The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 76

After seeing that fluffy little moon rabbit in his mental sea, Ning Ning’s mood felt as if it had been ironed flat—rarely so calm and orderly.

It was a strange feeling.

It was like finally finding a corner deep in his heart that was absolutely safe.

He was no longer the overworked office worker running after points, nor a prize or weapon coveted by various factions—he was simply himself.

This realization finally gave his long-tensed nerves a precious moment of relief.

Having just come out of the bathroom, steam from the warm water left a faint pink flush on his cheeks, and he was loosely wrapped in the standard-issue bathrobe of the flagship. Humming an off-key tune, he was ready to dive into the soft bed and enjoy a long-overdue peace that belonged only to him.

But just then, the suite’s doorbell rang at the most inopportune moment.

“Beep—”

Ning Ning froze mid-step, his hum cut off.

Who could it be? So late at night…

He muttered to himself, shuffling slowly to the door, and activated the visual screen of the security system.

The face that appeared on the screen instantly tightened every nerve he had just relaxed, as if a row of steel wires had been suddenly pulled taut.

It was Xiao Lin.

He was dressed in a perfectly pressed black military uniform. The stars on his shoulder insignia glinted coldly in the corridor light, radiating an aura that repelled anyone from a mile away. He stood silently at the door, yet his presence felt like it could penetrate the panels and suffocate a person.

What was he doing here?

Ning Ning’s heart skipped a beat, and countless thoughts flashed through his mind.

The next second, a low, magnetic voice came through the intercom, emotionless, like routine duty:

“Routine security check.”

Security check? Yeah, right! The flagship was more secure than the Imperial Treasury!

Ning “Ostrich” Ning’s first instinct was to play dead—pretend he was asleep and hadn’t heard.

But reason told him that before the Imperial Marshal, he had no such option. Unless he wanted Xiao Lin to open the door with his authority and drag him out from under the blanket.

He shuffled forward at a pace slower than a snail, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

As soon as the door opened, Xiao Lin’s tall, upright figure blocked the light at the doorway, and a strong sense of pressure, mixed with the cold scent of cedar and the unrestrained dominance of a sentinel’s pheromones, hit him head-on.

Ning Ning instinctively stepped back half a step and asked in a small voice, “Marshal… what’s the matter?”

Xiao Lin didn’t answer. His dark golden eyes lingered for a moment on the loose bathrobe on Ning Ning, the gaze darkening slightly, then he strode across the room.

As he walked in, the air seemed to grow heavy and thin simultaneously.

His gaze, like the most precise, high-intensity scanner, quickly swept every corner of the room before settling on the sofa, as if there were a top-level hazard hidden there.

Ning Ning’s heart leapt into his throat.

On the sofa lay a recently opened exquisite gift box.

Inside was a set of loungewear, moon-white silk, glowing softly like pearls under the light. The design was elegant yet relaxed, with subtle embroidered patterns in silver thread along the collar and cuffs—obviously expensive, and undeniably extremely comfortable.

This had been delivered earlier that afternoon by someone sent by Gu Qingfeng.

The accompanying card, in his signature elegant handwriting, read: “The flagship uniform is too rigid, not conducive to the guide’s mental relaxation. Hope this allows you a peaceful rest.”

When Ning Ning first received it, he had hesitated—should he accept it or not, should he wear it or not.

But now, under Xiao Lin’s gaze, the beautiful loungewear felt like a burning hot potato—a live grenade ready to explode.

Xiao Lin said nothing.

The room was so quiet it was terrifying, only Ning Ning’s increasingly loud heartbeat breaking the silence.

He watched Xiao Lin stride forward, boots on the carpet producing dull, deathlike sounds, and saw him bend down.

Two fingers, clad in black tactical gloves, lifted the silky, soft loungewear as if it were a contaminated object.

The piece, worth a fortune, was now treated like a filthy rag.

Then Xiao Lin turned and walked to the wall-embedded high-energy disposal chute without hesitation.

Click.

He released the clothing.

The moon-white silk traced a beautiful, desperate arc before falling into the dark disposal hole.

Hum—

A faint, heavy mechanical hum sounded. The chute’s indicator light flashed red briefly, then returned to calm green.

The loungewear representing Gu Qingfeng’s warm offensive, along with the gift box, had been completely, cleanly, and efficiently erased from existence.

The entire process was lightning-fast, fluid, leaving Ning Ning unable to react even to say “hey.”

The room fell into deadly silence.

Ning Ning stood dumbfounded, staring at Xiao Lin’s cold, sculpted profile, feeling a chill shoot straight from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

This man… this man was terrifying!

After finishing, Xiao Lin turned like nothing had happened, as if tossing aside a scrap of paper. He walked to the wardrobe built into the room, pulled it open, and took out a neatly folded set of clothes, tossing them onto Ning Ning’s bed without looking.

“Change.”

Xiao Lin’s tone brooked no argument, short and icy, like a military order demanding immediate compliance.

Ning Ning’s gaze stiffly moved from Xiao Lin’s face to the clothes on the bed.

It was… pajamas.

Extremely conservative pajamas, even ugly to the point of offense. Grayish-white, long sleeves, long pants, the top button done up tight with no design flair. The only merit: thick material, as substantial as a military coat.

He looked at the ugly pajamas, then at Xiao Lin’s dark golden, unfathomable eyes, and his inner self began to throw a tiny tantrum.

Why?!

What does he think I am? A human figurine? A dress-up doll? Destroying the gift from Gu Qingfeng just to make me wear his choice? Is this a declaration of ownership?

He tried to muster a tiny bit of resistance.

“…I-I have pajamas,” he muttered, referring to his own little bear-patterned set.

“That won’t do,” Xiao Lin’s answer was concise and domineering, cutting off all escape routes.

He stepped forward, and the overwhelming presence pressed down even more.

“From now on,” he said, each word deliberate, quiet but with a possessiveness that could etch itself into the bone, “you will only wear what I choose.”

His dark golden eyes locked onto Ning Ning, the possessiveness almost tangible, binding him completely.

Ning Ning knew—he had no choice.

Under absolute force and this terrifying aura, resistance was futile, and would only invite worse consequences.

He closed his eyes in humiliation and resigned, trembling slightly as he picked up the thick, ugly pajamas and quietly walked into the bathroom.

Minutes later, he came out, wearing the oversized pajamas, standing by the window. Xiao Lin’s cold, rigid back made his breath falter.

The pajamas were absurdly large, almost comically so. The hem nearly reached his knees, the sleeves entirely covering his hands, revealing only glimpses of pink, steamed fingertips as he moved. He looked small, fragile, and weak, as if stuffed into a bag that didn’t fit.

Worse, the grayish-white fabric still carried someone else’s cold, clean cedar scent, forcibly stamping Xiao Lin’s mark, a subtle yet inescapable sense of possession.

He felt uncomfortable, instinctively tugging at the sleeves to expose his hands. But every time he lifted them, the oversized sleeves slid down again, covering him completely.

Angry and wronged, he could only glare at Xiao Lin with his water-saturated purple eyes, a silent protest.

But in Xiao Lin’s eyes, this was entirely different.

It was like a little rabbit, upset but harmless, forced into a coat that wasn’t its own, helpless yet pitiful. The clear, dreamy, wet purple eyes clawed at his heart with the gentlest force.

A tingling, ticklish sensation.

Xiao Lin’s Adam’s apple rolled almost imperceptibly. His eyes darkened, bottomless.

He could feel his mental form—the massive dark-golden wolf—pacing anxiously in the mental sea, tail thrashing, emitting longing whines.

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