He Siheng had shown strong hostility toward Tan Jing, provoking him three times in one day. Anyone else would’ve been dealt with long ago. But today, Tan Jing had been unusually indulgent, seeming in a great mood—especially when He Siheng proposed the match.
Song Lin sat closest to them and had clearly seen the way Jing Bro looked at Young Master He then—like he was an amusing kid clamoring to play.
“He Siheng?” Wang Yizhou perked up at the name. “Not the He Siheng I know, right?”
“The one from South Middle School—Young Master He, first place in this morning’s placement test,” Song Lin said, scenting gossip. “You know him too?”
Wang Yizhou chuckled and jerked his chin at Tan Jing. “Old ‘friend’ of his. Or not quite friends—’arch-nemesis’ fits better.”
Song Lin had only met Tan Jing in second year junior high and had never heard him mention this ‘friend.’ Curious, he asked, “How so?”
Wang Yizhou explained, “The three of us were elementary classmates. That kid always competed with Jing Bro for first place. Later, he fell for his sister and decided he wanted to be her husband.”
Song Lin was shocked. “I remember your sister is an Alpha too?”
He’d browsed the forum all day today, even explaining Tan Jing’s slacking on the test. While there, he’d seen plenty of posts about He Siheng—including discussions of him as an S-Rank Alpha prospect. He was pretty popular among Omegas.
Logically, two Alphas couldn’t be together. They couldn’t mark each other to ease susceptibility symptoms, and their pheromones instinctively repelled one another.
“Yeah,” Wang Yizhou said with a laugh. “But that kid was head over heels for Sister Wan. He even yelled he’d become an O for love.”
Song Lin nearly spat out his water. He coughed twice, then clutched his stomach in hysterical laughter. “Hahahahaha—become an O for love! How is he so badass? Hahaha—”
The usually silent Tan Jing suddenly stood. He tossed the empty bottle to the side. It arced through the air and landed precisely in the trash bin.
“Let’s go.” He dropped the words and walked off.
Hearing the chill in his tone, Song Lin toned down his laughter and whispered, “What did we do to piss him off?”
“Every time He Siheng’s pursuit of his sister comes up, he reacts like this,” Wang Yizhou shrugged, unfazed. “Total siscon.”
On the third day of sitting next to Tan Jing, He Siheng didn’t go picking fights like the previous day when he’d been full of vigor.
It wasn’t fear. He was just too sleepy today, lacking the energy.
The fatigue of the past couple days could be blamed on poor sleep. But last night, he’d slept fine—yet today he was still drowsy, eyes barely opening, mood inexplicably irritable.
As soon as he entered the classroom, he flopped onto the desk and passed out.
In his hazy daze, he caught a faint, crisp scent—like an invisible hand gently soothing him. The restless cells clamoring throughout his body gradually calmed. He sank deeper into sleep.
But in his dream, he saw Tan Jing again.
Including yesterday, this was the second time.
The Tan Jing in the dream was still young. Though he wore the same stern face as adulthood, his childish features looked far more approachable than now.
The dream He Siheng was also just seven, wailing his heart out and struggling with all his might against the needle.
He Siheng’s nightmares always revolved around pain. The fearless Young Master He dreaded injections above all else. Every time he got sick and needed a shot, it felt like a double massacre of body and dignity.
Back then, his relationship with Tan Jing hadn’t fractured yet. Pinned down by his parents for a shot in the butt from the doctor, he spotted Tan Jing—who’d come to visit—and saw his savior. “A Jing bro, save me! I’m dying! I’m dying!”
He Yunlang’s head ached from his noise. He smacked his butt. “You’re burning up to nearly 104 degrees. Skip this fever shot, and you’ll really kick the bucket!”
He Siheng wasn’t listening. He wailed even louder. “A Jing bro, help! I don’t want the shot, aaah!”
Tan Jing clearly wasn’t good at comforting people. He stood stiffly before him with dry words. “Don’t cry.”
“It hurts! It hurts!”
“You haven’t even gotten it yet.”
He Siheng’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’ve had them before. They hurt so much!”
Tan Jing thought for a moment, then pulled a lollipop from his pocket. He unwrapped it and stuffed it into his mouth. “Eat something sweet. It won’t hurt.”
He Siheng sniffled around the lollipop. “Really?”
Tan Jing hummed. “Every time I get a shot, I eat one. It doesn’t hurt then.”
He Siheng wiped his tears and nodded. “Okay, I believe you.”
He sucked on the lollipop, stopped struggling, and obediently waited for the shot.
Seconds later, heart-wrenching wails echoed through the room again. “Aaaah, it still hurts!!!”
…
School had let out already. Students packed up and left one after another. He Siheng was still asleep. Zhou Yu started toward him to wake him but froze after two steps when the boy beside him glanced over.
Zhou Yu gave an awkward laugh. Dead friends over poor me. Wisely, he ditched the idea of waking He Siheng and slipped out first.
Soon, the classroom held only the two boys in the back row by the window: one asleep face-down on the desk, the other reading beside him.
Faint sunset light streamed in from the window, falling over them.
The clock above the blackboard ticked through a dozen cycles. The pages of the book before Tan Jing remained unturned. His phone on silent received several messages from Tan Wan, but he didn’t reply.
Today was the day he’d planned to have dinner with Tan Wan. If He Siheng slept straight through dinnertime, that would be ideal.
However, He Siheng’s sleep grew more restless.
The injection nightmare was too harrowing. He frowned tightly, fingers unconsciously clenching behind his head. His consciousness floated like a boat adrift on waves, rising and falling.
Noticing his discomfort, Tan Jing frowned slightly. After a moment’s thought, he patted his arm. “Wake up.”
He Siheng blearily opened his eyes. In his foggy vision, he met a pair of eyes both strange and familiar.
Narrowed brows and eyes, deep obsidian pupils. The gaze that usually viewed others indifferently now held only concern and care.
He Siheng parted his lips, murmuring unconsciously. “A Jing bro…”
His voice was soft, but in the quiet classroom, it rang clear. The youth before him clearly startled. Some emotion flashed in his eyes.
He Siheng jolted fully awake.
Fuck! What had he just called him?
