.”
When the merperson spoke, his tone was gentle, but every gesture carried the cold detachment and poise of someone accustomed to high status. When he met the instructor’s gaze, his eyes burned with passion, but when he looked back at them, only aloof indifference remained, making the secret observers feel unworthy and trembling with shame.
The little clownfish led the firefly toward a trash bin, hoping to escape while the instructor was staring at the sea, and pretend nothing had happened.
Just as they were about to do so, Bai Chunian walked over.
The two little omegas crouched behind the trash bin, silently chanting, “Don’t see me, don’t see me.”
When they opened their eyes, the instructor was standing right in front of them. His abs were dusted with golden sand, a thin black cord hung around his neck with a pearl pendant, and his half-dried short hair was slicked back, revealing his forehead.
The firefly saw the fish-scale tattoo on his shoulder and flushed red, suddenly snapping to attention. “Reporting, Instructor! We didn’t peek at you and your partner kissing!”
The little clownfish stealthily stomped on his foot. “Shut up, you idiot.”
The two little omegas looked up at the alpha instructor, trembling, over a head taller than themselves.
“Afternoon classes proceed as usual,” Bai Chunian said, slinging his things over his shoulder. Passing them, he added, “Clean up properly. Not a single piece of trash left behind.”
The two little omegas stiffened, only letting out a sigh of relief once the instructor had walked away, collapsing by the trash bin.
The little clownfish thumped the firefly on the head. “You’re so dumb. The instructor probably thinks we’re idiots. I spent ages last night just to muster up the courage to send him a friend request. Now it’s definitely not going through. Ugh.”
Bai Chunian returned to the dorm, took a shower, changed into his instructor uniform, and headed to the cafeteria for a meal. While eating, he checked his phone and saw a friend request from the little clownfish. Thinking that after graduation, they would become colleagues in the Investigation Department, he accepted the request.
Then he noticed the long-dormant instructor group chat had 99+ messages. Bored, he opened it.
Technical Instructor – K: “[Click to view original image]”
Combat Instructor – Dai Ning: “So intense! Wow, that kiss.”
Profile Instructor – Zheng Yue: “That merperson’s figure is insane, tail curled around Brother Chu’s thigh… I’m bleeding from my nose, brain blank.”
Sniper Instructor – Lorenz: “I sent the students to self-study. Where’s the pic, gimme gimme gimme.”
Tactics Instructor – Red Crab: “Idiot, he’ll see it if we’re not careful.”
Sniper Instructor – Lorenz: “Chu never checks the chat. Besides, he’s busy cuddling his partner. Who cares?”
Command Instructor – Bai Chunian: “What are you all talking about? Let me see.”
Suddenly, the chat went silent.
[Command Instructor – Bai Chunian has been removed from the group]
Bai Chunian looked puzzled.
At that moment, Han Xingqian’s message popped in: “Come pick up.”
Bai Chunian put down his chopsticks and headed toward the ferry dock.
At two in the afternoon, the sun was at its peak. Bai Chunian waited at the dock with his hands in his pockets, wearing aviator sunglasses.
The ferry docked, and as the doors opened, Han Xingqian emerged, dressed in the same instructor uniform as Bai Chunian, except for a short-sleeved camouflage jacket over a black vest, buttoned all the way up.
As a doctor, his build wasn’t thin; it was clear he’d undergone strict physical training, and he looked as capable as Bai Chunian.
Bai Chunian lifted his chin and asked, hands in pockets, “Where’s the person I’m here for?”
From the cabin, an omega slowly emerged.
Xiao Xun looked uncomfortable in the special training uniform. The pale green short-sleeved shirt had dandelions and an IOA emblem embroidered on the back, with dark camouflage pants. He awkwardly shielded his arms, carrying a backpack and Han Xingqian’s medical kit, eyes downcast.
Bai Chunian casually took the heavy bag from his back, weighing it. It likely contained several small medical devices. He glanced at Han Xingqian. “All yours, huh?”
Han Xingqian shrugged. “Correct.”
“Impressive,” Bai Chunian laughed, lifting Xiao Xun’s chin, pressing a thumb under his jaw to force him to open his mouth, revealing a row of neat little teeth.
Xiao Xun glared at him.
“Don’t bite. Why can’t you tell good from bad?” Bai Chunian bent down, studying him, holding his jaw so he could only look at him. “The Lingti family’s arrogance will be your regret one day.”
“Let’s go,” Bai Chunian said, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “One does experiments, one snipes. Your hands are precious, I’ll handle the heavy work, damn it.”
Along the way, Bai Chunian grabbed the firefly and the little clownfish, tossing them the bags to carry to the instructors’ dorm for Han Xingqian, while he led Xiao Xun toward the sniper range.
Xiao Xun pursed his lips, silent, following along.
He was now homeless, and this place was his only option. Han Xingqian wouldn’t let him stay at his home indefinitely.
He was used to submission and didn’t resist Bai Chunian’s arrangements, staying silent the whole way.
The island’s canyon and dense forest area offered a natural advantage, transformed into a sniper training ground. Students proficient in sniping trained daily on basic skills and simulated combat here.
Under a sunshade lay a snake-tattooed alpha, two floral arms that were slightly intimidating. The sides of his head were shaved, blue totem patterns tattooed on the scalp, black hair slicked back. Wearing the same instructor uniform, black vest half tucked messily into his pants, the other half hanging out.
He was lounging with his legs crossed, playing on his phone, holding down the voice button and laughing as he said into it, “I bet a late-night snack that Brother Chu will go seven rounds tonight, and tomorrow he won’t even get out of bed for class.”
Before Lorenz could even send the voice message, a head appeared over the top of his lounge chair.
Bai Chunian leaned over the backrest, looking down at him. “Come to the bathroom stall. Let me see if I’m really out of stamina.”
Lorenz’s hand trembled, and the voice message accidentally sent to the instructor group chat, causing an uproar of laughter.
Combat Instructor – Dai Ning: “Hope the guy’s okay.”
“Get up. I’ve got a student for you,” Bai Chunian said, pulling Xiao Xun, who had been hiding behind him, forward and pushing him toward Lorenz. “19-year-old Lingti omega. Sniping prodigy. Can stir up a mess, just a bit shy.”
Lorenz stood, grabbed Xiao Xun, and patted his shoulders. “How long have you been training?”
He clearly trusted Bai Chunian’s judgment—if Bai Chunian gave unreserved praise, this kid must have trained in professional sniper schools for at least fifteen years.
Xiao Xun leaned on his arms, looking away. “I haven’t trained. Never.”
Lorenz froze, glancing at Bai Chunian in disbelief. “Are we just making easy money at this training base now?”
Bai Chunian took an M25 sniper rifle from the weapons wall, mounted a high-power scope, and handed it to Xiao Xun.
Hesitant for a moment, Xiao Xun quietly took the rifle, stood, aimed, and the balloon target 600 meters away exploded on impact.
Lorenz was stunned by the speed of the shot. He took out a remote, adjusting the range’s wind speed and light, changing the target to a moving one.
“Try again.”
Xiao Xun silently chambered a new round, maintaining his stance. The balloon burst almost the instant it appeared in the scope. Shell casings dropped at his feet.
He consecutively sniped six moving targets 600 meters away without a single miss. It was as if he didn’t need to calculate anything—if he could find his prey, he would kill with one shot.
Lorenz’s expression shifted from initial disdain to serious. He turned and walked toward the elevator.
Xiao Xun grew uneasy, palms sweating.
Bai Chunian pulled him into another elevator. The elevator was built into the forested canyon, with vertical ladders on either side, sending trainees to different positions for target searching and sniping.
Stepping out, Bai Chunian patted his shoulder. “These are blanks. Aim at his head. Go.”
The doors opened to a completely different scene: a humid, vine-entwined forest canyon. Xiao Xun had to search bit by bit to locate possible targets.
Suddenly, he caught a small moving dot. He squatted, aiming carefully.
The moment Lorenz’s fingertip appeared in his scope, a blank round struck Xiao Xun’s chest.
The sudden pain made him arch backward. Bai Chunian caught him from behind, taking out a walkie-talkie. “You’re crazy! He said he’s never trained. Why aim at his shoulder?”
Lorenz: “He hit my finger.”
“Tch,” Bai Chunian muttered, saying no more.
Xiao Xun bit his lip. “I… really can’t do this, huh.”
Back by the lounge chairs at the range, Lorenz’s face flushed dark with excitement and disbelief. “I don’t believe you haven’t had systematic training.”
Xiao Xun lowered his eyelashes. “My family wouldn’t allow it.”
“You’re incredible.”
Lorenz pulled him aside, almost panicking that Bai Chunian might change his mind. “I’m taking you on.”
Bai Chunian spread his hands, tilting his head at Xiao Xun. “Now someone’s teaching you. How do you feel?”
Xiao Xun couldn’t believe it. His mind kept echoing the words “You’re incredible.” He felt childish but had truly never heard anyone say that to him since birth—except for Doctor Han, who once said, “You did very well.”
“I’ll head off first.” Bai Chunian turned, hands behind his head, strolling out of the sniper range.
Suddenly, his phone pinged—a new comment on his Moments.
Bai Chunian casually glanced. Someone named Invincible Sea Anemone had commented on a picture he posted months ago—the first message Lambo had ever sent him.
The original post read: “Encountered a high-level code on a mission. Can’t crack it. Seeking code-breaking masters: →→[email protected]%-％hongLan Bokadinlion~.@％jiji mua→←”
The comments were a chaotic argument among tech experts.
Invincible Sea Anemone commented: He means, wait until Lambo finishes eating. @ represents a merperson with a long tail.
Bai Chunian opened the chat. “Where did you get a phone? It’s not the day to contact parents yet.”
Little Clownfish: “…Crap, I forgot about this. Can I still delete the friend request? But I don’t want to…”
Bai Chunian: “You understand merperson language?”
Little Clownfish: “Y-yes… can understand but not speak.”
Bai Chunian painstakingly sounded out a word: “jideio (育兒袋)… how do you translate this?”
Little Clownfish: “…It’s a colloquial term. There’s no perfect English equivalent. Closest would be something like ‘the kid’s dad’.”
Five minutes later.
Little Clownfish: “…Instructor… did I make you upset and drive you away…?”