How was he seducing him?
Once he caught his breath and regained some strength, He Siheng scrambled off the bed first thing and unceremoniously kicked Tan Jing: “Get back to your room.”
Tan Jing smirked ambiguously: “Use me and toss me aside?”
He Siheng shot back matter-of-factly: “What, keep you around for New Year’s?”
Tan Jing raised a brow but said nothing, getting up to leave.
His sudden compliance surprised He Siheng. This guy hadn’t kept harassing him.
However, shortly after He Siheng showered and returned to his room, another freshly showered intruder barged in uninvited, striding in boldly wearing only a loosely collared single layer.
If the bathroom weren’t a bit far from the bedroom—and with He Yunlang and Shu Qiu still downstairs watching the Spring Festival Gala—He Siheng suspected he’d waltz in naked.
“What are you doing?” He Siheng eyed him warily.
“Aren’t you keeping me for New Year’s?” Tan Jing said deadpan. “Today’s New Year’s.”
He Siheng: “…”
Damn, he’d forgotten about that.
He Siheng refused to play these word games: “Who sleeps together the first day of dating? Aren’t you embarrassed?”
He threw the last part as a jab.
Unfortunately, “embarrassed” wasn’t in this guy’s vocabulary.
“We’ve slept together a few times even before dating. We’re like an old married couple—what’s there to be embarrassed about?” Tan Jing sat on his bed as if it were his own. “What, are you shy?”
…Old married couple my ass!
He Siheng was about to explode from this bastard’s shamelessness. But he was stubborn—Tan Jing’s words had boxed him in. Insisting on kicking him out now would mean admitting he was the shy one.
He Siheng ground his molars. “Fine, we can sleep together. But we’re drawing a line down the middle.”
He thought it over and realized a mere line wouldn’t suffice for this beast.
He enunciated each word: “If you cross it, you’ll never sleep with me again.”
“What a harsh threat.” Tan Jing pretended to be intimidated, though his smiling lips betrayed the act.
He Siheng snorted coldly: “My bed, my rules. Sleep or don’t.”
Tan Jing sighed helplessly.
Treating him like a wolf on day one of dating? He’d overplayed the kisses tonight.
He Siheng’s room had a spacious double bed. With the line splitting it fifty-fifty, there was still room for another person between them.
He Siheng hadn’t slept the night before, and with his Heat Period hitting today, he was exhausted. But he kept his eyes open.
To prevent Tan Jing from groping him while he slept, he had to wait until Tan Jing dozed off first.
His plan was solid—until the dao master met the demon king.
As he battled drowsiness, a faint crisp grassy scent wafted to his nose, starting subtle before thickening.
Even after the Temporary Mark, his Heat Period’s effects lingered. In this state, he was helplessly drawn to the Alpha’s pheromones, craving them uncontrollably.
His sensitive gland grew faintly hot, like a hook tugging him toward the Alpha beside him, screaming for touch, embrace—deeper, more intimate contact.
He Siheng bit his teeth, trying to ignore the deliberate seduction of those pheromones.
He endured and endured until he couldn’t anymore. Furious, he sat up: “Tan Jing!”
The room lights were off, but his dark-adapted eyes easily spotted the hand reaching over.
“You crossed the line.”
He Siheng froze. Before he could react, Tan Jing grabbed his outstretched wrist and yanked, pulling him forward into a full collapse—right into Tan Jing’s arms.
One of Tan Jing’s hands pillowed his head and hooked around his neck; the other encircled his waist, holding him tight.
“You’re not following the rules, so neither will I.”
The voice above his head was low, unusually petulant.
He Siheng’s hand paused against Tan Jing’s chest, then went limp.
He grumbled sulkily: “You’re the one deliberately seducing me with your pheromones.”
“Mm,” Tan Jing admitted readily, his logic impeccable. “You knew it and still fell for it. Guess you really do like me.”
He Siheng: “…”
This guy’s mouth was unstoppable.
Sensing his exasperation, Tan Jing chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to his forehead: “Relax. Tonight’s just innocent cuddling under the covers.”
He paused, then added: “If you want something less innocent, I’m happy to oblige.”
“…Get lost.”
Tan Jing laughed and smoothed his ruffled feathers, explaining: “School starts soon. I just want to spend more time with you before then.”
He Siheng blinked in confusion: “Don’t think you can get back into Class 1?”
To foster competition, the merged schools kept South Middle’s tradition of placement tests each semester, ranking students by score.
Tan Jing toyed with his hair. “No confidence in ranking exactly fortieth again to be your desk mate.”
Controlling scores was easy for him, but rankings involved luck.
Last semester, he’d studied the top eighty students’ scores and ranges from both schools, risking a class split to nail fortieth place.
He hadn’t been fully confident, so he’d taken the Student Council President role as backup—in case he ended up in Class Two, he could still cross paths with He Siheng during gate duty and discipline checks.
It took He Siheng a moment to parse it, his face full of shock: “You deliberately controlled your score that time? How?”
Tan Jing pondered. “Heaven’s blessing.”
He Siheng: “…”
He Siheng muttered: “You were plotting after me that early?”
And he’d noticed nothing.
Tan Jing owned up shamelessly: “Even earlier.”
He Siheng’s curiosity piqued: “When?”
The next second, he regretted asking.
Tan Jing paused thoughtfully. “Strictly speaking, junior high. Every wet dream starred you.”
“…I didn’t ask that,” He Siheng flushed crimson. “Have you no shame!”
Tan Jing saw nothing shameful in normal physiology. “You never have?”
“…”
He Siheng was speechless.
He had of course had them too. Back in junior high, he had them as well, but he usually forgot them completely upon waking. However, the most recent one… was particularly memorable, and the object of that erotic dream was still lying right beside him.
The silence at this moment was not acquiescence, but a guilty conscience.
Tan Jing keenly narrowed his eyes. He reached out to pinch He Siheng’s slightly cool and soft earlobe, his fingertip deliberately or not rubbing the piercing there, his tone carrying a hint of danger.
“Who did you dream about?”
