Without a doubt, after class, He Siheng was called to the office by the Chinese teacher.
However, to his surprise, the Chinese teacher also asked Tan Jing to come along.
He Siheng immediately felt balanced and didn’t hide the schadenfreude in his tone at all. “Teacher Li has eyes like a hawk.”
Tan Jing neither confirmed nor denied it.
But once they got there, He Siheng couldn’t laugh anymore.
“Huh? You want me to go to the New Concept Essay Contest with him?”
He Siheng’s eyebrows nearly stood on end. What he hated most was Chinese reading comprehension, followed closely by essay writing.
In fact, Little Apple had analyzed it correctly—his single-subject scores were stable or not entirely depending on the difficulty of Chinese reading and essays. He could barely scrape passing marks on both, but pushing further exposed his limits. Fortunately, his other subjects were excellent, covering up this weakness and keeping his overall rank at the top of the grade.
He Siheng tried to negotiate. “Teacher Li, with my essay skills, I’d just embarrass our school if I took them out. How about I go up on stage and read a self-criticism instead?”
He really didn’t want to write essays, but writing a self-criticism was a piece of cake.
Teacher Li had been teaching him since his first year of high school and knew exactly what he was thinking. She was amused and annoyed by his little schemes. “Of course not! If you don’t want to embarrass the school, then practice more. This isn’t just punishment for slacking off in Chinese class—it’s targeted training for you.”
She pulled a form out from her desk. “Here’s a reading list. Finish all these books this semester, write a book report for each one, and do a themed essay every week. Tan Jing, you’re in charge of supervising him.”
Tan Jing agreed readily. “Sure.”
He Siheng had strong objections. “Why does it have to be him supervising me?”
Teacher Li replied, “Aren’t you deskmates? It’s the one-on-one tutoring policy. Plus, Tan Jing won first prize in the essay contest last year—he has experience in this area.”
He Siheng was speechless.
Damn this tutoring policy.
Holding the reading list—whose titles alone made him drowsy—He Siheng walked out of the office with a face ashen.
He glanced sideways. Tan Jing’s expression was as indifferent as ever, but He Siheng applied his reading comprehension skills and saw the four words written all over his face: smug little punk.
He Siheng said coolly, “You dug this pit pretty well.”
Tan Jing: “Not my intention.”
He Siheng snorted coldly.
This jerk was even quoting classics at him now. Wasn’t that just saying He Siheng had dug the pit himself and jumped in?
“For this monthly exam, let’s compete again.” It was more announcement than invitation.
Tan Jing: “What’s the wager?”
He Siheng originally wanted to say “call me daddy,” but then he thought better of it. With Tan Jing’s thick skin, he’d call without batting an eye.
He Siheng pondered, then grinned sinisterly. “After the monthly exam comes the sports festival. For those two days, the loser has to be the winner’s lackey.”
Tan Jing raised an eyebrow. “Lackey meaning wherever I go, you follow?”
“Exactly… pfft!” He Siheng realized the guy was taking verbal advantage, assuming he’d take first place. He corrected himself immediately. “Wherever I go, you follow. This time’s first place will definitely still be—”
“Good.” Before he finished, Tan Jing agreed. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”
He Siheng froze. Huh???
He agreed so readily that he’d lose?
Tan Jing lowered his gaze to look at him, a faint hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his eyes. “It’s settled, then.”
He Siheng was always laid-back about everything—except competing with Tan Jing for first place, where he was deadly serious.
He had to admit, though, Tan Jing was a formidable rival. He handled everything methodically, seeming casual but utterly focused when doing problems. Even with Song Lin and Wang Yizhou taking turns bombarding him, he acted like he couldn’t hear a thing.
This put some pressure on He Siheng, who kept tabs on the enemy at all times.
The night before the exam, He Siheng got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Still bleary-eyed and heading back to bed, he habitually glanced out the window.
The villa across the way—Tan Jing’s bedroom—was still lit up.
He Siheng checked the clock on his desk: 2 a.m.
Studying at this hour? That intense?
Half his sleepiness vanished. Though confident in his victory, seeing the light on across the way made his heart drum uneasily.
But it was already 2 a.m., and rest before the exam was crucial too.
After agonizing for a few seconds, He Siheng lay back down and turned off the light to sleep.
One minute later, the room light flicked back on.
“No way, I have to scout this out.”
He Siheng flipped out of bed like a carp, dragged a long-sealed storage box from the closet, and dug out his old binoculars—the secret weapon he’d used in elementary school to spy on Tan Jing during their study wars.
Back in elementary school, He’d taken a big loss. The night before an exam, Tan Jing had deliberately left his light on while sleeping to psych him out, making He Siheng think he’d studied all night. To keep up, He Siheng pulled an all-nighter reviewing, only to nod off during the exam from exhaustion and perform terribly.
He Siheng went to the window, opened it, and raised the binoculars to spy on the enemy.
He had to confirm whether Tan Jing was studying with the light on or just sleeping with it on—otherwise, he wouldn’t sleep easy tonight.
Thanks to Tan Jing not drawing the curtains, He Siheng could see half the room through the binoculars.
No one sat at Tan Jing’s desk. He Siheng sneered.
As expected, this jerk was faking it again to mess with him.
He Siheng was about to put the binoculars away when the room’s occupant suddenly entered his view.
He looked like he’d just showered—hair still damp, only a towel around his waist. Back to the window, his lean waist tapered from broad shoulders to toned arms. The lines were sleek and beautiful, muscles slim yet defined, radiating an aggressive power.
He Siheng recalled that military training night, when Tan Jing had pinned him down and given him the temporary mark, making the power gap with an Alpha painfully clear.
Speaking of which, why was he showering at this hour?
As his thoughts wandered, Tan Jing suddenly turned around in the opposite room.
Caught off guard, He Siheng reflexively dodged to the corner by the wall, heart pounding.
Shit, shit, shit—did he spot me?
He’s so fast, he probably didn’t see.
His phone on the desk lit up while charging. He Siheng sidled over along the wall, picked it up, and checked.
Sure enough, a message from Tan Jing: Years apart, and you’ve picked up this habit?
Busted. He Siheng steeled himself to prove his innocence: I’m just scouting the enemy. Seeing if you’re faking studying to psych me out again.
Tan Jing: Is that so?
He Siheng: Believe it or not.
Tan Jing: Fine, I’ll believe you this time.
Tan Jing: Next time you want to look, just say so.
He Siheng was puzzled the first second—what was there to look at?—then realized the next, his ears burning up.
Fuck! I said it’s scouting—who wants to see you naked?!*
