Tan Jing replied smoothly: “It’ll show we’re on good terms.”
He paused, then added casually: “Didn’t you always want to match with Tan Wan before?”
Hearing this reason, He Siheng was speechless: “That’s different.”
Tan Jing countered quickly: “How is it different?”
He Siheng shot back just as fast: “Back then, it was because I liked Wanwan Sis. Don’t tell me you—”
Halfway through, he slammed on the brakes.
Tan Jing’s dark eyes stared straight at him, seemingly earnestly waiting for the second half.
Meeting his gaze, He Siheng felt a lingering fear. Good thing he stopped in time—otherwise, saying it out loud would get him laughed at to death. How narcissistic would he have to be to claim Tan Jing liked him?
“…Anyway, it’s different.”
He Siheng tossed that out and walked off. After two steps, as if uneasy, he doubled back, unceremoniously grabbed Tan Jing’s sleeve, and dragged him away—like a parent fretting over a kid trying to go bad. He muttered: “Come on, home time. You’re the Student Council President—don’t try to copy us delinquents.”
Tan Jing didn’t resist this time, letting himself be half-dragged along.
Behind him, Tan Jing looked at his back and let out an almost imperceptible light sigh.
It’s exactly the same.
That night, it rained.
Rainy night, lightning, a dark room—the horror movie atmosphere maxed out.
No matter which side of the bed He Siheng slept on, he felt like something under the bed would stealthily climb up to rob and kill him.
It was all that horror movie’s fault. He hadn’t absorbed any plot, just got his eyes assaulted by the ghost scenes. Now, closing his eyes brought them back involuntarily for a second torment.
He Siheng simply turned on the room light, enduring the sting to his eyes, and slept with the main light on.
But this time, when he closed his eyes, the image that surfaced was the boy’s slightly parted lips as he ate the popcorn.
The tactile memory from that night was still fresh—like a piece of warm jade, but softer and more delicate than raw jade.
When it covered over, it was a temperature completely different from his own.
A flash of lightning suddenly tore through the sky, followed by a crashing thunder. He Siheng jolted in fright and snapped back to reality.
Damn, what was he thinking?
It wasn’t his heat period—why was he getting all heated up?
And the object of it was…
He Siheng flipped upright on the bed like a carp, slapping his face several times to try sobering up.
His phone on the bedside table lit up opportunely. He Siheng grabbed it to check.
Speak of the devil.
It was a message from Tan Jing—probably noticing his room light was on and asking why he wasn’t asleep yet.
He Siheng replied: About to sleep.
Tan Jing: Can I come over?
He Siheng: ?
He sent the question mark and waited, but no reply came. Instead, there was a knock at the window.
He got out of bed, opened it, and sure enough, Tan Jing stood outside in just thin sleepwear.
He hadn’t even brought an umbrella, coming through the rain directly.
He Siheng hurriedly waved him in: “Y—you really came? Why no umbrella?”
“Horror movie aftermath. Scared to sleep alone.”
Tan Jing’s reason was solid. He took the towel He Siheng tossed him and said thanks.
He Siheng didn’t know what to say, sitting helplessly on the bed’s edge, his long legs against the floor, watching his disheveled hair-drying look: “You didn’t plan to get drenched on purpose so I wouldn’t turn you away, did you?”
Tan Jing kept drying his hair: “Am I the type to pull a sob story?”
He Siheng sneered: “You’re the type with thick skin.”
Tan Jing pulled off the towel, brushed back his slightly damp forehead hair, and smiled at him: “So, are you kicking me out?”
“…”
He Siheng choked, feeling totally played by this guy’s ploy.
Plus, the movie had been genuinely scary—he was having trouble sleeping too. Tan Jing coming over to keep him company was like sending a pillow when drowsy; very tempting.
But he couldn’t let Tan Jing have it so easy.
He Siheng cleared his throat: “My room only has one bed.”
“No problem,” Tan Jing smiled slightly, replying smoothly: “I’m experienced with sleeping on the floor.”
“…”
He Siheng gritted his teeth inwardly—this guy was clearly alluding to that drunken night when he stumbled into the opposite room, forcing Tan Jing to sleep on the floor in his bedroom.
But winter had set in, and it was raining tonight—floor-sleeping would definitely cause a cold.
He Siheng tsked, turned to grab a spare quilt and cover from the cabinet, and tossed them on the bed: “Put it on yourself.”
Seeing his sleepwear was wet too, he tossed him a set of pajamas and turned away: “Fair warning: bed’s sixty-forty, my sixty your forty. If you infect me with your cold, your sob story turns into real pain.”
Tan Jing’s lips curved; he wasn’t surprised by his soft heart.
If there was a ranking for tsundere levels, He Siheng would top the list.
Tan Jing thanked him without further ado. He neatly laid out the bedding, changed out of his wet clothes, and climbed into bed.
Hearing the rustling sounds of him getting settled, He Siheng finally turned over. He crawled onto the bed, switched off the light, and lay flat on the other side.
It was already one in the morning by then—the time when He Siheng should have been dead tired. But now, with someone else beside him, the clear sound of breathing in his ear and a faint woody scent lingering in his nose, all traces of sleepiness vanished.
He Siheng closed his eyes and forcibly tried to brew up some drowsiness.
Meanwhile, Tan Jing kept his eyes open the whole time. He listened to the pattering rain outside as his thoughts wandered restlessly.
He pinched the knuckle of his thumb with his finger, producing a soft crack. Finally, he set aside his hesitation and spoke in a seemingly casual tone, “That night in He City when I had the nightmare—did I sleepwalk at all?”
He Siheng’s eyelids twitched.
Not because of the sudden voice, but because he had brought up that night out of nowhere.
“N-No, you slept like a log,” He Siheng inwardly cursed himself for stumbling over his words out of guilt, but he forced some confidence into his voice. “Why are you asking about this instead of sleeping?”
Tan Jing silently stared at his profile for a moment, then lowered his eyelids with a hint of regret. “I just think it’s a shame.”
He Siheng was puzzled. “A shame about what?”
“You took full advantage of me while sleepwalking. I should’ve sleepwalked too and gotten even.”
“…”
He Siheng’s lips twitched in a mix of gritted teeth. “You really don’t let even the slightest loss slide, do you?”
Tan Jing let out a soft chuckle. “Pot calling the kettle black.”
Perhaps because they were lying down, his voice came out low and husky, laced with laziness and a gritty texture that was inexplicably sensual. Lying right beside him, He Siheng could almost feel the vibration from his chest cavity, making his eardrums itch.
He couldn’t help but turn his head to look.
To his surprise, Tan Jing had been lying on his side facing him the whole time. In the dark, quiet room, those deep black eyes had been fixed on him all along.
Their gazes collided without warning.
The night was deep, rain drizzled outside the window, and emotions churned within the room.
After a brief few seconds of eye contact, Tan Jing’s eyelashes trembled slightly. The sharp protrusion of his Adam’s apple rolled heavily beneath his skin.
Amid the sound of rain came the noise of a swallow, striking right at He Siheng’s heart.
He Siheng’s heart skipped a beat. He abruptly turned away, rolling over to face his back to Tan Jing. “S-Sleep! Go to sleep!”
Tan Jing lowered his eyes and murmured from behind him, “Good night.”
The room fell silent once more, seemingly filled only with the pattering rain outside.
But He Siheng’s taut nerves didn’t relax in the slightest. His fingertips unconsciously pinched at his lips as his heart pounded wildly out of control.
He must be going crazy.
In that instant just now, he had absurdly thought that Tan Jing was about to lean over…
And kiss him.
