The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 73

The Empire’s most advanced flagship, the “Dawnlight”, glided silently into the depths of space like a silver blade piercing the darkness.

The slight weightlessness caused by the jump had disappeared, yet the air on the bridge remained tense, without a trace of relaxation.

This was the Empire’s mobile heart, but at this moment, it felt more like a mobile battlefield, ready to explode at any second.

Xiao Lin had arranged a suite for Ning Ning right next to his own master bedroom. Rather than a suite, it was more like an annex forcibly partitioned from the main room. The thick alloy door isolated it from the corridor, creating an independent zone—anyone wishing to enter Ning Ning’s room would first have to pass through Xiao Lin’s territory.

The purpose of this physical barrier was obvious.

Ning Ning, half-dragged, half-led by Xiao Lin by the wrist, entered the understated yet lavish room, feeling an unusual calm, almost amused.

Good. Just as he left the grand cage of the Marshal’s residence, he had seamlessly stepped into the Pro Max version of a luxury cage aboard the flagship.

[System 89: Host, according to database detection, this room’s security level is top-tier, equipped with an independent life support system and physical defense barriers, capable of withstanding a frontal assault by a cruiser’s main cannon!]

Ning Ning didn’t even lift his eyelids, responding mentally:

[Ning Ning: Sounds impressive. Can it fend off that green-tea-looking predator next door?]

[System 89: Uh… from a physical standpoint, yes! But mentally…]

[Ning Ning: Heh.]

The first group meal was held in a dining hall reserved for the highest-ranking officers.

The icy alloy long table and minimalistic, coldly precise tableware radiated military rigor. Ning Ning felt like he wasn’t here to eat, but to undergo judgment.

Xiao Lin pushed him into the seat beside him. The man’s tall frame was like an impenetrable wall, completely separating him from the other side of the table, establishing an absolute zone of possession.

Across the table, Gu Qingfeng was already seated.

Today, he wore a simpler white uniform, which made his jade-like, gentle features appear even more refined and ethereal. Resting his chin on one hand, he smiled faintly at them, as if they were not on a crisis-filled flagship but in his own backyard, awaiting a friend’s arrival.

The air was terrifyingly silent, only the three of them breathing ever so slightly.

Soon, a soldier in standard uniform approached with precise, almost rigid movements. He placed a tray in front of Ning Ning with extreme care.

Ning Ning glanced down, and his eyelids twitched involuntarily.

On the tray were three items:

A syringe-like tube of concentrated nutrition, two compressed energy bars hard enough to be used as weapons, and a small dish of grayish mush, so unrecognizable he couldn’t tell what it was.

This… was a meal?

“Eat.”

Xiao Lin’s voice came from beside him, terse and authoritative, leaving no room for discussion.

But Ning Ning turned his head and saw those deep, dark-golden eyes, filled with a familiar, uniquely Xiao Lin kind of clumsy care. That gaze seemed to say: “I’ve given you the best I could find—just eat it.”

“Precisely formulated,” the man added, his tone radiating unquestionable authority. “It will provide all the energy you need for long-distance travel, without any unnecessary burden on your body.”

Ning Ning held the heavy alloy spoon, staring at the gray mush, deep in thought.

He now seriously suspected Xiao Lin didn’t want a companion—he wanted a bonsai next to a precision instrument. As long as it was watered and fertilized on schedule, the system wouldn’t malfunction.

As he wrestled with the choice between the energy bars and the nutrition tube, a soft yet commanding aroma wafted over.

Ning Ning’s nose twitched instinctively.

It was the scent of food—the kind that genuinely arouses appetite, with the warmth and life of the human world.

Gu Qingfeng had gracefully risen and, with a poised step, taken a delicate white jade bowl from his attendant. He leaned slightly and placed it in front of Ning Ning, right beside the military tray, in a way that was impossible to refuse.

“Long-distance travel requires the guide’s spiritual sea to be nurtured,” he said gently. Each word was like a feather brushing against the ears, yet precise enough to land squarely in Xiao Lin’s territory.

“These military nutrition packs are too harsh. Occasional use is fine, but long-term consumption is a burden on the body.”

Ning Ning’s gaze was instantly glued to the bowl of congee.

Snow-white rice, cooked to the point of blossoming, melted into the thick, savory base, dotted with tender chicken and green onion, its rising steam carrying a deadly aroma that awakened every hunger nerve, triggering a deafening protest in his stomach.

Two meals, placed side by side.

One represented cold, efficient, rational “survival.”

The other represented warm, delicate, indulgent “life.”

The contrast was brutal.

Ning Ning could feel the temperature around him drop to freezing. Xiao Lin’s gaze cut across the table like an icy blade, tracing Gu Qingfeng’s delicate, bone-defined hand holding the bowl.

[System 89: Warning! Warning! Battlefield intensity has spiked 99%! Host! Hold on! This is a death trap of a choice!]

Ning Ning felt like the world was collapsing—whatever he did, he would die. Not eating was a dead end; eating either option was equally fatal.

Both giants’ gazes were now like spotlights focused on him—one icy as Siberia, warning “try it and see”; the other gentle, smiling, yet deadly, tempting “I know exactly what you want.” Both were impossible to defy.

His survival instinct kicked in instantly.

He had to serve the water—he had to maintain balance!

So, under their combined gaze, Ning Ning took a deep breath, forcing the most obedient, innocent smile he could muster.

He first picked up Gu Qingfeng’s delicate silver spoon, carefully scooped some congee, blew on it, and tentatively took a bite.

Warm, soft, and incredibly fragrant—the flavor exploded on his taste buds.

It was so good it almost made him cry.

He clearly saw the smile deepen in Gu Qingfeng’s eyes—a victorious, gentle kindness. His gaze even drifted past Ning Ning, lightly landing on Xiao Lin.

No! Danger!

Ning Ning’s inner alarm blared, and his survival instincts overpowered his appetite.

He quickly put down the dangerously delicious spoon, grabbed the heavy alloy spoon from the military tray, and, with the solemnity of marching to his execution, scooped up a mouthful of gray mush. Eyes closed, heart steeled, he shoved it into his mouth.

“…”

A mix of metallic and earthy stench exploded in his mouth.

He nearly died on the spot.

Suppressing the overwhelming, nausea-inducing taste, he forced a smile of “this is also delicious” and nodded toward Xiao Lin, giving what he hoped was approval.

However, his attempt at fairness only poured ice water onto boiling oil.

“Sizzle—”

The battle erupted.

Xiao Lin’s gaze became ten times colder than before.

Those dark-golden eyes now surged with betrayed, dark anger.

In his view, Ning Ning eating Gu Qingfeng’s food first was accepting the other man’s favor, being “bought” by that false, extravagant gesture. The congee wasn’t food—it was an imprint of another man on Ning Ning.

And the subsequent bite of the military meal? A perfunctory act, eaten unwillingly under his oppressive gaze, an attempt at appeasement.

His possessiveness exploded. His chest felt crushed by an icy hand, acid and pain making it almost impossible to breathe.

His person… how could they eat something given by another man?

How could they prefer another man’s food?

Across the table, Gu Qingfeng’s smile grew even more perfect. He thoughtfully handed Ning Ning a glass of warm water, watching as the boy accepted it with grateful compliance. Only then did his gaze drift toward Xiao Lin.

In it was the compassion of a victor, softly conveying:

Marshal, look… what he truly needs is this. And you… cannot give it.

“Cough… cough cough!”

Ning Ning nearly choked on the water.

Sitting stiffly between the two, feeling one side as cold as a Siberian frost and the other as gentle as a hidden blade in spring, he felt like a cracker being crushed from both sides.

Finally, after this painful lesson, he understood:

In a top-tier battlefield, so-called “balancing act” is a joke.

No matter how you balance, what they want to see is whose hand you reach for.

The flagship Dawnlight carried this delicate, dangerous trio deeper into the starry sea, in absolute silence, into the unknown.

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