Hearing Tan Jing’s words, He Siheng was stunned for a full two seconds.
The results of the placement exam and class assignments had come out the night before, but he hadn’t checked them. He’d only heard from Zhou Yu that he was first in the grade, which meant he’d beaten Tan Jing, and he’d felt pretty smug about it.
But he’d assumed Tan Jing was second.
He never imagined he’d only placed fortieth—dead last in Class One.
He Siheng’s eyes narrowed slyly, and the corners of his lips curved up as undisguised schadenfreude spread across his face. “How long has it been? You’ve slipped this much?”
Zhou Yu had already slapped his forehead in advance, while Song Lin’s mouth twitched. This young master was truly fearless.
Even after being mocked, Tan Jing showed no sign of anger. He merely looked at him with a half-smile. “Childish, aren’t you?”
It was a short sentence, delivered in a flat tone, as if he saw the repeatedly overstepping Young Master He as nothing more than an immature kid who didn’t know any better.
The kind who still played with Ultraman models battling monsters.
He Siheng choked hard on that but had no comeback.
With a cold snort, he grudgingly sat down in the seat next to him, wiping the desk with a tissue until it squeaked.
Tch, same class was bad enough, but they had to be deskmates too.
If he’d known the seating was based on exam ranks, he would’ve skipped at least two questions on purpose and not taken first. Tan Jing was slacking so much now anyway—even giving him a few points, he still wouldn’t have beaten him.
Ten minutes flew by, and the homeroom teacher, beaming like a Maitreya Buddha, began outlining the rest of the class meeting. He selected a few class officers and subject representatives. Tan Jing had been his student back when he taught high school at North Middle School, so it was no surprise when he was unanimously picked to continue as class monitor. No one objected.
The only one who might’ve had an issue, He Siheng, had finished wiping his desk and promptly sprawled out pretending to sleep, missing his chance to speak up.
He’d only meant to avoid looking at Tan Jing’s face, but unexpectedly, he actually dozed off within two minutes of closing his eyes.
His steady, even breathing reached the ears of the person beside him. Tan Jing turned his head slightly, his gaze landing on him.
The boy was slim, his shoulder blades slightly arched under the thin shirt. His nape was clean, the undifferentiated gland hidden beneath pale skin, completely exposed without a hint of defense.
Tan Jing’s eyelids twitched, and he shifted his gaze to the boy’s earlobe, where fresh piercings still looked red and inflamed.
Someone who wailed like a banshee even from a needle prick had gone all out just to please Tan Wan.
Tan Jing’s lips tugged. He took the placement exam paper passed back from He Siheng’s front-row desk and casually draped it over his head.
With the test paper covering the boy’s exposed nape, blocking the light, he slept even more soundly.
He Siheng slept through two whole periods. When he woke, there was a rustling on his head. He lifted the arm he’d been using as a pillow, peeled off whatever was there without looking, and shoved it into his desk.
Without the cover, light flooded in suddenly. He Siheng squinted against the glare, then cracked his eyes open. The first thing he saw was the smooth, fluid profile of the boy beside him.
Tan Jing was sitting exactly as he had been before He Siheng fell asleep—upright, straight-backed, expression bland.
No matter how you looked at it, it was irritating.
He Siheng sat up and called out, “Zhou Yu, wanna go shoot some hoops?”
Of course they’d skip class together. Zhou Yu agreed immediately and rounded up a few guys they knew from Class One and next door in Class Two.
Both South Middle School and North Middle School had been top-tier private schools with excellent faculty. After merging into North-South Affiliated Middle School, it was undoubtedly the best private middle school in Qinan City. Classes were divided by grades, so anyone who made it into Class One or Two post-merger was a top scholar.
It was only the start of the semester, and these past couple days’ lessons were just reviewing the placement exam—stuff from last semester that neither of them bothered to pay close attention to.
On the basketball court, after a bit of play, the guys were all sweaty and parched, taking a water break.
“What’s up with Heng Bro today? You’re off your game,” one guy teased.
He Siheng ignored him, picked up a mineral water bottle from the ground, twisted it open, and took a swig, his throat bobbing.
He really hadn’t been at his best these past couple days—drowsy during the day, sleepless at night, and feeling drained for no reason. He wasn’t even sick or chilled. He figured he’d get checked at the hospital in a couple days.
But that had to wait until after he met Tan Wan. She was coming back soon, and they’d planned dinner.
In front of his goddess, even if he had a 104-degree fever, he had to look strong and robust. No way was he letting her know he was feeling weak.
Zhou Yu grinned mischievously. “Heng Bro’s stressing over his School Grass title slipping away.”
He Siheng laughed and cursed, “Piss off! Worry about your dog ignoring you first—Du Ziteng.”
Du Ziteng was Zhou Yu’s boyfriend. When they’d gone to grab people for basketball earlier, Zhou Yu had deliberately dragged him to Class 7 to invite him, but the guy hadn’t wanted to come and acted ice-cold. That’s when they realized the two were on the outs.
He Siheng had never thought much of Du Ziteng. He only gave him face because he was Zhou Yu’s boyfriend, but seeing how he treated Zhou Yu rubbed him the wrong way. His words carried a hint of reminding Zhou Yu.
Zhou Yu himself didn’t seem bothered. “It’s just lovers’ quarrels spicing things up. We’ll make up in a couple days.”
He shoved his phone over. “Heng Bro, worry about your own School Grass status first. The school forum’s basically Tan Jing’s fan page now—everyone’s talking about him.”
At the mention of Tan Jing, He Siheng frowned and took the phone, skimming it roughly.
Sure enough, the forum homepage was all Tan Jing. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was North Middle School’s forum.
—Major upset! North Middle’s top scorer only hit top forty this time!
—Holy crap, Tan Jing from North Middle is too handsome! No—Tan Jing from North-South Affiliated Middle School now!
—Our new Student Council President is the school’s only S-Rank Alpha!
—Urgent! How do I get marked by Tan Jing? Online waiting!
He Siheng tapped into the first post. The title was about scores, but the main post had a photo of Tan Jing standing guard at the school gate that morning.
In the pic, Tan Jing’s head was slightly lowered, fringe falling over his forehead. He held a duty logbook, his bent arm showing clear, fluid muscle lines.
His long lashes cast down as he looked at the book, lips curving faintly in a rare soft expression.
Thanks to this candid shot, the thread was flooded with fangirling rainbow farts, everyone saying they wanted to be that logbook in his hand.
He Siheng scrolled down with a disgusted look.
No wonder Tan Jing was suddenly gate duty. Out there fishing for popularity, stealing his School Grass spot. Tch, scheming dog.
After all the ass-kissing, people finally discussed his scores—how Tan Jing had dominated first at North Middle, miles ahead of second place. They couldn’t believe this placement exam flop. Some worried if he was in his Susceptibility Period and feeling off.
Then He Siheng’s finger paused at a post from an ID named Sanmu.
Sanmu: Not a bad performance—he didn’t write a single word on the language essay and turned it in! He went home midway to feed his dog!
-Home to feed the dog?
-666, is this peak scholar privilege?
-He loves his dog so much T_T Another day of humans losing to dogs.
-Don’t stop me, I wanna be Tan Jing’s dog!
He Siheng exited the thread stone-faced.
Tan Jing did have a dog at home, and he did take good care of it. But with all those servants, why would he need to ditch the exam halfway to feed it?
He Siheng remembered how he’d crammed reviews before the placement test just to secure first post-merger. And this dog hadn’t even tried.
He straight-up didn’t care about grade first.
It was like punching cotton. Young Master He had been as smug mocking him that morning as he was frustrated now.
Frustrated enough that he lost the mood for basketball. During the break between third period, He Siheng left the court and headed back to the classroom.
Zhou Yu, seeing this, feared the young master would do something reckless in a huff and hurried after him, chattering nonstop to soothe. “Heng Bro, don’t be impulsive. Your popularity’s still sky-high. You were South Middle’s School Grass before—now you’re one of North-South Affiliated Middle School’s. You’re still School Grass!”
He coaxed him all the way from the court to the classroom, but He Siheng didn’t utter a word. The moment he entered, he marched straight to Tan Jing.
Zhou Yu couldn’t stop him and thought, We’re doomed.
In the classroom, Tan Jing sat at his desk working placement exam problems. One hand propped his head, eyes lowered slightly; the other held a pen, jotting solutions or twirling it deftly between his fingers.
Song Lin sat in the front desk, chatting at him on his phone, ignored.
He Siheng strode up, stopped at his desk, and kicked the table leg again. Tan Jing’s pen skidded across the paper, leaving a long streak.
The nonstop-chattering Song Lin shut up instantly and looked up to see who was stirring trouble.
Oh, Young Master He again.
Tan Jing frowned too, but when he looked up and saw that familiar arrogant face, the displeasure in his eyes vanished as his brow arched.
He Siheng loomed over him, gaze challenging. “Class Monitor, I hear S-Rank Alphas have great stamina. Mine’s not bad either. Wanna race?”
Zhou Yu, who’d been watching anxiously since He Siheng entered, choked on his spit coughing. He wanted to drag the reckless young master back but didn’t dare rush in.
Tan Jing stayed calm, long lashes lifting as he sized He Siheng up and down, eyes glinting with amusement. “We can race.”
He Siheng’s brows shot up, blood pumping hot, ready to go—until Tan Jing leaned back against the chair, arms crossed, a lazy smile on his lips.
“Too bad. I don’t wanna bully an undifferentiated kid.”
