He was immediately met with Shu Qiu’s piercing stare. “Where’s this doubled allowance coming from?”
He Yunlang abruptly fell silent.
Oops—he’d let slip about his secret stash.
He quickly tried to salvage it with a fawning grin. “I’ve got you for that, baby.”
Shu Qiu wasn’t buying it. She sneered, “Sounds more like you’ve got a secret account stashed away.”
A trial was about to unfold in the living room. He Siheng ignored Boss He’s pleading glance and tactfully retreated to his room, away from the battlefield.
The sports festival had left him sweaty, so the first thing he did upon returning was take a shower. The hot water washed away the sticky sweat and the day’s fatigue, leaving him refreshed.
He wondered how Tan Jing managed to shower with that plastered leg… No!
He Siheng immediately shut down the thought.
Why was he worrying about Tan Jing? Whether that guy showered or stank to high heaven was none of his business.
That was what he told himself, but after his shower, as he lay in bed, He Siheng tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Closing his eyes brought Tan Jing’s dark, intense gaze to mind, amused as he said, “I came for you.”
In the dead of night, with no one around, Young Master He grudgingly admitted that back then, he’d been just a tiny bit touched.
If a pretty girl had said that to him, he’d definitely think she liked him—and he’d probably be moved.
But it was Tan Jing—the same Tan Jing who’d said they weren’t friends.
If he didn’t consider him a friend, then why say he wanted to see him and go to such lengths?
He Siheng tossed and turned, unable to figure it out or fall asleep. In a fit of self-abandonment, he sat up, turned on the light, played a few rounds of rhythm games on his phone, found it boring, and got out of bed. He left his room.
He’d always been someone who competed with himself. If he couldn’t sleep, he’d find some external help.
It was late at night, and the house was quiet. He Siheng tiptoed to the underground wine cellar.
Lady Shu Qiu loved collecting and drinking wine, and the family cellar was dedicated to her collection. Having grown up around it, He Siheng had picked up some knowledge about wine himself.
He scanned the racks and selected a light-bodied white wine that didn’t need decanting. As he turned to grab it, Shu Qiu appeared soundlessly behind him, startling him so badly he nearly smashed the bottle at her.
He Siheng patted his chest, still shaken, his tone full of grievance. “Mom, why do you walk without making a sound?”
Shu Qiu huffed. “Your dad’s hiding pocket money, and you’re sneaking my wine. You two keep bullying me.”
He Siheng laughed helplessly. “How’s it stealing when it’s from your son? I can’t sleep, so I came for a drink. Join me?”
Shu Qiu pursed her lips, acting tsundere. “Fine, I’ll have a few glasses with you. Go get some cups.”
“Got it!”
While He Yunlang snored thunderously upstairs, the mother and son enjoyed their wine elegantly in the first-floor garden under the moonlight.
He Siheng poured the white wine into a tall-stemmed glass, swirled it gently, and took a sip—slightly acidic with a rich aroma.
Shu Qiu sipped hers gracefully too, then said leisurely, “Spill it. Staying up this late to sneak my wine—what’s on your mind?”
He Siheng mumbled vaguely, “No worries, just too tired to sleep.”
She flicked his forehead immediately.
“You can fool your dad with that, but not me.”
“…” He Siheng’s mouth twitched. He suddenly felt a bit bad for Boss He.
Fine, it wasn’t anything embarrassing. He shared the knot that had been bothering him all evening.
Shu Qiu frowned slightly as she listened. “Little Jing doesn’t seem like the type to say something like that. Maybe there’s a misunderstanding?”
Drawing from years of watching cheesy dramas, she added, “Like in those TV shows where the heroine overhears the hero saying he doesn’t love her and runs off—but his next line is the twist: he loves her to death!”
He Siheng rubbed his forehead. “What kind of example is that…”
“What’s wrong with it?” Shu Qiu said. “I’m asking if you ran off without hearing him out.”
“It’s not that dramatic. I watched him finish speaking before I left. There was no second half like you said.”
Recalling it still irked He Siheng. He tsked. “I really should’ve gone over and punched him back then.”
Shu Qiu nodded in agreement. “You could still go punch him now and ask for clarification.”
He Siheng paused, then turned his face away stubbornly. “No way.”
It had been years—asking about it now would make him seem too invested.
Shu Qiu shrugged. “Then you’ll just stay awake.”
He Siheng raised his glass. “A bit of wine will knock me out.”
She poked his forehead lightly. “Kids shouldn’t drink too much. Careful you overdo it.”
Lady Shu Qiu’s words proved prophetic. After she went back to bed, He Siheng did get tipsy.
He wasn’t drunk enough to pole-dance or go crazy, but his mind was buzzing with excitement, sleep even further away. His brain felt sharp enough to tackle three sets of math problems overnight, and he fixated even more on that lingering issue.
He paced his room a few times, ruffled his hair in frustration, pulled out his phone, and typed a message to Tan Jing: Why did you say that back then?
The message lingered in the text box for a long time before he deleted it word by word, settling on a probing question instead: You asleep?
No reply.
He Siheng glanced at the window across the way—no light, so he must be asleep.
Wait.
Maybe he was like him—lights off but still awake?
Or maybe his phone was on silent, screen down, and he hadn’t seen the message?
He Siheng’s nerves tingled with excitement, like they were dancing. He quickly reasoned that there was a fifty percent chance Tan Jing was still up. With barely a hesitation, he climbed out the window, zigzagged into Tan Jing’s yard, and clung to his window, peering inside.
After staring for a while, he realized the curtains blocked everything.
He Siheng scratched his head and knocked on the glass.
Knock knock knock, knock knock knock.
The rude knocking intruded into Tan Jing’s freshly started dream. Before opening his eyes, he frowned in annoyance, every hair on his head bristling with bedhead rage.
Who the hell was going crazy in the middle of the night?
The lunatic outside kept knocking relentlessly, sounding urgent.
At this hour, knocking on his window—only one person would do that.
Tan Jing resignedly sat up, dragged his plastered leg over, pulled back the curtains, and opened the window. Sleepily leaning on the frame, he asked, “Coming to find me so late—what’s up?”
His just-woken voice was lower than usual, thick with drowsiness.
Compared to his bleary eyes, the boy outside looked exceptionally alert under the moonlight, his gaze bright with a hint of inexplicable excitement.
“Nothing much,” He Siheng said with a grin. “Just came to ask—you asleep?”
