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

The silence in the carriage lasted for less than two seconds after Zhao Xiaohu asked that question.

Xuan Xiao suddenly turned his head, the movement so large that it almost knocked Bai Ye off his shoulder.

"What did you say? I like him? How could I possibly like him!"

Zhao Xiaohu was startled by his reaction, his back pressed against the seat back, but the corners of his mouth curled up even higher. He had only asked tentatively, but seeing Xuan Xiao's reaction, he immediately knew what was going on—this reaction was way too much.

"What did I say? I just asked one question." Zhao Xiaohu spread his hands, his innocent expression extremely irritating.

Xuan Xiao poked Bai Ye's head with his finger. Because Bai Ye was still leaning on his shoulder, his voice was low and urgent, sounding more like he was talking to himself: "Don't you know what he's like? Cold as ice, his words can choke you to death, and he's so arrogant during training. I must be crazy to like him!"

"So you just think he's good at training?" Qian Duoduo peeked out from Lu Xiao's other side, her tone so sincere it was almost suspicious.

"Of course!" Xuan Xiao said decisively, pausing for half a second before adding with emphasis, "And he's a man! A man! How could I—"

He abruptly swallowed his words halfway through. Bai Ye frowned and shifted slightly.

Perhaps it was because the few times he poked Bai Ye's head earlier were too loud, Bai Ye frowned slightly in his sleep, his head slid down a little from his shoulder, and he let out a muffled, sleepy hum.

Xuan Xiao immediately fell silent. All his explanations, all his outbursts, all his denials of "how could I possibly like him?" were instantly forgotten.

His hand rose faster than his brain, spreading his fingers to support the back of Bai Ye's head, gently pressing it back into his shoulder. He didn't stop there—he used his fingers to brush away the stray hairs that had gotten messy on Bai Ye's forehead, preventing them from getting into his eyes. He then looked down to check Bai Ye's expression, seeing that his brow had relaxed and his breathing had returned to normal, before slowly exhaling the breath he had been holding.

The entire sequence of movements was fluid and took no more than five seconds.

Then he looked up and found that Zhao Xiaohu and Qian Duoduo were looking at him with the exact same expression.

Zhao Xiaohu raised one eyebrow, his lips almost curling up to his ear. Qian Duoduo crossed her arms, her head slightly tilted. The two of them, though clearly sitting on either side of Lu Xiao, strangely maintained the same scrutinizing posture, at the same frequency and angle. Lu Xiao sat between them, legs crossed, arms draped over the back of his chair, his expression like that of someone watching a long-awaited drama finally reaching an exciting moment, but remaining silent.

"Isn't this what you call liking someone?" Zhao Xiaohu's tone was no longer a question, but a statement. It was the kind of statement that conveys irrefutable evidence and is delivered in court.

Xuan Xiao's hand was still on Bai Ye's hair when he heard those words and jerked it back as if he'd been burned. He gritted his teeth, his voice barely audible, "This is showing concern for a comrade. Helping a sleeping comrade is helping out. What are you thinking about all day?"

Qian Duoduo pushed up glasses that weren't actually on her nose and began in a serious, academic tone, "Then let me ask you—what would you do if I fell asleep on your shoulder?"

"I'll throw you out of the car." Xuanxiao's answer was without any hesitation, six words clean and crisp, like a knife cutting through iron.

Qian Duoduo's lips twitched, his academic demeanor shattering instantly. "Why? Why me? I'm a comrade-in-arms too!"

"Can you even compare to Bai Ye?"

The air in the carriage was silent for a second. Qian Duoduo opened her mouth, pointed to herself, then to Bai Ye, her expression shifting from confusion to hurt to "I understand," a series of progressively changing emotions.

He slowly shrank back behind Lu Xiao, his voice filled with aggrieved pain, as if his last piece of flesh had been taken away: "You're being unfair."

Xuan Xiao raised his chin slightly and snorted through his nose, his expression clearly saying—I'm biased, is this the first time you've known? But what he actually said was: "Don't humiliate yourself."

Zhao Xiaohu was practically laughing himself to death. He was clutching his stomach, bent over, his shoulders shaking, his laughter forced back in his throat, sounding like a goose being strangled.

Qian Duoduo caught his sympathy and was also suppressing her laughter, but she felt more helpless as she was hurt by the favoritism that had penetrated to the depths of her soul.

Lu Xiao sat comfortably between the two, legs crossed, fingers tapping rhythmically on his knees, enjoying the internal struggle on Xuan Xiao's face—he complained about Bai Ye's icy expression, yet his hand protected the back of Bai Ye's head from being woken up; just moments ago he had sworn that he could never like a man, and now he was even saying things like, "Can you compare to Bai Ye?"

"Anyone who speaks will be thrown out."

Li Mo's voice rang out from Bai Ye's left. It wasn't loud, heavy, cold, or fierce. It was just a very flat statement. But all the sounds in the carriage—Zhao Xiaohu's suppressed laughter, Qian Duoduo's aggrieved mutterings, Xuan Xiao's unfinished explanation—vanished completely in an instant.

Zhao Xiaohu's laughter seemed to have been cut off; his mouth was still open, but no sound came out. Qian Duoduo tucked his neck into the collar of his training uniform, shrinking like a squirrel that had smelled winter.

Li Mo didn't open his eyes. He simply leaned back in his chair, his hands crossed on his knees, his expression as calm as a stagnant pool. But the invisible chill emanating from him was more convincing than any expression. "Whoever speaks. Throw them out." It wasn't a threat; it was more like stating something already arranged.

Xuan Xiao's hand remained motionless beside Bai Ye's head. He dared not withdraw it—afraid of waking Bai Ye. Nor did he dare leave it there—because Li Mo's "who" just now was too obvious.

He could only awkwardly maintain the position of his arm hanging in mid-air, his expression as if he were playing a game where he couldn't move and then suddenly had his pressure points frozen.

Seeing his expression, Lu Xiao finally spoke. His voice was low, tinged with amusement, but not entirely: "Are you still going to be stubborn?"

Xuan Xiao glared at him, his lips moving slightly.

He wanted to say, "I did nothing wrong," he wanted to say, "Zhao Xiaohu started it all," he wanted to say, "What right does Li Mo have to threaten us?" But Bai Ye was still leaning on his shoulder, so he didn't dare to speak loudly or move around. Therefore, he could only suppress all his frustration and turn his head to look out the window, pretending to admire the scenery. His teeth were clenched.

The bus continued its smooth journey along the national highway. The passenger compartment finally quieted down, leaving only the low hum of the engine and the soft patter of the tires on the road. Outside, the sunlight slowly moved from the southeast to directly overhead, then was fragmented by the hills and shadows of the trees, flashing intermittently on the windowpane.