…Damn, how did this guy walk without making a sound!
He Siheng stiffened for a good while, his face burning with embarrassment.
He coughed twice and turned his face away. “Who asked for your help? It’s not like I don’t know how.”
Tan Jing knew Young Master He’s mouth could reach the heavens, so he didn’t insist. He walked into Dorm 224, shoved his hands in his pockets, and leaned against the bed opposite him, watching leisurely. “Go on.”
He Siheng ground his teeth and continued folding the tofu block with a stiff neck. The instructor’s “scrape, fold, press, pinch, dig” five-step method—he’d clearly followed every step, but the blanket still came out crooked and twisted.
Tan Jing watched him bustle about, working up a full sweat, shook his head, walked over, and spread out the messy blanket He’d folded. “First, you have to press the blanket flat. Use your forearm or palm to scrape away all the wrinkles and lumps.”
“In the middle of the blanket, about thirty centimeters, use your palm to mark it like this. After folding, stuff the blanket in firmly.”
He explained as he demonstrated, even more meticulously than the instructor. After going through it from start to finish, a perfectly square tofu block formed under his hands, without a single wrinkle—nearly flawless.
He Siheng couldn’t help but exclaim upon seeing it, “Damn, that’s impressive…”
Realizing he’d let his inner thoughts slip out, he immediately shut his mouth and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Even though you folded it well, I didn’t ask you to come teach me.”
Tan Jing said flatly, “Teaching you is my duty as dorm leader. If hygiene doesn’t pass, the whole Dorm 224 gets punished.”
He Siheng couldn’t argue with that. What he hated most was holding others back.
His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, a bit depressed, but he still spread out the neatly folded blanket again. “Demonstrate it one more time.”
Tan Jing’s lips curved imperceptibly. “Sure.”
He half-squatted at the edge of the bed, his arm pressing down on the blanket, scraping over and over to smooth out the wrinkles slowly.
He Siheng watched his movements intently, his gaze falling on the smooth lines of muscle in Tan Jing’s arm.
With his motions, the veins under his skin bulged slightly, veins distinct, carrying a vibrant sense of power.
For no reason at all, it had a sensual allure that stirred the imagination.
He Siheng quietly clenched his fist and flexed, his gaze wandering back and forth between the muscles in his own tensed arm and Tan Jing’s, secretly comparing them. Suddenly, he heard Tan Jing ask, “Got it?”
He Siheng hurriedly unclenched his fist, pretending he hadn’t been distracted. “I’ll give it a try.”
Tan Jing stepped aside, standing by to watch him work, occasionally correcting his technique.
Finally, He Siheng folded a perfectly square tofu block, so neat that he couldn’t help but want to applaud himself.
“Finally got it!”
Tan Jing watched him carefully position the tofu block, amusement in his eyes. “Pretty quick on the uptake.”
He Siheng wasn’t humble at all. “Who do you think I am?”
Tan Jing smiled in agreement. “The student learns well, and the teacher teaches well.”
He Siheng caught the implication in his words and immediately bristled. “It’s just folding a blanket—how does that make you the teacher? Don’t try to take advantage of me.”
Tan Jing didn’t argue, just glanced at his watch. “Alright, go eat.”
Zhou Yu’s meal for him was probably already cold by now. Any later, and the cafeteria would close.
Reminded by Tan Jing, the hunger He’d briefly forgotten came roaring back. He Siheng hurriedly headed to the cafeteria.
At Dorm 224’s door, he paused and turned back. “Hey, Tan Jing.”
“Hm?”
Tan Jing looked up at him.
The boy at the door scratched at his soft-looking chestnut short hair, his gaze drifting unnaturally in the air, avoiding Tan Jing’s eyes.
“Uh… thanks.”
He Siheng bolted after saying it, his figure vanishing from the doorway in an instant. Faintly, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed.
Tan Jing stared at the now-empty doorway, his chest vibrating slightly as he chuckled lowly. “What’re you running for?”
Just then, Wang Yizhou and Song Lin returned from dinner at the cafeteria, nearly sideswiped by He Siheng like a gust of wind. The two exchanged bewildered looks.
At Dorm 224’s door, they walked in and bumped into Tan Jing smiling at the doorway—both found it creepy.
Song Lin’s eyes widened. “Heng Bro, what’re you smiling at?”
“Nothing,” Tan Jing said, glancing at the tofu block on the opposite bed. Recalling how someone had secretly compared muscles with him earlier, the smile deepened on his lips. “Just think… military training’s pretty fun.”
Wang Yizhou looked even more horrified. “I knew the cafeteria food wasn’t for humans!”
Even Jing Bro’s brain was fried from eating it!
Tan Jing’s notion that military training was fun mostly dissipated that night.
On the first day of training, there wasn’t much to do in the evening, so everyone showered early and rested in Dorm 224.
Though He’d read the theoretical knowledge Tan Jing sent him a few days ago, He Siheng had differentiated too late—seventeen years of habits weren’t easy to change. Young Master He still lacked any real Alpha-Omega gender awareness.
Subconsciously, he still saw himself as an undifferentiated Alpha-in-training, so sharing Dorm 224 with three Alphas didn’t faze him. Seeing Wang Yizhou and Song Lin wandering around shirtless didn’t bother him either.
Military training rules technically banned phones, but everyone was a veteran from last year, knowing from experience where to hide them to dodge inspections.
With nothing to do, He Siheng pulled out his phone, opened his favorite rhythm game, put on headphones, and played to pass the time.
His reactions were lightning-fast, and as a veteran player, he knew the levels inside out. His slender, nimble fingers danced across the screen in a dazzling blur—impressive even to onlookers. Zhou Yu had said more than once that watching him play was a treat.
Wang Yizhou glanced over as he passed by and got hooked immediately. “Damn, bro, that’s some sick operation!”
As he watched, he plopped down next to He Siheng, yelling “awesome” nonstop.
Wang Yizhou yelled it so much that soon Song Lin got drawn over too, adding another voice to the chorus.
With such an audience hyping him up, He Siheng played even more excitedly. He took off his headphones, turned the sound up, enhancing the experience for Wang Yizhou and Song Lin.
So when Tan Jing returned from his shower, he walked into Dorm 224 to see the three of them lined up on He Siheng’s bed.
He Siheng sat in the middle, flanked by his two shirtless guardians, all hyped up.
“Damn, damn! That works?”
“Heng Bro’s awesome! That operation is insane!”
Tan Jing’s thin lips pressed into a line, and he walked over with a dark expression.
He Siheng was at a crucial moment in the game when suddenly something covered his head.
“Damn it, who?!”
He Siheng cursed, but he couldn’t pause the rhythm game midway, so he kept playing with the jacket over his head, fingers flying.
As for Wang Yizhou and Song Lin, they instinctively started to curse too, but looked up to see it really was their “dad” who’d arrived.
Seeing Tan Jing’s icy face, both shut their mouths at once.
“No shirtless in Dorm 224.” Tan Jing’s expression was foul, his tone fouler.
Wang Yizhou and Song Lin were baffled.
“W-Why?” Wang Yizhou asked.
Tan Jing’s tone was flat, but cutting. “Eye-searing.”
Wang Yizhou and Song Lin grumbled inwardly but didn’t dare object under that freezing glare. They obediently went to put on shirts.
At the same time, He Siheng finally cleared the level, yanked the jacket off his head, and snapped irritably, “Tan Jing, are you sick? Why’d you cover my head for no reason?”
Tan Jing looked down at him coldly. “That file I sent you last week—I suggest you read it when you’ve got time.”
He Siheng blanked for a second, confused. “Huh?”
Then Tan Jing enunciated a certain word heavily. “This is an Alpha* Dorm 224.”
“…”
He Siheng finally got it.
Young Master He, slow on the uptake about his new Omega status, pulled the jacket back over his head.
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