Chapter 19: Finally Got a Taste
Jiang Rong looked at the grilled sausage that He Siming had taken a bite out of, unsure whether he should continue eating it.
In the end, with food right in front of him, he chose to ignore what He Siming had said. Blushing, he quickly finished the sausage and then hurried forward to catch up with Yao Shule.
He Siming grabbed his backpack from behind, bringing Jiang Rong to a stop.
He Siming asked, “Are you mad?”
Jiang Rong swallowed the last bite of sausage and shook his head. “I’m not mad.”
He Siming looked at him. “Then why aren’t you walking with me?”
Jiang Rong shot back, “What do you think?”
He Siming couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Alright then. I won’t say it in front of other people.”
Only then did Jiang Rong continue walking with him. He had just let out a sigh of relief when He Siming added, “I’ll say it when there’s no one around.”
Jiang Rong: “……”
Weren’t they supposed to have agreed not to let anyone know they’d stayed in a hotel for three days?
And who was the one constantly breaking that agreement?
Since they were outside, Jiang Rong couldn’t very well ask what He Siming really meant. His heart was left hanging uneasily. Luckily, the sausage was already gone—otherwise he probably wouldn’t have had any appetite left.
Climbing the mountain had been exhausting, and no one was really in the mood to go shopping. Some of the girls decided to share a ride back to school, and everyone split up at the scenic area exit.
Jiang Rong felt worn out all over as well. Fortunately, they didn’t need to take a taxi—He Siming had driven over, and his car could seat exactly five people.
Today, He Siming was driving an SUV with five seats.
Ding Yan very naturally moved to sit in the front passenger seat, but He Siming stopped him. “You sit in the back.”
Ding Yan: “Huh? Why—”
Before he could finish, He Siming turned his head toward the silent Jiang Rong.
He Siming said, “Jiang Rong, if you’re not feeling well, sit in the front.”
Jiang Rong obediently followed his arrangement. “Okay.” As soon as he got in the car, he buckled his seatbelt himself.
Ding Yan realized that his status had dropped below that of He Siming’s roommate and silently went to sit in the back.
Once Yao Shule and Li Yizhou got in the car, they kept praising He Siming’s ride.
Yao Shule said, “If I had this car, I’d drive it to school every day just to show it off.”
Li Yizhou, also a car enthusiast, couldn’t stop complimenting it. “This is way too cool. He-God, we’ve been classmates for over a year and hardly ever seen you drive.”
He Siming replied, “I don’t drive much usually. I bike back to school.”
Yao Shule said, “That’s true. I’ve always seen you riding a bike.”
In any case, even He Siming’s bicycle wasn’t cheap—the price was comparable to a mid- to low-end sedan.
Jiang Rong didn’t say anything. After eating the sausage, he felt a bit unwell. It was probably too greasy; he felt slightly nauseous.
Afraid that speaking might make him throw up, he stayed still and quiet, one hand gripping the seatbelt.
Thankfully, traffic on the way back wasn’t too bad, and he managed to hold it in the whole time.
Everyone was used to Jiang Rong being quiet. When he didn’t talk, the three in the back seat, who’d been chatting nonstop since getting in, didn’t notice anything. Only He Siming watched him for a while before realizing his complexion didn’t look very good.
When they stopped at a red light, He Siming found a piece of mint gum in the car and handed it to Jiang Rong.
“Are you really feeling unwell? Carsick?” He Siming asked. He thought his driving was pretty decent.
“Yeah, I kind of feel like throwing up. That sausage just now seemed a bit too greasy.” At times like this, he had to be honest—better than throwing up in the car later.
He Siming handed him a paper bag. “If you need to puke, use this.”
Jiang Rong took the bag, hovering on the edge of nausea, and decided to distract himself by talking. “Why do you have everything in your car?”
“They’re just things I keep as backups. I hardly ever use them.”
“That’s really thorough.”
The nausea surged again, and Jiang Rong immediately stopped talking.
Five minutes later, the road ahead became uneven. When the car rolled over it, there was a slight jolt, and Jiang Rong ended up throwing up into the bag anyway.
Only then did the three in the back seat realize that Jiang Rong really wasn’t feeling well.
Yao Shule asked, “Jiang Rong, what’s wrong? Are you carsick?”
Li Yizhou said, “Is there water in your bag? Get him some.”
“There’s water up front,” He Siming said. “No need to grab any.”
From his angle, Ding Yan could clearly see Jiang Rong’s pale face and was startled. “Do you need to go to the hospital? Could it be that the sausage wasn’t clean?”
Jiang Rong took the tissue He Siming handed him and wiped his mouth. “I’m fine. It’s probably just too greasy.”
Yao Shule said, “It’s probably because you usually eat too lightly—your stomach isn’t used to it.”
Li Yizhou said, “But last time we had Sichuan food, he was fine. We all ate sausage today and none of us had any issues.”
Yao Shule replied, “That time it was mostly dry pot dishes. Today’s sausage was dripping with oil—definitely greasier than spicy chicken or anything like that.”
Jiang Rong felt a little embarrassed. Everyone was so concerned about him that he felt much more comforted.
He Siming sped up slightly but kept the driving as smooth as possible.
After throwing up, Jiang Rong felt much better and didn’t get sick again for the rest of the ride.
The three in the back seat had bonded over the day and wanted to eat before returning to school, so He Siming dropped them off directly at the restaurant.
He Siming asked Jiang Rong, “Do you want to go eat too?”
Jiang Rong didn’t look very good. “I won’t go. I can’t eat right now.”
Yao Shule said, “Then we’ll bring you some nutritious porridge when we come back.”
Before Jiang Rong could answer, He Siming declined for him. “You guys go eat. I’ll take him back to my place and make something light. If you bring it back, it’ll be cold, and there’s no microwave in the dorm to heat it up.”
Ding Yan had a lot he wanted to say. He’d never even been to He Siming’s apartment. He suddenly became acutely aware that his status as a best friend was plummeting and began reflecting on whether he’d really been lacking in moral character lately, feeling uneasy inside.
After dropping the three of them off at the hotpot restaurant, He Siming took Jiang Rong home.
The car drove straight into the underground garage of the complex. It was a relatively new development near the school. The starting price for an apartment there was eight figures, with two units per floor.
Jiang Rong hadn’t yet had the chance to understand housing prices in this world, but he knew it definitely wasn’t cheap.
Still, everyday life here wasn’t very different from where he came from. The structure of the buildings was largely the same. Technology over there might have been slightly more advanced—elevators were basically all equipped with various intelligent monitoring systems and were more widespread. At least when it came to artificial intelligence, this world still lagged behind. Many things had to be done manually, and it had taken him several days of fumbling to adapt.
Standing at the entryway of He Siming’s place and changing his shoes, Jiang Rong suddenly realized—how had he ended up following He Siming home?
He Siming brought him slippers and put his bag into the cabinet. “Go sit on the sofa and rest. I’ll boil some hot water for you.”
Everything He Siming did was orderly and well arranged, which only made Jiang Rong seem a bit awkward by comparison.
He Siming’s place wasn’t decorated in an especially luxurious way. It was very minimalist—black and white tones. The sofa was black, the walls mostly white. A pure black desk stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, with a computer and three monitors on it—clearly He Siming’s personal workspace.
Jiang Rong thought it was really cool. It was the kind of private space every boy dreamed of.
He’d once had a space of his own too. But even by the time he went to college, it never truly materialized. In his freshman year, his mother had called to tell him that they were planning to have another child. They’d already done IVF and were going to turn his room into a nursery. When he went home on break, he’d have to move into a tiny room that couldn’t even fit a desk.
Since the “main account” hadn’t turned into an Omega, they planned to train a “smurf.”
He’d been sad about it, but sadness couldn’t change reality. It only led to helpless rage and trapped his emotions in a vicious cycle.
He Siming didn’t know when he’d walked up in front of Jiang Rong and handed him a plain white mug. “What are you spacing out for? Hot water.”
Jiang Rong looked up and met his gaze, took the mug, and said, “Okay.”
He Siming sat down beside him. “Hungry?”
After throwing up, Jiang Rong really was a bit hungry. He didn’t want to wrong himself by pretending otherwise. “A little.”
Seeing that Jiang Rong still didn’t have much color in his face, He Siming said, “Go lie down in the bedroom for a bit. I’ll cook some porridge. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
Jiang Rong blinked tiredly, surprised. “You can cook?”
He Siming replied, “I can at least make porridge with a rice cooker. It’s not hard.”
Once he relaxed, Jiang Rong truly felt exhausted and really wanted to sleep. “Can I rinse my mouth first?”
He Siming took him to the bathroom and even prepared a new toothbrush and towel for him. “I put pajamas on the bed for you. After rinsing your mouth, just go to sleep.”
Standing at the bathroom door, Jiang Rong thanked him. “He Siming, thank you.”
He Siming raised a hand and flicked his forehead. “With our relationship, you don’t need to keep saying thank you. It makes things distant.”
Jiang Rong said, “Oh, okay then.” Actually, they weren’t that close—but they had slept together.
He Siming teased him with a smile. “You can pay me back. First time is awkward, second time is familiar.”
Thinking about the “payment” he wanted, Jiang Rong fell silent. As pink crept up his cheeks, he quietly shut the bathroom door, leaving He Siming outside.
He Siming: “……”
Facing the mirror while rinsing his mouth, Jiang Rong finally had some color back in his face—from embarrassment.
He hadn’t realized he was this easy to fluster.
After rinsing, he changed into the pajamas He Siming had prepared. Not bothering with anything else, the moment he saw the dark-colored bedding, sleep called to him. His physical exhaustion overwhelmed his thoughts—he was truly too tired.
As soon as the blanket covered him, he caught a faint scent of lime. Accompanied by that familiar fragrance, his body slowly relaxed.
Knowing that someone was cooking porridge for him—even such brief care made him feel at ease—he’d thought he’d only rest his eyes for a bit. Instead, he fell asleep almost immediately.
Jiang Rong woke up to the faint aroma of porridge.
The blackout curtains were drawn, so for a moment he couldn’t tell whether it was day or night.
Oh—he remembered.
He was at He Siming’s place. This was He Siming’s bed. The blanket carried the scent of his pheromones.
Checking the time, he realized he’d slept for over an hour—it was almost six in the evening.
Jiang Rong got up, changed out of the pajamas, folded them neatly, and placed them on the bed.
When he walked out of the room, the living room lights were already on. He Siming had showered and changed into loungewear. His hair was slightly tousled. Sitting in an ergonomic chair, his legs stretched out casually, one hand on the mouse, the other tapping at the keyboard, he exuded a rare, relaxed laziness.
Seeing Jiang Rong approach, He Siming turned off the computer screen and asked, “Why aren’t you wearing the pajamas?”
“I have to go back to the dorm later. Midterms are coming up—I still need to study.” Exams really were anxiety-inducing.
He Siming said, “You can put studying aside for now. Come drink the porridge first. I just served it.”
In truth, he hadn’t planned to call him earlier. The porridge had cooled, so he’d reheated it.
“Okay,” Jiang Rong said. He didn’t want to let the other’s kindness go to waste.
On the table were some leafy greens, pickled vegetables, and a corn-based noodle dish. It looked very appetizing. Paired with the porridge, it warmed the stomach.
He Siming ate together with Jiang Rong.
Having rested well, the light porridge and simple dishes suited Jiang Rong’s stomach perfectly. The nausea from the greasy sausage earlier in the afternoon gradually faded.
The two of them quietly finished dinner.
Afterward, He Siming put the dishes into the dishwasher, while Jiang Rong proactively wiped down the table. He’d always been someone who noticed what needed to be done.
Standing at the open kitchen counter, Jiang Rong asked, “Is there anything else I can help with?”
He Siming brought out a plate of freshly cut apples and set it in front of him.
“Here. Fruit after the meal.”
Back in the dorm, Jiang Rong would eat an apple every time he returned.
Jiang Rong was about to say thank you, but thinking that He Siming probably didn’t want to hear it again, he stopped himself.
Instead, he said, “You cut them really well—not a bit of peel left. You didn’t break the peel at all, did you?”
He Siming was clearly pleased by the praise and replied with a double entendre, “Didn’t break it. I’m always very good.”
Jiang Rong speared a piece with a small fork, deliberately ignoring the strong implication in his words.
Biting into the sweet apple, his eyes curved into a smile. The apple was juicy and very sweet.
“This apple is so sweet. It’s delicious—the sweetest apple I’ve ever had.”
He Siming asked, “Do you know what the sweetest fruit I’ve ever had is?”
Jiang Rong asked seriously, “What is it?”
He Siming stepped closer, standing in front of him, his gaze falling on Jiang Rong’s lips, moistened by apple juice. “Peach.”
Jiang Rong parted his lips slightly, unconsciously licking the apple juice from them. Meeting He Siming’s somewhat oppressive gaze, he instinctively wanted to retreat. “But there aren’t any peaches for sale right now.”
He Siming closed the distance little by little. “They’re not on the market—but I want a taste right now. Will you let me have some?”
Jiang Rong swallowed. Behind him was the counter; there was nowhere left to retreat. He Siming pressed forward, one hand braced behind his waist, drawing him closer, then lowered his head and kissed the lips he’d been craving all day, savoring them deeply.
He finally got a taste.
