Chapter 42: Sneaking Photos Part 1

Some childish words were uttered in a low, youthful voice, gentle and soft, like the snow melting tonight, murmuring from between his lips and teeth.

The gaze he cast over carried the impulsiveness of youth.

He Siheng’s eyes widened slightly, and he unconsciously held his breath.

What the hell was this guy suddenly saying sweet nothings for?!

The night was dim, and the streetlamp’s light slanted distantly onto the two of them.

The cold air froze the tip of He Siheng’s nose a faint red, his amber eyes wide open, brimming with bewildered shock.

Tan Jing watched him freeze in place like a startled cat that didn’t dare move.

“He Siheng.” Tan Jing suddenly called his name, his voice very soft, as if afraid of startling this tense little cat.

He Siheng’s eyelashes trembled nonetheless, drawn by the call to meet his eyes.

The boy lowered his eyelids, his distinct lashes drooping straight down. The lines of his brows and eyes were bold and heavy with ink; when he smiled, he had a seductive, almost demonic charm—but he wasn’t smiling now.

The gaze falling on He Siheng seemed no different from usual, yet inexplicably, He Siheng felt that those pitch-black eyes, deep as an abyss, surged with emotions he couldn’t comprehend.

Or perhaps he could.

The invasiveness in his eyes.

The night was too quiet, making his heartbeat stand out so loudly.

Tan Jing gradually lowered his head, their exhaled white breaths mingling together.

But he didn’t continue further, stopping at the final distance, and asked warmly, “Can I… hug you?”

He Siheng snapped back to his senses, his eyelashes fluttering rapidly twice. “N-No, of course not!”

They were already so close; if Tan Jing really wanted to hug him, it would just take an arm’s reach. He even had the chance to do something more intimate.

But the other simply straightened his scarf with proper restraint and took half a step back.

As the distance opened, the sense of invasion vanished.

He Siheng secretly let out a breath of relief, only to hear Tan Jing say earnestly, “If not this time, I’ll ask again next time.”

He Siheng: “…”

This guy had some sense of propriety, but not much.

*

Not long after New Year’s Day came the final exams. He Siheng had lost to Tan Jing by just a few points last time and felt unwilling even in his midnight dreams. This time, he buckled down hard to reclaim first place.

But at this moment, the admin of Tan Jing’s Fan Support Group suddenly approached him without warning: Jingle Cat classmate, congrats on drawing our group’s random mission!

He Siheng kept his phone under his desk and sent back a question mark.

The admin explained: Every month, the group has a team-building activity where we draw lots for a member to snap a photo of Tan Jing and share it in the group, so the sisters can lick the screen and relax during exam prep. She specially reminded him not to sneak any private shots or ugly photos.

The admin emphasized extra: Of course, our president is flawless from every angle!

“…”

He Siheng couldn’t help but inwardly gripe. This fangirl group even had team-building like this? Now he knew where all those photos of Tan Jing in the group album came from.

He had joined the Fan Support Group originally to know his enemy and scout Tan Jing’s situation, but it was full of blind idolization and rainbow farts with no real use. He’d completely forgotten about its existence up in the clouds.

Now that the admin had come to him, he thought about just quitting the group. But when he tapped into the page, he saw they’d uploaded a group file—it was Tan Jing’s past exam scores.

He Siheng downloaded it immediately and opened it. Apart from those two absences that dragged down his total, Tan Jing’s transcript was impressively strong. No wonder the file’s note said to use it as a benchmark to motivate yourself.

These fangirls had turned their obsession into study motivation.

He Siheng had once asked Zhou Yu why Tan Jing had such a worshipful fan group and he didn’t.

Zhou Yu had answered, “Tan Jing has this magnetic field that makes people want to study with him.”

“Don’t I?” He Siheng was even more dissatisfied. “Haven’t I always been top of the grade?”

Zhou Yu explained, “It’s not about scores, it’s about attitude.”

Like the difference between hard-working types and genius types—people unconsciously gravitate toward diligent top students but keep their distance from geniuses.

He Siheng’s mind worked fast; he picked up anything easily, whether studying or otherwise. Spoiled since childhood, he had a young master’s habits, casual to the point of sloppiness. Even though he had his own way of studying diligently, outsiders couldn’t tell.

Tan Jing wasn’t lacking in talent, but everyone focused more on how seriously he approached everything, meticulously proper. Even if the teacher digressed on the podium with off-topic chatter, he wouldn’t slack off.

Hearing Zhou Yu’s explanation, He Siheng just wanted to sneer.

Tan Jing wasn’t incapable of slacking; he was just good at faking it.

They’d been desk mates for nearly a semester, and He Siheng had seen this guy countless times during Chinese class doing other things—solving math problems, reading extracurricular books, spinning pens. If the Chinese teacher knew the truth, she’d really cry.

He Siheng decided not to quit the group.

He’d snap a photo of Tan Jing slacking off in class and post it to show his blind worshippers his true colors.

He messaged the admin back: Mission accepted. Wait for it.

The next class was Chinese, perfect. He Siheng watched Tan Jing return from getting water and sit down, curling his lips with ill intent.

Hmph, he’d knock this guy down a peg no matter what.

Tan Jing unhurriedly set down his water cup, glimpsing the bad intentions written all over He Siheng’s face. He raised a brow. “Staring at me like that—you like me?”

“…”

He Siheng’s eye twitched. “How did I never notice you were so narcissistic before?”

“Probably because you didn’t like me as much back then,” Tan Jing replied seriously, “so you didn’t pay as much attention to me either.”

What did he mean he didn’t like him as much before? When had he ever said he liked him now?

He Siheng was speechless. If Tan Jing said two more things, he’d probably get looped in by this scheming dog again.

And this guy had the nerve to call himself timid, afraid to confess—his face was thick as a city wall.

Just then, the bell rang, and He Siheng turned his face away.

With finals approaching, Chinese class was all review problems, even drier than lecturing texts. He Siheng had a mission and no mind for listening; his peripheral vision stayed glued to Tan Jing, waiting for the moment to capture proof of him slacking.