Chapter 6: Hush Money Part 2

With that in mind, Young Master He pitied his rival for a few seconds and relented: “Fine, Saturday morning I’ll order delivery for you.”

It was just a few taps on his phone anyway.

He Siheng thought it was no big deal, but Tan Jing enunciated clearly: “I mean you bring it to me.”

He Siheng finally got it—the real point of the hush money wasn’t the milk tea, but making him run errands.

Provocation! This was naked provocation!

He Siheng took a deep breath, turned to meet Tan Jing’s eyes, and gritted out: “Fine, I’ll deliver it to you.”

Tan Jing met his gaze without flinching, lips curving slightly: “I’ll be waiting.”

Saturday morning.

He Siheng ordered a massive full-sugar milk tea version of eight-treasure porridge loaded with every topping—even Zhou Yu, who was addicted to sugar, would find two sips too cloying. Let’s see how Tan Jing handled that.

Considering Tan Cong and He Yunlang were fiercely competing in business lately, before heading over, He Siheng texted Tan Jing: Is anyone home right now?

The reply came quickly: Just me. No need to climb the wall.

He Siheng pocketed his phone, grabbed the mega milk tea, and headed out. As he walked, he pondered how weird the exchange felt—like he was sneaking off for an affair?

Tan Jing’s house was right across the way. The courtyard gate wasn’t fully closed, so He Siheng went straight in and stopped at the entryway, impatiently ringing the doorbell several times.

On the third ring, the entryway door opened from inside.

Tan Jing wore a black T-shirt today, making his skin look excessively pale, like someone who rarely saw sunlight. The teen was in a growth spurt—straight-backed shoulders, broad chest, sharp bones. Standing there, he exuded intense pressure.

His leanness sharpened his facial contours, with bold lines to his brows and eyes, pitch-black irises. When not smiling, he had a keep-out cold demeanor. The small mole on the left side of his nose bridge was perfectly placed, adding to his ascetic vibe.

Looks pretty decent, like a person and not a dog…

He Siheng grumbled inwardly and shoved the milk tea at him: “Here.”

Tan Jing glanced down at him without taking it right away and stepped aside: “Come in and sit?”

He Siheng assumed it was just polite small talk from good upbringing, not sincere, and he had no intention of visiting his arch-rival’s home.

He pushed the milk tea closer and bluntly refused: “No thanks, I…”

Mid-sentence, a bark came from inside the house.

Then came the patter of footsteps. A golden retriever bounded joyfully to the door, barked twice at He Siheng, and panted with its tongue out.

He Siheng lit up like he’d seen an old friend, crouched down with a grin, and vigorously rubbed its head: “Big King, long time no see.”

Though Big King was Tan Jing’s family dog, its bond with He Siheng was no shallower than with Tan Jing. As kids sneaking over to play at Tan Jing’s, He Siheng had ridden it like a knight and played bandit.

But after starting junior high at South Middle School, He Siheng had avoided Tan Jing, which meant fewer meetups with Big King too.

Big King was incredibly perceptive—like now, it grabbed He Siheng’s pant leg in its mouth and wagged its tail, dragging him inside.

He Siheng laughed helplessly: “Alright, alright, I’ll come in and play with you for a bit, okay?”

He was literally dragged inside by Big King.

Tan Jing closed the entryway door and subtly curved his lips.

He said he’d play with Big King, but once inside, after circling him a few times and getting some pets, Big King got up and went back to its dog bed to sleep.

He Siheng hadn’t had enough and squatted by the dog bed, poking its head to harass it: “Big King, you’re done already? Way too lazy, huh?”

Tan Jing took the milk tea to the kitchen and came out with two bowls: “It’s getting old and had surgery recently. Its energy isn’t what it used to be.”

“Big King was sick?” He Siheng asked quickly. “What was wrong?”

Tan Jing looked at him for a few seconds before saying: “Lymphoma.”

He Siheng fell abruptly silent. He looked down at the aging golden retriever with its whitening fur, a wave of sourness flooding his heart.

He suddenly regretted wasting years of potential time with Big King over his feud with Tan Jing.

He Siheng lowered his eyes, fingers gently stroking Big King’s head.

“Don’t look like you’re attending a funeral. It finished surgery a few months ago.”

“…Why didn’t you say so earlier!”

He Siheng really wanted to roll his eyes. He’d nearly teared up, only for this jerk to shut it down. All that sentiment vanished.

Tan Jing said flatly: “It is old. One day less at a time. If you can’t bear to leave it, come visit more.”

“Like I need you to tell me?” He Siheng shot back irritably, stood, and walked over. He saw the bowls Tan Jing held—filled with some mushy stuff.

He Siheng asked: “What’s this? Dog food for Big King?”

Tan Jing calmly set the two bowls on the table: “This is the milk tea you bought me.”

He Siheng: “…”

Tan Jing: “Good things should be shared, so I decided to split half with you.”

He Siheng: “…………”

He Siheng stepped back with a fake smile: “This is for you. I’ll pass. Enjoy it slowly by yourself.”

He turned to bolt, but Tan Jing said leisurely: “This is the final payment for the hush money.”

“…”

He Siheng’s fists clenched and unclenched. Resigned, he turned back, squeezing out through gritted teeth: “Fine, I’ll pay the final installment.”

Talk about hoisting himself by his own petard—He Siheng experienced it firsthand today.

This was probably the fastest boomerang to hit back.

First sip: He Siheng felt like his tongue was soaked in sugar syrup.

Second sip: He nearly gagged from the cloying sweetness.

Third sip…

“No way, I need a break.”

He Siheng slumped in the chair: “Five minutes, then the third sip.”

Tan Jing raised a brow: “Suit yourself.”

Five minutes turned to ten to fifteen. He Siheng simply turned on their TV, watching while forcing down the nauseatingly sweet milk tea eight-treasure porridge.

Finally empty, He Siheng felt like he wouldn’t touch sweets again today—no, this whole month.

Young Master He, bloated like he was carrying a mega milk tea fetus, set down the bowl and stood up without a hint of reluctance. “Done. I’m out!”

Tan Jing just hummed in response. This time, he said nothing more, merely watching his back in silence.

But then He Siheng reached the door. He had just cracked it open when he slammed it shut again in a flash.

The bang was so loud that even Big King, who had been sleeping, lifted its head to look over.

Tan Jing looked puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

He Siheng pressed his back against the door, panic written all over his face. “We’re screwed! Y-your parents are back!”