Rebirth of a Mercenary: The Ace Mercenary Forced to Be the Beloved of the Group

After Li Mo and Lu Xiao were called away by the company commander, the atmosphere in the dormitory of Class One obviously relaxed.

Bai Ye sat on the edge of the bed, put his left foot on the edge, and looked down at the band-aid that Li Mo had just put on him.

Then Xuanxiao came over.

He moved from his own bed to Bai Ye's bedside, the movement so natural, as if he were just passing by and decided to sit down and rest. But the direction of his gaze after he sat down betrayed his true intentions—it landed squarely on Bai Ye's left foot, which was covered in bandages.

"Bai Ye, is your foot alright?"

Bai Ye pulled down the pant legs of his training uniform to cover his ankles.

"fine."

"Come on."

Xuanxiao's hand was already outstretched. His fingers accurately gripped Baiye's ankle, his thumb wedged below the inner ankle bone, and the other four fingers encircled the Achilles tendon. The movement wasn't forceful, but the grip was remarkably precise, clearly indicating that he had planned where to grab beforehand.

Bai Ye reacted even faster than him.

The left foot, which had been grabbed, reacted almost without thinking. The ankle was pulled away half an inch from Xuan Xiao's fingers, the knee bent at the same time, the calf muscles tightened, and then the whole leg, like a spring that had been compressed to its limit and then snapped open, kicked Xuan Xiao's face with precision.

A muffled thud.

The entire dormitory fell silent instantly.

Zhao Xiaohu sprang out of bed faster than an emergency assembly.

He stared wide-eyed at Xuan Xiao's face, which was slightly tilted back from the kick. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, and then burst into laughter that almost collapsed the bed: "Brother Xiao! Hahahaha, the dignified young master of the Xuan family—actually got kicked in the face one day!"

Qian Duoduo was laughing hysterically, sprawled on the bed, her shoulders trembling, her laughter muffled by the pillow. The other recruits laughed even more unrestrainedly, some even sliding off the edge of the bed and still laughing as they sat on the floor.

Xuanxiao ignored everyone.

His face was still at the angle of the kick, his head was slightly tilted, and his hand was still hanging in mid-air, holding his ankle.

Bai Ye had already withdrawn his foot, but the sensation of holding his ankle for that brief moment still lingered in his palm. The ankle was slender, the Achilles tendon was clean and sharp, and the skin clung to the thin layer of muscle, feeling soft yet resilient to the touch.

There was only one word in his mind.

So soft.

His ankle was soft, and so was the sole of his foot. When that foot kicked him, he didn't even think of dodging, because all his brain's processing power was occupied by the sensation of touch. In the fraction of a second that his nose was pressed against the sole of the foot, he even unconsciously took a deep breath—and then he was kicked backward.

Bai Ye frowned as Xuan Xiao remained in the position he had just been kicked for too long.

"What are you still standing there for?"

Xuan Xiao finally came to his senses. He withdrew his hand, stood up from beside Bai Ye's bed, his movements a little stiff. The ends of his gray hair were a little messy, and the spot on his nose where he had been kicked was slightly red.

"I'm going out for some fresh air." His voice was calm, no different from his usual tone.

He turned and walked steadily toward the door. As he passed Zhao Xiaohu's bedside, Zhao Xiaohu was still laughing, the laughter muffled in his chest, his round face flushed red. Xuan Xiao didn't look at him. He opened the door, walked out, and closed it behind him.

The moment the dormitory door closed behind me, a gust of cold wind from the corridor rushed towards me.

Xuanxiao leaned against the wall of the corridor, looking up at the fluorescent light on the ceiling. The light tube was humming, and a moth was fluttering around inside the lampshade.

He raised his hand and touched his face—the spot on the bridge of his nose where he had been kicked was still a little warm. It wasn't pain; it was the lingering warmth of Bai Ye's foot on his skin, like being lightly ironed.

He closed his eyes. The moment Bai Ye kicked him replayed automatically in his mind.

The curve of his knees, the taut lines of his calf muscles, and his bare feet peeking out from under his trousers, pressed precisely against his face. His toes were slightly curled, and the skin of his soles pressed firmly against the bridge of his nose—warm, soft, and carrying a faint smell of iodine and ointment.

Bai Ye held back his strength. If he hadn't held back that kick, he would probably be on his way to the infirmary right now. But Bai Ye held back.

This realization made Xuanxiao's lips curl up in a smile.

So soft.

He looked down at his hands. Then he remembered the sensation on his face.

He buried his face in his hands and rubbed them together. When he lowered his hands, the corners of his mouth were still curved in a smile. No matter how much he shook his head, he couldn't shake the image from his mind. Bai Ye sat on the edge of the bed, his left foot propped up on the edge, five neatly arranged bandages, his bare foot peeking out from under his trouser leg—

He muttered a curse under his breath, then laughed. It was a laugh of resignation, a laugh born of helplessness and resignation.

Bai Ye kicked him, and he didn't dodge. With his reaction speed, even if that kick was incredibly fast, he could at least have turned his head to avoid it. But he didn't. The instant his fingers gripped his ankle, his attention was completely consumed by how soft it felt, and his brain's processing speed dropped by half. And even if it happened again, he probably wouldn't dodge.

Xuanxiao leaned the back of his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

Maybe next time, we can let Bai Ye kick other places.

Calf? Knee? Inner thigh—forget it, the inner thigh is too dangerous, it might be crippled. Let's start with the calf. The calf should be safe. When Bai Ye kicks, he can grab his ankle again, this time from a different angle, from the front, with his thumb pressing on the protruding bone on the front of the ankle. This time he should be able to hold on more firmly. Then Bai Ye will frown and say "Let go" in that indifferent tone, and he won't let go—

stop.

Xuan Xiao opened his eyes. He realized he was seriously planning how Bai Ye would kick him next. A plan. A serious plan.

He buried his face in his hands and rubbed it hard. This time, even his ears started to burn.

"There's no hope for him," he said, looking at his palm.

His low, hoarse voice echoed in the corridor, but no one answered him. The sound of dripping water came from the bathroom, the fluorescent lights continued to hum, and moths were still fluttering inside the lampshades.

Xuanxiao removed his hands from his face, walked to the washbasin next to him, turned on the tap, and splashed a handful of cold water on his face. The cold water rolled down his eyelashes and dripped onto the collar of his training uniform.

The heat on my face subsided a little, but the thought lingered in my mind—planning for the next time.

He turned off the tap and grabbed a tissue from the wall to wipe his face. After wiping himself, he glanced at himself in the mirror.

He paused at the door, took a deep breath, and put on an expression as if nothing had happened. Before pushing the door open, he looked down at his hands.

It's so soft.