Chapter 1: So It Turns Out He’s a Roommate
Qin University Library.
Spread out in front of Jiang Rong was a copy of Modern Chinese History. He flipped through it page by page with a blank expression, occasionally jotting down key dates of major events in a blue, striped notebook that cost two yuan.
His schedule was packed today. By the time he finished eating and came to the library, it was already a bit late. He hadn’t managed to grab a window seat and could only take one in the middle. Two girls were sitting next to him. Ever since they sat down, they had been whispering nonstop, sometimes clenching their fists in excitement as they talked, then taking out their phones to secretly snap photos of someone seated nearby.
This modern history book was giving Jiang Rong a near heart attack. As the girls’ voices grew louder, his concentration slipped, and bits of their gossip drifted into his ears.
“Why is He Siming at the library too?”
“It’s really rare to see him here. Have you checked the forum?”
“What, is there new gossip I don’t know about?”
“Yesterday a junior brought ninety-nine roses to the school gate and confessed to him. That junior’s pretty handsome too. They actually looked really good together. Now there are already CP fans of the two of them on the forum.”
“What did the campus heartthrob say?”
“He rejected him cleanly and decisively—and even gave the handsome junior a ‘good guy card.’”
“Rejected again. Does he like guys or girls, anyway? From freshman year until now, we’ve never seen him date anyone. So aloof and noble—cold on the outside, but so gentle when he speaks. How can someone be this perfect? I wonder who could ever take down this high-and-mighty flower.”
“The single campus heartthrob belongs to everyone. If he had a partner, all the people who can’t get him would go green with envy!”
“That makes sense. He’s really so handsome… sigh, if only he’d notice me.”
“Why don’t you try confessing?”
“Isn’t that a bit much?”
“Then maybe just ask for his WeChat first!”
“That actually sounds doable.”
Jiang Rong followed their line of sight and saw a boy by the window who really did look like campus-heartthrob material. From Jiang Rong’s angle, he could only see the other’s profile.
The boy was wearing a white shirt, head lowered as he focused on writing something on paper. On his wrist was a black sports watch. Jiang Rong didn’t know the brand, but it looked well-designed and matched the white shirt perfectly.
One of the girls shyly went over to ask for his WeChat. She was turned down, though—politely refused. When she came back dejected, the two of them quieted down and stopped whispering.
Autumn had arrived. Jiang Rong pulled his thin, light-gray sports jacket tighter around himself.
Looking at the homework in his hands, he couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. He didn’t understand it at all.
Because he wasn’t from this world in the first place.
A month ago, an accident had sent him traveling into this utterly unfamiliar world—one completely different from the one he came from.
What shocked him most was that this world had only two genders, male and female. In his original world, there were six genders; even public restrooms had to be built in six sections.
Not only had he transmigrated, he had also taken the place of a boy with the same name, the same surname, and about eighty percent resemblance to his own appearance. He had quietly tried to find out what happened to the original Jiang Rong, but it was as if the boy had vanished. Jiang Rong suspected that the other might have gone to his world instead.
And so, trembling with caution, he had managed to survive in this university.
One month was enough time to learn the basic information about his namesake.
“Jiang Rong” was an orphan with no parents. The person he was in contact with most was the head of the orphanage. His relationships with classmates were average—no particularly close friends or classmates, not even someone he regularly ate with. That, at least, reduced the risk of Jiang Rong’s identity being exposed.
The level of development in this world was roughly on par with his own, except for the major differences in gender classification.
The current “Jiang Rong” was a sophomore majoring in computer science at Qin University. Jiang Rong himself had also just become a sophomore, but his original major had little to do with computer science. The only overlap was that he, too, had studied advanced mathematics.
Luckily, the semester had just started, and the professors hadn’t assigned any group projects yet. Otherwise, his identity might have been exposed at any moment.
He had considered enrolling in a crash course at an off-campus training center, but “Jiang Rong’s” savings were pitifully small. In the end, he could only secretly watch online videos and teach himself the basics. Thankfully, if he learned slowly, he could still understand things—but for now, he couldn’t keep up with the class pace. When the professor lectured, it felt like listening to a foreign scripture, and despair often washed over him.
After two hours of studying—combining online foundational courses with introductory computer science books—his head was spinning, and it was time for the library to close.
He checked his phone. It was ten p.m.
A message popped up in the class group chat. Someone asked if anyone was still at the library and had an umbrella, hoping to get a ride back.
Only then did Jiang Rong look out the window. At some point, a torrential downpour had started. Even the students by the window had gotten their books soaked.
Damn. How was he supposed to get back without an umbrella?
The original Jiang Rong hadn’t been close with his roommates. After transmigrating, Jiang Rong was afraid they’d notice something off, so he had been extremely cautious in the dorm, basically acting like an invisible person. In a four-person dorm, he usually only ever saw two people. The third was a truly invisible presence—he didn’t even know who it was.
Wouldn’t it be strange to ask someone to bring him an umbrella? He really wasn’t familiar with his roommates.
Should he just hold his book over his head and run back? He could shower afterward anyway.
At that moment, someone replied in the class group chat.
He Siming: I have an umbrella. I’m heading back to Building Nine. If anyone needs it, I can give you a ride.
Jiang Rong lived in Building Nine.
If he wasn’t a roommate, he probably wouldn’t notice anything unusual about him, right? Jiang Rong didn’t want to get soaked and sick. When he was little, he used to get fevers often; only after growing up did his health gradually improve.
Afraid of missing out on the umbrella, Jiang Rong immediately replied: Can you take me along?
He Siming: Sure. Wait on the first floor.
Jiang Rong: Okay, I’m coming down now.
He let out a sigh of relief and quickly packed up his things and went downstairs. Still, the name felt oddly familiar—like he’d heard it somewhere before.
What Jiang Rong didn’t know was that as soon as he put his phone away, the group chat exploded to 99+ messages.
Lin Nana: Missed out on a billion!
Zhou Gezhi: Missed out on a billion!
Qiu Feng: Take me too, He-god!
Liang Dongdong: Hit me up, He-god!
Liang Dongdong: No, I mean take me. [Sorry, typo.jpg]
Yao Yin: @He Siming, can you wait for me? I’m also at the library.
…
Jiang Rong never expected there to be a typhoon at this time. The rain was pouring down heavily, pattering against the ground. Just standing at the library entrance soaked a large patch of his shoes.
Right—what does He Siming look like?
For the past month, Jiang Rong had been quietly shrinking into the back rows, barely interacting with classmates. He really had no idea who He Siming was.
He opened the class group chat again. It was already at 99+ messages. He found the other party’s WeChat ID and tried to add him directly through the group. But when he clicked in, the other person was already on his friends list.
Jiang Rong: ?
As he was puzzling over this, someone tapped him on the shoulder.
Jiang Rong turned to look.
Wasn’t this the guy the two girls had been talking about earlier?
Indeed—very handsome. So handsome it made your heart tingle.
Jiang Rong was momentarily stunned by his looks. He Siming was the kind of strikingly handsome guy with bold features: deep-set eyes, a sharp jawline, and a tiny tear mole at the corner of his eye that made him easy to recognize. His expression, however, was calm and indifferent, with no hint of a smile.
He Siming said to him, “Let’s go.”
Jiang Rong froze for a moment. “Okay.”
Clearly, He Siming recognized him.
They were in the same class group chat, which meant they were classmates.
Since he hadn’t recognized him just now, He Siming probably wouldn’t know, right?
He Siming’s fingers were long and slender. On the index finger of his right hand was a black decorative ring. He opened a three-fold umbrella. It wasn’t very big—just enough to keep the upper halves of their bodies from being completely drenched.
Jiang Rong stepped under the umbrella.
It was only a few minutes’ walk from the library to Building Nine. Under the umbrella, all that could be heard was the constant patter of rain.
Because they weren’t familiar with each other, neither of them spoke much the whole way. There was also a small gap between their shoulders.
Once he got closer, Jiang Rong realized that He Siming was more than half a head taller than him—at least 1.9 meters tall. Jiang Rong himself wasn’t even 1.8 meters, and his build was much slighter.
This was the first time since coming to this world that he had walked so close to another guy.
He Siming was probably the type many Omegas would like.
In Jiang Rong’s original world, the primary genders were male and female, and the secondary genders were ABO. People liked all kinds of genders, and liking men as a primary gender was common in society—after all, there were male Omegas, and no one thought liking men was strange.
One crucial difference was that people in this world had no pheromones, and therefore no heat cycles.
In Jiang Rong’s world, ages sixteen to eighteen were when secondary genders differentiated. Jiang Rong never differentiated. His family took him for examinations, and the final conclusion was that he was a Beta.
Fortunately, he was a Beta. In his original world, that might have made him seem out of place—an unremarkable gender, with bleak marriage prospects. But here, he was completely normal.
With fewer genders, many things were simplified. Heterosexuality was the mainstream in this world, and liking the same sex was something more hidden. For example, in the entertainment industry, celebrities rarely made their true sexual orientation public. Once they did, they might stop getting work—actors couldn’t land roles and could even face discrimination from those opposed to homosexuality.
And Jiang Rong’s preferred primary gender was male.
Lost in thought, the two of them arrived at Building Nine. Their shoes, socks, and pant legs were completely soaked.
Jiang Rong said, “Thanks.”
He Siming nodded without saying anything. He closed the umbrella, shook off the water, and went upstairs, one after the other with Jiang Rong.
Jiang Rong went first to minimize contact, but to his surprise, He Siming followed him into the dorm.
Jiang Rong froze.
Could it be that He Siming was in the same dorm room as him?
The other two roommates were already there. Yao Shule was lying on his bed with his legs up, holding his phone and furiously tapping the screen. Li Yizhou was sitting at his desk with his phone, playing a five-man ranked match. From the phone came the sound effect: “Defeat.”
Both of them froze when they saw He Siming come back.
Li Yizhou cursed a dumb teammate, then looked up and broke into a grin. “He-god, you’re staying in the dorm tonight?”
He Siming answered concisely, “It’s pouring outside. I’m staying here tonight.”
Yao Shule was wearing earbuds and hadn’t heard the rain outside. He looked out the window. “Is it raining that hard?”
Li Yizhou said, “You’re only noticing now? It’s been raining for half an hour. But after this, we probably won’t get rain this heavy again for a while.”
Yao Shule said, “You northerners are really dry.”
Li Yizhou replied, “Yeah, yeah, we know—you southerners are very humid.”
Yao Shule shot back, “We are humid. In the north I feel like a fish that’s crawled onto land—you’re going to dry me out.”
Li Yizhou said, “You’re stirring up north–south rivalry.”
The two of them started bickering about differences between the north and south, rainfall, sweet versus savory tofu pudding, and so on.
Jiang Rong listened in a daze. After living with them for a month, he’d gotten used to it. Yao Shule and Li Yizhou actually got along quite well—they just loved arguing with each other, which had broadened Jiang Rong’s understanding of this new world.
He Siming changed out of his shoes and said to Jiang Rong, who was standing blankly by the locker, “You go wash up first.”
Jiang Rong looked up, only then realizing the other was talking to him.
He had just taken off his soaked shoes and was still damp all over, so he didn’t bother being polite. “Oh, okay.”
He brushed back the overly long hair on his forehead, quickly grabbed clothes from his wardrobe, and went into the bathroom to shower.
He Siming watched his back for a moment, then lowered his head and began tidying up his own bed.
He usually didn’t stay here, but the bed was always covered with a dust cloth. He still came back to the dorm from time to time to get books and such. It was just that he had been participating in a competition for the past three weeks and hadn’t been back much, which was why he hadn’t run into Jiang Rong recently.
Jiang Rong finished showering. After studying all day, he tidied up briefly and soon felt sleepy.
The night passed without incident.
Maybe because his feet had gotten wet that evening, Jiang Rong sneezed when he woke up in the morning. The back of his neck felt sore and stiff, like he’d slept wrong.
He woke up early. Squinting, he carefully climbed down from the bed, his face full of fatigue.
Just as he was about to head to the bathroom, he ran straight into He Siming, whose bangs were damp with water. He Siming steadied him by the shoulder and put some distance between them.
“Careful,” He Siming said.
His voice was low, emotionless—certainly not gentle.
Jiang Rong’s mind was still foggy. He hadn’t yet registered that there was an extra person in the dorm.
His brain felt sluggish. He should have said sorry, but instead he said, “Morning.”
He Siming paused for two seconds before replying, “Morning.”
After Jiang Rong went into the bathroom, He Siming withdrew his gaze. He sniffed lightly, a trace of confusion flashing through his eyes.
