Realizing what he had just said, He Siheng nearly bit his own tongue, his entire body stiffening like stone.
In stark contrast, the boy beneath him remained utterly composed, showing not the slightest hint of embarrassment.
“Sorry,” Tan Jing said calmly. “Please understand—an eighteen-year-old high school boy is right at that hot-blooded age, after all.”
There was even a trace of righteous indignation in his words.
He Siheng: “…”
Who hadn’t been a hot-blooded eighteen-year-old high school boy? The problem was, he had been focused on the game—what the hell were you thinking about?
Utterly speechless, He Siheng leaped off Tan Jing’s lap, shoving the mouse and keyboard aside in the process.
He wanted to put as much distance as possible between them. His face flushed red with fury as he snapped, “C-can’t you think about something healthy and proper for once?!”
“I tried not to,” Tan Jing replied innocently, “but you were rubbing against me while sitting on my lap. My body wouldn’t listen to me.”
He Siheng choked on that.
How had he ended up sitting on Tan Jing’s lap in the first place?
His mind had been entirely consumed by the kills in the game; he had no recollection of how it had happened.
Suddenly… he was the one in the wrong.
His ears burned fiercely. His gaze inadvertently flicked to the bulge there, and it was like touching something scalding—he immediately jerked his eyes away stiffly, staring at the floor instead and refusing to look at Tan Jing. “Y-you go back to your room and handle it yourself!”
Tan Jing acknowledged it with a sound, then stood up unhurriedly and left his room.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, He Siheng slapped himself in regret.
Why hadn’t this mouth of his come with a filter? Why had he blurted that out? Why couldn’t he have just pretended not to notice and ignored it?
Though that size and feel… there was no ignoring that.
Realizing what he was thinking afterward, He Siheng smacked his cheeks hard twice, forcing himself back to reality. No more thinking about it! No more!
Meanwhile, Tan Jing returned to the room next door as if nothing had happened. But the instant he closed the door, it was like a balloon pricked by a needle—his calm demeanor vanished into thin air.
He leaned back against the door, head lowered, his bangs falling over his eyes to hide his emotions. Yet the skin from his neck to his face had flushed a deep red.
After a long moment, the boy miserably covered his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath.
It wasn’t even his Susceptibility Period—what the hell was this?
The next morning at dawn, He Siheng was jolted awake by the school-day alarm he had forgotten to turn off. He shut it off with his eyes still closed, rolled over, and went right back to sleep.
The He Family had always practiced a laissez-faire policy: study when it was time to study, vacation when it was time to vacation. Even sleeping twenty-four hours a day during break wouldn’t draw complaints from Shu Qiu or He Yunlang.
He Siheng slept like the dead that morning. By the time he finally dragged himself out of bed, it was nearly noon. He took his time brushing his teeth and washing his face, then headed downstairs with his messy bedhead. He caught the mouthwatering aroma of savory dishes from the stairs.
The family’s live-in auntie had come along on vacation too and was handling the cooking. Driven by hunger, He Siheng veered toward the kitchen, intending to sneak a “little taste” before the food hit the table.
As he passed through the living room, he spotted He Yunlang on the sofa, holding an economics magazine but clearly not reading it. He stared toward the kitchen like he was facing a formidable enemy.
“Dad, what’s wrong?”
He Siheng’s sudden voice made He Yunlang jump.
“You little punk, walking around without a sound?”
He Yunlang grumbled under his breath, then jerked his chin toward the kitchen. “Your mom’s in there.”
Now the one facing a formidable enemy numbered two.
He Siheng glanced toward the kitchen with a look of doom—only to see not just Shu Qiu, but another figure there as well.
The boy wore a light-colored shirt and casual pants, with a pink apron tied around his waist—a style straight out of Lady Shu Qiu’s girlish whims, complete with lace trim. It clashed hilariously with his cool, noble face.
Yet it didn’t look ridiculous at all.
Instead, the pink ties around his waist contrasted sharply with his clothes, accentuating his slim, toned narrow waist and outlining his inverted triangle physique.
Though he hated to admit it, this guy’s body was undeniably impressive.
He Siheng huffed inwardly. Who knew if he wasn’t secretly chugging protein powder like it was food.
“I never imagined you had this skill too, A Jing.”
Shu Qiu had originally gotten a whim to cook that day, but Tan Jing had offered to help. With his natural knack for taking control, he had seamlessly shifted from assisting with prep to manning the wok.
Shu Qiu had watched him expertly chop veggies and stir-fry, then tasted the crispy duck he’d just made. She instantly turned into a praise machine, gushing over his culinary talents.
“What made you want to learn cooking?” Shu Qiu asked curiously. “Our Heng Heng won’t even step foot in the kitchen.”
Hearing Lady Shu Qiu poke fun at him behind his back, He Siheng grumbled inwardly. Who said I won’t go in the kitchen? It depends on who’s grandly offering to teach me. She’d dare teach, but I’d never dare learn—whatever she makes could poison two Boss Hes.
Tan Jing gave the wok a steady shake and smiled. “It started as a hobby, but then I realized that old saying has some truth to it.”
Shu Qiu asked, “What saying?”
Tan Jing smiled faintly. “The way to a person’s heart is through their stomach.”
“I approve!” Shu Qiu nodded appreciatively. “When I was chasing your dad back in the day, I made him a bento, and it left a deep impression right away.”
He Siheng fell into a subtle silence and turned to the other party involved in that romantic memory.
He Yunlang’s expression didn’t change. “It was so bad it could shock heaven and move the ghosts—how’s that not a deep impression?”
He Siheng: “…”
Laughter and chatter continued from the kitchen, Shu Qiu’s giggles carrying out.
“Domestic Alphas like you are rare these days. If I had another Omega, I’d make you my son-in-law for sure.”
“If I get the chance, I’d be happy to be your son-in-law.”
Tan Jing could dish jokes and take them too, charming Shu Qiu into full bloom. Her laughter echoed from the kitchen to the living room.
The father-son duo lurking on the sofa, observing in secret, wore increasingly subtle expressions.
He Yunlang snorted coldly and muttered, “This punk’s just like his dad—full of smooth talk. Son, if you don’t step it up, your mom’s about to gain a godson.”
