Chapter 26: Don’t Tease Me
With Ding Yan causing such a ruckus, the ambiguous atmosphere between He Siming and Jiang Rong faded by more than half.
Jiang Rong actually let out a sigh of relief—he had been afraid He Siming would lean in and kiss him the next second.
He Siming glanced at the drunk, overexcited Ding Yan, impatience barely concealed in his eyes. “Just looking at you makes me full.”
Ding Yan was stunned. “Huh? You’re not drinking anymore?”
When He Siming was angry, his expression turned especially cold and distant. Had he said something wrong? He had been paying attention lately, trying hard to maintain his image and keep his mouth in check.
With his good moment interrupted, He Siming was naturally in a foul mood. “Take everyone to your place to drink. This is a restaurant, not a bar. It’s not good to disturb other people.”
No one thought much of He Siming and Jiang Rong standing so close together. They simply assumed it was too noisy around them and they had to lean in to talk. As for what they were saying, no one bothered to ask—they were roommates, after all.
Ding Yan, Yao Shule, and Li Yizhou were all social butterflies, having a blast together. Add in the group of basketball guys, and everyone decided to buy some alcohol and continue the fun at Ding Yan’s place. After all, tomorrow was Sunday—no classes.
After paying the bill, they split up downstairs at the restaurant. Those continuing their night life went to Ding Yan’s place; the rest headed back to campus.
Jiang Rong, of course, wasn’t going. Once he was full, drowsiness set in again. He just wanted to go back, shower, and sleep. After such a long day, he didn’t feel like doing anything—his mind felt numb.
Although He Siming had suggested continuing at Ding Yan’s place, he didn’t join them. Instead, he returned to school with Jiang Rong.
It was normal for him not to participate in crowded gatherings, and no one had any objections.
Once inside the campus, Yang Qin caught up to them and found a chance to approach He Siming.
She had been sitting with her roommates all evening. Forget sitting with him—she hadn’t even had the chance to speak to him.
Raising her voice, Yang Qin said, “He Siming, I have something to say to you.”
Jiang Rong had been fighting off sleep and barely spoke along the way, but when Yang Qin suddenly called out to He Siming, his drowsiness instantly faded by half.
He Siming didn’t respond, and the atmosphere became awkward for a moment.
Jiang Rong said to him, “Then I’ll go back to the dorm first.”
Yang Qin clearly wanted to talk to He Siming about something else. Even though Jiang Rong wasn’t very happy about it, he couldn’t interfere—much less do something like eavesdropping.
But He Siming didn’t let him leave so easily. “Wait for me in the pavilion up ahead. Two minutes.”
Yang Qin: “…” She actually had a lot she wanted to say—two minutes probably wouldn’t be enough.
Jiang Rong nodded and walked toward the security booth. There was no wind there, and from that spot he could still see He Siming and Yang Qin standing under the trees talking.
He saw He Siming with his hands in his coat pockets, his attitude neither warm nor friendly—if anything, downright cold.
Standing alone by the security booth, Jiang Rong felt cold. The wind kept rushing down his neck, chilling him to the bone.
It hadn’t been this cold when He Siming was beside him earlier. He unconsciously hunched his shoulders and began silently counting in his head.
One… two… three… one hundred eleven… one hundred twelve…
When he reached one hundred twenty, He Siming ended the conversation with Yang Qin and turned toward him decisively. Yang Qin headed off toward the girls’ dorms, her steps quick—she vanished in the blink of an eye.
Jiang Rong thought to himself that she was impressive, walking so fast even in high heels.
He didn’t ask what they talked about. There was no need—he could more or less guess what Yang Qin wanted to say.
He didn’t ask because he cared. And if he asked, some things would be hard to explain.
Asking would be equivalent to interfering in He Siming’s privacy. Right now, they were only roommates.
Jiang Rong gloomily thought: roommates who kiss.
He only wanted He Siming’s pheromones, that was all.
His emotions rose and fell, his chest feeling stifled. He walked forward with his head lowered, watching his shadow on the ground.
Noticing Jiang Rong’s low mood, He Siming reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Why aren’t you talking?”
Jiang Rong froze for a moment. He Siming’s hand was warm, and the cold wind slipping down his neck was suddenly gone.
He looked up and said, “Maybe I ate too much. Feeling a bit sleepy.”
He Siming couldn’t always guess what Jiang Rong was thinking. “Mm.”
When they reached the dorm building, Jiang Rong thought He Siming was about to leave, but instead he followed him inside. Usually, He Siming went straight home.
Jiang Rong asked, “You’re not going home?”
He Siming looked at him. “I’m going back to the dorm. I’ve got something to do.”
Jiang Rong’s mind was indeed a bit slow—he couldn’t think of what He Siming needed to do in the dorm.
Once back inside, Jiang Rong only felt how cold it was and wanted to crawl straight into bed.
It had been freezing these past few days, and the campus heating still wasn’t on.
He Siming found the air conditioner remote and turned on the heater.
Jiang Rong: “…” He hadn’t known that the machine hanging indoors could do that.
Seeing Jiang Rong constantly hunching his neck by the security booth, He Siming said, “You don’t know to turn on the AC when you come back?”
“I didn’t know…” Jiang Rong stared in confusion at the rectangular machine blowing warm air. In his world, that thing was a pheromone purifier, and the remote was usually controlled by Alphas or Omegas—only they knew when to purify the air.
So it wasn’t an air purifier. He’d frozen for nothing these past few days.
He Siming added, “Yao Shule’s from the south and isn’t afraid of the cold. Li Yizhou’s physically strong. Neither of them needs the AC. If you need it, just turn it on.”
“I understand,” Jiang Rong said.
Before long, the room warmed up, and Jiang Rong felt much better too.
He looked at He Siming gratefully. “It’s really nice having you.”
He Siming flicked his forehead lightly, then turned to close the door and sat down on his chair.
Jiang Rong rubbed his forehead and started preparing clothes for a shower, but before bathing he stayed busy for a while.
He Siming watched Jiang Rong gather clothes, fold them, then search for more.
He tidied his bed and cabinet until everything was neat and clean.
The books on his desk were arranged by height, the surface wiped spotless—one glance was enough to tell he was a boy who liked cleanliness.
But He Siming remembered that Jiang Rong’s desk hadn’t been this tidy before. Just one summer vacation, and the change was huge.
He was starting to believe that Jiang Rong really had changed drastically after hitting his head.
In fact, the reason He Siming hadn’t rushed to define their relationship was because of Jiang Rong’s condition. What if he confessed his feelings and suggested trying a relationship, only for Jiang Rong to revert back to the old version who glared at him all the time?
Yet he couldn’t stop himself from getting close to Jiang Rong.
He always felt Jiang Rong’s personality before and after was fractured, like they were two different people. He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but lately the feeling that “the old Jiang Rong” and “the current Jiang Rong” didn’t even look the same was growing stronger.
Since Jiang Rong hadn’t brought up defining their relationship yet, he wouldn’t either. First, he needed to deal with whatever was going on in Jiang Rong’s head.
Once the room warmed up, Jiang Rong took off his coat and hung it up to air out the lingering hotpot smell.
When he finished, he realized He Siming was still sitting there, watching him walk back and forth.
Their beds were on the same side of the room—Jiang Rong’s near the door, He Siming’s further inside, closer to the balcony.
To get in, Jiang Rong had to pass by He Siming’s bed. He Siming was sitting in his chair at that moment.
He Siming reached out and pulled him closer. Jiang Rong was still holding his shower clothes. Standing while He Siming sat, he could only lower his head to look at him.
Since they’d met, Jiang Rong rarely looked at He Siming from this angle—excluding those three days in bed.
Jiang Rong was already used to his pheromones and didn’t resist his closeness. After all, it was someone he liked; being a little closer didn’t matter.
“Didn’t you say you had something to do?” Jiang Rong asked. He’d deliberately avoided disturbing him earlier.
“I am doing it,” He Siming said, looking at him.
The atmosphere had been pretty good back at the buffet.
“What are you doing, then?” Jiang Rong asked. “You’ve just been sitting here.”
He Siming smiled. “Watching you. My eyes keep following you around—how is that not busy?”
Jiang Rong: “…”
He Siming used a bit of force and pulled him onto his lap.
Jiang Rong struggled slightly. “He Siming, no… someone might come in—”
“They won’t,” He Siming said. “I locked the door.”
Jiang Rong was still holding clothes; if he moved, they’d fall. So he obediently sat on He Siming’s lap.
He didn’t dare move. “I… I need to shower. I smell like hotpot.”
“I don’t mind. You don’t smell like hotpot—you smell like peaches.” He Siming moved even closer, his arm already around Jiang Rong’s waist, continuing what he’d wanted to do at the restaurant.
Jiang Rong’s already sore waist went weak, and he leaned even more into He Siming.
Aside from being pressed on the waist earlier that night, he hadn’t had such intimate contact with He Siming since that time.
He Siming pressed lightly on his waist again, his voice hoarse. “So sensitive?”
Wrapped in He Siming’s pheromones, Jiang Rong’s waist softened completely. “Don’t… don’t touch.”
He Siming chuckled lowly. “I came back to massage your waist. You don’t like it?” His hand still didn’t move away. “Your waist is so slim.”
Jiang Rong stopped caring about the clothes in his arms. He braced a hand against He Siming’s shoulder, trying to push him away a little.
Lowering his head, he murmured, “He Siming…”
He Siming stared at his lips. “Didn’t you promise to let me kiss you tonight?”
Jiang Rong tried to play dumb for once. “Did I?”
He Siming raised an eyebrow. “Going back on your word?”
After playing basketball that afternoon, he’d been holding back all this time. He’d finally waited until the dorm had only the two of them. He’d even been impatient listening to Yang Qin talk—he just wanted to come back and kiss Jiang Rong.
“I didn’t,” Jiang Rong said.
He Siming pressed on the sore spot on his waist.
Jiang Rong had no strength to resist. His waist ached so much that his eyes grew watery.
He took the initiative and leaned down to kiss He Siming, wanting more of his pheromones—it would make him feel much better.
He Siming pulled him in tighter. “Looks like I wasn’t proactive enough.”
Their bodies pressed even closer. Jiang Rong lost all initiative, his hands resting weakly on He Siming’s shoulders, letting him do as he pleased.
The room grew warmer, as did their bodies.
He Siming kissed him deeply, drawing out sweet, peachy moisture, the corners of Jiang Rong’s eyes flushing red.
But kissing alone no longer satisfied He Siming. His lips traveled along Jiang Rong’s neck, biting gently at his delicate earlobe, grinding lightly.
Jiang Rong weakly pushed at him, almost collapsing. “He Siming…”
Pressed close to his ear, He Siming said in a low voice, “This spot’s sensitive too?”
Any slight attempt by Jiang Rong to dodge was practically a signpost to a sensitive spot.
He Siming loved this process of exploration—uncovering every sensitive point of Jiang Rong’s body bit by bit. It satisfied his curiosity, and more than that, he loved seeing the dazed, desire-filled expression Jiang Rong wore with him. That look alone made He Siming unable to stop wanting more.
Jiang Rong felt that He Siming was different today—kissing deeper, harder, and handling his body with far more intimacy than usual.
He Siming lowered his head.
“H-He Siming…” Jiang Rong’s breathing was completely off, his voice soft and powerless, with no strength left to struggle.
He took a deep breath, fingers threading into He Siming’s dark hair.
He Siming’s pheromones grew stronger and stronger. Jiang Rong felt them wrapping around him, pushing him little by little toward bliss. His own pheromones were soothed by He Siming’s, finally calming down—but he was also being bitten so hard he nearly couldn’t breathe.
At some point, the clothes meant for the shower had fallen all over the floor.
He Siming stopped. He kissed Jiang Rong lightly on his slightly parted lips and pulled him tightly into his arms.
“Let me hold you a little longer,” he said.
Jiang Rong didn’t dare move. He could feel He Siming telling him something—at any moment, they could trigger a heat.
Actually, it wasn’t like he couldn’t accept that.
Resting his head on He Siming’s shoulder, arms around his waist, Jiang Rong asked softly, “Do you really want it that much?”
He Siming asked back, “What do you think?”
Once you’ve tasted the finest meat, how could you be content going back to coarse food?
Jiang Rong was still flushed from the kissing, his ears burning. In a very small voice, he said, “It’s not like it’s impossible.”
He Siming’s grip around his waist tightened unconsciously, his gaze turning dangerous. “Don’t tease me, Jiang Rong.”
Jiang Rong obediently let him hold him. “Okay.”
Right now, neither of them was really in great shape. Their bodies’ reactions were the most honest thing.
Once things finally settled, He Siming let out a slow breath.
He asked Jiang Rong, “How did I play in the basketball game today?”
“Really well,” Jiang Rong replied.
“Just that?” He Siming was clearly dissatisfied with such a flat answer.
Jiang Rong added, “Next time I want to play basketball with you. Will you teach me? I’m not very good. I used to imagine myself on the court, being as amazing as you—raising your hand and sinking a three-pointer, the pillar holding the team together.”
The earnest, sincere praise made He Siming almost doubt whether he was really that good.
For once, He Siming turned modest. “It’s not as good as you say.”
Jiang Rong lifted his head from his arms. “But you’re amazing. The way you turned the tide today mesmerized so many people.”
He Siming grew shy. He loosened his hold on Jiang Rong, who was getting sleepy under the influence of pheromones.
“Once you fall asleep, I’ll head back,” He Siming said hoarsely.
Jiang Rong stood up from his lap. “Okay.”
He Siming picked up the clothes scattered on the floor—there was even a pair of underwear on his leg. “Your underwear.”
It was something Jiang Rong had bought himself after moving in—just plain white.
Jiang Rong snatched it from his hand. “I’m going to shower.”
After Jiang Rong finished showering and came out, He Siming was tidying his own bed, removing the duvet cover.
Jiang Rong asked, “What’s wrong with your duvet cover?”
“Haven’t slept on it in a long time. Might be dusty,” He Siming said. “I’ll take it back to wash it. I’ll be staying in the dorm for a while.”
“You’re not staying at your place anymore?” Jiang Rong asked.
“I’ve been getting back late lately. Going back and forth is a hassle. Staying in the dorm is more convenient. I’ll move back once things calm down.”
Jiang Rong believed him.
He dried his hair, and once it was dry, sleepiness crept in—especially with the AC on, making it much warmer.
But He Siming hadn’t left, and Jiang Rong didn’t really want to sleep.
The whole dorm was filled with He Siming’s pheromones, giving him an inexplicable sense of peace.
He really wanted to ask He Siming to stay.
“So when will you move back into the dorm?” Jiang Rong asked.
He Siming packed the things to be washed into a bag and looked up at Jiang Rong, who was standing very close, deliberately teasing him. “Depends on my mood.”
Jiang Rong could tell from his half-smile that he was teasing again. “Then I’ll sleep.”
It was already 9:30 when they got back from eating. After fooling around with He Siming and then showering, it was nearly 10:30.
Jiang Rong climbed into bed, lay down, and pulled up the blanket.
He Siming stood by his bedside. “Jiang Rong, move your head out a bit.”
Thinking something was wrong, Jiang Rong shifted his head outward—only to be kissed lightly on the lips by He Siming, without any desire attached.
“Don’t be unhappy,” He Siming said.
Jiang Rong quietly pulled the blanket higher, his whole body warm. He replied softly, “I’m not unhappy.”
“Then I’m heading back,” He Siming said.
“Mm. Good night.”
“Good night.”
He Siming thoughtfully turned off the light, closed the doors and windows properly, and then left.
Surrounded by the faint scent of lime pheromones, Jiang Rong slept soundly that night.
