Why Do All the Villains Look at Me Like This? - Chapter 93

“Beautiful?”

What exactly is beautiful about this?!

Meng Xuexiao wasn’t a fool. No sane person would set off fireworks on a battlefield. This so-called “firework” was likely the last lingering heat from an explosion.

The fireworks in the sky hadn’t completely faded yet. Meng Xuexiao squinted, studying them. If the explosion occurred at that altitude, no one could have survived, right?

It could only be a total annihilation.

The vessels flying overhead at this moment were either rescue starships from the Military Department or private escape craft belonging to major families—large transport vehicles capable of carrying many people.

How many lives have been lost…?

Yet now, they had been reduced to ashes in the explosion, vanishing without a trace.

In the time it took Meng Xuexiao to blink, the fireworks had completely dissipated, leaving no trace behind. If he hadn’t been certain he’d actually seen them, and if Yao Huai hadn’t commented on them, he might have dismissed it as a hallucination.

Witnessing such a scene left Meng Xuexiao feeling uneasy. He began to consider whether he should call Shen Zekai.

Though they had only just parted ways, and though he knew the Shen Family’s starships were essentially warships—so even if someone smuggled several tons of explosives aboard, it might not detonate…

He still couldn’t shake his worry. At the very least, he wanted to confirm Shen Zekai’s safety.

They were friends, after all.

Meng Xuexiao pulled out his communicator and quickly dialed Shen Zekai’s number. The communicator immediately emitted a long, drawn-out “beep-beep” sound—the standard tone before every connection. It was perfectly normal, yet for some reason, Meng Xuexiao felt this connection was taking an unusually long time.

While waiting for the call to connect, he unconsciously glanced toward Yao Huai.

Just as Meng Xuexiao couldn’t explain why the connection felt so prolonged, he couldn’t explain why he was looking at Yao Huai right now. It was as if some inexplicable premonition had taken hold.

He had a nagging feeling that Yao Huai was about to snatch the communicator from his hand.

After all, Yao Huai and Shen Zekai weren’t on good terms, and they had just clashed moments ago.

But Yao Huai merely watched, showing no intention of approaching. He even silently inquired whether Meng Xuexiao wanted him to turn away to avoid suspicion.

This is so strange… so utterly strange!

An ominous premonition threatened to engulf Meng Xuexiao.

But in the very next moment, accompanied by a drawn-out “beep—,” the call connected.

“Hello, is this Meng Xuexiao?” The voice was listless, but unmistakably Shen Zekai’s.

Meng Xuexiao felt as if he’d swallowed a calming pill, his entire body instantly relaxing.

“It’s nothing urgent, really. I just wanted to check on you guys. After all… you know, the Alien Beast attacks haven’t completely stopped yet.”

Hearing Meng Xuexiao’s concern, Shen Zekai’s mood seemed to lift slightly. “Don’t worry, we’ve already returned to the Shen Family estate.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Meng Xuexiao said, his lips curving into a smile.

But then, as if remembering something, he cocked his ear and listened intently to the voices on the other end of the line.

It wasn’t just Shen Zekai’s voice, there was also a cacophony of human voices—

“Has the Shen Family’s medical team arrived yet? My roommate’s about to die!”

“Treat the students first! Treat the students first! We teachers can hold on!”

“What’s the Federal Military Department saying about this Alien Beast attack? Should we ask Wu Zian? He must know something!”

Meng Xuexiao recognized many of the voices, especially the older student who was desperate to get medical help for his roommate. He had heard that student before when he refused Shen Zekai’s invitation to board the Starship, leaving a very strong impression.

It seemed these people were indeed together now and had already reached a safe location.

Completely relieved, Meng Xuexiao exchanged a few more pleasantries with Shen Zekai before ending the call.

So, had he really been overthinking things?

It was true… when people are stressed, their minds tend to wander. Just moments ago, he had suspected Yao Huai’s behavior, convinced there was something suspicious going on.

As he thought this, he glanced at Yao Huai, who had turned his back slightly, deliberately distancing himself from the conversation.

Watching Yao Huai’s silent figure, Meng Xuexiao felt a pang of guilt.

He walked over and gently tugged at Yao Huai’s sleeve. “I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

The man seemed surprised by the apology, turning to look at Meng Xuexiao with a hint of confusion in his eyes.

Under that gaze, Meng Xuexiao’s shame doubled, his voice shrinking to a whisper. “I’m sorry. I… I suspected you just now.”

Yao Huai looked even more bewildered, “Suspected me of what?”

“Uh, I…” Meng Xuexiao wished he could vanish into the ground. He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. “I thought Shen Zekai and the others…”

…might have gotten into trouble.

“Oh, that’s all? It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve never been on good terms with Shen Zekai anyway, so it’s natural I’d be the first suspect.”

The man genuinely seemed unconcerned. He reached out with his large, bony hand and gently patted Meng Xuexiao’s head, giving it a light squeeze.

“So, there’s no need to apologize.”

“If you hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t even have known.”

Meng Xuexiao kept his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly, gripping his clothes. He offered no resistance, docile and obedient like a fluffy-fleeced sheep.

The young man lowered his gaze, “But we’re partners, right?”

“This is a long-term relationship,” he continued, “and I don’t believe there should be any barriers between us. At the very least… we need to be honest with each other.”

“Therefore,” he said, bowing deeply toward the man, “I sincerely apologize.”

“Very well,” Yao Huai replied, unable to resist ruffling Meng Xuexiao’s hair again. He chewed on the word “long-term” as he spoke. “Then I accept your apology.”

At that moment, the young man’s eyelids remained lowered, preventing him from noticing the fleeting flicker of darkness in the man’s eyes.

It occupied only a small corner, yet it carried an intense, lingering reluctance.

Like a dirty, mangy dog, knowing this was its last glimpse of its master, leaping against the window, clinging desperately, gazing at the figure it would never touch again.

If Meng Xuexiao had looked up then, he would have recognized a familiar trace within that tiny patch of darkness.

Because that was Shen Zekai’s gaze.

Unfortunately, he didn’t see it.

Yao Huai slowly raised a hand and impatiently tapped the eye, his lips moving silently—

“Alright, you’ve been staring long enough. You must have seen enough by now.”

“Don’t you think so, Shen Zekai?”

The moment the words left his lips, the expression that didn’t belong to him vanished as if forcibly sealed away.

“What’s wrong?”

Meng Xuexiao seemed to finally notice something was off, but the Silver-Haired Man had already lowered his hand back to his side.

“Nothing, just—I think I’ve found our target,” Yao Huai said, suddenly looking in a particular direction.

Target?

Does that mean Zhuoyue?

Meng Xuexiao immediately set aside the now-safe Shen Zekai and followed Yao Huai’s gaze. He saw a massive, minimalist building, its imposing presence amplified by the enormous emblem of the Federal Military Department.

This was the logistics department of the Federal Military Department, storing a vast array of supplies: food, clothing, and the essential energy sources for mecha. These resources were gathered here before being transported to the Federal Military Department headquarters, making this a critical strategic location.

If Meng Xuexiao were Zhuoyue, invading the Federation, he would prioritize capturing this site. Not only would it cripple the enemy’s energy reserves, but it would also secure control of the most vital wartime resource: food.

“Then we need to get there immediately!” Meng Xuexiao said, his voice urgent. He took several quick steps forward, but a voice from behind stopped him.

“Wait.”

The voice was calm, measured, almost excessively composed.

“Look at you, so impatient.” It was the sound of wheelchair wheels turning.

Meng Xuexiao stiffened involuntarily as the other man approached. The man reached out to straighten Meng Xuexiao’s collar, which had become disheveled during his hasty movements. The man’s fingers were icy cold, like those of a cold-blooded creature. When they accidentally brushed against Meng Xuexiao’s collarbone, the young man gasped sharply, his chest rising and falling slightly.

Yet he remained cautiously still, not daring to move, his eyes fixed on the crown of the Silver-Haired Man’s head.

Too hasty.

Meng Xuexiao was indeed in a hurry. He wanted to eliminate as many potentially threatening Bosses as possible as quickly as possible, fearing that Yao Huai might one day renege on their agreement and tear up their cooperation with his own hands.

That’s right. Despite Meng Xuexiao’s constant claims of wanting to be honest, he was fundamentally incapable of true honesty. Their partnership suffered from a fatal flaw: inequality.

Yao Huai had offered to help him eliminate Zhuoyue and the others, but he hadn’t specified any reciprocal obligation from Meng Xuexiao. This turned their agreement into a one-sided benefit for Meng Xuexiao.

But this advantage brought him no peace of mind. It represented uncertainty, the constant threat of the agreement being broken at any moment.

Therefore, before Yao Huai could break their pact, Meng Xuexiao wanted to eliminate as many Bosses as possible.

But…

Yao Huai’s recent words, “Slow down,” had planted a seed of doubt in Meng Xuexiao’s mind. Had Yao Huai already discovered his true intentions?

Yao Huai couldn’t have noticed—at least not yet—because he still needed Meng Xuexiao’s help to clear the Bosses.

The more Meng Xuexiao thought about it, the more anxious he became. Holding his breath for so long made his vision gradually fade to white, and even the top of the man’s head was becoming blurry.

“Alright, you can breathe now.”

Through his whitening vision, Meng Xuexiao watched the man lift his head and maneuver the wheelchair forward.

But Meng Xuexiao didn’t move.

Only after rolling half an arm’s length away did the man seem to realize Meng Xuexiao hadn’t followed. He tilted his head in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

Yao Huai seemed genuinely puzzled. His waterfall-like silver hair cascaded from his ear, part of it tangling around his shoulder.

“N-nothing,” Meng Xuexiao stammered, his expression slightly conflicted.

He hurried to catch up, walking level with the man in the wheelchair, his eyelids drooping.

Yao Huai… he really hasn’t noticed.

Meng Xuexiao let out a sigh of relief, his tense shoulders gradually relaxing.