Chapter 39: Drunk Part 1

Tan Jing’s voice was very soft when he said this, like he was whispering a little secret to someone, almost a breathy murmur.

But every word landed solidly in He Siheng’s ears, so clear that it inexplicably left him feeling at a loss.

The light was dim, with motes of dust floating in the air.

The boy in front of him had bright brows and eyes, and the gaze he directed over carried some unnamed intensity, as if it could scorch a person.

He Siheng averted his eyes and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You’re not saying all this nice stuff just because it’s my birthday today to cheer me up, are you?”

He didn’t get a reply. As soon as his words fell, the person beside him suddenly leaned over, his forehead pressing against He Siheng’s shoulder, as if all his strength had been drained. Almost his entire upper body’s weight pressed down on He Siheng.

He Siheng instinctively reached out to support him, his tone carrying a worry he himself hadn’t noticed. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong with you?”

The air faintly carried the scent of an Alpha’s Pheromones. This time, the grassy woody aroma wasn’t pure; it was mixed with a faint trace of alcohol.

Suddenly realizing something, He Siheng’s eyes widened in shock. “You—you’re drunk already?”

He freed a hand to pick up the beer can Tan Jing had just set aside, weighing it. There was at least half left.

He’d only drunk half a can of beer and was already drunk? This guy was a one-can lightweight???

Tan Jing only felt his head spinning badly, his heart pounding fast, his eyelids heavy. It was like a tightly strung wire had suddenly been released, but not by his own will. He struggled uselessly, unable to resist, his whole body feeling unbearably uncomfortable. Only the faint, clear orange blossom scent at his nose could ease him a little.

His arms unconsciously climbed onto He Siheng’s shoulders, his face burying into the crook of his neck. His dazed, throbbing brain reacted slowly to answer the question from several beats ago. “It’s… the truth…”

As he spoke, warm alcoholic breath puffed against He Siheng’s neck, and soft lips brushed lightly over his skin.

He Siheng tensed up all over, a tingling numbness shooting down to his tailbone.

He grabbed Tan Jing’s arm, trying to pull some distance between them, but Tan Jing clung even tighter. He Siheng staggered backward unsteadily, his back hitting the wall, and somehow ended up slumped crookedly against it with Tan Jing pressed on top of him.

The beer can in his hand clattered to the floor.

The door to the stairwell suddenly swung open, and the karaoke overlord—who had been howling his voice into a duck quack—shouted carelessly for them to come back. “Time to sing happy birthday to the birthday boy! Jing Bro, you guys—”

Seeing the scene before him, Wang Yizhou’s eyes bulged in shock, and his words took a sharp turn. “—what are you doing?!”

His duck-quack voice cracked even more from excitement.

He Siheng looked at him like he’d spotted a savior. “Hurry and help! Your Jing Bro’s drunk.”

“Ah? Ah?” Wang Yizhou stood there like a gorilla that had just learned to walk, floundering helplessly for a moment before rushing over in a panic.

He grabbed one of Tan Jing’s arms, trying to pull him off He Siheng, but Tan Jing stuck to him like glue, not budging at all.

Wang Yizhou gritted his teeth and yanked harder, making the drunk boy frown in displeasure. With extreme impatience, he tsked and shook off his hand, his thin lips coldly spitting out one word.

“Scram.”

Wang Yizhou looked utterly aggrieved. “Jing Bro?”

His Jing Bro ignored him.

Wang Yizhou turned to He Siheng with a pitiful expression. “What do we do? Jing Bro told me to scram?”

He Siheng: “…”

What to do? He really wanted to pour some water into this guy’s brain and stir it up good.

“He’s drunk as a dog. What are you afraid of?” He Siheng was utterly speechless. He turned his head to curse at the drunkard on top of him. “Tan Jing, if you don’t get up, I’m gonna bite your neck!”

Threatening an Alpha with biting his neck—especially an S-Rank one like Tan Jing—Wang Yizhou thought he might as well kneel. Young Master He was a true warrior.

But the boy he’d threatened didn’t get angry. Instead, he nuzzled into He Siheng’s neck like a puppy, mumbling softly in a dazed tone. “Head’s spinning…”

Wang Yizhou’s eyes widened like copper bells. “M-my Jing Bro is… acting… acting c-c-c-c-cute?!”

Live long enough, see everything! He really should record this!

No, why was his Jing Bro acting cute to He Siheng? He’d be mocked to death!

He Siheng had no attention to spare for whether Tan Jing was acting cute or throwing a tantrum right now. The awkward position made it hard for him to exert any force, and his waist was about to be crushed by Tan Jing. He couldn’t afford to care about anything else.

Gritting his teeth, he urged the utterly useless Wang Yizhou. “If you don’t help me up right now, I’ll show you how I throw a tantrum.”

Wang Yizhou oh-oh-ohed three times and scrambled over. Since Tan Jing wouldn’t let him touch, he got smart this time and took the indirect route, avoiding Tan Jing to help He Siheng instead.

With his support, He Siheng finally stood up from the floor, but the person wrapped around him stayed put, clinging tightly to his neck as if terrified that loosening up would get him shoved away.

He Siheng panted twice, so exhausted he wanted to roll his eyes. “Damn Tan Jing, you’re choking me to death.”

Wang Yizhou wiped sweat from his brow, equally wiped out. “Jing Bro can’t understand words anymore.”

No sooner had he said it than Tan Jing suddenly loosened his hold on He Siheng—but only one arm. His whole body still draped over him.

But it was enough for He Siheng to catch his breath. He took the chance to turn around, grabbed the hand around his neck and shifted it to his shoulder, then wrapped his other arm around Tan Jing’s waist.

Finally in a more manageable position, He Siheng sighed in relief and gave Wang Yizhou an approving look. “Why don’t you curse him out a couple more times?”

Wang Yizhou: “…”

The situation had come out of nowhere. No one expected Tan Jing to be such a one-can lightweight. Fortunately, the hotel room He Siheng had booked was right upstairs from the KTV.

He Siheng supported Tan Jing out of the stairwell, took the elevator up, with Wang Yizhou still rattled by that “scram” and not daring to help directly. He trailed behind like a guardian, watching over them all the way and even helping He Siheng fish the room card from his pocket to open the door.

He thought dropping Tan Jing off in the room would end it. But in the split second he turned to close the door, He Siheng let out a startled yelp. Wang Yizhou whipped around reflexively and saw the two of them tumbling onto the bed.

One sprawled on top, the other flat on his back below, stacked like human Arhat monks. If they hadn’t been fully clothed, the pose would’ve been a bit too risqué for kids.

He Siheng had been caught off guard by the pushover, nearly snapping his back. He tried to struggle and shove Tan Jing off, but he’d actually tweaked his waist. Pain made him grimace, while the drunkard pinning him down was like a pile of mud—impossible to budge.

“Wang Yizhou,” He Siheng growled through gritted teeth. “Come help, quick!”