He gritted his teeth and forced out through clenched jaws. “Daddy.”
He Siheng had beaten plenty into submission before, but this was the first to call him “daddy” so willingly.
He raised a brow. “Alright, you kept your word. I won’t make it harder on you. Just stop harassing that girl from now on. Like her all you want, but don’t keep bothering her.”
Xu Weiyang’s face turned pitiful at that. “But if I don’t chase her, don’t show off in front of her, how’s she ever gonna like me back?”
He Siheng was stumped. Damn, that made sense.
But he couldn’t encourage endless pestering of Zhang Xunyue either.
Stuck for words, He Siheng elbowed Tan Jing beside him. “Give my ‘son’ some advice here.”
Tan Jing glanced at him. “I’ve never chased anyone.”
He Siheng’s mouth twisted downward in smug triumph—pure showing off.
He Siheng sniped sarcastically. “Yeah, yeah, you’re so hot, everyone chases you, right? That’s what you wanna hear? Narcissist.”
Tan Jing smiled. “Thanks for the compliment.”
He paused, then added slowly, “If it were me, the best way to win over someone who hates you? Warm frog in boiling water.”
Xu Weiyang scratched his head, confused. “Boil a frog in water?”
The phrase rang a bell for He Siheng, but he couldn’t place it. “How exactly do you ‘boil’ it?”
Tan Jing didn’t answer directly. He just looked at him and smiled meaningfully. “You still owe me that favor.”
He Siheng got it instantly and whipped his face away. “No way am I owing you a second one.”
–
For all his words, that night He Siheng tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He kept wondering just how Tan Jing meant to “boil the frog with warm water.” Curiosity clawed at him like a cat’s paw, itching unbearably.
Then he thought again: this guy had always been the one confessed to, never chasing anyone himself. What would he know about pursuit tactics? Probably just bullshitting him.
He Siheng suddenly felt enlightened and relaxed—only to feel even more annoyed. Tan Jing’s face was decent, sure, but why was his popularity always higher?
Competitive fire ignited. He Siheng gave up on sleep, flicked on the room light, sat cross-legged, and messaged Zhou Yu: Pull me into Tan Jing’s damn Fan Support Group.
Night owl Zhou Yu fired back a shocked emoji instantly: Heng Bro, you switching sides too?
He Siheng: Switching my ass. Small account, intel gathering.
He Siheng switched to his gaming alt to infiltrate, but entry required answering questions.
Three of them: Tan Jing’s height? Birthday? Why do you like Tan Jing?
He Siheng tsked impatiently but answered: 188, 11.22, Good at basketball.
Two minutes later, group notification: Rejected.
Reason: Reason for liking Tan Jing too half-assed???
He Siheng nearly cursed. What kind of bullshit review process? Need to brown-nose to get in?
He raked his hair, unable to stomach the ass-kissing. He messaged Zhou Yu again: What’d you write to pass?
Zhou Yu: Heavenly beauty, hung and vigorous.
He Siheng: …
Between deep-cover spying and selling his soul, He Siheng gritted his teeth and copy-pasted those eight words.
This time, he got in—but the answer auto-posted as his intro message.
The group exploded.
-Welcome new member!
-Another wolf in sheep’s clothing, bold!
-Spill: how ‘hung’? Spill: how ‘vigorous’?
He Siheng: “…”
-“Admin” granted you title: “Jing Bro’s Crotch-Staring Cat.”
He Siheng: “…………”
He Siheng, face dark, @’d the admin: Can I ditch this title?
Admin: Everyone gets a custom title~
He Siheng: Change mine then.
Admin: Sure thing~
-“Admin” granted you title: “Jing Bro’s Jingle Cat.”
He Siheng: “…”
What’s the difference?
Whatever. He was here for intel; he’d endure the humiliation for now.
Group chat was mindless fangirling. He Siheng checked the group files and found a photo album—all Tan Jing pics. The latest were from today’s game.
White crewneck school T-shirt, black knee-length athletic shorts. Sunlit frame tall and straight, arm muscles sleek and defined.
Fresh off exercise, sweat glistened on his face and neck, bangs damp and tousled. Eyes dark and bright, full of youthful vigor.
Candid shots, but somehow photoshoot-quality.
He Siheng stared longer than he meant to. Damn, this jerk really was pretty handsome.
He snapped out of it, spitting three times and slapping his own face lightly.
What the hell was that thought?
Must be the pheromones messing with his head.
He Siheng quickly switched tabs. Just as he hopped back to his main account, Tan Jing messaged: Still up?
This guy—scouting intel too?
He Siheng thought, then bluffed: Chatting hot with a girl. Jealous?
Tan Jing: It’ll rain in He City tomorrow. Bring an umbrella.
He didn’t pick up on his previous remark at all, simply sending a lukewarm reminder like this.
What a boring reaction.
He Siheng tossed his phone onto the pillow beside him and ignored him.
Because he had to attend that damn essay competition, He Siheng’s weekend was about to go down the drain again.
Although he’d told Teacher Li on the surface that he should go and probably embarrass the school, since he was participating alongside Tan Jing, he wasn’t willing to watch Tan Jing win an award while he returned empty-handed.
Over this period, he’d read books and taken reading notes, cramming plenty of good words and phrases into his brain, but it only made him more irritated. With this time, he’d rather participate in a math competition, win an award, and not have to go through all this hassle.
The essay competition was held in neighboring He City. The actual event was on Sunday morning, but there was a lecture on Saturday afternoon, so the participating students gathered uniformly at the school gate on Saturday morning, boarded a bus with the leading teacher, and headed out together.
He Siheng had always been terrible at getting up in the morning and nearly overslept, arriving just in the nick of time.
Since he was late, his favorite window seat was down to just one spot left, right next to Tan Jing, who sat there with his eyes closed in rest. He wore earphones, the white cords dangling by his face, and his nowhere-to-place long legs blocked the entrance.
He Siheng shoved one hand into his pants pocket, walked over, and called out, “Move.”
The guy with the earphones didn’t react.
He Siheng yanked out one of his earphone cords and called again.
Only then did Tan Jing lift his eyelids, glance at him, put the earphone back in, and close his eyes again.
He Siheng: “?”
With these two big shots at a standoff, the others nearby couldn’t help sneaking glances over.
He Siheng kicked Tan Jing’s shoe. “Get out of the way.”
Tan Jing ignored him completely.
He Siheng cursed inwardly, then simply lifted his long leg to step over him.
But as he was crossing, Tan Jing unexpectedly crossed his legs. He Siheng tripped, lost his balance, and landed directly on Tan Jing’s thigh.
