Chapter 24: Out of Sorts
On Wednesday afternoon, Jiang Rong began his first part-time job in this world.
Because the manager had put on a fake account and spread false information in the group chats, quite a few people showed up that very afternoon. Jiang Rong was a little flustered at first, but his coworkers were all very warm and helpful. He quickly got familiar with the workstation and smoothly completed his first day of part-time work.
Perhaps because winter had arrived, getting up every morning had become harder. Even going to bed an hour earlier didn’t help.
Today was Friday—time for work again.
The weather was getting colder and colder. Walking along the campus paths, the wind stung people’s faces.
He changed into his uniform and got ready to start work.
The manager, who was always dressed in a suit, smiled at him while holding his phone. “You’re here, Student Jiang.”
“Mm,” Jiang Rong replied.
The manager really liked Jiang Rong. He was well-behaved, sensible, and modest—gentle with everyone. The coffee he made somehow tasted different from anyone else’s. With customers, he treated everyone equally, greeted them with a smile, and spoke gently. Using the most accurate single word from internet slang to describe him, it would be “sweet.” He only needed to maintain a faint smile, and people would feel warm and comfortable—his affinity was off the charts.
Some people really were born to be fed by heaven.
While marveling at having discovered such talent, the manager was also thinking about how to use it to boost this month’s sales by ten percent.
After finishing two orders, Jiang Rong washed his hands and prepared to make the next one.
Ding-ling-ling.
The wind chime hanging on the café door rang. The person who entered made the manager’s eyes light up, and he immediately went over to receive them with great respect.
After all, this person was the café’s god of wealth—the campus heartthrob, He Siming, who hadn’t been here in over two weeks.
The manager smiled brightly. “Student He, taking your coffee to go again today?”
From his experience, the campus heartthrob always ordered takeaway. If he sat down in the café, people would constantly come up asking for his WeChat, so he usually didn’t stay long.
He Siming glanced at the barista behind the counter—wearing a uniform that made his waist look impossibly slim.
He said to the manager, “I’ll have a cappuccino. To go.”
The manager personally went to the counter to place the order. “Alright. Please have a seat—it’ll be ready soon.”
“Mm.” He Siming’s gaze never once landed on the manager.
After paying, he walked over to the coffee-making counter. There was a small bar area with several high stools for customers waiting to pick up their drinks.
He Siming stood there, stretched out his long legs, and sat down casually. Just placing those long legs there was already incredibly captivating.
The manager, internally ecstatic, didn’t notice that his new employee knew the campus heartthrob. Using the WeChat account “Oat Latte,” he spread fake news across various group chats.
Oat Latte: The campus heartthrob is at Meiling Coffee again! Those long legs—love them!
LetMeSeeYourNewNew: Damn it, I just walked past the café carrying my suitcase, and he was already on the train to the high-speed rail station. I hate how hard it is to run into the campus heartthrob.
Heehee Not Heehee: Is he taking his coffee to go, or sitting inside?
“Oat Latte” deliberately replied vaguely—how could those long legs not draw you in?
The manager enthusiastically replied to messages in all the groups while looking at He Siming sitting at the bar, feeling smug inside. He was just waiting for students who came specifically to “accidentally” run into the heartthrob. He even snapped a few more photos to share in the groups. As long as he captured things quickly enough, the two cafés next door wouldn’t be able to catch up in business!
Although the group chats were lively, not that many people actually came to check in. Most were just talking big—college students’ money wasn’t that easy to earn.
On Friday evening, Jiang Rong was the only barista on duty. He still had one order ahead of him and wanted to tell the new customer they’d need to wait a bit. But when he looked up and saw He Siming, he froze.
Actually, they hadn’t run into each other for two days. Jiang Rong had been working, He Siming had been busy—and most importantly, Jiang Rong had been deliberately avoiding him.
Seeing He Siming now, Jiang Rong was still a little surprised. “You ordered coffee?”
“Mm,” He Siming said. “I’m not in a rush. Take your time.”
He hadn’t seen Jiang Rong much these past two days. He was on his way to basketball practice now—the gym and the café were in opposite directions—but he knew Jiang Rong would be working today.
Treating him as just another customer, Jiang Rong said, “Then have a seat first. Two more cups, and it’ll be yours.”
He Siming felt that Jiang Rong’s attitude toward him was a bit distant. “You’ve been busy these past couple of days?”
Jiang Rong wore a mask, his voice muffled behind it. “It’s been okay.” He lowered his head and continued making coffee.
But He Siming’s face was tense now. This was the first time he’d come here since Jiang Rong started his part-time job—and the first time he’d seen him make coffee.
A barista’s uniform was different from a waiter’s.
With the air conditioning on indoors, Jiang Rong wore a thin white shirt on top, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and a dark brown apron tied around his waist.
It was the first time He Siming had seen him dressed like this—pure yet alluring. His heartbeat sped up for no reason.
The campus heartthrob he imagined should look like Jiang Rong.
He Siming watched Jiang Rong pour the brewed coffee into the cup, his movements smooth and practiced.
After finishing two cups, Jiang Rong began making He Siming’s.
Neither of them spoke. He Siming’s gaze roamed over Jiang Rong, and the notifications popping up on his phone couldn’t attract him at all.
A heavy silence hung between them.
Jiang Rong asked, “I don’t know yet whether you like sugar or milk.”
He Siming told him his preferences. “In summer, I like iced Americanos. What kind of coffee are you best at?”
“Cappuccino? Actually, I can make anything.”
“Mm. That’s what I ordered.” The first coffee Jiang Rong had ever made for him was a cappuccino. He’d thought it tasted great and remembered it.
Jiang Rong asked, “What do you want me to draw on top?”
“You decide.”
Jiang Rong nodded. “Okay.”
He was very focused while making coffee. He Siming rarely stared at someone so openly, but serious, professional Jiang Rong made it impossible for him to look away.
He Siming didn’t know how many more surprises Jiang Rong had that he hadn’t discovered yet.
Jiang Rong was like a treasure chest, waiting for him to uncover and explore.
With the final stroke finished, He Siming’s exclusive coffee was done.
“Do you want a lid?” Jiang Rong asked.
“Not yet. Just give me the lid.”
Jiang Rong handed him the coffee.
He Siming eagerly looked to see what kind of latte art it was.
It was a white cat’s head, with a little heart beside it.
Jiang Rong asked, a hint of anticipation in his eyes, “Does it look good?”
Holding the paper cup and looking at the innocent design, He Siming asked, “Do you like cats?”
Jiang Rong nodded. “Mm.”
He did like small animals, but his parents would never allow him to keep one. In his family, useless things never appeared.
He Siming put the lid over the white cat head. He had several questions he wanted to ask Jiang Rong, but in the end, he didn’t say them.
Since Wednesday, aside from classes, they hadn’t interacted at all. Their WeChat conversation was still stuck on Thursday night—when He Siming had asked if he wanted breakfast brought for him, and Jiang Rong had said no, that he could get up early and eat at the cafeteria.
The next morning when He Siming arrived at school, Jiang Rong came even later than usual. He didn’t even buy breakfast until after class while changing classrooms.
He Siming didn’t know why, but Jiang Rong seemed to be distancing himself.
Seeing Jiang Rong about to make the next coffee, he asked, “There’s a college basketball game tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be playing. Want to come?”
Jiang Rong lowered his head, washing containers. “I have work tomorrow afternoon. Probably can’t make it.”
“Alright.”
When Jiang Rong looked up again, He Siming was already gone from the high stool. Only the manager remained, grinning foolishly at his phone.
When He Siming arrived at the basketball court, Ding Yan was already sitting in the stands waiting for him.
Ding Yan wasn’t on their department’s basketball team—he’d come specially to show his face in front of his friend. He hadn’t eaten with He Siming in a whole week!
He asked, “Why are you bringing a cup of coffee to play basketball?”
He Siming set the coffee aside.
“If you’re not drinking it, I’ll help you finish it.”
He Siming moved the coffee away. “Don’t touch it.”
Seeing that He Siming didn’t look too good, Ding Yan said, “Alright.”
Then he remembered the message the campus belle had asked him to pass along. “Yang Qin said she’ll come cheer you on tomorrow.”
He Siming didn’t respond. “Don’t do such boring things in the future.”
“Fine. I thought you two might get together.”
“There was never that possibility.”
Ding Yan thought about how He Siming was cold to all his admirers—including Yang Qin.
He Siming looked toward the stands. He suddenly didn’t really want to play tomorrow. Basketball felt boring all of a sudden.
Meanwhile, when there were no orders, Jiang Rong ate something in the break room. The café provided one meal per shift—he took a piece of bread and a cup of milk.
Although he preferred light flavors lately, he got hungry very easily. When he was hungry, he became dizzy and experienced palpitations. He’d already eaten all the candy He Siming had given him, so these past couple of days he’d been carrying some bread with him to tide himself over.
In fact, he’d eaten dinner right after class, but by eight o’clock, he was hungry again.
Standing at the counter for three hours straight was exhausting. As soon as nine o’clock hit, he clocked out—never staying a minute longer.
After changing out of his uniform, he rubbed his sore waist. Part-time work really was tiring.
For now, being a barista was a relatively ideal part-time job for him, since the pay was weekly.
After tomorrow’s shift, he’d be able to get this week’s wages. This bit of exhaustion was acceptable.
Back in the dorm, Jiang Rong felt unusually tired. He sat for ten minutes to recover before going to shower.
After plugging in his phone to charge, he saw messages in the class group chat.
It turned out the enthusiastic class monitor was rallying people.
Class Monitor: Babies! Tomorrow’s school basketball game—our department vs. the Finance College at 5 p.m.! Anyone free, please come support us!!!
Class Monitor: Important thing said three times! He Siming will be playing! He Siming will be playing! He Siming will be playing!
Lin Nana: Then I definitely have to go. I’m free!
Yao Yin: @HeSiming I’ll be there cheering for you.
Liang Dongdong: I’m going, I’m going! I’m super free—free everywhere!
Qiu Feng: @LiangDongdong You’re way too wild.
Yao Shule: My roommate—then I have to go.
Li Yizhou: My roommate too. I’m definitely going. Crush the Finance Department, He Shen!
After Jiang Rong finished scrolling, Yao Shule asked him, “You’re not going to watch He Siming’s game tomorrow?”
Already getting sleepy, Jiang Rong replied, “My work schedule conflicts a bit. I won’t go.”
Yao Shule was just asking casually. “Alright then. I’ll go with Liang Dongdong and the others.”
Jiang Rong felt uncomfortable—sore and tired—and oddly craving He Siming’s pheromones.
But his heat had only passed two weeks ago. It shouldn’t come again so soon. At least a month should pass before the next cycle.
He touched his gland—it wasn’t hot. It probably wasn’t heat.
Then why did he feel this need?
He was clearly exhausted, yet his body was telling him that he needed green citrus–scented pheromones.
Jiang Rong didn’t know when he fell asleep. When he woke up again, it was close to noon. Even Yao Shule had already gone to the neighboring dorm to game with others.
The dorm was very quiet.
The weather was cold. He saw the hoodie He Siming had given him last time, picked it up, and sniffed it. There was still a faint green citrus scent. Without hesitation, he put it on.
After eating alone at the cafeteria, he went to the café.
After changing into his uniform, he glanced at the group chat again—everyone was still discussing how to cheer for He Siming that afternoon.
Should he go watch the basketball game?
“Jiang Rong, are you ready yet?” the manager urged from outside.
He quickly tied his apron. “Coming!”
There were quite a lot of customers in the afternoon. On weekends, the school opened to the public during certain hours, and many people chose to have afternoon tea at the café. Jiang Rong stayed busy the whole time, not even taking a sip of water. Near five o’clock, the flow of customers finally slowed, and he barely had time to sit for a moment.
His body began to feel uncomfortable, and it seemed like He Siming’s game had already started.
He didn’t know why, but he suddenly wanted to see He Siming—wanted him to hold him.
He was craving his pheromones, so much that he wanted to cry.
He went to the restroom. Someone had been smoking inside—one whiff made his stomach churn. He vomited up the water he’d just drunk, tears streaming from the discomfort.
At 4:30 p.m., Qin University’s First Indoor Stadium.
The game starting at five. Both teams were basically assembled and warming up. He Siming was among them, but he was distracted—during warm-up, he failed to catch passes from his teammates.
Yao Shule noticed. “He-God doesn’t look very energetic today.”
Li Yizhou said, “Ding Yan, do you know what’s going on?”
“How would I know? He went back pretty early last night.”
He Siming glanced in their direction several times.
Yao Shule said, “He keeps looking over here. Do you think something’s up?”
Li Yizhou replied, “If something were wrong, he’d tell us, right?”
Ding Yan suddenly realized. “Could he be checking whether everyone from your dorm showed up? Speaking of which—where’s Jiang Rong?”
Even though He Siming’s circle of close friends now included Jiang Rong, it wasn’t a big deal.
Yao Shule said, “Jiang Rong works part-time on Saturday afternoons. Didn’t you know?”
Thinking of Jiang Rong’s background, Ding Yan said, “Oh, right.”
Before long, they saw the campus belle arrive in the stands with her friends, and everyone stopped paying attention to whether Jiang Rong would show up.
At exactly five, the game began.
Not long after the opening, He Siming lost two balls—either missing good opportunities or throwing off target.
The cheers from the girls in the stands grew louder.
“He Siming, go!”
“He-God, you’re the best!”
“Senior He, I love you!”—in a cracking underclassman’s voice.
Everyone knew He Siming was great at basketball, but today he was clearly out of form.
“What’s going on? The campus heartthrob keeps losing the ball today. Is he injured? Or just too tired—he hasn’t gotten into the zone at all.”
“Should he rest for a quarter and come back next one?”
“Poor campus heartthrob. He’s so busy and still has to play. Someone even saw him leaving the lab building late last night.”
“The campus belle is here cheering—doesn’t that motivate him at all?”
“He doesn’t like the campus belle. He’s already said it’s impossible. You’re behind on the news.”
There were four quarters in total.
He Siming’s performance in the first quarter was indeed subpar. Even the coach was considering whether to sub him out.
But He Siming himself asked to be taken off first—he wanted to go wash his face and calm down.
Jiang Rong’s shift was from 2 p.m. to 6 p.m. In the end, he applied to leave an hour early. The manager liked him quite a bit—he worked carefully and conscientiously, and his coffee tasted good. These past couple of days, business had been busy, and the kid hadn’t even had time to rest or drink water, his face pale with exhaustion.
“Thanks, Manager. I’ll head out first.”
“Go on, go on. Get some good rest.”
Jiang Rong checked the time—the game had already started.
He quickly changed back into his own clothes and ran to the First Gymnasium. Panting, he reached the entrance. Hearing the thunderous cheers, he knew he’d found the right place.
As he searched for the entrance, he saw He Siming—wearing a number eight jersey—walk out of the restroom.
“He Siming!” Jiang Rong called out.
He Siming turned at the sound and saw Jiang Rong jogging toward him. Jiang Rong wore a half-old jacket on the outside, and underneath it was the hoodie He Siming had given him.
He Siming’s mind cleared considerably.
The moment Jiang Rong got close, he smelled the green citrus scent coming off He Siming. His uncomfortable body immediately felt a bit better, and the nauseating smell of smoke from earlier seemed to be pushed away.
His body was telling him—very, very strongly—that he wanted He Siming’s pheromones.
Dejectedly, Jiang Rong guessed that he might really have pheromone imbalance syndrome.
He steadied his breathing. “Is the basketball game over?”
He Siming stepped closer, suppressing the corner of his lips. “Not yet.” Seeing Jiang Rong’s poor complexion, he asked, “Why are you sweating so much?” It was obvious he’d been running, but there was no post-run flush on his face.
Jiang Rong’s voice was soft, his face pale, his legs weak. He was sweating cold sweat. “Can you… hug me for a bit?” The moment he saw He Siming, he suddenly felt extremely tired. If he couldn’t hold it together, he might have cried. He barely managed to keep the tears from falling.
“Come here.” He Siming didn’t waste a second—he reached out and pulled him into his arms, supporting his shoulder as he asked, “What’s wrong?”
Jiang Rong leaned into him, greedily breathing in his pheromones. He rubbed his face against the fabric on He Siming’s chest, wiping away the tears that had escaped, not wanting him to know he’d cried.
He Siming wore a basketball jersey with a thin T-shirt underneath. Being rubbed like this against his vigorous, youthful body inevitably made heat rise.
Muffled, Jiang Rong said, “I feel awful. I want your pheromones.”
That voice was exactly the same as when he’d made requests during those three days—and the peach scent on him had grown much stronger.
He Siming’s body tensed slightly. His hand on Jiang Rong’s shoulder tightened, pulling him closer. “Do you feel a bit better now?”
Jiang Rong wrapped his arms around He Siming’s waist and murmured into his chest, “A little better. Hug me.”
He Siming kissed his hair. “I am.”
How could he be so good at acting spoiled when he was supposedly mad at him?
