What Should I Do If My Ex-Girlfriend's Pheromones Smell Too Good? - Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Target Practice

Young Miss Jin was as disloyal as ever. Claiming she needed to go back and sleep to soothe her brain—which had nearly short-circuited from the exam—she slipped away with a serious, upright expression, eyes fixed forward as she bypassed Yan Xiangyu.

She lacked even a shred of the courage to face hardship together.

Yan Xiangyu didn’t stop her. She meticulously turned around to close the door before placing the takeout containers on the coffee table. She looked up at Shu Qiong, who was standing there like a pillar of awkwardness, and patted the seat beside her. “Come quickly, the ‘bewitching soup’ is going to get cold.”

“…Can we please move past this?” Shu Qiong shuffled over and sat on the sofa next to her.

Yan Xiangyu answered while opening the food boxes: “I could pretend I didn’t hear it the first time it happened, but the second time… Xiao Qiong, do you two really have some sort of grievance against me?”

Shu Qiong cursed silently and shook her head like a rattle. “I swear I have no grievance! Jin Yan just has a loose tongue; she feels physically uncomfortable if she isn’t being a brat to someone. As long as you don’t hold it against that psychological minor, I’ll do anything.”

Yan Xiangyu looked at her profile thoughtfully and suddenly laughed. “Then accompany me to the shooting range tonight?”

Shu Qiong paused, not expecting this condition. She thought about it, her tone gaining a hint of excitement: “Accompany you to practice? Sure, I can do that.”

After all, she was a plain, kind-hearted person who enjoyed helping others. It definitely wasn’t because her own hands were itching to touch a gun.

“Good.” Yan Xiangyu reached out and brushed against the other girl’s earlobe, which was finally losing its heat. Her movement and expression were entirely natural, as if she were simply tucking a stray lock of hair behind Shu Qiong’s ear. She then tapped the coffee table with her knuckles. “Eat first.”

After dinner, the two headed to the underground shooting range in the training area.

Since the freshman Pilot majors had a shooting exam the next morning, there were many students cramming for last-minute training. The usually quiet range was now bustling and crowded. After swiping their student ID cards and waiting in a corner for ten minutes, Shu Qiong and Yan Xiangyu finally secured a lane.

Shu Qiong asked while inspecting the training firearms, “Are you being tested on moving targets tomorrow?”

Yan Xiangyu nodded. “Both static and moving targets are tested, weighted equally. However, the moving targets shouldn’t be too difficult, probably only Level 2.”

Shu Qiong understood. She set the target to Level 2 difficulty, rubbed the grip with her thumb, loaded the gun, and aimed at the target moving irregularly left and right.

Bang!

A bullseye.

Shu Qiong tossed the gun to Yan Xiangyu and took another one with a thinner barrel from the wall. “Any requirements for the gun? I’ll pick a few different models for you to try so you can see which ‘feel’ you prefer.”

“No requirements.” Yan Xiangyu looked down at the training pistol in her hand.

In truth, there wasn’t much difference between these range guns, but Shu Qiong was a perfectionist teacher. Since she had promised to help Yan Xiangyu practice, she wanted to get every detail right.

Yan Xiangyu watched quietly as Shu Qiong tested a round with each gun; every shot was incredibly precise. Shu Qiong’s shooting was decisive and calm. Her pre-aiming speed was lightning-fast—from raising the gun to pulling the trigger seemed like a single instant, immediately followed by a score notification on the data panel above.

Eventually, she chose two and let Yan Xiangyu feel the grips. Shu Qiong looked into her eyes and explained: “As an Assault-position pilot, you won’t have as many opportunities to use thermal weapons during actual mecha combat compared to other positions. Furthermore, the mainstream high-power thermal weapons in Alliance mechas usually come with high-precision aiming compensators, which are much more accurate than the human eye. So, just fire boldly. I estimate the score requirement for non-sniper pilots is around 8.0, which isn’t high.”

Listening to the rational analysis laced with comfort, Yan Xiangyu’s features relaxed. “Then I’ll try.”

Shu Qiong immediately switched the mode back to a twenty-meter static target. Yan Xiangyu hadn’t had much contact with firearms and didn’t understand their mechanics, but her ability to mimic was powerful. Standing still, she imitated Shu Qiong’s previous posture one-to-one.

The first shot drifted. She wasn’t familiar with this gun, so she miscalculated the recoil, and her aim was slightly off. A 6.0 ring, barely.

A warm touch landed on her shoulder blade. Shu Qiong pressed down with her palm, stepping up to correct several minor errors in her posture. “Continue.”

The corners of Yan Xiangyu’s lips curved as she fired at the bullseye again. 7.1. Bang! 7.5.

Shu Qiong looked up at the target and opened the data panel. Fast progress.

Midway through, Yan Xiangyu switched to the other gun and did another round of static targets. She summarized her mistakes after every shot, feeling the subtle differences in the hand-feel. Before long, she achieved a stable static score of 8.0.

Shu Qiong wasn’t surprised and praised her: “Your eyesight and hand coordination are keeping up, and your upper body strength is excellent. No problem at all.”

Yan Xiangyu nodded slightly and adjusted her goggles. Shu Qiong accompanied her, gradually increasing the distance of the static targets, then slowly raising the difficulty to Level 1 moving targets.

By the end of the night, Yan Xiangyu’s marksmanship had improved visibly. Although there was still a significant gap between her and someone like Chang Xichun or Shu Qiong—who had handled guns for years—it was definitely a successful session. In fact, the first time Yan Xiangyu had ever touched a gun was during the third day of training on Base Star, but back then, there was no instructor providing one-on-one detailed coaching like Shu Qiong.

“Maintain this rate of progress, and if you ever decide you don’t want to play Assault, you could definitely switch to Heavy Armor or Battery Support, even if Sniper is out of reach,” Shu Qiong said, stroking her chin. “However…”

However, Yan Xiangyu was clearly more gifted in close combat. Shu Qiong could see that she and Yan Xiangyu were taking completely different paths to learning the gun. For Shu Qiong, she had learned since childhood; she was a pure “instinct” talent who used her excellent vision to drive the gun. With enough practice, it became natural; the gun was an extension of her body.

Yan Xiangyu, meanwhile, was clearly using her superior muscle control to mimic Shu Qiong’s experienced movements. Whether her vision or technique was inherently good was unknown; for now, her shooting form was very convincing. For her, there was a ready-made role model in front of her. She could understand the underlying principles later; for now, high-speed score improvement was the priority, making her progress exceptionally obvious. Regardless of where her “ceiling” was, being able to take the right shortcut was a talent in itself.

Shu Qiong noticed this and quickly adjusted her teaching style, shifting from explaining gun characteristics to explaining muscle exertion patterns.

Bang!

The final shot hit a Level 2 moving target. The score panel flashed a red 8.0.

Shu Qiong applauded sincerely. “You’ll definitely pass tomorrow’s exam! Student Yan, you’ve graduated!”

Yan Xiangyu put away the gun, took off her goggles, and walked toward Shu Qiong. “Teacher Shu taught well.”

“Modesty, modesty,” Shu Qiong waved her off, returning the gun to its rack. “Go back?”

“Okay.”

The two walked through the shooting range corridor, leaving the training area that remained brightly lit even late at night. The building materials provided excellent soundproofing; the moment they stepped out, it felt as if they had instantly traveled from a hot, sweat-soaked place to a silent, boundless starry night.

On the deserted campus path, Shu Qiong didn’t pay attention to where she was walking. She looked up at the sky for a while before saying regretfully, “The light pollution on Capital Star is too severe.”

Yan Xiangyu’s attention had been on Shu Qiong the whole time, but now she also looked up at the night sky. The canopy was a dark blue, with artificial lights radiating from the distance, ruining the deep colors the night should have had. Stars were rare on Capital Star; thick clouds and urban lights blocked their gaze toward things trillions of years away.

“If I had to rate the most miraculous technology in human history, it would have to be interstellar jumping,” Shu Qiong said, her neck aching from looking up. She returned to looking straight ahead and smiled at Yan Xiangyu. “Otherwise, how would people meet and touch someone from trillions of light-years away?”

Yan Xiangyu understood her meaning and thought along those lines: “But if that were the case, humans wouldn’t have colonized so many habitable planets. If everyone lived on the same mother star, we… would still meet.”

Shu Qiong gave a soft laugh. “True. Perhaps that is fate?”

And so, the two “fated” people returned to the dorm with silly smiles on their faces.

In the living room, Gu Tiantian was sitting cross-legged on the small sofa watching a classic romance movie, listening to the two protagonists recite deep, soulful lines. She looked at the door of Dorm 406 as it opened and pressed her slightly red eyes. “Ah, love.”

Su He’yi pulled out a tissue and handed it to her. “Tiantian seems to really long for a beautiful romance. Do you have someone you like?”

With the two of them often being the only ones in 406, they were well-acquainted with each other’s personalities. In Su He’yi’s eyes, Gu Tiantian was the most emotionally delicate and abundant person she had ever met, especially fond of lingering, sentimental literary works. Every time they watched a movie together, Gu Tiantian would always sense or predict the characters’ subtle emotional shifts before her, sighing over them.

Gu Tiantian shook her head. “I only want to be a spectator of love.” As for dating herself, she’d pass.

Then, her eyes lit up as she stared at the two people standing side-by-side at Shu Qiong’s bedroom door.

Su He’yi turned her head with a delay, feeling that Shu Qiong and Yan Xiangyu standing together had a strange sense of harmony. Even though their styles and temperaments were worlds apart, there was no discordance at all. This must be the most beautiful form of friendship…

“This is the ‘love’ I want to see…” Gu Tiantian’s voice drifted over eerily.

Just as Su He’yi was about to speak, she heard Gu Tiantian’s voice again—excited yet suppressed: “Kiss her! Why aren’t they kissing! The tension is so thick it’s practically dripping, and these two are just standing there?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” Gu Tiantian saw something that caused an almost raspy, suppressed scream to come from her throat. The sound was so low it was almost a whisper, quickly masked by the loud dialogue of the movie protagonists.

Su He’yi listened carefully and heard Gu Tiantian frantically whispering something like, “Mom, I knew my CP was real.” The intensity of the emotion and the suppressed volume made Su He’yi worry that Gu Tiantian might accidentally faint.

Frowning at this oddity, Su He’yi instinctively looked over at Shu Qiong and Yan Xiangyu as well. From her angle, she could only see that they were very close. Yan Xiangyu’s back was as calm and upright as ever, though the veins on the hand she pressed against the doorframe showed a slight abnormality.

Shu Qiong’s hand had, at some point, found its way to the back of Yan Xiangyu’s neck, only letting go and pulling back after a while. Su He’yi and Gu Tiantian couldn’t see Shu Qiong’s expression, only noticing that as she withdrew her hand, the tips of her ears flushed a deep crimson. Then she took a step back, appearing to want to close the door.

Yan Xiangyu pursed her lips, the pad of her thumb brushing over the glistening moisture on Shu Qiong’s lip. Her lowered voice was hoarse and lingering: “Goodnight.”

Shu Qiong suddenly parted her lips, her canines lightly nipping the other girl’s finger, leaving a tiny indentation. The small pit in the skin of the finger pad soon vanished, but Yan Xiangyu’s eyes darkened instantly. She stepped forward and lowered her head…

Bang!

Shu Qiong pointed at the other two roommates sitting on the sofa, flashed a smirk at Yan Xiangyu, and shut the door directly.

Yan Xiangyu, having been shut out, listened to the “Goodnight” from inside the room. She shook her head with a slight curve to her lips and turned to leave. She then unexpectedly locked eyes with Su He’yi and Gu Tiantian, who hadn’t managed to look away in time.

The two who were caught eavesdropping looked embarrassed. Although they hadn’t seen anything “substantial,” they felt they should say something at this moment…

Yan Xiangyu, however, wasn’t embarrassed at all. She gave a nod of acknowledgment to her two roommates across the room and sauntered back to her own room.

Su He’yi looked at the obvious, undisguisable expression of joy on Yan Xiangyu’s face and thought blankly to herself: Am I really just that dense? Can watching a few more romance movies fix this?