“Wow, Heng Bro, your lip shape is gorgeous. Want some sheer lip color?”
He Siheng was helpless yet amused. “You treating me like a dress-up doll?”
Everyone knew he was friendly, especially to girls, so Si Jingjing wasn’t intimidated, joking freely. “A little abuse of power for personal gain. All the girls wanted to do your makeup. I fought hard for this gig.”
He Siheng raised a brow, not forgetting to compete with Tan Jing. “More people want to do mine, or his?”
Si Jingjing without hesitation: “You, of course!”
Though girls wanted to do Tan Jing’s too, no one dared. The one who went was thrilled yet terrified. The Class Monitor’s aura was too strong.
The answer pleased He Siheng; he grinned. “Knew it. I’m handsomer than that guy.”
As soon as he spoke, a voice from the door echoed with faint amusement. “Yeah, you’re the handsomest.”
He Siheng turned.
Tan Jing stood at the door in his black suit, tall-shouldered, long-legged, upright. His black messy hair styled back, revealing flawless handsome features. Dark, cool pupils, overly sharp and refined face gave a cold, abstinent vibe.
But that perfectly placed mole on his nose bridge added a seductive edge to the cool look—turning the refined scholar into a refined rogue.
He Siheng looked away. “Of course I’m handsomer than you.”
Nearby, Si Jingjing’s gaze darted between them, lips pressed but curving weirdly.
The Class Monitor’s tone is like coaxing a kid…
I’m shipping, shipping, shipping!
Tan Jing watched He Siheng’s finished makeup and said, “We’ve got time before going on. Accompany me for one more duet practice?”
He Siheng: “Isn’t it already good? Why cram last-minute?”
Tan Jing: “Nervous.”
He Siheng paused, eyeing him suspiciously. “You get nervous?”
Tan Jing deadpanned, “Everyone does.”
He Siheng thought it was bullshit—this guy had given countless speeches on stage without a slip. But anyway, idle time; one more rehearsal was fine.
Other classes used pianos too; the activity room one was moved to the auditorium. Only the music room had one left.
He Siheng grabbed his violin and went with Tan Jing to the music room. He tuned it and signaled ready.
The piece had Tan Jing’s piano intro first, his violin entering after.
But as He Siheng was about to join, the piano melody shifted.
From the pop tune to the familiar Happy Birthday.
He Siheng froze.
The pianist kept watching him, eyes smiling.
Clearly, the “nerves” were just an excuse to get him here for a birthday surprise.
He Siheng chuckled, putting away the violin. “Scared I won’t treat you to birthday dinner tonight, so you pull this bribe?”
The birthday song ended quickly. Tan Jing stood unhurried, handing him a prettily wrapped gift box. “So, accept the bribe?”
“Taking a birthday gift isn’t bribery,” He Siheng took it boldly, opening it on the spot. “Isn’t this the one I gave you?”
“Look closer.”
He Siheng examined it and saw it wasn’t his gift to Tan Jing. Though similar style and pattern, Tan Jing’s had a hidden “Jing” in the cloud carving; this had a “Heng.”
A custom match to that Peace Buckle.
“Blatantly copying my idea, sending a knockoff to save effort. So lazy.”
Though teasing, He Siheng still hung the jade pendant around his neck.
Seeing his carefree look, Tan Jing’s tone held helplessness. “Not to save effort.”
His side hand curled slightly. After a pause, he countered, “Why do you think… I’d send a matching one?”
“Why riddle a birthday gift?” He Siheng rolled his eyes, quoting Tan Jing. “To show we’re close?”
The expected answer.
Also, exasperatingly sigh-worthy.
Tan Jing eyed him lowered gaze, defeated sigh escaping.
Like swallowing an unripe orange—sour beyond measure.
Seeing his expression, He Siheng sensed he got it wrong and wanted to ask the real reason when his phone rang.
He answered.
“Heng Bro, you and Jing Bro stop rehearsing,” Zhou Yu sounded urgent. “First two classes’ props failed. Host says we go first—our turn next!”
Unexpected issues kept coming. He Siheng hung up, no time for riddles, and rushed to Tan Jing. “We’re up early—gotta go back. Talk later tonight.”
Tan Jing murmured low, saying no more.
A performance was just minutes. By the time they ran back, the previous act ended; Class 1 waited in wings.
The host announced just then: “Next up, Sophomore Class 1’s performance. Pianist Tan Jing, violinist He Siheng—”
The names dropped, and screams erupted below.
Someone’s voice pierced clearly amid the shrieks: “Aaaah, TanHe! My TanHe CP!!!!”
Because of that scream, the already excited crowd boiled over even more. On one side were fans admiring Jing Bro and Heng Bro’s individual beauty, while on the other were those waving the CP flags high, their quarrel-like cheers rising and falling one after another.
Director Yan, seated in the teachers’ section, initially couldn’t make sense of it and thought everyone was just thrilled for the upcoming performances. That was until he heard a girl shout, “What a perfect little couple!”
Director Yan’s face darkened instantly. He stood up and barked at the students in the back, “What nonsense is this? The school prohibits puppy love!”
His shout quieted the students somewhat, and the screams died down a bit.
The Class 1 homeroom teacher, known as Maitreya Buddha, chuckled amiably. “Old Yan, the kids are finally having some fun at the gala. Don’t be so serious.”
Director Yan replied righteously, “Even fun has its limits. Are those two students from your class dating?”
Maitreya Buddha waved it off. “Those two argue the loudest usually. It’s good enough that they don’t fight. Besides, He Siheng from our class hasn’t Differentiated yet. Don’t worry—they can’t be dating.”
At that moment, the stage curtains slowly parted. The audience below saw He Siheng and Tan Jing positioned one on the left and one on the right. One was brimming with youthful vigor, the other cool and refined. The cheers erupted even more intensely than before.
“Ahhh, so handsome, so perfect together!”
“TanHe! TanHe!”
“Heng Bro, hit me with that alpha energy!”
On stage, He Siheng thoroughly enjoyed the spotlight and the enthusiastic screams. He rested the violin on his left shoulder and glanced toward Tan Jing, who sat at the piano on the right side of the stage, signaling that they could begin.
The other nodded slightly. His slender fingers landed on the black and white keys, and melodious piano notes flowed from his fingertips.
The boy’s brows and eyes were deep-set, his nose bridge high and straight, his thin eyelids lowered.
The pale beam of light fell on him, casting gray shadows from his long lashes onto his face.
His fingertips played a rhythmically upbeat tune, yet his expression wasn’t bright.
He Siheng, waiting for his cue to join, vaguely sensed the other’s low mood.
As if noticing his gaze, Tan Jing suddenly looked up. His pitch-black pupils lacked their usual sparkle.
Their eyes met in mid-air.
