Judging by the color and smell, hot or cold, it wouldn’t be good.
But with Tan Jing drinking it unfazed, He Yunlang skeptically lifted his bowl with a trembling hand and took a sip.
The next second, he nearly spat it back out.
This is ‘great’? What kind of tongue does this Tan kid have?
He Siheng saw He Yunlang’s green face and felt his own spoon weigh a thousand pounds.
As he sat there conflicted, Tan Jing downed his entire bowl in one go. At the end, he said to Shu Qiu, “Aunt Shu, can I have another bowl?”
Seeing him enjoy it so much, Shu Qiu beamed. “Of course!”
She took his bowl. “I’ll get you more.”
He Siheng’s eyes bulged. “You…”
Tan Jing had no time for chit-chat. While Shu Qiu was in the kitchen, he grabbed He Siheng’s bowl and gulped down its contents.
He Siheng stared dazedly at his bobbing throat, lost in thought for a moment.
He’d never noticed before, but this jerk had a really handsome side profile.
“How can you do that? You two are cheating!” He Yunlang, who had witnessed it all, fumed.
Shu Qiu’s voice came from the kitchen. “Yunlang, what did you say?”
He Siheng snatched the bowl from Tan Jing and yelled toward the kitchen, “Dad says your soup is so good, he wants to finish the whole pot!”
Shu Qiu came out smiling with the bowl. “Really? Then drink more, Yunlang.”
She noticed He Siheng’s bowl was empty and exclaimed in surprise, “Heng Heng, you finished so fast? Want another?”
He Siheng refused hastily. “No need—I ate outside and I’m full. Give Dad more.”
He Yunlang ground his teeth in fury but grinned at Shu Qiu. “Baby, this Tan kid seems to love your soup. Let him have more.”
Unlike their mutual “yielding,” Tan Jing never refused. He stood, took the bowl from Shu Qiu. “Thanks, Aunt Shu. I really like it.”
Shu Qiu grinned from ear to ear. “Great, great. Little Jing rarely comes—drink up.”
And so, Tan Jing ended up drinking no less than five bowls by himself. Even He Siheng couldn’t stand it anymore. He made an excuse, dragged Tan Jing away from the table, and hauled him back to his bedroom.
“You drank just because my mom told you to? Didn’t you know to stop?” He Siheng felt inexplicably exasperated.
Tan Jing smiled. “Auntie was so happy—I didn’t want to disappoint her.”
He Siheng said, “A couple bowls to humor her would’ve been enough. Five bowls? You’d burst. And it tastes awful.”
Tan Jing gazed at his furrowed brow, lips curving. “Worried about me?”
He Siheng paused. “…As if. I’m scared you’ll get a stomach infection and then scam my family.”
Tan Jing didn’t call out his tsundere attitude. “Compared to the herbal medicines I drank as a kid, this tastes way better.”
Hearing that, He Siheng recalled how Tan Jing used to down bowl after bowl of bitter herbs without flinching as a child.
But he clearly hated bitterness—otherwise, he wouldn’t pop a candy right after to mask the taste.
He Siheng thought for a moment, pulled open his desk drawer, rummaged around, and fished out a fruit candy. He tossed it over. “Here.”
The candy landed in Tan Jing’s palm. He didn’t eat it right away but looked at He Siheng, eyes curving slightly. “Thanks, Heng Heng.”
He Siheng glared discontentedly. “Don’t call me that.”
Besides his parents, he hated others using his nickname—it made him seem like a kid, no dignity.
Tan Jing seemed to misinterpret his resistance. “Still mad?”
He Siheng got successfully derailed. “What do you think? You lied to me for so long.”
“I did sprain my ankle,” Tan Jing said. “It just healed faster than I expected.”
He Siheng snorted coldly. “Your word means nothing to me anymore—zero credibility.”
Tan Jing pondered briefly, as if thinking of a solution.
Just as He Siheng thought he might offer decent compensation, he heard him negotiate, “How about you wear a cast for a few days, and I take care of you?”
He Siheng: “…”
He Siheng’s fist clenched harder and harder. A “get lost” was on the tip of his tongue when Tan Jing suddenly pocketed the candy, turned on his heel, and headed straight for the bed.
He Siheng was about to demand what scheme he was pulling now when he saw Tan Jing bend down, pick up the tangled bedsheet, stretch it out by the corners on the bed, and then stuff the duvet insert back in.
The bedding, which He Siheng had wrestled with fruitlessly for over half an hour that morning, was neatly smoothed out in Tan Jing’s hands in just a few minutes. The bed looked crisp and tidy.
“Not bad at chores, right?” Tan Jing turned, sat on the edge of his bed, and smiled at him. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. Not even considering?”
He wore a casual shirt that day—loose-fitting, top buttons undone unlike usual. With one arm propped on the bed and his body tilted slightly to the side, the collar naturally slanted open, revealing a glimpse of collarbone.
Eye-catching. Thought-provoking.
The scene felt oddly familiar to He Siheng. His nerves tensed instantly, and that absurd dream from last night flashed in his mind.
Those words—”whatever you want”—were like fuel to the fire, turning He Siheng’s brain to mushy chaos, bubbling over.
The more he tried not to focus on that word, the more it dominated his thoughts.
“D-Do what?” He Siheng’s face flushed, fur bristling. “Wh-Who wants to do it with you!”
Tan Jing’s smile froze. “…Huh?”
The room plunged into dead silence.
Even Tan Jing looked briefly stunned.
Realizing his massive slip of the tongue, He Siheng’s porcelain-pale face burned even redder.
Tan Jing never doubted his hearing, but this time he wasn’t sure. “You just said you wanted to—with me—”
He Siheng cut him off frantically. “I-I mean I don’t need you to do anything! Stay away from me!”
Without giving Tan Jing a chance to speak, he marched over, yanked him up, and shoved him out of the bedroom.
He hurriedly shut the door behind him and leaned against it, feeling utterly drained.
Damn it, what the hell had he just said?
He Siheng hung his head, his hands clumsily covering his face as heat spread from his fingertips to the tips of his nerves, burning fiercely.
The sound of footsteps fading away came from beyond the door. He Siheng leaned there for a long time before he finally managed to recover a bit. Then, the few brain cells he had freed up suddenly spotted another infuriating blind spot.
Damn it, why did this guy get to come and go from his house through the front door without climbing through the window?
![My Husband is a Drama King [Book Transmigration]](https://i1.wp.com/dobynovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/09/transmi.jpeg?resize=151,215 "My Husband is a Drama King [Book Transmigration]")
