Is It Really That Hard to Be the Big Brother of Two Top-Alpha Twins? - Chapter 7

Chen Luan piloted a fourth-generation mech back then.
At that time, very few people had differentiated their secondary gender, so the concept of advanced mech requiring pheromone guidance didn’t exist.
Whether it was an F-type mech cobbled together from scrap parts or an S-type mech used by battlefield commanders, anyone could pilot one as long as a neural network connection could be successfully established.
Mechs below Rank B lacked pheromone guidance networks. Chen Luan, a mech combat instructor accustomed to modifying mechs according to battlefield conditions and intimately familiar with mech structures, had already mastered the operation of the new generation after just one session with the manual.
After all, while materials, weapons, and engines had been updated countless times, the underlying logic of mech control remained unchanged.
The academy naturally didn’t allow these pampered young masters and ladies—too young to even take the mech pilot exam—to pilot real machines right away. Instead, they were brought to the simulation training room to gain basic operational experience in the simulators.
Fastening the seatbelts inside a mech was cumbersome, with various straps hanging in every direction. Most students couldn’t manage it and needed teaching assistants to help them one by one.
The most popular assistant was, of course, Chen Luan.
For no other reason than his good looks.
In any era, good looks are paramount.
Chen Luan had been an instructor at the base for eight years, training batch after batch of students and sending off countless young lives that had once passed through his hands.
So, every time a recruit boarded a mech for the first time, Chen Luan was calm yet reverent as he helped them fasten their seatbelts.
In a wartime era where the mortality rate for mech warriors was as high as 70%, this represented a path almost certainly without return.
Faced with the iron-hard armor of the beasts, humanity had no choice but to send mech warriors to fight head-on in their metal shells.
Fifteen or sixteen was the age when new mech warriors first boarded during the war, so Chen Luan couldn’t help recalling the damp air and dim lighting of the underground base—and the children he had sent out of the training camp who never came back.
Stopping and starting again, as Chen Luan prepared to check another student’s seatbelt, he heard a familiar voice.
“No need, I can’t possibly make a mistake with something this simple.”
Looking up, Chen Luan saw Jiang Ling raising his face, gazing down at him with those beautiful eyes.
“No,” Chen Luan refused. “This is my duty.”
After carefully checking Jiang Ling’s seatbelt, Chen Luan suddenly chuckled, reached over, and pulled a thin strap from behind his lower back. He raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t make a mistake, huh?”
Jiang Ling: “…”
Damn it, where did that come from? He must’ve missed it—it probably wasn’t fastened properly and had fallen loose.
Chen Luan pinched the metal buckle and gently tapped his head.
“If you’re not serious now, you’ll lose your life on the battlefield.”
“The war ended eight hundred years ago, Chen Luan. At most, there are just a few residual contamination zones left,” Jiang Ling retorted, covering his head, trying to save face—but then saw Chen Luan suddenly lean in, his hands moving toward his lower back.
Even though betas had no pheromones, Jiang Ling could still smell a faint scent—like misty grass and forest air—when Chen Luan got close.
“Ouch—it tickles! Chen Luan, what are you doing?!” Jiang Ling’s face grew hot. He squirmed, but Chen Luan pressed his head down.
“Tsk, don’t move.”
With a “click,” the faint touch at his lower back disappeared. The seatbelt was secured.
“All done.” Chen Luan clapped his hands, looked at the neatly fastened belt with satisfaction, and walked away without looking back.
Jiang Ling stood frozen for at least half a minute before blushing furiously and shouting, “Damn it! Is he crazy?! He actually dared to touch my head!!!”
Jiang Xun was seated directly behind him. When Chen Luan turned, he was met with the same face again.
Jiang Xun looked at Chen Luan, and Chen Luan looked back.
“I already fastened it. There shouldn’t be any problem.”
Jiang Xun lowered his eyes, glanced aside, and allowed Chen Luan to bend down to check—straightening his seatbelt and uniform.
Chen Luan’s skin was pale, and the faint blue veins on his neck were visible beneath it.
A vibrant life force seemed to pulse there—something Jiang Xun had never noticed before.
As Chen Luan leaned closer—closer than he usually tolerated—he noticed a bright red mole on the right side of his neck, just behind his ear.
It seemed to rest over a major artery, faintly throbbing.
Did he have that before? He couldn’t quite remember.
“No problem at all. You’re very serious.” Chen Luan nodded approvingly, then glanced at Jiang Ling, who was glaring at him with a teasing expression.
“Oh, much more serious than some people~”
“Chen Luan!!”
Jiang Ling’s furious voice shattered the air behind him.
Chen Luan bolted.
Hmm, teasing kids was surprisingly fun.
After everyone familiarized themselves with the simulator’s basic controls, it was time for the real thing.
The light training mechs used in trial lessons had two cockpits—one main and one co-pilot. The co-pilot could take control from the main pilot’s seat at any time in an emergency.
As luck would have it, Jiang Ling was once again assigned to board the training mech with Chen Luan.
“Hey, no mistakes this time,” Chen Luan said, hooking an arm around Jiang Ling’s seatbelt and raising an eyebrow.
“I won’t make the same mistake twice,” Jiang Ling shot back, swatting his hand away.
This guy’s been getting more and more annoying since he came back from the hospital!
“Ignition—start. There are twelve basic ground maneuvers and one aerial activity. I need to evaluate whether you’re qualified for the flight experience.” Chen Luan sat down and put on his sensor helmet. “If you don’t meet the requirements, I’m not taking you up.”
“Okay, okay, you’re so long-winded.”
This generation of mechs relied on synchronized control between neural signals and muscular movement. Any imbalance between the two could result in jerky motion—or even total system failure.
Most students could barely keep their mechs standing; some had even experienced complete control shutdowns that left their mechs stalled and broken down.
At that level, participating in aerial activity would be too dangerous. Those students were required to stop after completing the ground training.
Compared to the rest, Chen Luan found Jiang Ling exceptionally talented. After only two hours in the simulator, he could already perform all twelve basic maneuvers perfectly in an actual mech.
Knowing he’d passed, Jiang Ling finished the last ground maneuver, tilted his chin up at Chen Luan, and looked at him with sparkling eyes—like a triumphant puppy who’d just won a fight.
“Hm, impressive,” Chen Luan said generously, clapping his hands as he took control of the mech. “Hold on tight. I’ll take you flying.”
“Who wants to be your little brother!” Jiang Ling muttered, rubbing away the goosebumps on his arms.
The deep-blue mech roared to life, thrusters igniting as it lifted off the ground, leaving a dazzling trail of light behind.
Despite being a cumbersome C-class trainer, it moved as light as air in Chen Luan’s hands. Each dive, climb, and turn was as smooth and elegant as a bird in flight.
For the first time, Jiang Ling experienced the view of the world from inside a flying mech—and saw Chen Luan piloting one for the first time.
Though Chen Luan sat casually in the cockpit, his posture relaxed and even a little lazy, he controlled the mech with seamless precision, as if the machine were an extension of his own body.
It was as if…
he had been flying mechs like this for years.
Chen Luan’s control was so steady that after several loops and maneuvers in midair, Jiang Ling felt no motion sickness at all.
“Want to try? I can teach you.”
“Yes!”
Since it was a beginner’s session, Chen Luan naturally didn’t risk staying at high altitudes. He descended to about sixty meters above the ground before handing over partial control.
“Now activate the thrusters—good. Slowly ease your grip,” Chen Luan instructed, patting Jiang Ling’s arm. “Relax your muscles. You’re too tense. What, not familiar with your own arm? You’re making the mech look like a wild beast barely tamed.”
“…I never knew you were so sharp-tongued,” Jiang Ling gritted out, but still obediently relaxed his arm.
[Beep—Impact Warning! An organism is rapidly approaching!]
[Beep—Impact Warning…]
A red alert flashed across the control panel, bathing the cockpit in crimson light.
“What the—what’s happening?!”
Jiang Ling looked up just in time to see a mech hurtling toward them, completely out of control. Its weapon bay opened, the energy cannon already charging with blinding light.
Even training mechs loaded only with practice rounds could cause serious damage at this range!
Jiang Ling froze. His face went pale as his neural signals spiked and coordination collapsed—the mech instantly lost control and began to plummet.
At the same time, two dark-blue training missiles shot straight toward them!
A wave of alarmed shouts erupted outside the arena. Someone was already calling for emergency medics.
“Chen—” Jiang Ling choked out, but Chen Luan cut him off.
“What’s the panic?”
In an instant, Chen Luan’s fingers flew across the controls, faster than Jiang Ling’s eyes could follow.
[Thruster Reboot Initiated]
[Landing Stabilizer Activated]
[Landing Shield Deployed]
[Emergency Landing System Engaged]
[Cockpit Safety Protocol Level 3 Online]
[Ejection Sequence—Standby]
[…]
A cascade of system commands filled the screen in rapid succession.
The mech, which had been spiraling helplessly downward, suddenly twisted midair, its thrusters reigniting just in time to dodge the incoming missiles by a hair’s breadth.
“Boom—!”
The two training rounds collided, their explosive energy scattering metal debris that lodged into Chen Luan’s mech’s landing stabilizer.
[Landing Stabilizer Malfunction!]
[System Rebooting…]
[Prepare for Hard Landing!]
Chen Luan reached over and gave Jiang Ling, still stunned, a sharp slap on the forehead. “What are you spacing out for? Protect your head!”
But it was already too late.
Without hesitation, Chen Luan threw his arm around Jiang Ling and pressed him down, shielding him completely.
A deafening crash echoed across the arena. Dust surged in a violent wave—
And when it finally settled, the training mech that had nearly crashed to its doom was kneeling on one knee, cockpit intact, its emergency lights glowing faintly red.