He Siheng replied obediently with an “Okay” despite his scowl.
He pocketed his phone and headed to the gate.
He tried not to linger on Tan Jing, but the guy on duty was impossible to ignore.
The new summer uniform—a Western-style white shirt—hung perfectly on him, top button done up, black tie neat. He was straight-backed, tall and slender.
Only that indifferent expression kept everyone at arm’s length, cold as ever.
One extra glance fueled more annoyance.
He Siheng reached the gate and, predictably, got nabbed by Director Yan on duty. “He Siheng! What’s with the blond mop?”
He stopped, slouching as he corrected, “Old Yan, it’s light gold, not blond.”
He flicked his bangs smugly. “Hot?”
Zhou Yu stifled a laugh nearby. Heng Dog’s such a dog—even cocky with Old Yan.
Director Yan snapped, “Dye that bird’s nest back tomorrow! Go log it!”
He Siheng shrugged, hands in pockets, sauntering up to Tan Jing. He reported lazily, “Sophomore Class 1, He Siheng.”
Tan Jing glanced down, his cool gaze sweeping the black earring on He Siheng’s lobe.
His face stayed blank, but He Siheng inexplicably felt scrutinized.
The president didn’t log it for him, instead handing over the clipboard and pen with long fingers. “Write it yourself.”
Their second eye contact—closer now, across mere feet instead of a street.
He Siheng tsked, took the items, scrawled messily, snapped the clipboard back into Tan Jing’s hand, and strode off.
After he left, Song Lin sidled up to Tan Jing. “Damn, heard He Siheng’s cocky—didn’t expect this flashy. Hair dye and piercing on day one.”
Tan Jing checked the clipboard. No name—just a turtle, in that familiar shitty handwriting and arrogant style.
He hooked his lip subtly, glancing after He Siheng.
Tall and lean, with a long, snowy nape. Walking side-by-side with another boy, laughing with brows full of youthful flair.
The Omega beside him hooked shoulders intimately, looking close.
Tan Jing pursed his lips, tongue pressing his front teeth. He tsked.
Sensing the mood drop, Song Lin peeked at the clipboard. That provocative turtle made him gasp for He Siheng’s recklessness.
“You drew a turtle?” Zhou Yu, sweating for He Siheng too, fretted. “That’s Tan Jing—the Student Council President!”
“So what? Big shot?” He Siheng shrugged it off.
He was just pissed.
Everyone else’s names were in Tan Jing’s handwriting—they just said their names. Why make him write?
Zhou Yu looked troubled. “Bro, maybe don’t poke the bear.”
He Siheng eyed him. “What, scared already?”
Zhou Yu hesitated.
Unlike the undifferentiated He Siheng, he was an Omega—hardwired to submit to Alphas, hypersensitive to their hostility.
Just now, arm over He Siheng’s shoulder, he’d felt a chill down his back.
Fleeting, no Pheromones, but instinct screamed: Alpha hostility.
Chilling pressure like that? Only an S-Rank like Tan Jing.
Zhou Yu wanted to speak, but he didn’t know how to explain it. After all, not only had Young Master He not Differentiated yet, but he also never attended ABO common knowledge theory classes, so he had no concept of these things and didn’t take them to heart at all.
“I’m really scared,” Zhou Yu admitted with great self-awareness.
“What a wimp,” He Siheng despised his attitude, but he still had his bro’s back. “Fine, if you end up fighting him later, just hide behind me.”
Zhou Yu was stunned. “You still want to fight him?”
He Siheng was speechless at his overreaction and tilted his head to the side. “Didn’t I tell you? I have a sworn enemy, and it’s him.”
Zhou Yu was a friend He Siheng had made in junior high at South Middle School, so it was normal that he didn’t know about the grudge between him and Tan Jing.
After all, it traced back to the previous generation.
The He Family and the Tan Family were business rivals. The He Family had deep pockets, but they were always one step behind the Tan Family. Unable to compete himself, Boss He placed all his hopes on his son.
Thus, from the moment He Siheng was born, Boss He taught him that he must surpass Tan Jing, who was born just a month earlier.
In truth, He Siheng hadn’t hated Tan Jing at first.
Tan Jing had been frail as a child, sickly like a porcelain vase. For the first two years of school, he never went to class and had private tutors at home, so he didn’t have many friends.
He Siheng thought he was rather pitiful and secretly snuck over to the Tan house to play with him a few times, hiding it from Boss He.
However, He Siheng’s pity for Tan Jing came to an abrupt end on the day Tan Jing finally started attending school in third grade.
Because the moment Tan Jing arrived at school, he stole away most of He Siheng’s popularity. Even the little girl He Siheng liked at the time ran off to fawn over him.
Furious, He Siheng went home that day and swore to Boss He that he would defeat Tan Jing!
Young Master He was usually carefree and indifferent to everything, but whenever Tan Jing was involved, his fighting spirit ignited. His life’s principle became: I don’t have to be number one, but Tan Jing absolutely cannot be above me.
They competed like this all through elementary school. It wasn’t until junior high, when Tan Jing advanced straight into North Middle School and He Siheng went to South Middle School, that the battle for first place hit pause.
He never imagined that South Middle School and North Middle School would merge this year, and worst of all, they’d be placed in the same class.
Class One’s homeroom teacher was originally from North Middle School. With a big belly like Maitreya Buddha and a kindly smile, the teacher finished his self-introduction on the podium and then cheerfully announced the seating rules.
“I’ve already assigned your seats. A few students from Former North Middle School know my old rule for pairing desks: one-on-one help. First place sits with fortieth place, second with thirty-ninth, and so on. You have ten minutes to adjust to your seat numbers.”
With that, he picked up his teacup and left the classroom.
He Siheng took his seat number and walked to the sixth row by the window. He glanced at Tan Jing sitting next to his spot, frowned, and checked his seat number again.
No mistake—his seat was here, and the one beside it should be for the fortieth-place student. Why wasn’t this guy moving?
He Siheng kicked Tan Jing’s desk leg expressionlessly. “Hey, move. That’s my deskmate’s spot.”
Young Master He didn’t hold back on the kick, and Tan Jing’s desk tilted forward with a clatter. Books slid off onto the floor, making quite a noise.
With the merger of the two schools, this was the first direct clash between Former South Middle School’s big shot and Former North Middle School’s. Everyone in the class couldn’t help sneaking glances over.
Zhou Yu and Song Lin, who had also been assigned to Class One and knew about the turtle incident, widened their eyes in disbelief.
Zhou Yu especially—having felt Tan Jing’s pressure at the school gate, he knew just how terrifying Tan Jing was. He thought he had to keep an eye on He Siheng to stop him from getting in over his head.
But in the blink of an eye, while he looked away, the impulsive Young Master He had gone and kicked the desk.
The innate oppressive presence of an S-Rank Alpha made Zhou Yu break out in a cold sweat for He Siheng.
Heng Bro, oh Heng Bro, even if you’re fearless, you haven’t Differentiated yet. Can you go easy when facing an S-Rank Alpha?
Song Lin, who wasn’t close to He Siheng, was mostly just watching the drama, with a hint of schadenfreude.
This Young Master He from South Middle School was truly brazen. Not content with drawing a turtle at the gate to provoke him, now he was kicking the desk. Ignorance really was bliss.
At North Middle School, whether out of respect for the Tan Family’s background or fear of Tan Jing himself, people hesitated even to gossip behind his back. The last guy who provoked him in person had been crushed by his pressure until he couldn’t stand straight and ended up transferring schools in disgrace.
Under everyone’s tense gazes, Tan Jing calmly bent down, picked up the book from the floor with his slender fingers, dusted it off, and slowly straightened his desk. He didn’t seem angry at all.
Song Lin and Zhou Yu held their breaths, thinking this was the calm before the storm.
But Tan Jing simply leaned back in his chair, looking leisurely at He Siheng in front of him, his thin lips curving. “Sorry, I’m your little deskmate.”
