Chapter 7: Sneaking Around

As the footsteps outside the house grew closer, He Siheng grew frantic like an ant on a hot pan. “W-What are we gonna do?”

Tan Jing remained calm and composed. “What’s there to panic about?”

“Don’t you know? My old man, Boss He, has been at it with your dad again. They’re in the thick of battle!”

As he spoke, He Siheng’s eyes locked onto one spot. “I’ll hide in your room first!”

He bolted toward Tan Jing’s bedroom after dropping that line, and Tan Jing didn’t stop him. He watched He Siheng’s panicked, directionless figure and couldn’t help but chuckle.

It wasn’t until He Siheng dashed into Tan Jing’s room and shut the door that he finally let out a sigh of relief.

Good thing he reacted quickly.

After catching his breath, he prepared to climb out the window. But when he opened it, he paused.

Why did it feel exactly like sneaking out after an affair?

Besides, Tan Jing was the one who had called him over in the first place. Why was Tan Jing acting like it was none of his business while he had to sneak out the window?

The more Young Master He thought about it, the more irritated he became. He turned back around and leaned against the window with a sullen expression.

His gaze swept around the room a few times. He hadn’t been here in years, and compared to back then, the room had changed a lot.

White wall paint, dark gray curtains, black flooring. One wall had built-in bookshelves stuffed full of study guides, competition workbooks, and extracurricular books that looked boring just from the covers—all arranged neatly and orderly, as if the owner had OCD.

Just like the guy himself: a bland, uninteresting room.

On the desk, however, sat two photo frames.

He Siheng immediately spotted the one next to the family photo: a picture of him and Tan Jing.

It was taken on the first day of third grade elementary school—the day Tan Jing started school. Tan Wan had picked him up and snapped a photo of the two of them.

That day, He Siheng suffered a huge blow. The girl who used to bring him snacks had given all her candy and pudding to Tan Jing instead.

Not just her—all the kids who used to crowd around He Siheng now gathered at Tan Jing’s desk, curious why he was only starting school in third grade, asking if he could keep up, and marveling at how well he studied after seeing him in class.

Of course, the biggest praise by far was how good-looking Tan Jing was.

“You’re the best-looking boy I’ve ever seen in the whole world.”

He Siheng heard that girl—the one who used to say the same about him—say it to Tan Jing.

By the end of the day, after being ignored all afternoon, He Siheng was fuming, but Tan Jing was completely oblivious.

Tan Wan, who came to pick up Tan Jing and was already in junior high by then, noticed He Siheng’s bad mood. She patiently and gently comforted him, then took him and Tan Jing to the arcade to play.

In the photo, He Siheng and Tan Jing stood in the arcade, both smiling happily.

Tan Jing’s happiness was probably from the fun games, but He Siheng’s came from realizing he liked the person taking their photo—the kind and attentive Tan Wan.

He Siheng wasn’t one for secret crushes. If he liked someone, he said it right away.

He was young at the time, though, so Tan Wan didn’t take him seriously and just smiled back. “Sis likes you too.”

She completely treated him like a kid.

Tan Jing’s attitude toward him started changing after that, though.

He Siheng chalked it up to little-brother hostility toward his future brother-in-law, especially since he was still sore about Tan Jing stealing his popularity.

That’s when the rivalry began.

They grew more and more competitive, vying for teachers’ praise, first place on exams—even races in PE class had to have a winner.

Though the competition was fierce, He Siheng still saw Tan Jing as a brother and had long treated him like a future brother-in-law.

But on the day Tan Wan graduated high school, their friendship came to an end.

Not only did Tan Jing coldly watch his heartbreak from start to finish, but He Siheng overheard Tan Jing talking to someone else.

“He Siheng isn’t my friend,” Tan Jing said, nearly indifferently.

Even years later, thinking back on it still made He Siheng grit his teeth in anger.

He stared at the photo for a moment before looking away with a heavy snort.

The second week of school, the campus was abuzz with complaints.

Apparently, the school leaders had witnessed students from Former South Middle School and Former North Middle School arguing and decided the merged schools still lacked unity. On a whim, they mandated a week of military training to build cohesion through militarized drills.

High school freshmen were already scheduled for it at the start of term, so no issue there. Seniors dodged it due to tight review schedules.

Sophomores, stuck in the middle, were the unlucky ones facing their second round of high school military training.

“Is the school nuts? If they want unity, isn’t the sports festival next month? Why bother with military training?”

Zhou Yu harbored the most resentment, still haunted by last year’s terror of the 400-meter obstacle course.

He Siheng didn’t mind much. “It’s only five days.”

Zhou Yu’s face fell. “Feels like years out there. Five whole years!”

He Siheng found it amusing. “If you really don’t wanna go, fake being sick.”

Zhou Yu lit up. “Right! I can say I’m in my Heat Period!”

No sooner said than done—he dashed to the office for a leave request. Minutes later, he slunk back with a defeated look.

“Damn, soon as I mentioned military training, everyone’s suddenly in Heat or Susceptibility Period. Office is backed up with a dozen people. No way the teachers buy it.”

He Siheng’s mouth twitched. “It’s just military training. Is it really that dramatic?”

Zhou Yu turned solemn. “Heng Bro, did you forget? Last year, I folded your blanket for you.”

He Siheng: “…”

He’d actually forgotten about that.

Heaven was fair—it opened wide doors for He Siheng in academics and athletics but slammed shut his window for basic life skills.

Live-fire shooting, 400-meter obstacles? No sweat. But housekeeping, especially folding those tofu-block blankets? He Siheng couldn’t hack it.

Others produced neat cubes; his were mushy glop.

Last year’s training, Zhou Yu had folded for him all five days. This year, He Siheng planned the same.

But fate had other plans: he and Tan Jing were dormmates.

Since he hadn’t reported his true gender, He Siheng’s profile still listed him as undifferentiated. Everyone assumed he’d differentiate into an Alpha anyway, so he naturally roomed with Alphas.

The training base was in the suburbs, reached by school bus. Class One and Class Two mixed, four per room: He Siheng, Tan Jing, Song Lin, and Wang Yizhou from Class Two.

When He Siheng saw the roommate assignment, he nearly spat blood.

Of all people, why these three? His arch-rival and his rival’s two close bros. If a fight broke out, it’d be him against three with the door shut.

For face-obsessed Young Master He, taking on three was fine—but losing face in front of them? Absolutely not.

If Zhou Yu came to fold for him, Wang Yizhou’s smart mouth would mock him, Tan Jing would watch the show, Song Lin would clap.

Just imagining the scene made He Siheng’s scalp tingle. He’d probably snap and take on all three on day one.

No way! He couldn’t just wait it out. This time, he’d do it himself.

Day one’s training was basic: morning camp ceremony under the blazing sun, listening to tired speeches from school leaders, instructors, and student reps. Afternoon was housekeeping lessons, with instructors going dorm-to-dorm for hands-on demos.

He Siheng treated it like a final exam, especially during blanket-folding instruction—more focused than he’d ever been on practice problems.

But of course, he wouldn’t practice in front of Tan Jing and the others.

After dinner time, once they’d all gone to the cafeteria, He Siheng stayed behind and frantically studied folding tofu blocks in the dorm.

At the base cafeteria, Wang Yizhou and Song Lin griped back and forth. “The food here’s as bad as last year.”

“This isn’t food—it’s pig slop.”

“Call the food bad without insulting yourself?”

“You little—”

Tan Jing ignored them, his peripheral vision fixed on the other side.

The seat next to Zhou Yu held an untouched tray, no sign of its owner.

After nearly ten minutes, still no He Siheng.

Tan Jing frowned, picked up his tray, and stood. “I’m done.”

Song Lin was shocked. “Huh? Already? You barely ate.”

Wang Yizhou sighed miserably. “Told you the food sucks. Even picky-proof Jing Bro can’t stomach it.”

Leaving the cafeteria, Tan Jing headed straight for the dorm. Before reaching the door, he heard resentful muttering from inside.

“Damn! Why do they have to be tofu blocks? It’s just gonna get unfolded anyway—why not smooth it flat?”

“One more try. It’s just a tofu block. This young master refuses to believe I can’t do it today!”

He Siheng trash-talked the blanket one second, and the next, his stomach growled loudly.

He let out a long sigh, collapsed onto the disastrously folded blanket, and clutched his belly. “Might as well starve to death.”

No sooner had he spoken than a soft chuckle came from the doorway.

He Siheng instinctively looked over.

Tan Jing stood there in camouflage gear, his backlit silhouette tall and straight.

Arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe, a smile played on his lips. “Need a hand?”