Chapter 22: Truth or Dare

The morning sun was quite strong, making it hard for He Siheng to open his eyes.

Among the group circled up playing cards, two were Alphas. Due to their overly excited emotions during the game, their pheromones leaked out unconsciously. But neither they themselves nor Zhou Yu, the Omega, noticed.

Only He Siheng, as an S-Rank Omega—the highest grade—had the most sensitive perception of pheromones.

From earlier, he had been faintly catching whiffs of their scents.

These weren’t pheromones from an Alpha who had marked him, and the mixed scents irritated him, making the gland at the back of his neck heat up faintly.

Zhou Yu saw him suddenly growing restless and asked, “Heng Bro, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” He Siheng made up an excuse, “just a bit too sunny.”

He still publicly claimed to be undifferentiated, so he naturally couldn’t say he’d smelled Alpha pheromones, nor could he directly tell them to spray scent blocker.

He Siheng frowned in discomfort, wondering if he should find another excuse to leave for a bit…

Suddenly, a jacket draped over his head.

The glaring sunlight was blocked, the irritating mixed pheromone scents isolated, leaving only a familiar crisp aura enveloping him.

It was like taking the first breath of air in a forest after rain—fresh pine needles mixed with the scent of damp grass, cool and refreshing with a comforting chill.

The heat in his gland eased.

He Siheng jumped in fright at the sudden darkness, about to flare up, but the instant he smelled that scent, he inexplicably calmed down.

He yanked off the jacket and turned his head. Sure enough, there stood Tan Jing beside him.

Perhaps because he was standing against the light, the other’s expression looked chillingly cold.

He Siheng narrowed his eyes, but Tan Jing’s face returned to its usual blank mask, as if that deathly glare had just been his imagination.

“What are you doing?” He Siheng grumbled about Tan Jing suddenly covering his head and scaring him.

Tan Jing looked down at him with lowered eyes. “Didn’t you say it was too sunny?”

He Siheng paused, then smirked smugly. “Not bad for a lackey—you’ve got some eye for this.”

Tan Jing gave an emotionless smile. “Learned it from Heng Bro.”

His gaze swept over the now-stunned group again, landing on the Alpha boy next to He Siheng. He jerked his chin. “Your pheromones are leaking.”

The Alpha boy sucked in a sharp breath, more nervous than getting caught slacking in class and pelted with chalk by the teacher. He hurriedly pulled out his scent blocker from his pocket and sprayed his gland repeatedly. The others quickly followed suit, refreshing their own blockers.

He Siheng was still basking in that “Heng Bro,” grinning ear to ear. “Go on, buy your Heng Bro a few drinks.”

Everyone’s spraying paused. They looked at He Siheng like he was a daredevil plucking whiskers from a tiger.

Zhou Yu especially—his pupils shook as he regretted not having a third hand: one to spray blocker, one to hold cards, one to clamp over He Siheng’s troublemaking mouth.

As everyone held their breath, praying or mourning for He Siheng, Tan Jing raised a brow, looking at him with an almost-smile. “Sure.”

Zhou Yu: “???”

The others: “!!!”

Under their shocked stares, He Siheng’s tail practically shot to the sky. Then he suddenly sensed something off, belatedly tasting the weirdness in Tan Jing’s earlier “Learned it from Heng Bro.”

What did he mean, learned from him? He wasn’t anyone’s lackey—what could he teach?

This jerk was saying he’d been his lackey since childhood, so he had experience, right?

Finally catching on, He Siheng wanted to confront Tan Jing right away, but he discovered Tan Jing had already left. Now, led by Zhou Yu, the group showered him with adoring gazes.

Sensing massive gossip vibes, Zhou Yu grabbed his arm and shook it wildly. “Heng Bro… did I miss some plot between you two? Are you at the ‘sharing jackets’ stage already?”

He Siheng speechlessly pulled his nearly dislocated arm free and draped Tan Jing’s jacket over himself. “Didn’t I tell you? I won the bet against him—he’s my lackey now. Got it?”

Zhou Yu’s eyes widened as he clapped a hand over his mouth, then rapid-fired, “A friend’s friend is my friend, a friend’s enemy is my enemy—so is a friend’s lackey my lackey too?”

He Siheng grinned lazily. “What, you wanna boss him around too?”

“No, no, no—even a hundred guts wouldn’t make me try that. I just wanna sniff the pheromones on his jacket!” Zhou Yu leaned in.

He Siheng, thinking he’d aimed high for a second, shoved him away in disgust. “Gross, get lost.”

Zhou Yu: “Heng Bro! Heng Dad! Dad!”

“…”

Not just Zhou Yu—the others wanted a whiff too, cries of “Dad” echoing.

Annoyed by these Tan Jing fans, He Siheng simply had Tan Jing sit and play cards with them when he returned with drinks.

“Too many people—rotating cards feels pointless. Why not call more folks and play Werewolf?” Tan Jing smoothly swapped out the rule-breaking activity.

He Siheng had no issue. “Fine by me.”

No one else objected.

So Song Lin, with no morning events, got called back by Tan Jing. Returning to the stands, he saw this bizarre scene:

He Siheng and Tan Jing—who rumor had it fought in the bathroom that morning—sat shoulder to shoulder, He Siheng even draped in Tan Jing’s sports jacket.

Big fight?

Wang Yizhou must have a thousand degrees of astigmatism.

Still, better play it safe with this.

Song Lin thought it over, deciding to probe this melon. He cleared his throat. “Werewolf alone is boring—add stakes? First three voted out play truth or dare. What do you think?”

Mischievous Zhou Yu agreed first. “I’m in!”

No objections. He Siheng, impatient, chugged strawberry soda. “Start already.”

First round, He Siheng was the first voted out.

“Fuck, is this game experience any worse?” His face blackened.

He’d been the Seer, checking Tan Jing first night—who, as the Werewolf, killed him right after.

He Siheng glared murderously at Tan Jing, who flashed him a quick lip curl.

This jerk! Definitely personal grudge!

The round ended fast. Tan Jing, with god-tier bullshitting, teamed with fellow wolf Song Lin to win, earning the question privilege.

As a voted-out loser, He Siheng naturally fell to him.

“Truth.” He Siheng figured dare would mean Tan Jing tormenting him.

Tan Jing asked, “What type do you like?”

Song Lin beside him choked on saliva, coughing.

Bro, you’re…

So direct.

He Siheng blinked, expecting some dark secret, not this basic question.

“Type I like? Good-looking, long hair, pretty in skirts, gentle and straightforward personality, loves to smile…”

With each trait, Song Lin’s heart clenched.

Young Master He’s type—except the looks—opposed Jing Bro completely. Even the primary gender was opposite.

Song Lin snuck a peek at Tan Jing, whose eyes held faint emotion, unsurprised.

Second round Werewolf, He Siheng the farmer turned landlord—drawing Werewolf, he killed Tan Jing first, then bullshitted and sacrificed friends to solo-win as lone wolf.

Tan Jing picked truth this round.

He Siheng pondered a black-history dig when Zhou Yu shook his arm. “Heng Bro! Probe that thing for us bros and sis! Please! I’ll line up cafeteria for you a month!”

“…Fine.” He Siheng tsked, swayed by the last bit.

Looking at Tan Jing, he asked, “What type do you like?”

Tan Jing’s brow arched, dark pretty eyes sizing him up, thin lips curving meaningfully. “I like…”

“Challenging ones.”