He Siheng never imagined he’d pull that move; he flushed with shame and anger: “Recording that? You’re the pervert!”
Tan Jing’s brow arched, looking at him with a half-smile: “Compared to your actions last night, I’m probably still a step behind.”
He Siheng froze. What perverse thing had he done last night? Just climbed in for a nighttime chat, at worst an embarrassing cry-fest—hardly perverted. Had he really blacked out later?
He Siheng quickly sifted through his memories but found nothing conclusive. Shrugging it off, he bluffed confidently: “At worst, I just have bad alcohol tolerance.”
“Your sleeping posture’s bad enough too,” Tan Jing added bluntly. “I spent the whole night fetching blankets for you.”
He Siheng deflated instantly. No wonder it had been hot and cold; there’d been a “blanket-fetching expert.”
Seeing him quiet from guilt, Tan Jing’s lip corner subtly lifted as he asked casually: “With that sleeping posture of yours, I’m probably the only one who’s endured it, right?”
Besides him, He Siheng truly hadn’t slept with anyone else, precisely because he knew how awful his habits were—one night could probably kick someone to death.
But bad sleeping posture had its upsides too. Back in middle school dorms, that flaw had once helped him out big time, though it was embarrassing.
He Siheng cleared his throat weakly: “Warning you—don’t go spreading word about my bad sleeping habits.”
Tan Jing’s gaze swept his face, his smile widening.
Meaning only he’s slept with him.
He Siheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed, unnerved by that enigmatic look. He pushed off the bed to stand: “I’m heading home.”
Before climbing out the window, he emphasized again: “Anyway, if you dare tell anyone, you’re dead!”
Tan Jing found his threat laughable, in no mood to stop teasing as he watched He Siheng clumsily climb out, back lacking any menace.
Propping his cheek, Tan Jing drawled slowly: “Depends on how you behave.”
Predictably, the climber slipped, whipped around with a fierce glare—like a provoked cat.
The moment He Siheng got home, Tan Jing messaged: Tomorrow, ride in your family car to school with me.
He Siheng was unwilling, of course: Don’t you have your own ride?
Tan Jing: The car can’t fly to the fourth floor.
He Siheng: ?
Tan Jing: Plaster makes it inconvenient.
This implied He Siheng was responsible for carrying him up and down stairs during this period.
Combined with Tan Jing’s earlier “depends on your behavior,” He Siheng swallowed his refusal bitterly, gritting out: Fine.
Getting the expected reply, Tan Jing smiled and pocketed his phone, then got up to tidy the bedding on the floor.
At breakfast, Jiang He eyed him several times: “Little Jing’s in a good mood today. Slept well last night?”
She’d been worried about his injured leg originally, but he’d emerged from his room that morning looking cheerful, as if little flowers floated around him.
Tan Jing hummed vaguely: “Nice weather today.”
He paused, then added: “No need for Zhang Shu to drive me to school these days.”
“Good,” Jiang He said. “With your foot hurt, resting at home for a bit is fine anyway. School lessons—you can handle them with books on your own.”
“Not taking leave. Until the injury heals, I’ll ride to school in He Siheng’s family car.”
Hearing that, Tan Cong bristled first: “Why ride in his car?”
“He Siheng said as my desk mate, he has a duty to help an injured classmate.” Tan Jing fabricated smoothly without batting an eye.
Tan Cong’s expression eased: “That kid’s got some conscience then. Looks like he’s not like his dad. Use the chance to boss him around good…”
Before he finished, Jiang He scolded: “How can you be so petty and immature?”
She turned to Tan Jing: “Little Heng’s enthusiastic, sure, but we can’t trouble him for nothing. Invite him over for a meal later.”
Tan Jing agreed: “Sure.”
The next morning, after messaging He Siheng, Tan Jing waited at the door first.
Though on crutches, he looked leisurely, less like an injured man and more like a young master complacently awaiting service.
He Siheng approached with a sour face: “Should I say ‘Young Master, please board the car’?”
Tan Jing naturally draped his arm over his shoulder, as if oblivious to the sarcasm, and said lightly: “Too polite.”
He Siheng ground his teeth inwardly.
The jerk’s really playing along.
They got in the car. He Siheng leaned against the back seat, habitually picking up the extracurricular book from behind to read. Tan Jing reminded: “Reading in the car is bad for your eyes.”
He Siheng shot back coolly: “Thanks to you, I have to hand in a reading note every week.”
He paused, eyes rolling schemingly: “For driving you to school, write it for me?”
Tan Jing reclined relaxedly, eyes closed in repose: “Never mind. Proceed with ruining your eyes.”
He Siheng: “…”
He Siheng truly couldn’t muster interest in literature, especially foreign novels with their clunky translations. After a bit, drowsiness hit; otherwise, the book wouldn’t have sat in the car for over half a month with progress still in the first third.
After his third yawn, he simply closed his eyes for a nap.
The smoothly driving car had a lullaby effect like a baby’s cradle. He Siheng’s awareness soon blurred, his head lolling side to side.
Just as he neared sleep, a hand timely caught his tilting head.
The warm, dry palm pressed against his cool cheek, bringing a comforting temperature.
He Siheng groggily opened his eyes and, a beat later, realized that the hand cradling his face belonged to Tan Jing. He immediately sat up straight, all traces of sleepiness vanishing.
“I’m really envious of your sleep quality,” Tan Jing drawled leisurely. “You can fall asleep anywhere.”
This wasn’t envy at all—it was clearly mocking his own words from the night before: “I’m not a pig; I can’t sleep just anywhere.”
And those had been He Siheng’s own words, so he couldn’t even retort.
He Siheng’s ears turned red with embarrassment. “Shut up, or I’ll kick you off!”
“Wow,” Tan Jing responded without any emotional fluctuation. “How scary.”
He Siheng: “…”
He endured it, endured it some more, until they finally arrived at school. He explained the situation to the security guard at the gate, and the car drove straight through, parking under the teaching building.
Wang Yizhou happened to arrive at school at that moment. He had been wondering which young master was being so ostentatious—getting picked up in a Bentley wasn’t enough; they even drove right up to the teaching building.
Out of curiosity, he glanced over and saw He Siheng get out of the car first.
Seeing him, Wang Yizhou wasn’t surprised at all. As expected, it’s this young master showing off again. But the next moment, he watched as He Siheng ran to the other side of the car and opened the door.
The person who emerged from the back seat was none other than Tan Jing!
Tan Jing’s arm rested very naturally on He Siheng’s shoulder. No one knew what he said, but it made He Siheng grit his teeth, his ears flushing red, looking just like an irritated little wife.
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