Chapter Eighty-Three: Christmas—After Discharge

"Hey! Hello, everyone! Do you still remember your captain?" In the already noisy room, a door swung open without any attempt at subtlety. Treixi, now restored to her Mingchuan identity, followed closely behind Roger, whose doctor's attire was more than enough to disguise his acquaintance with Mingchuan.

"Hey, you rascal, what took you so long? Even Colt and Winchester are here already." As soon as Mingchuan appeared, the nearest person, Thompson, who had been joking with the others, turned around decisively. After a long period of treatment, they had all regained their vigor, but due to Roger's arrangements, their discharge had been repeatedly postponed. Only today, Christmas Day, were they finally allowed to leave. "What can I say? Without my signature on your discharge forms, you wouldn't be going anywhere... Uh, seems like someone’s missing... Where’s Wenxin?" Mingchuan glanced around and immediately noticed the most pressing issue.

"M-Mingchuan?" A voice came from the other side of the room, where Wenxin, dressed differently from everyone else, stepped forward.

"Hey, hey! It’s me..." In a flash, Wenxin had already landed a punch on Mingchuan’s head. "You rascal, where did you disappear to this time? Why are you so late?"

"Give me a break; I was busy getting your discharge paperwork done." Mingchuan hadn’t brought out the discharge certificates because he had already handed them to Roger for safekeeping. As Treixi’s exclusive steward, Roger effectively managed all affairs for the Welsh Party.

"Heh, the little couple is quarreling, are they? Should I give you some privacy?" Seeing his prince and princess so close, Roger couldn't help but revert to his old self.

"We’re not a couple, not even boyfriend and girlfriend..." Wenxin’s shy, girlish demeanor made everyone around burst into laughter.

"Alright," Mingchuan grinned, "after all this time eating bland hospital food, you must be craving something delicious. Lunch is on me today—let’s eat to our hearts’ content!"

As soon as he said this, those truly greedy "fellows" began to drool.

"Then what are we waiting for? Lead the way!" "Come on, it’s Christmas in London, it’s below freezing outside. Could you all put on some proper winter clothes first?" Indeed, it was December 25th, Christmas, and in London’s northern chill. Hearing this, the others hesitated, realizing they lacked warm clothing.

"Oh! Right, I almost forgot. Since you’re all military, you should have winter uniforms for the cold. Our hospital is attached to the military, so there must be custom-made outfits for you. Best put them on before we go!" Roger had stayed behind precisely to say what Mingchuan couldn’t. Hearing this, Mingchuan sighed, "You’d better bundle up before we leave. As for Wenxin, the winter coat she’s wearing was my gift, a down jacket to keep warm. See you all at the hospital entrance! Wenxin, let’s go!"

Without hesitation, he took Wenxin’s hand and led her toward the hospital’s main entrance, and she let herself be led without resistance.

"Let go! What exactly are you planning?" Only upon reaching the entrance did Wenxin ask shyly.

"This afternoon, let’s go on a date. Right after lunch," Mingchuan smiled.

"A... a date?"

"Yes, it’s not the first time. There’s a special place I want to show you!"

"Alright... I hope you’ll surprise me," Wenxin replied, her cheeks noticeably flushed, though she tried to suppress it.

"Prepare yourself then!"

...

Twenty minutes later, Mingchuan and his group arrived at a club in the Welsh District. The so-called Welsh District was one of the Welsh Party’s strongholds, so most people here were party members or Welsh natives.

"The Green Dragon of Wales, a club with everything you could want. I found this place by chance, but since I have VIP privileges... eat, play, enjoy as you please..." Back on his home turf, even as Mingchuan, Treixi couldn’t help but feel a little proud. The Green Dragon of Wales, in fact...

"Well then, don’t mind if we do!" At these words, Thompson and George rushed in, but were stopped short by a burly man who leveled a gun at them.

"Show your credentials, or get out. Don’t make me shoot." The Berrek M33, a hunting shotgun—at under five meters, nothing could withstand a shot, except perhaps a mech. Even without knowing the weapon, the man’s threat was enough to make them back up a few steps.

"Lower your weapon! Is this how you treat allies?" Mingchuan shouted, recalling what could happen, hoping to prevent the guard from actually firing.

"Yes, sir! Understood!" The guard, apparently tipsy, sobered instantly at the sound of Mingchuan’s voice—he recognized a key figure of the Welsh Party.

"Come on, I’ve booked VIP Room 3. It's about the size of a football field..."

"A football field?!" The others were stunned—this was the life of the wealthy...

"What’s the matter? The Welsh are a bit rich, that’s all. It’s just an extreme capitalist society, not yet a full communist one." Extreme capitalism? The term caught the others off guard—it was known in their era as the stage right before a society breaks through its systemic bottleneck and becomes communist. In the twenty-third century, only Wales had achieved this.

"Go on, have fun! This is a super indoor amusement park beyond normal imagination!" Like the gateway to a magical realm, the room beyond was not a room at all, but a veritable wonderland. A quarter of the space was devoted to water facilities, a corner to tennis courts, surreal VAR games, and even a kitchen.

"Krisch! Is breakfast ready? I brought this bunch out without letting them eat first!" While his teammates dashed off to the VR games, Mingchuan led Wenxin straight to the kitchen.

"As you wish, Your Highness, everything’s already prepared," Krisch replied. Though he knew Mingchuan was the prince, Krisch had long served him—just a chef, perhaps, but a special one, responsible for all the Welsh Party’s catering.

"Here’s your buffet breakfast. Please let us know if you need anything. The Welsh will fulfill any request unconditionally." With a flick, a spread as grand as any buffet appeared behind Krisch, the aroma alone enough to call back the vanished crowd.

"What’s that wonderful smell?" "Hey, how can you eat without us?" "Hey, exactly!" Seeing the group devour the food like hungry wolves, Mingchuan couldn’t help but smile. They were so charmingly naive and innocent—not like him, burdened as he was by all things related to the Welsh Party...

"Mingchuan, I don’t want any of this," Wenxin said, gently leaning on his shoulder as he stared into space.

"Are you hungry? What would you like?"

"Soup dumplings..."

Soup dumplings? That delicacy from the Eastern Union—she really had a craving.

"Soup dumplings? Well, then..." As Krisch was about to start cooking, Mingchuan spoke up, "How about I make them?"

"You?" Krisch was stunned. The prince cooking himself? Unheard of! And making an Eastern Union specialty, no less.

"May I borrow the kitchen?" Mingchuan knew Krisch wouldn’t dare refuse his request. Even if unwilling, he’d have no choice but to comply.

"Very well. Any ingredients you need, I’ll fetch them."

"Would you like to try, Wenxin? I’ll teach you," Mingchuan offered, shattering Krisch’s fantasy of assisting the prince. Machines could make these dumplings, but something vital was always missing compared to handmade ones.

"Teach me? But my cooking skills..." Wenxin blushed, overwhelmed by the prospect.

"It’s fine. Let me be your chef today! Thank you, Chef Krisch." Used to giving orders, Mingchuan felt completely at ease. Hand in hand, he led Wenxin to the kitchen. Familiar with the space, Mingchuan quickly gathered the tools for soup dumplings, and once Krisch had provided all the ingredients, began to teach Wenxin how to craft the legendary snack of the Eastern Union. Though hungry, they laughed and joked—the first time in two months Mingchuan could truly enjoy such closeness with Wenxin again.

"Not bad, right? Smells delicious, doesn’t it?" Fifteen minutes later, after a flurry of activity and a dusting of flour from playful teasing, the two awaited the moment the dumplings were ready. As Wenxin’s “royal chef,” Mingchuan couldn’t help but feel excited to see her.

"It’s... alright! Let me taste it first..." "Careful, it’s still hot." Watching Wenxin’s eager expression, Mingchuan smiled. But when she took a bite and the hot broth spurted onto his face, his smile shifted.

"Wenxin..." He clenched his fists, pretending to be angry, when suddenly her lips brushed his.

"Sorry! I didn’t mean to! But your dumplings are really good!" Wenxin’s bashful manner was nothing like her former haughty self. Mingchuan, confined to this world that truly belonged to him, began to recover his princely demeanor.

"As long as you like them. In the future, whenever you want, I’ll make as many as you wish!" Mingchuan gently stroked her head. This kind of life—perhaps only a few days of it remained.

———Author’s Note———

Traveling tomorrow, to be honest, I don’t want to post unless I get over two thousand words, so sorry for not updating yesterday...