Is It Really That Hard to Be the Big Brother of Two Top-Alpha Twins? - Chapter 14

Aside from his duties as a teaching assistant for this lecture, Chen Luan had no other classes that afternoon.
So, after the lecture, he simply left work without taking the military academy’s vehicle home.
It was dinner break, and the school gates were open, allowing nearby day students to go home for their meals.
Chen Luan was soon coaxed by several children into playing basketball, including the one who had earlier run up asking for candy, a boy named Qiao Zhile.
Chen Luan wasn’t actually good at basketball, but the kids were so enthusiastic that he could only force himself to take a few shots, which he completely missed. He shrugged, as if to say he really wasn’t good at it.
Jiang Ling turned to him in confusion.
“Didn’t you join the basketball team in high school?”
Chen Luan: “…”
“It’s been too long since I played. I’m rusty,” he said by way of excuse.
“It’s normal to be rusty—you’ll get better with practice,” Qiao Zhile chimed in. He squeezed in closer, holding the ball and trying to grab Chen Luan’s arm.
“Come on, bro! You taught us how to play pool before, now we’ll teach you how to play basketball!”
Before he could touch him, though, his hand was slapped away.
“Get out of the way. Call me brother if you’re my brother,” Jiang Ling said, blocking his path. “You’re not even that good yourself. How are you going to teach him?”
“Oh, I’m just playing for fun.”
“No need.” Jiang Ling pulled Chen Luan out of the crowd, spinning the ball in his hand. “I’ll teach you.”
Chen Luan wanted to say that he was already getting old—his arms and legs couldn’t keep up anymore—but Jiang Ling seemed genuinely eager to teach him.
To preserve the hard-won harmony between them, he didn’t want to spoil the boy’s enthusiasm. So, he nodded.
“Alright.”
The two found an empty court. Jiang Ling went to buy two bottles of water, unscrewed one, and handed it to Chen Luan.
“You’re quite considerate, Jiang Ling.” Chen Luan raised an eyebrow at the open bottle of ice water in his hand, half-teasing, half-flattered.
“Drink it or don’t—it’s up to you. If you don’t want it, give it back.”
“I’ll drink it. My dear brother twisted the cap for me—of course, I’ll drink it.”
Chen Luan dodged Jiang Ling’s attempt to snatch the bottle back, took a couple of sips, and said, “By the way, where’s your brother? Where did he go?”
Jiang Ling’s hand, still twisting his own bottle cap, paused slightly before he replied, “He went to the auditorium. There’s a debate on Wednesday—he’s there for rehearsal. Why do you care what he’s doing? Are we still playing or not?”
“Come on.”
Jiang Ling played beautifully—his movements clean, fluid, and sharp. Only then did Chen Luan realize that Jiang Ling was actually the captain of his grade’s basketball team.
Most of the kids here were his teammates.
It was just that Chen Luan probably, maybe, truly didn’t have any basketball talent.
Even standing right under the hoop, he could only make three out of ten shots, which left Jiang Ling completely exasperated.
After a chaotic round of running and jumping, a tired Chen Luan sat down on the sidelines to catch his breath.
He watched Jiang Ling untie his sports headband, wrap it around his wrist, and pull a small pack of wet wipes from his jacket pocket. From a distance, Jiang Ling tossed it to him.
“Catch.”
“Thanks.”
Chen Luan caught it easily, pulling one out to wipe the fine sweat from his forehead and nose before carefully cleaning the dust from his palms.
The setting sun poured golden light through the clouds, casting a warm glow over everything. In the fading light, Chen Luan’s eyes gleamed with an orange-gold hue.
He was so absorbed in watching the laughing, noisy boys playing under the sunset that he didn’t notice the reflection of his own figure in their eyes.
But the peaceful moment was suddenly shattered by a sharp, urgent alarm.
Chen Luan stood up, turning toward the direction of the commotion. Students were running out in panic.
“What happened? What’s going on?” Jiang Ling grabbed a classmate.
It seemed to be coming from the direction of the auditorium.
“Huff… the auditorium! The auditorium—” The child leaned over, panting heavily, pointing behind him.
“What about the auditorium?” Chen Luan and Jiang Ling’s expressions both darkened.
The child finally caught his breath, face pale and eyes wide with terror.
“Over there—the auditorium! A teacher suddenly went berserk! He injured several people, and—Jiang Xun! Jiang Xun is still inside!”
Jiang Ling’s face changed instantly. He shook off Chen Luan’s hand and dashed toward the building.
“Jiang Ling! It’s dangerous!” Chen Luan frowned, pulling him back.
“I’ll go. You stay somewhere safe and wait for me!”
Jiang Ling looked straight into Chen Luan’s eyes.
“That’s my brother!”
“I’m your brother too.”
Chen Luan pulled Jiang Ling toward his classmate. “If he’s already entered the mutation stage of the Wasteland Disease, going there is suicide! Listen to me—wait for me to come back.”
“Don’t worry. Nothing will happen.”
Chen Luan reached out, wanting to pat Jiang Ling’s head, but for some reason, hesitated. His hand shifted and finally came to rest on Jiang Ling’s shoulder instead. Then he turned and went against the flow of people, quickly disappearing.
“Let’s go, Jiang Ling. Someone’s already called the police.”
His classmate tugged on his arm, but couldn’t move him.
“Jiang Ling?”
Jiang Ling turned to look in the direction Chen Luan had gone, his lips pressed tight, fists clenched.
He only hesitated for a moment before saying, “You go hide somewhere safe. Don’t worry about me.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and ran after Chen Luan.
“Hey! Jiang Ling—!”
All that was left was the boy’s back as he disappeared into the crowd without looking back.
On the other side.
Chen Luan moved against the panicked stream of students until he reached the source of the commotion—the auditorium.
Screams echoed as students fled through the main entrance, while school security and teachers struggled to organize an evacuation.
Chen Luan helped a fallen student to his feet, noticing the debate team badge pinned to his chest.
“Have you seen Jiang Xun? Where is he?”
“I… I don’t know. When I came out, he was still in Hall 5.”
“What’s going on inside?”
The student choked, waving his hands frantically. “Bl00d… so much bl00d. Teacher Feng suddenly—”
He stopped mid-sentence, as if recalling something unbearable. His throat worked convulsively, and he turned away, retching.
Unable to get more information, Chen Luan led him toward the evacuation area, then turned back toward the auditorium entrance.
“Hey! You—are you a student’s parent? Don’t go in! It’s dangerous!” someone shouted.
“We’ve already called the police! The special task force will be here in ten minutes!”
Chen Luan ignored them.
He had handled two similar incidents back at the base—cases of patients turning violent from Wasteland Disease. Once the mutation stage began, tearing someone apart alive was just a blink away.
If the task force really got involved… the Jiang family’s feast might as well begin immediately.
He hurried inside the now-empty auditorium, following the signs toward Hall 5 on the second floor.
Half-finished decorations lay scattered across tables, remnants of earlier event preparations.
Finding no proper weapon, Chen Luan finally grabbed a large pair of art shears from the crafts table.
As soon as he entered the stairwell, a sharp stench of bl00d hit him.
Around the corner lay a mangled human figure, a huge gash running across its chest and abdomen—its body hollowed out.
The once-blue school uniform was soaked in a dark, reddish-brown. The eyes stared wide open in frozen terror.
Chen Luan approached silently and gently closed them.
Judging by the wound, the infection had likely entered the degenerate stage.
He moved carefully up the wall toward the second floor, the suffocating smell of bl00d growing heavier.
The hall above was a nightmare—bl00d splattered everywhere, four corpses scattered across the floor. Three wore school uniforms. One wore a teacher’s coat.
From the shadows in the northwest corner came a deep, beast-like panting.
Chen Luan slowed his steps, gripping the scissors tightly.
Meanwhile, Jiang Xun and three classmates were hiding inside the storage room in that same northwest corner. They had sprayed the air thick with lavender-scented air freshener and used tables and chairs to jam the door.
Through the small window, they could see the thing lurking outside.
Though it still wore a school uniform, it had lost nearly all traces of humanity.
Its body had been unnaturally stretched, its neck hunched forward, limbs long and thin, covered in scales. Scythe-like bone blades jutted from its arms, sharp bone clusters grew from the back of its head, and its face had warped into something insectoid—compound eyes gleaming, a cross-shaped mouth filled with layers of jagged teeth.
Behind Jiang Xun, a handsome boy sat trembling, both hands clamped over his mouth, tears streaming down his face.
They all held their breath.
The monster crouched on the door, sniffing the faint scent of food inside—but the overwhelming lavender confused it.
It wasn’t certain.
The glass window was covered by clutter, blocking its view.
After a moment of eerie stillness, it reached down, picked up an overturned vase, and hurled it at the window.
Crash!
“Ahhhhh—!”
A panicked scream burst out from inside.
“…Food…?”
Bang—
Boom—
The monster began slamming violently against the door.
The students inside turned pale, scrambling to brace the entrance.
But it was too late.
The thin wooden door gave way after just two heavy blows. The lock snapped, the furniture toppled aside—leaving them exposed under the creature’s shadow.
“Help! Help! I don’t want to die—”
The handsome boy who had screamed clutched Jiang Xun’s sleeve, sobbing uncontrollably, tears and snot mixing on his face.
“…Found you.”
The monster’s neck twisted at an impossible angle as it squeezed into the doorway, most of its body pressed against the wall.
Cold sweat dripped down Jiang Xun’s back. He forced himself to stay calm, scanning for an escape route—
—but before he could act, something shoved him from behind.
He stumbled forward, straight toward the monster.
“I’m sorry, Jiang Xun! I’m sorry! I want to live! I still have to take the Federal Military Academy entrance exam—I want to join the Pioneer Fleet! I… I can’t die here!!”
The desperate voice cried out behind him, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps.
The monster tilted its head, compound eyes glinting as it raised its scythe-like limbs toward the “food” that had fallen right in front of it.
Jiang Xun’s pupils contracted sharply. His breath caught in his throat.
…Damn it.
There was no escape.