Chapter 39: Reason Is Bullshit
The moment He Siming stepped onto the stage, the audience erupted into cheers—clear proof of just how popular he was.
Word had already spread on the forum that he would be playing the violin tonight, so quite a few people in the audience had come specifically to catch a glimpse of the campus heartthrob. After all, this might be the first—and possibly the last—time. The school hunk was famously aloof!
Of course, aside from He Siming, the other three students dressed in white suits each had their own distinct presence. Especially the young man seated with a cello in his arms—he wasn’t overshadowed by the heartthrob at all. His gentle temperament carried a touch of youthful air; the suit fit him perfectly, and every movement exuded a different kind of charm. Just sitting there, he looked like a beautiful angel stepping out of a painting.
“Oh my god, when did our school get such a gorgeous guy? How did we never know before!”
“I heard they’re all roommates of the campus heartthrob.”
“His roommates are hidden way too well. Can I be their roommate too? I’ll even sleep under the bed!”
“But I didn’t expect the heartthrob to be so down-to-earth. I thought he’d play Butterfly Lovers or something to match his cold, melancholic vibe.”
“The guy playing the cello has that kind of vibe too. Record more videos of him!”
“I want all his information within three minutes!”
Jiang Rong gave the heartthrob a look that said he could start. The four of them got ready, and the performance began.
He Siming lifted his bow, and an elegant yet festive melody flowed out. Soon after, the cello joined the violin’s bright tune—not overpowering, but deep and resonant, transforming into a soft, transparent little figure that chased after the jumping notes on the violin strings. In the lively passage, the little figure took the notes by the hand and danced with them, radiant and carefree.
When the electric guitar and saxophone joined in, the joyful atmosphere surged to its peak. The violin grew ever more cheerful, the little notes hopping with delight, dancing across the cello’s strings as the little figure was pulled into spin after spin.
As the final note fell, the little notes and the figure vanished happily beneath the stage lights, together completing a thoroughly exhilarating dance.
It had been a long time since Jiang Rong had immersed himself so deeply in music. Playing together with He Siming was unexpectedly joyful. This was the first piece they had completed together, and he hoped there would be many more chances like this in the future.
When the performance ended, thunderous applause filled the grand auditorium.
Jiang Rong stood up and bowed together with He Siming and the other two before leaving the stage.
As the stage lights dimmed, He Siming casually picked up Jiang Rong’s cello—after all, a cello weighed around ten jin.
After the performance, Yao Shule excitedly chatted with Li Yizhou about how he’d blown a wrong note and hoped no one noticed. Likewise, they didn’t notice He Siming carrying Jiang Rong’s cello.
Their performance task completed, the four of them packed their instruments back into their cases.
The host, Yang Qin, happened to be standing near the exit offstage and spotted the cello in He Siming’s hand.
She quickly asked him, “You were amazing. Do you have any plans for New Year’s Day?”
“Sorry, that’s not convenient to disclose,” He Siming replied coolly, sounding nothing like a performer who had just come offstage. He was far too calm.
In fact, He Siming had already made things very clear to her at the buffet that day—he wasn’t interested in women. But she was unwilling to give up. He Siming was the only man who had ever awakened her desire to conquer. Suddenly turning out to be gay? She found that to be nothing more than a ridiculous excuse to reject her.
Yang Qin glanced again at Jiang Rong, who was lowering his head to tidy his cello case, then turned and headed back toward the stage.
Walking behind her, Song Yuening said to Jiang Rong, “Junior, your cello playing is very professional. I have a friend who formed a band—are you interested in joining? They have nearly ten million followers on Douyin right now, they’re really popular.”
Jiang Rong had just closed his case. He hadn’t expected to receive an invitation like this.
He asked innocently, “Really?”
Song Yuening smiled. “Add me on WeChat? We can talk later.”
He Siming picked up Jiang Rong’s cello case. “Song Yuening, you’re up to host now.”
Interrupted, Song Yuening chuckled. “No rush.”
Just then, Ding Yan ran backstage from the audience. “Hurry, hurry! We need to leave now—if we’re any later, we’ll miss the 8:30 fireworks!”
His timing was perfect, and Song Yuening had no choice but to head off to host.
Yao Shule had also finished packing up. “Isn’t there iron flower forging too? I want to see it. Let’s go, let’s go!”
Only after watching Jiang Rong put on his down jacket did He Siming ask, “Do you want to see the iron flower forging?”
Jiang Rong nodded. “I do.” He was aware that Song Yuening had some other thoughts about him, but he didn’t pay much attention to the band invitation.
He Siming said to Ding Yan, “We’ll go back to the dorm to drop things off and change, then head out. You go get my car and wait downstairs.”
Ding Yan protested, “Can’t we take my car?”
He Siming replied, “Your car’s chassis is too low. It makes people carsick.”
Ding Yan scoffed. “You’re the driver—what are you afraid of?”
He Siming ignored him, his eyes fixed on Jiang Rong going down the stairs, afraid he might miss a step. The scare at noon had nearly made his heart jump out of his chest.
There were other classmates on Ding Yan’s side. He handed them the keys to his two cars—anyone who wanted to leave later could take one. He decided to squeeze into the back seat of He Siming’s car and leave first.
The class monitor was overly responsible and chose to leave after the gala. All told, about seven people were leaving with He Siming: two male classmates and one female classmate from Ding Yan’s finance department; from the computer science side, Liang Dongdong, who was close with Yao Shule, plus three girls. Lin Nana and her friends were also coming, but since their dance performance was later, they’d take another car and join them for New Year’s Eve.
Jiang Rong brought only a backpack with clothes, his ever-present thermos, and some snacks He Siming had bought for him.
As for He Siming, his usually flat, simple bag was stuffed to the brim.
Ding Yan opened the trunk for them and saw not only that He Siming’s bag was packed full, but that the trunk itself contained all kinds of supplements—there were even two boxes of bird’s nest!
He couldn’t help asking, “Why did you buy all this? Auntie isn’t living here, right?”
“Don’t worry about it,” He Siming said.
They were obviously all for Jiang Rong.
Ding Yan: “……”
He Siming took the driver’s seat. Ding Yan obediently climbed into the back. He knew very well by now that his status was far below Jiang Rong’s.
Jiang Rong naturally sat in the front passenger seat.
On the way, the three people in the back chatted animatedly. Jiang Rong barely spoke. He had expended too much energy today, and the pheromones he’d gotten from He Siming last time were almost used up. His body felt weak; he walked more slowly than others, and even candy didn’t help much.
Probably exhausted, he fell asleep as soon as he got in the car, sleeping until He Siming parked.
Iron flower forging was about to start, and Ding Yan and the others hopped out of the car.
Still drowsy, Jiang Rong asked, “Are we there?”
“We’re at the park,” He Siming replied. “It’s pretty cold outside—do you still want to go?”
“Since we’re already here, let’s go,” Jiang Rong said.
Seeing the lakeside crowded with people watching the performance, He Siming warned, “Stick close to me later. There are too many people.” He was afraid someone careless might bump into him.
Jiang Rong had slept most of the way and felt fairly alert now, just slower than others when walking.
“Okay. Let’s stand a bit farther back.”
“If you can’t see, I’ll hold you up so you can,” He Siming said.
“No way,” Jiang Rong protested. “That’s embarrassing.”
“How is that embarrassing? Who says so?” He Siming countered.
As they talked, they walked toward the lakeside.
Jiang Rong compared their heights. “Wouldn’t that just show I’m short? I’m not short.”
Among Betas he was average height, and among Omegas he was relatively tall.
He Siming laughed. “You’re really not short.”
New Year’s Eve drew a large crowd to watch the iron flower forging and fireworks.
At 8:30 p.m., the intangible cultural heritage artists began performing on boats!
Clang.
Once.
Clang.
Twice.
Clang—three times.
Iron trees and silver flowers shimmered in the dark night, forming a dazzling, alternative nightscape. The sight hit Jiang Rong with tremendous visual impact. He hadn’t even had time to look up what iron flower forging was online—now that he’d seen it, this distinctive performance utterly shocked a visitor from another world.
He couldn’t help exclaiming, “It’s so beautiful!”
He Siming clasped his hand, watching the side of Jiang Rong’s face lit up by the sparks. “It really is beautiful.”
Beautiful when he smiles. Even more beautiful when kissed. Perfect from head to toe.
He Siming tightened his grip on Jiang Rong’s hand and watched the performance with him.
Next came an even more brilliant fireworks display, lasting fifteen minutes.
The fireworks in this world came in so many forms—hearts, cascading stars, little animals—that it was dizzying to watch. They were stunning.
When the fireworks ended, Jiang Rong was still immersed in the breathtaking spectacle, the smile on his face impossible to suppress.
There was no countdown event in the park. They drove to Li Yizhou’s uncle’s farmhouse instead—just a ten-minute drive.
There, Jiang Rong finally saw the kang Li Yizhou had mentioned. So this was it. Coal was burned beneath it, heat baking the platform so people could eat, chat, sleep—do anything—on it.
Their group of thirteen was lively and noisy. Uncle Li said he’d reserved one kang for them, with the rest being regular rooms.
One kang easily fit six college guys.
Yao Shule, who’d never slept on a kang, dragged Li Yizhou and Liang Dongdong, insisting on sleeping there. With three spots left, he asked Jiang Rong if he wanted to join.
Jiang Rong sat there for a bit but found it unbearably hot. Acting on his body’s instinct to avoid discomfort, he shook his head and said he wouldn’t sleep there.
“Really not?” Yao Shule urged. “It’s a rare experience!”
“It’s a bit too hot just sitting,” Jiang Rong replied. “I already tried it.”
Li Yizhou frowned. “I thought you’d sleep on the kang with us. We already assigned rooms in the group chat—there don’t seem to be any other empty rooms.”
He Siming searched on his phone and pulled Jiang Rong up from the kang. “You’re sleeping in a room with me.”
Thinking that he’d be able to absorb He Siming’s pheromones at night, Jiang Rong agreed immediately.
“Okay.”
Ding Yan raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a king-size bed?” Meaning—could He Siming really sleep with someone else?
“So what?” He Siming replied coolly.
Ding Yan remembered very clearly that He Siming never shared a room with anyone!
After the rooms were assigned, Li Yizhou’s uncle prepared a lavish late-night barbecue for them.
Jiang Rong hadn’t eaten much barbecue before, but this time he was thoroughly satisfied. The ingredients were fresh, and anything he couldn’t eat was picked out for him.
When the class monitor and Lin Nana arrived, things got even livelier.
They ate, played, and waited for the New Year.
In the room with the kang, they started playing games.
Lin Nana, always full of ideas, grinned. “Hehe, let’s play Truth or Dare!”
“Sure!” Yao Shule was the first to agree.
He Siming and Jiang Rong both sat on the kang. Because it was hot, Jiang Rong sat closer to the edge.
Liang Dongdong, who won rock-paper-scissors, spun the bottle first. It landed on one of Ding Yan’s classmates, and he asked whether they’d ever been in a relationship.
When it was Ding Yan’s turn, he rubbed his hands eagerly. “That question wasn’t exciting at all! The next one better be juicy!”
Then he spun the bottle.
It landed on Jiang Rong.
Jiang Rong: “?”
He Siming lifted his gaze to Ding Yan, who instantly felt like he was sitting on pins and needles.
Yao Shule egged him on. “Didn’t you say it’d be juicy? Let’s see how juicy you can get!”
Provoked, Ding Yan blurted out, “Jiang Rong, truth or dare?”
“Truth,” Jiang Rong said.
“Are you still a virgin?”
Ding Yan assumed the answer would definitely be yes.
Everyone did.
Jiang Rong pinched his thumb and answered softly, “No.”
Everyone: “……”
Li Yizhou: “Holy shit!”
Yao Shule: “Holy shit! Babe, you’ve really broadened my horizons!”
Ding Yan: “You’re impressive.”
Only He Siming, one elbow propped on his knee, remained calm. Slightly impatient, he said, “Next.”
The game continued.
Jiang Rong wasn’t usually the center of attention, but that single answer completely changed how everyone saw him. For a group of still-virgin college guys, it was a massive shock.
After a couple more rounds, it was finally Lin Nana’s turn. She laughed. “It’s my turn!”
The bottle spun and spun, finally stopping in front of He Siming.
Everyone grew excited—not just the girls, even the guys were curious. He Siming had always seemed like he lived in a different world from them.
Lin Nana was even more thrilled. “He Siming, you don’t mind if I ask anything, right?”
“I don’t mind. Ask whatever you want,” He Siming replied.
Her eyes shone with gossip. “Have you ever dated Yang Qin?”
“No,” He Siming answered instantly, without even thinking.
He was so calm and decisive that Lin Nana almost wondered if she’d misheard.
Jiang Rong, however, visibly brightened, his heart inexplicably lightening.
“Then why did you leave the student council?” Lin Nana pressed.
He Siming looked at Jiang Rong, who was staring at him, and smiled. “Because my wife is pregnant.”
Jiang Rong sat bolt upright. “!!!”
The first to disbelieve was Ding Yan. How could he not know He Siming? If there were a woman, he’d definitely know!
Slapping his thigh, Ding Yan laughed loudly. “Hahaha! If this time next year you’re actually holding a kid, I’ll livestream myself doing a handstand and eating shit!”
For the first time, Jiang Rong felt like warning him—there was a real chance he might have to eat shit.
He Siming just smiled without saying anything.
The class monitor, ever rigorous, declared, “Recorded for evidence!”
Everyone assumed He Siming was joking, but it livened up the atmosphere.
After a while, they started lighting small fireworks and counting down to the New Year. One of Ding Yan’s classmates even flew a drone to record videos.
“Three! Two! One!”
“Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year!”
Wrapped in his down jacket, Jiang Rong happily played with sparklers with everyone. In the end, the wind was too strong, and He Siming dragged him back to the room and locked the door.
Those with energy kept playing in the kang room; those without went back to rest.
Jiang Rong showered, changed into pajamas, and crawled into bed. The quilt was a northern-style floral quilt—festive, almost like a wedding bed—and pleasantly soft.
It was a very novel, distinctive homestay.
He Siming also showered quickly and got into bed.
They hadn’t slept together for a week. As soon as He Siming lay down, Jiang Rong leaned over and buried himself in his chest, inhaling his pheromones.
He Siming thought he just wanted to cuddle to sleep—until Jiang Rong’s hand pressed against his pajama top, right where it wasn’t buttoned.
Jiang Rong lifted his head and kissed his Adam’s apple. Sleepy-eyed, he murmured softly, “He Siming, I want pheromones.”
He Siming’s breathing stalled for a second, his chest rising and falling more noticeably.
At this moment, he still had some restraint left. “It’s not as warm here as at home. You’ll catch a cold.”
“We can do it under the blanket,” Jiang Rong whispered. “I won’t make a sound.”
He Siming’s hand settled on his waist. He lowered his head and captured his lips. Jiang Rong wrapped his arms around his neck and responded eagerly.
In an instant, peach-scented air flooded the room, slowly taking over.
He voluntarily peeled away his peach skin, the fair, tender fruit pressing against He Siming’s chest, while one leg wrapped around his waist.
Reason is bullshit.
