“You’re He Siheng’s friend, right? I want to give him a gift. Can you tell me what he likes?”
The girl smiled openly, her question straightforward. Like He Siheng, she was the type who dared to express her feelings boldly.
Just the day before, He Siheng had asked him something similar, inquiring about Tan Wan’s gift preferences since he was her brother.
But Tan Jing back then was the other type—one who hid in the shadows away from the sunlight.
If he’d bluntly said he didn’t want to tell, she might pester him and draw He Siheng’s attention.
So, he’d given a cold, definitive answer to cut it off at the root.
“He’s not my friend.”
Tan Jing watched surprise, awkwardness, and eventual disappointment flash across the girl’s face as she left.
In that moment, he had to admit: more than guilt, there was a despicable sense of satisfaction.
He never imagined that despicableness would boomerang back, making He Siheng quietly break off their friendship and transfer schools.
Tan Jing raised his finger and gently wiped the wetness from under his eyes, his voice soft. “Don’t cry…”
He Siheng slapped his hand away, reflexively retorting, “Who said I’m crying?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, even he was startled by the choked sob in his voice. He wiped his eyes, and his fingertips came away wet.
Utterly unprecedented embarrassment.
He Siheng hurriedly used the back of his hand to wipe his eyes, destroying the evidence of the tears that kept flowing uncontrollably while sniffling and denying it nonstop. “I’m not crying. I’m really not…”
Damn it, what’s going on? Why can’t I stop…
A slender hand grabbed his restless wrist and pulled him forward. The guy in front of him enveloped him in a full hug, the faint grassy woody scent carrying warm body heat that gently wrapped around him.
Tan Jing bent down to hold him, his palm covering the back of He Siheng’s head and stroking it gently. He Siheng could almost feel the warmth of his hand.
“It was my fault. I’m sorry.”
Tan Jing’s voice was low. “I was too immature back then. I didn’t want her to befriend you, was afraid others would take you away from me, so I said those words that hurt you for so long. I’m sorry.”
He Siheng’s eyes widened slightly.
He hadn’t expected Tan Jing to apologize to him, let alone for this reason. To hear the word “afraid” from Tan Jing’s mouth.
A gust of wind from the window brought him back to his senses, and He Siheng suddenly felt… so embarrassing, crying and making a fuss like this.
“Whether you believe it or not, that sentence had an unsaid second half,” Tan Jing paused, as if making a decision. Looking into his eyes, he asked, “Do you want to hear it?”
“I can guess,” He Siheng sniffled, his voice nasal. “You don’t see me as a friend—you see me as your dad or something.”
He was back to his usual playboy young master tone.
Seeing him in the mood to joke, Tan Jing relaxed inwardly and smiled. “We’re even then.”
He Siheng punched him unceremoniously. “Get lost.”
No sooner had he spoken than he let out a solid sneeze.
It was already autumn, and the nighttime temperature had dropped—the wind felt cold.
“Alright, I’m heading home.”
He’d asked what he came to ask. There was no need to stay longer. He started climbing out the window, but before he could, lights suddenly flicked on in the second-floor room across the way.
In a reflexive move, He Siheng immediately retreated and crouched down, even lowering his voice. “Shit, my mom. She didn’t see me, did she?”
Tan Jing glanced over. Just the light was on—no silhouette at the window. Probably just getting up for the night.
“Not sure.” He calmly drew the curtains. “To be safe, wait a bit before leaving.”
“Guess that’s the only way.”
The fully drawn curtains blocked the moonlight, plunging the room into pitch blackness.
He Siheng groped his way to the bed and sat down, then leaned back, sprawling on the bed with his legs dangling off the edge. He bossily instructed, “Keep an eye out for me. I’ll leave once the light across the way goes off.”
No sooner had he spoken than the mattress dipped beside him. Tan Jing sat down too. “My foot hurts. Standing’s tiring.”
He Siheng got lazy too. Having laid down—plus the alcohol and crying—he was exhausted now. With his eyes closed, he said, “Check again in five minutes.”
Tan Jing hummed in acknowledgment. Hearing him yawn, he paused, then added, “Don’t fall asleep, or we’ll have to share the bed.”
He Siheng was actually getting sleepy but stubbornly fought it, holding back a second yawn and mouthing off. “I’m not a pig who can sleep anywhere. You think I’d conk out that easily?”
Tan Jing’s lips curved. “Hope so.”
To keep himself awake, He Siheng made small talk. “Why didn’t you want that girl to befriend me? Jealous of her?”
“Yeah,” Tan Jing played along. “Very jealous.”
He Siheng laughed. “Your heart’s small enough. Can’t make friends yourself and won’t let me either? Kid, your mindset needs work.”
Tan Jing laughed too. “Weren’t you the same with Tan Wan back then?”
“It’s different with Wanwan Sis than you with me.” He Siheng couldn’t hold back a yawn, stating matter-of-factly, “I liked her, so of course I couldn’t stand others chasing her. And Wanwan Sis had so many rotten peaches back then—a bunch of low-quality weirdos…”
His voice trailed off smaller and smaller.
Good at making excuses for himself.
Tan Jing fell silent for a moment. In the dark, quiet room, even the softest, lowest sigh rang clear. “How can you be so sure it’s different?”
The only response to the sigh was the boy’s long, steady breaths.
Tan Jing turned his head. His dark-adjusted eyes saw He Siheng’s closed eyelids—he was clearly asleep.
He chuckled lowly. “Knew you wouldn’t last five minutes.”
Tan Jing got up quietly, lifted the corner of the blanket on the bed, and went to He Siheng’s side near the foot. One arm around his shoulders, the other under his knees, hooking into the crook of his legs. His arm muscles tensed as he scooped him up bridal-style.
The alcohol had hit He Siheng hard; he slept deeply and unconsciously nuzzled into Tan Jing’s arm bend. Once placed back on the bed, he immediately shifted to a more comfortable, familiar position—turning his back, curling on his side to sleep.
The slender, snow-white nape of his neck was exposed defenselessly before Tan Jing’s eyes. The plaster had been torn off and not yet replaced with a new one, revealing faint bite marks on that patch of skin, like carvings etched into the finest mutton-fat jade.
Pheromones faintly leaked from the gland, like a flower bud freshly blooming, its fresh floral scent spilling over and dispersing into the air.
Tan Jing tucked the blanket around him securely, covering that spot completely.
“I’m the patient here. You wouldn’t want me sleeping on the floor, right?”
He murmured to himself, as expected, receiving no response from the person who had already fallen asleep.
