The autumn night featured a cold moon hanging high, with a cool evening breeze, yet people’s hearts burned with restlessness.
Tan Jing crossed his arms, his eyelids drooping listlessly as he radiated morning anger—though it was the middle of the night: “You climb over in the dead of night to knock on my window just to ask if I’m asleep?”
And this was after he had fallen asleep.
He Siheng didn’t notice the danger in his voice at all and spoke righteously: “I messaged you on my phone. Who told you not to reply?”
…How was he supposed to reply when he was asleep?
A vein throbbed wildly at Tan Jing’s temple, as if it wanted to leap out and smack him.
Then, the faint scent of alcohol hit his nose. He leaned in closer to sniff, and the aroma grew richer.
Tan Jing frowned. “You’ve been drinking?”
He Siheng giggled and held up his thumb and forefinger to show a tiny gap. “Just a little.”
Tan Jing’s gaze swept over his face. He Siheng didn’t show it on his face when he drank, but the excitement leaping in his eyes betrayed that the amount he’d consumed was far more than “just a little.”
A gust of evening wind blew by, and He Siheng shivered.
“It’s freezing. Let me come in first.” With that, he climbed through the window, using hands and feet, his movements lacking any of the agility he’d shown during the day.
Tan Jing had been about to step aside to make room, but seeing the climber’s unsteady form, he reached out in time to steady the wobbling drunkard.
He Siheng tumbled straight into his arms, looping his arms around Tan Jing’s neck for support as he steadied himself. His soft hair brushed against Tan Jing’s cheek, tickling it a bit.
Besides the scent of his shampoo at the tip of his nose, there was also a faint trace of pheromones—like unripe citrus mixed with the fresh, sweet fragrance of orange blossoms.
Tan Jing’s body stiffened, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily.
This drunkard was already so excited that his pheromones were leaking out.
After steadying himself with Tan Jing’s support, He Siheng unceremoniously shook off his hand. His eyes, adjusted to the dark, found Tan Jing’s bed in the moonlight.
He walked over and plopped down without ceremony, patting the springy mattress. “Your bed’s pretty soft.”
Tan Jing didn’t approach or close the window, letting the room stay ventilated. He leaned against the window frame with his arms crossed, keeping some distance as he watched him expressionlessly. “What, are you here to test it out for me?”
Under the influence of alcohol, He Siheng couldn’t distinguish sarcasm from sincerity. He patted the mattress again, recalling some life advice from Shu Qiu and saying solemnly, “A bed this soft isn’t good for your back if you sleep on it too long.”
Tan Jing tugged at the corner of his mouth, thanking him without a shred of gratitude. “Thanks for the concern. My back’s just fine.”
Post-drinking, He Siheng’s logic was unbeatable. “Then twist your waist for me to see?”
“…”
Tan Jing didn’t engage, just stared at him blankly.
He was naturally pale-skinned, and under the moonlight, it looked even colder. Right now, with that displeased expression, he resembled a vampire woken halfway through his coffin nap, ready to sink his fangs into the neck of some unlucky passerby the next second.
He Siheng felt uneasy under his cold gaze, his neck prickling as if it were chilly. The bite mark on the back of his neck ached faintly.
He touched his nose awkwardly. “Forget it, pretend I didn’t say anything.”
He muttered softly, “I was just giving friendly advice. You should switch to a firmer mattress.”
Tan Jing drooped his eyelids, his emotions unreadable. “An Omega sneaking over in the middle of the night to the Alpha who temporarily marked him yesterday and throwing a drunken fit can’t be brushed off with ‘friendly’ alone.”
Clinging to his last shred of conscience, he deliberately mentioned their genders, trying to awaken Young Master He’s second-gender common sense, which the young master had forgotten up in the clouds.
Unfortunately, Young Master He’s reading comprehension had always been poor, and he latched onto the wrong point entirely.
He Siheng defended himself. “I’m not drunk. Give me a math test right now—I bet I could finish it in an hour.”
The guy was getting worked up.
Tan Jing took a deep breath, that last bit of conscience teetering on the edge of oblivion.
“Right!” He Siheng suddenly spoke up. “I came to find you because I wanted to clear something up.”
He’d finally remembered the almost-forgotten main issue.
Tan Jing lowered his arms from his chest, fingers resting on the windowsill, his tone casual. “What’s so important that it has to be asked in the middle of the night?”
He Siheng didn’t answer right away. His amber eyes stared at him for a long moment before dropping, and he asked in a very low voice, “Are you…”
They were too far apart, and his voice was too soft. Tan Jing only caught the first three words. “What’s with me?”
He Siheng repeated it, but Tan Jing still couldn’t make it out.
He Siheng suddenly grew impatient, more like he’d been provoked. He lifted his head and demanded loudly and angrily, “What I’m saying is, do you hate me? Have you never considered me a friend?”
Seeing Tan Jing frown upon hearing this, He Siheng immediately had his answer. He wasn’t surprised and let out a cold laugh. “I knew it. That’s exactly it.”
He stood to leave, but at the window, Tan Jing grabbed his arm. “I’ve never thought that way.”
He Siheng would believe him when hell froze over. He shook his arm but couldn’t break free. Tan Jing’s grip was terrifyingly strong.
“Let go!”
“Explain clearly before you go.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Then listen to me.”
Tan Jing refused to let go. “I never agreed to that breakup back then. I’ve never hated you or thought of you as not a friend.”
He Siheng kept his head down, his fallen bangs hiding his eyes, only his pale, pursed lips betraying his emotions.
“Liar.” He murmured like he was talking to himself, or perhaps scoffing disdainfully.
Tan Jing’s voice deepened slightly. “I’m not lying. About this, I’ve never…”
“You’re the liar!”
He Siheng finally looked up, and Tan Jing finally saw the expression hidden under his messy bangs.
Those amber eyes, always brimming with pride, were now veiled in a layer of mist.
The boy who would never wrong himself showed an utterly aggrieved look.
In the instant Tan Jing’s grip loosened, He Siheng suddenly shook him off. “You clearly told someone else with your own mouth that I’m not your friend!”
“The day before, we were still planning what to do together over summer vacation, but then you…”
It was clearly anger, yet his voice choked up uncontrollably.
Tan Jing stared dazedly at his reddened eye sockets and the tears welling up.
A distant, blurry memory flashed in his mind.
It was that time.
That day, a girl in class had suddenly stopped him, wanting to ask about He Siheng through him.
