Since He Siheng had reacted to his pheromones yesterday—clearly able to smell them—it meant he had Differentiated. Yet today, he wore Tan Jing’s jacket without a care, showing no rejection of Tan Jing’s pheromones. Which meant…
He had Differentiated into an Omega.
Lu Xinshu stared at their departing backs, the anger in his eyes gradually turning into mania.
He Siheng dragged Tan Jing all the way out of Third Middle School.
It had poured last night, leaving puddles on the uneven road, with drizzle still falling from the sky. But he didn’t care. He carried the umbrella without opening it, pulling Tan Jing straight toward the school gate. Their shoes splashed into puddles now and then, kicking up shallow splashes that wet their soles.
Tan Jing sensed his low mood and asked casually: “Did you have a fight with that guy?”
“Fight my ass.” He Siheng snorted heavily, his disgust undisguised. “Arguing with someone like that would be a waste of my life.”
His anger was so intense—it must have been quite the argument.
Tan Jing’s lips curved imperceptibly, tinged with schadenfreude toward Lu Xinshu. Half-jokingly, he teased: “What, did you break off with him too?”
He Siheng was already irritated about how Lu Xinshu had learned of Tan Jing through some channel, vaguely worried that the pervert might target Tan Jing and do something excessive.
And this guy was completely oblivious to his own appeal, casually bringing up Lu Xinshu like he was interested in him. He Siheng grew even more agitated.
He flung off Tan Jing’s hand and turned his head away irritably. “Are you Lu Xinshu’s spokesperson or something? Why is every sentence about him? Really like Alphas that much? Got a crush on him? Your taste is that bad?”
His tone was aggressive, every word laced with barbs. He was genuinely angry.
Tan Jing paused, reining in his teasing, and explained, “I’m concerned about you.”
He Siheng fumed, “Concern my ass. I think you’re interested in that mutt—”
“I only care about you.”
Before he could finish, the guy in front of him suddenly leaned in close, his pitch-black eyes fixed on him unblinkingly, full of sincerity. “I’m afraid he’ll steal you away.”
He Siheng froze.
At such close range, the young man’s eyelashes hung straight down, making his deep brows and eyes look even more defined.
He was always full of hot air, nine out of ten sentences meant to mess with people, but at that moment, the look in his eyes made one believe it instinctively—this was the one sincere sentence, without a hint of joking.
He had said something similar that drunken night.
A cool, misty drizzle brushed past his nose tip, yet He Siheng inexplicably felt his ears heat up.
Snapping back to reality, he immediately raised his voice in bluster, retorting, “I’m not some object—how could I be so easily stolen away?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized the first half was ambiguous and spat at himself. “Pah, what object or not—that last part doesn’t count!”
Tan Jing watched his bristling reaction and chuckled. “No way. How could the esteemed Young Master He go back on his word?”
He Siheng thought he was just looking for another opening to needle him and was about to fire back when Tan Jing added, “I mean the second half.”
He Siheng was slightly taken aback as a hand landed on his head.
The young man’s cool fingertips gently ruffled his hair, like petting, yet with a hint of teasing.
Tan Jing looked at him, eyes curving up. “A man’s word is his bond. No running off with anyone else.”
Thanks to Tan Jing, the very night they returned from Lotus City, He Siheng had another dream about him.
This time, he dreamed Tan Jing handcuffed him—not to send him to the police, but to chain him to the bedpost. Then, with surprising gentleness, he instructed him not to go off with anyone else before leaning in to nip at his lips.
The He Siheng in the dream was utterly shocked. He struggled fiercely, vowing never to be the bottom one. He rolled around several times and tumbled right off the bed, jolting himself awake completely.
After such a commotion, he barely slept that night and nearly overslept the next morning.
Seeing him listlessly slumped over his desk, Tan Jing asked, “Didn’t sleep well last night?”
Hearing the culprit ask that made He Siheng even more resentful. “Thanks to you.”
No sooner had he spoken than the boy in the front seat suddenly sprayed water all over his desk, choking and coughing. He whipped his head around at once, protesting as if there were no silver three hundred taels here: “I-I-I didn’t hear anything!”
He Siheng: “…”
Tan Jing raised a brow at that, asking with keen interest, “What did I do to you this time?”
He Siheng shot him an irritated glare, but the other returned an innocent look, unconsciously licking his lips.
That little gesture was like flipping a switch—He Siheng jolted all over and immediately averted his face guiltily. “I’m catching some sleep. Wake me when the teacher’s here.”
With that, he flopped down on the desk to nap.
He fell asleep quickly. At first, he buried his face, only his fluffy chestnut head visible. Once fully asleep, he shifted unconsciously into a more comfortable position, propping his arm under his cheek.
This fully exposed his sleeping face to Tan Jing’s peripheral vision.
It was a deep autumn morning; the sun had just peeked over the horizon, and soft dawn light illuminated the young man’s clear brows and eyes. The sharp, handsome lines of his profile stood out.
Probably because he really hadn’t slept well the night before, He Siheng slept deeply now, his lips slightly parted, a faint glimmer of saliva at the corner of his mouth.
His peach-blossom pink lips were delicately shaped and plump, the full little Cupid’s bow seeming perfectly made for kissing.
Tan Jing’s gaze lingered on those lips for a few seconds before he looked away.
A moment later, he lowered his head, fingers brushing his own lips thoughtfully.
If it was a dream… wouldn’t that sensation feel… too real?
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