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

Li Mo sat on a stool to the right of the hospital bed, her back straight and her hands crossed on her knees.

There was a silence that lasted for about five minutes.

In the end, it was Bai Ye who spoke first.

"Class monitor."

Li Mo turned his gaze from the promotional poster to Bai Ye's face and responded with a nasal sound.

"I will continue training."

Li Mo frowned.

He remained silent for a few seconds, as if giving Bai Ye a chance to take back his words. But Bai Ye did not take them back; he simply looked at Li Mo calmly.

"No." Li Mo spoke, each word as if squeezed out from a crack in a rock, short and hard, "What you need to do now is to recover from your injury."

"My right hand is injured, but my left hand is still fine. My leg is okay too. I can run, and I can practice disassembly and assembly with one hand." Bai Ye's voice was unhurried, as if stating a set of data that had been repeatedly verified. "The military doctor said it would take two to three months to recover, but he didn't say that I couldn't do anything during that time. As long as I avoid putting strain on my right arm—"

"Bai Ye," Li Mo interrupted him.

Bai Ye stopped and looked at Li Mo.

"Your right arm is broken." Li Mo emphasized each word. "A fragment of bone pierced your skin. The medics used steel pins and a splint to put the bone back together. And now you're telling me you want to go back to training?"

"I can do all projects that don't involve my right arm."

"What can you do? You tripped and fell while running, braced yourself on your hand, dislocated your bone, and suffered a secondary fracture—what do you think you'll do then? Have another surgery? Put in steel pins again?" Li Mo's voice was low, but every word was laced with suppressed anger. "How old are you? Seventeen. If your right hand is useless, what will you use to hold a gun?"

Bai Ye didn't answer immediately. He waited until Li Mo finished speaking, until the echo of the last sentence, "What are you using to hold the gun?" had completely dissipated in the room, before he spoke.

"Squad leader," his tone remained calm, "My right hand is useless, but I still have my left. My left hand is useless, but I still have my teeth. As long as I can move, I can fight. This isn't an impulsive decision; it's my choice."

Li Mo's jawline tightened.

"When he jumped from the third floor, I wasn't thinking, 'I want to be a hero,' nor 'I want to show off.'" Bai Ye turned his head, his gaze falling on his cast. "What I was thinking was—at this height, at this angle, I could catch him. A broken right arm was acceptable. As long as the person is alive, the injury can heal. But if I didn't catch him, and that person died, the loss would be irreversible. He wouldn't be able to recover."

He paused.

"I remember everything you and the sergeant taught me in the fighting arena. But you can't do everything for me. When that recruit jumped, you were rushing upstairs, and your judgment was to stop him. I was downstairs, and my judgment was to catch him. We just chose different ways to solve the same problem."

Li Mo fell silent.

Bai Ye leaned against the pillows, looking at the ceiling, as if thinking about something very distant.

“When my brother left,” his voice suddenly softened, “he told me, ‘Wait for me to come back.’ I believed him. I waited for six years. He never came back.”

These words were like a pebble thrown into calm water, creating ripples in Li Mo's silence.

"I don't like waiting." Bai Ye's voice returned to its steady tone, stating clearly in his usual manner, "Waiting for someone to save me. Waiting for someone to protect me. Waiting for someone to make decisions for me. I don't like that feeling. You took a bullet for me, I owe you my life. I can't repay that debt, but at least I can do what I can."

"You don't owe me anything." Li Mo's voice suddenly became a little dry.

Bai Ye shook his head. "When that bullet came, you rushed forward. You said, 'Because I promised your brother.' But you promised him, not me. You risked your life to protect me; that was your decision. I caught people with my bare hands; that was my decision."

Li Mo looked at Bai Ye, who was leaning against the pillow, his right arm in a cast, his face pale from blood loss, and he looked even thinner than usual in the oversized hospital gown. But the words he spoke were like sharp, tempered knives.

Li Mo knew someone who was like that.

That person never consulted with anyone; once a decision was made, there was no turning back. On the battlefield, he was always at the forefront, shielding all dangers behind him.

Three years ago, when that person left, he patted him on the shoulder and said, "I'm entrusting my brother to you," with a nonchalant smile. Three years have passed, and that person is still missing, while his brother lies in a hospital bed, saying the same irrefutable words in the same tone as that person.

Li Mo closed his eyes briefly.

When he opened his eyes again, the anger in his voice had faded.

"I have my injuries assessed by a military doctor before each training session."

Bai Ye looked up at him.

"As long as the medic says it's okay, I won't stop you." Li Mo spoke slowly, as if signing an extremely strict contract. "But there's one condition—any project, any time, if you experience any discomfort in your right arm, stop immediately and tell me right away. No matter what you're doing at the time."

Bai Ye nodded.

"It's not enough to just nod."

"Okay," Bai Ye said. "Tell me immediately if you feel unwell anywhere."

Li Mo stared at him for several seconds, as if assessing the credibility of his statement.

Then he sighed.

He knew he couldn't truly stop Bai Ye. No one could stop Bai Ye once he made a decision. He'd seen this trait countless times in his older brother, Bai Ye—when Bai Chen decided to fight a battle, the entire assault team combined couldn't stop him.

"You look exactly like your brother," Li Mo said in a low voice.

Bai Ye remained silent.

Silence returned, but this silence was different from the one before.

"Class monitor," Bai Ye spoke again.

Li Mo looked up at him.

"You don't really need to be so nice to me."

Li Mo didn't move. His posture and expression remained unchanged, but Bai Ye noticed that his fingers slightly curled up on his knees.

"You took a bullet for me, cared about my injuries, and watched over me every day as I took my medicine and slept." Bai Ye's voice was flat, but there were some unusual pauses between the words.

He paused for a moment.

"You don't need to be so careful with me. I'm not someone who needs special treatment."

Li Mo was silent for a few seconds, then stood up. He walked to Bai Ye's bedside, looked down at him, and reached out to rub Bai Ye's head.

"Even if I didn't agree to your brother's request," Li Mo's voice was deep and steady, "I watched you grow up. From the first day your brother brought you to the camp, I've treated you like my own younger brother."

Bai Ye paused for a moment.

He didn't say anything more. He just leaned quietly against the pillow, letting Li Mo gently rub the top of his head, making his bangs stick up.