Recognizing Someone by Scent

Lin Xiyue fell silent. Chen Ge didn't press her further and turned to reply to Natasha. The girl had just claimed she would never speak to him again, yet barely ten minutes had passed before she couldn't resist. *Knock, knock, knock.* A knock sounded at the door. Instantly on guard, Chen Ge grabbed the FNX45 pistol off the nightstand. Only as he flicked off the safety did it hit him—he could just listen with his ears and use his nose to smell who was outside. He tuned in his hearing and sense of smell, catching a familiar fragrance. That show-off Lightbulb sprayed cologne every single time he showered and put on clean clothes, and he only ever wore one brand: Creed Aventus, with its smoky birch notes. Chen Ge engaged the safety, tossed the pistol onto the bed, and walked over to open the door. Lightbulb was standing in the doorway with a cigarette dangling from his lips, holding a large plastic bag loaded with sunflower seeds, peanuts, beer, and whiskey. Standing at 1.82 meters tall, Lightbulb possessed a classic northern Slavic build—broad shoulders, a thick back, and a straight, commanding posture. His hair was pomaded and slicked back into an impeccably neat undercut, just like Brad Pitt's in *Fury*, and his full beard had been cleanly shaved off. He had prominent brow ridges, deep-set blue eyes, a tall and narrow nose bridge, reddish cheekbones, and a scar extending from the corner of his right eye that sliced diagonally through his eyebrow. It had been carved by shrapnel during an operation back in April; luckily, he had been wearing tactical goggles, or he would have lost the eye. Chen Ge looked him up and down and asked with a grin, "Dressed up like such a peacock—got a hot date?" Lightbulb's eyes bulged from their sockets, his face stamped with utter shock and disbelief, as if he had just seen a ghost. "*Blyat!* Sledgehammer, what the hell happened to your body?!" "My body's always been like this. Something wrong with it?" Chen Ge gave a casual brushing-off, turned back into the room, and pulled out a new pair of G3 tactical pants, a black short-sleeved shirt, and an Arc'teryx LEAF Gen 2 top in MultiCam from his bag. Wagner had no standard-issue camouflage; their only rule regarding camo was not to stand out too much. The exact choice depended on the mission environment—for instance, desert camo in Syria—and individual finances. Those with money wore top-tier gear, while those without made do with Russian military surplus or knockoffs. It also came down to personal preference; you could wear whatever you liked so long as you wore the unified patch and wrapped colored tape to tell friend from foe. It was pure pragmatism: surviving on the battlefield came down to skill and brains, not matching uniforms. Chen Ge never hesitated to spend on himself, buying only authentic gear from Crye Precision, 5.11, UF PRO, and Arc'teryx LEAF. A bachelor with no dependents and a high salary had every reason to enjoy the finer things. "Does this look right to you? This is totally wrong!" Lightbulb stepped inside, kicked the door shut with his heel, and stared intently at Chen Ge's physique—stunningly aesthetic, brimming with explosive power, and packing an off-the-charts visual punch. Having lived side by side for over half a year and frequently showered together in the base's communal bathhouse, he was intimately familiar with Chen Ge's build. On a hundred-point scale, Chen Ge's physique used to be an 80. Now it was a solid 100! This physique defied all common sense, looking as though it had been crafted according to an optimal biomechanical model with ratios calculated to the extreme. The segment proportions of his shoulders, chest, waist, and legs approached ideal geometry, and his muscle groups were arrayed as neatly as precision machinery. The curvatures of his biceps, deltoids, and quadriceps blended in perfect harmony. His muscle texture was smooth, full, and completely free of the inevitable imperfections that came with human exercise. From head to toe, the contours flowed seamlessly like running water, flesh and bone merging into an organic whole—like a living sculpture cast to the absolute pinnacle of aesthetic standards. The intense stare gave Chen Ge goosebumps all over, making him clench up. He pulled on his clothes at lightning speed, glared at Lightbulb warily, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Holy shit. Back off—are you fucking gay?!" Lightbulb rolled his eyes hard, set the bag on the floor, and cursed with a dark face, "Fuck off! My orientation is completely normal. I only like women, especially women with big tits." "I just can't wrap my head around why your body became so... so..." Feeling that ordinary words fell short of describing Chen Ge's physique, Lightbulb scratched his head for a few seconds before a word popped into his mind. "Terrifying! Yeah, terrifying!" Something seemed to click, and a feverish light flared in his eyes as he probed, "Sledgehammer, yesterday afternoon at the Bakhmut staging post, you said Baji Quan has an esoteric secret method called Yi Jin Forging Bones. You said once mastered, it reshapes the tendons and bones, granting superhuman strength... Did you actually master it?" *Uh, you really know how to fill in the blanks!* Chen Ge felt an urge to laugh, but held it back, putting on an expression that said, *Well, you caught me.* In a serious tone, he said, "Lightbulb, you know that famous line Spider-Man's uncle told him, right?" Lightbulb froze, his expression growing solemn. "With great power comes great responsibility. I get it. Don't worry, I won't reveal your strength to anyone. But I want to know—just how strong are you?" "Hmm... truth is, I don't know either. But I could probably kill you with one punch!" Chen Ge stepped forward, placed a hand on Lightbulb's left shoulder, and slowly applied pressure. Lightbulb's face instantly shifted. It felt as though an infantry fighting vehicle were pressing down on him. He flicked away his cigarette butt, tensed every muscle in his body, and exerted every ounce of strength to resist. Yet as Chen Ge's downward force steadily grew, Lightbulb's legs began to tremble. His face flushed bright red, and veins bulged across his forehead and neck, but he still couldn't hold it. After enduring for a few seconds, all his breath gave out, and he collapsed onto his butt on the floor. Staring up at Chen Ge in a daze, he asked in a trembling voice, "Was that your full strength?" Chen Ge stepped on the cigarette butt on the floor to put it out, reached into the plastic bag, pulled out a can of AF Brew craft beer, cracked it open, and took several deep gulps. "I really could kill you with one punch." Though it didn't directly answer his question, Lightbulb didn't care. He scrambled up, planted his hands on his hips, and burst into hearty laughter. Chen Ge took half a step back and asked, bewildered, "Brother, have you lost your mind?" "I'm not crazy! I'm happy—fucking thrilled!" Lightbulb grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bag, twisted the cap off, and clinked it heavily against Chen Ge's can. Beaming from ear to ear, he said, "Brother, congratulations on getting stronger!" Chen Ge could feel that Lightbulb's congratulations came straight from the heart. This was a true brother—not the fake kind who felt bad seeing you suffer, but felt worse seeing you drive a Land Rover. "Cheers!" Chen Ge tipped his head back and drank. Lightbulb looked down at the 700 ml bottle of Kemlya rye whiskey in his hand, his temples twitching, before raising it and gulping down a third of the bottle. "*Burp.* This St. Petersburg brew tastes pretty good, though I still prefer Cantillon." Chen Ge let out a beer burp, smacking his lips as he savored the lingering taste. He tossed the empty can into the trash bin, picked up the bag, and sat down on the small couch by the window. Placing the bag on the coffee table, he dug out a bag of Chinese sunflower seeds, tore it open, and popped open another beer. Lightbulb walked over and took a seat opposite him, asking unhurriedly, "Did you call Natasha?" "Yeah. Got a problem with that?" "Natasha likes you a lot. I give you two my blessing." "Quit making me laugh, will you? You make it sound like I couldn't date Natasha without your permission. In fact, we already made a pact—we're getting married as soon as she finishes her doctorate."