Is It Really That Hard to Be the Big Brother of Two Top-Alpha Twins? - Chapter 9

“Why aren’t you wearing the clothes I bought for you?” Zhou Pei glanced at Chen Luan, who was dressed rather mismatched, and opened the car door invitingly.
With people constantly coming and going at the school gate, it wasn’t exactly appropriate to linger there dressed like that, so Chen Luan simply got in.
“It’s my first day at work—at a military academy, no less. If I showed up in that flashy outfit, were you planning to make me a celebrity on the school forum?”
“My oversight,” Zhou Pei admitted with a smile, handing over a familiar-looking gift box.
It was identical to the last one.
“I brought another today. Consider it a small gift to celebrate your new job.”
Chen Luan looked at the box with amusement. “Are you trying to play some kind of Nikki dress-up game with me?”
“…What’s a Nikki?”
“Nothing—just an ancient game from ages ago.”
He opened the box.
Inside was a champagne-gold silk shirt with a faint ginkgo leaf pattern, a beautifully layered poet’s collar, gold-embroidered ribbons that crisscrossed from collarbone to chest, and a row of gold-pearl buttons at the cuffs.
Below it lay a matching pair of white trousers.
“You still trying to court me?” Chen Luan asked, arching a brow.
“If you really can’t accept that, then let’s just be friends,” Zhou Pei replied easily. “It’s normal for friends to give each other gifts, isn’t it?”
Wearing that ill-fitting high school uniform all the time wasn’t ideal anyway—and if he accidentally got someone else’s pheromones on Jiang Ling’s clothes before returning them, that kid would probably lose his mind.
Too lazy to overanalyze Zhou Pei’s intentions, Chen Luan just changed into the new shirt.
If Zhou Pei said they were friends, then so be it.
To be fair, Zhou Pei had a good eye for clothes.
Once Chen Luan took off his slightly ridiculous uniform and slipped into the ornate new outfit, his entire presence shifted—his refined, languid demeanor paired with half-lidded eyes made him look like a proud, lazy Persian cat basking in sunlight.
“You’re hurt,” Zhou Pei said, noticing the crude bandage peeking from beneath his sleeve.
A glimpse while Chen Luan was changing had revealed the carelessly wrapped dressing.
“A teaching accident—just a scrape.”
“You bandaged it yourself?”
“No.” Chen Luan shook his head, the image of Jiang Ling’s annoyed yet helpless expression flashing through his mind. His lips curved faintly. “My brother did it.”
Zhou Pei raised an eyebrow. “You’ve gotten that close to them now?”
Hadn’t their relationship been pretty bad before?
“Oh, they’ve reformed. We’re good brothers now,” Chen Luan said lazily, leaning back against the seat, eyes closed as he spun the excuse without effort.
Zhou Pei could tell he was being perfunctory, but didn’t press further.
“What do you want to eat? You decide today.”
Chen Luan thought for a moment.
“I heard there’s a really good Liang Shifu chopped chili beef noodle shop on Minghuai Road.”
The luxury car weaved through the streets and alleys, drove out of the city center, and finally stopped at the entrance of a narrow alley. Zhou Pei looked incredulously at the street lined with food stalls and crowded with people, then turned to Chen Luan.
“You brought me here to eat street food?”
“Eat or not? If not, go back. I’m hungry.” Chen Luan didn’t even turn his head and stepped straight into the crowd.
Zhou Pei looked at the bustling crowd, then at his carefully tailored, expensive suit, and gritted his teeth. “Fine. Eat. Just—slow down!”
By the time Zhou Pei, enduring the thick smells all around, sat exhausted on a bench by the street, he was practically ready to give up.
He honestly thought he’d never come to a place like this in his life.
“Number forty-seven! Two bowls of beef noodles with eggs! Help yourselves! Two bottles of soda are in the fridge—grab them yourselves!”
The bald, fat vendor, spatula flying in hand, shouted without even looking up.
“Coming,” Chen Luan replied. He stood and returned moments later with two steaming bowls of noodles, wearing his haute couture tuxedo shirt, with two bottles of chilled soda tucked under his arm.
He handed Zhou Pei a pair of disposable chopsticks, kept one for himself, picked up a soda, and paused when he saw the logo—then smiled.
“Oh, Ice Cave. Does this brand still exist?”
Two hundred years ago, back in the underground base, Ice Cave was already a well-known soda brand.
In an era of scarcity, the soda had a mediocre taste and a heavy industrial aftertaste, but it was better than nothing.
The most relaxing moment for soldiers returning from missions had been lying in camp, chewing insect protein biscuits, drinking soda, chatting, and imagining what life would be like once humanity drove those damned alien monsters off Earth.
There had been a kid in his team named Wang Xiaodou, crazy about soda. He spent all his mission points, aside from living expenses, on it.
Later, he died shortly after turning seventeen. He’d been impaled through the tail by a wild beast right in front of Chen Luan, and before he died, he’d asked Chen Luan to bring him a few bottles of soda when he visited his grave.
Chen Luan remembered his favorite flavor—pineapple.
“You like this?”
Zhou Pei’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“Me? I’m fine. I drink whatever.” Chen Luan paused. “My… friend liked it.”
No one from the upper class drank such cheap soda, but Zhou Pei understood. Chen Luan had lived in the lower districts before being adopted by the Jiang family.
Zhou Pei opened the bottle and took a sip; the artificial flavor made him frown, and he set it down without touching it again.
The beef noodles, though, were good—chewy noodles, generous toppings. Zhou Pei managed to eat half a bowl.
The two finished in silence, then got up to leave.
Before heading out, Chen Luan bought two more bottles of soda—pineapple flavor.
“Where are you going? Back to school?” Zhou Pei asked.
“Back to the Jiang residence. I have the afternoon off.”
“That’s perfect. My friend just opened a shooting club. Care to join me?”
Chen Luan looked up, holding his soda.
“He said they’ve got a batch of antiques—actual wartime weapons from the underground bases. Repaired and still functional.”
Base weapons?
That caught Chen Luan’s attention.
“Sure.”
The club was in the western suburbs of the Aurora District, and the venue was large and well-kept.
Waiters in vests and suits had been waiting by the door.
“Young Master Zhou,” one greeted warmly, taking Zhou Pei’s coat. Then, noticing Chen Luan, he asked, “And this gentleman is…?”
“My surname is Chen.”
“Yes, Young Master Chen. Would you like me to store your belongings for you?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Did Young Master Zhou bring someone today?”
A clear, lively voice echoed from afar.
A woman in a bright red dress descended the stairs in red-soled heels, smiling.
“Wow, what a handsome young man!” The rich scent of roses drifted over, cool and sharp like morning mist.
She poked Zhou Pei’s shoulder. “So, you’ve got a new lover, Young Master Zhou? Much better looking than the last one.”
“Just a friend,” Chen Luan replied.
The woman blinked, surprised, and turned to Zhou Pei.
Zhou Pei nodded, gently removing her hand. “Your perfume’s too strong, Wu Ning. Wear less next time. He’s interested in your new antiques, so I brought him along.”
“I can wear as much as I want—what’s it to you? Next time I’ll pour a whole bottle and suffocate you.”
She turned back to Chen Luan, eyes lighting up. “You like antique firearms too?” She extended her hand. “Wu Ning. Twenty-seven. B-grade alpha. Pheromones: morning dew rose… Sorry, I’ve been to too many blind dates recently—I’m used to introducing myself like this. Ah, you’re a beta? You probably can’t smell it, huh? Don’t worry, my perfume smells exactly like my pheromones.”
Chen Luan lightly shook her hand. “Hello. Chen Luan.”
“The name sounds familiar.” Wu Ning studied him closely. “Hmm… I think I’ve seen you before.”
Then she suddenly slapped her forehead. “Ah! You’re that kid from the Jiang family, right? You’re with Zhou Pei now? Not playing with that brat Zhou Jing anymore?”
Before Chen Luan could respond, she grabbed his wrist. “Good! Zhou Jing’s done for anyway. Come on, let’s go play with guns!”
“As long as you like antique firearms, we’re already friends!”
Wu Ning’s sudden enthusiasm left Chen Luan momentarily stunned, and he was half-dragged toward the underground armory. Zhou Pei followed behind.
The vast basement gleamed under bright lights—rows of cabinets filled with all kinds of firearms, their cold metallic sheen reflecting brilliantly.
Wu Ning led Chen Luan to the far end.
He immediately recognized the familiar weapons on the shelves.
Those black and gray firearms of various models—now called “antiques” by modern people—were the very ones that had accompanied him until the end of his life.
They had stood shoulder to shoulder, protecting humanity’s last home—until death.
“I can…”
“Want to touch them again?”
Chen Luan’s gaze was locked on the weapons, his hand pressed against the glass, his voice hoarse without him realizing it.
“Come on! I’ve got something good!”
Wu Ning noticed his intense stare and, realizing his genuine interest, beckoned him over.
She went behind the cabinet, opened a hidden compartment, and hauled out an exquisite leather case nearly as tall as herself from a large safe.
Inside was a massive sniper rifle—half a person’s height, with a thick barrel and heavy frame.
“I bought this for a fortune at an auction a few days ago! Guns like this are unbelievably rare!”
Wu Ning proudly patted the gleaming metal barrel.
“The experts said its original user was likely a powerful male warrior. According to them, if a mech pilot could pierce a beast’s scales during the war, this person could kill it outright with one shot using a large-caliber sniper round!”
“There’s even something engraved here— ‘JMM!’ Probably his name or codename.”
“No.”
Chen Luan’s gaze fell on the gunstock.
“Not a man,” he said quietly.
Wu Ning paused. “What?”
“Not some strong man.” Chen Luan crouched down, staring blankly at the weapon, his eyes faintly misting.
“It was a woman—only a little over 1.6 meters tall…”