Chapter 43: Malicious Rumors
Under Jiang Rong’s soft, pleading voice, He Siming finally satisfied his request.
Only then did the discomfort in Jiang Rong’s body ease. His breathing gradually steadied, and color returned to his face.
He Siming gently picked Jiang Rong up and carried him to the sofa.
Jiang Rong’s current condition was like a small fish that had accidentally jumped out of a pond and lost its water—if he wasn’t put back in time, he’d flip belly-up the next second.
At first, He Siming might truly have thought Jiang Rong was teasing him with pheromones. But the more he understood him, the more he realized Jiang Rong wasn’t lying. His physical reactions were always the most honest—whether his face was flushed or pale was obvious at a glance, whether his body temperature was normal or suddenly rising was something He Siming had already grasped seven or eight tenths of the time.
After Jiang Rong replenished himself with lime-scented pheromones, his body temperature began to drop and soon returned to normal.
He knew this situation wasn’t quite normal—what kind of pregnant spouse, only two months along, needed to be intimate with their partner so frequently?
Normally, the first three months were about stabilizing the pregnancy. But in their case, it was the opposite—the more this happened, the faster the little one grew.
He Siming didn’t want to believe it, but the data were right there.
The examination results all confirmed those “sweet words” Jiang Rong had told him about pheromones.
He Siming didn’t let go of Jiang Rong, allowing him to cling tightly to him. He kissed Jiang Rong’s forehead. “Do you feel better?”
Jiang Rong rested his chin against He Siming’s chest. “A bit better.”
They hadn’t done any foreplay just now; they were even still wearing their sweaters. The house was warm, not cold.
The sofa, covered with a soft wool blanket, sank slightly under their combined weight.
He Siming wiped away the sweat that had formed on Jiang Rong’s forehead. “Does it hurt?”
Jiang Rong kissed He Siming’s chin, shook his head, and said softly, “It doesn’t hurt. My body is different from yours—you can actually feel it too.”
When he said this, there was a trace of shyness in his eyes, yet he couldn’t help wanting He Siming’s pheromones.
He Siming gently lowered him onto the sofa. “Your comfort matters more than anything. If you feel unwell, tell me.”
“Okay.” Jiang Rong leaned back, hooking his arms around He Siming and pulling him down. He Siming braced his hands on either side of his body—he knew exactly what Jiang Rong meant.
The tear marks at the corners of Jiang Rong’s eyes were still there, and his gentle voice carried a hint of urgency. “He Siming?”
He Siming bent down and kissed his neck.
The rich peach pheromones once again entwined with the lime scent. Peach and lime blended together, indistinguishable from each other.
This time, Jiang Rong’s needs were stronger than they had been two weeks earlier. That night, aside from eating and sleeping, he clung to He Siming, constantly asking for more. When he woke up at noon on Sunday, he felt a bit weary—clearly, his body still didn’t have quite enough pheromones. That day, before the curtains at home had even been opened, He Siming was once again pulled back into bed by Jiang Rong to replenish him.
The two of them spent a pleasant and fulfilling weekend at home like this.
He Siming was glad he hadn’t agreed to his uncle’s suggestion to go for a physical exam on Sunday.
Of course, while Jiang Rong was being “nourished,” He Siming was as well. He had always known he had strong desires and rarely dared to touch anything related to them. His sexual needs were difficult to satisfy, yet Jiang Rong seemed as if he’d been born to fit perfectly with him—like the other half of his lost soul. Now, both his physical and psychological cravings were being fulfilled, easing his desire just the right amount.
When Jiang Rong needed him, the one most eager to act was actually He Siming—every cell in his body would become excited.
On Monday morning, Jiang Rong was woken by He Siming.
After absorbing plenty of pheromones over the weekend, he felt no fatigue at all and was full of energy.
When he went to the bathroom that morning, he glanced at himself in the mirror and realized his waistline seemed to have increased slightly. The doctor had told him to monitor his weight—and sure enough, it had gone up.
He Siming saw him standing on the scale from the doorway. “Gained weight?”
Jiang Rong: “Yeah.”
He Siming entered the day’s measurements into his phone. “We’ll weigh you again tomorrow morning.”
Jiang Rong said, “He’s growing so fast.”
He Siming smiled. “You must have absorbed a lot these past two days, that’s why you’re heavier.”
“…” Jiang Rong gave a light snort.
He’d known it—whenever He Siming’s lips curved upward, he couldn’t stay serious at all.
After dropping Jiang Rong off at school, He Siming went straight to the hospital for a checkup.
As usual, Jiang Rong sat with Yao Shule and Li Yizhou, and the three of them went to the cafeteria together at noon. Halfway through the meal, Yao Shule’s stomach started acting up, so he went to the restroom first. Not long after, he asked Li Yizhou to bring him some tissues.
After finishing his meal, Jiang Rong headed back to the dorm alone.
Final exams were coming up next week, and the teachers had been reviewing key points lately. He needed proper rest to focus in class.
But for some reason, on the way back from the cafeteria to the dorm, he kept feeling like someone was watching him. He hadn’t offended anyone—surely no one was stalking him? He was just a poor student, not some rich kid. Besides, this was campus; even a thief would think twice about targeting someone here.
He walked a bit farther, still feeling that frightening gaze on his back. When he turned around for the third time, he saw Song Yuening standing at the entrance of the convenience store, smiling and waving at him.
Jiang Rong let out a breath of relief. “Senior Song.”
Although Song Yuening had shown interest in him, he’d never stated it outright. Jiang Rong simply pretended not to notice—normal communication was fine.
Song Yuening said, “Why are you walking this way? Your dorm isn’t in this direction, is it?”
Indeed, Dorm Building Nine wasn’t this way. There was a shortcut that would get him back quickly. But perhaps he was being overly sensitive—he’d felt someone following him and had chosen the main road instead.
Jiang Rong casually made up an excuse. “I ate too much and wanted to walk a bit more.”
Song Yuening saw him sniffing from the cold. “It’s pretty chilly—hurry back inside. I’m heading to Building Nine anyway. Want to walk together?”
Jiang Rong: “Sure.”
Song Yuening was actually quite talkative and good at conversation, sticking to topics they were both familiar with.
Song Yuening asked, “So you really aren’t going back to the café for part-time work?”
Jiang Rong: “Not for now.”
Song Yuening: “By the way, are you interested in that band I recommended last time?”
Jiang Rong: “I thought you were joking. But thanks—I’m not really interested in joining a band.”
He’d learned instruments because his mother had forced him to. He never had much interest in them, especially performing in front of others. Being on the school stage was already his limit—perhaps he was just naturally an introvert.
Song Yuening nodded. “Alright.”
Someone had spilled water on the pavement, making it slippery. Jiang Rong didn’t notice and nearly fell forward, but Song Yuening reacted quickly and caught him.
“Are you okay?” Song Yuening asked.
Jiang Rong was startled himself. “Thanks, I’m fine.”
“No need to thank me—you’re quite polite,” Song Yuening said.
Jiang Rong smiled.
They continued walking. After a while, they reached Building Nine. Song Yuening went up to the third floor—he really did have something to do there, and running into Jiang Rong had genuinely been a coincidence.
Jiang Rong went to class as usual. Everything seemed normal.
Over the next few days, Jiang Rong kept feeling as though he was being followed on campus, but without any evidence, he didn’t mention it to He Siming.
As the year drew to a close, He Siming became increasingly busy. He stayed up late at home for two consecutive nights. Sometimes, when Jiang Rong got up in the middle of the night, He Siming was still sitting in front of the computer. He seemed troubled by something, and Jiang Rong didn’t want to bother him with baseless suspicions.
Even though they lived together and went to school together, Jiang Rong never took the initiative to pry into He Siming’s privacy.
That Friday, Jiang Rong went to class with the mindset that full-scale exams were coming next week.
Just as He Siming got out of the car, a professor called him aside. There were still details about an earlier project to discuss—winter break was approaching, and once students left campus, it would be hard to find them.
As soon as Jiang Rong sat down, he noticed many eyes focused on him.
Quite a few girls were looking at him strangely. Even Yao Shule sensed something was off. It was Lin Nana, who was close with them, who sent them a forum link. She looked at Jiang Rong with a troubled expression.
Yao Shule opened the link first and immediately cursed, “Holy shit, who the hell is spreading rumors?!” He turned and pressed Jiang Rong’s hand down as Jiang Rong reached for his phone. “Rongrong, don’t look.”
Jiang Rong gently brushed his hand aside. “It’s okay.”
“There are people maliciously attacking you on the forum,” Yao Shule said anxiously.
Jiang Rong let out a breath—so his intuition hadn’t been wrong after all. The stone hanging in his heart finally fell.
He took a deep breath and decided to see what was being said about him.
#What a shameless man who flirts with everyone!#
[Original poster:] I really can’t stand it anymore. Are all these outstanding seniors blind? They’re being played and don’t even know it. Here’s the thing—this person is always hovering around several seniors. He’s so good at pretending. Even Song Yuening, who already has a boyfriend, is chasing after him. Who knows how many people he’s sleeping with? When he worked part-time at a café before, people said he might have an STD because he was always running to the bathroom. Some employees often saw kiss marks on his body. On weekends, he was even seen meeting a middle-aged man outside, who handed him a bank card. Pictures as proof.
There were five photos in total.
The first showed Song Yuening supporting Jiang Rong when he almost slipped.
The second showed Ding Yan helping He Siming take Jiang Rong home after school. The photo was taken at an angle that made it look like Ding Yan was holding Jiang Rong in his arms.
The third showed He Siming carrying Jiang Rong’s bag.
The fourth again showed He Siming and Jiang Rong standing in a supermarket, with He Siming paying.
The fifth showed a middle-aged man pushing a bank card toward Jiang Rong.
The post involved two campus heartthrobs, so the comments exploded.
– That’s impressive.
– Is it real or fake?
– Rich idiots might get scammed, but how did Senior Song fall for it too? That “hug” looks so fake—did he deliberately fall into the senior’s arms?
– Holy shit, a male temptress?
– Looks familiar. Isn’t that the guy who performed with He Siming at the New Year’s gala? I remember he played the cello—really eye-catching. Didn’t expect him to be this dirty.
– My god, is he really being kept?
– Of course. He wears designer brands every day—shoes and clothes are all name-brand. Where would a poor student get that kind of money?
– Then it’s basically confirmed.
– He even hangs out with rich, clueless second-generation heirs. Someone saw him get into a rich kid’s car after school one day. Using that chance to meet wealthy people seems pretty normal.
The further Jiang Rong read, the tighter his brow furrowed.
He went in and out with He Siming every day now, rode in his car to and from school—it was inevitable that many people would see them. That part was undeniable; they were indeed a couple. But why was Song Yuening dragged into this? Even Ding Yan had been implicated.
People in the class whispered among themselves. Jiang Rong caught bits and pieces of gossip about himself, but none of it was true.
Yao Shule snatched his phone away. “Stop looking. I’ve already reported the post. Once I find out who’s slandering you, I’ll kill him.”
Jiang Rong really didn’t want to read anymore. “Okay, I won’t.”
He hadn’t done any of those things, yet someone was deliberately spreading rumors—it was strange.
Because the post tagged “He Siming” and “Song Yuening” from Qin University, it spread quickly across campus.
Jiang Rong appeared calm in class, but his fists were clenched tightly. He didn’t know who was targeting him.
After two classes, during the break, he received a call from the counselor.
“Jiang Rong, could you come to the counselor’s office?” the counselor asked.
“Yes, teacher,” Jiang Rong replied.
Yao Shule looked at him nervously. “What’s going on?”
“The counselor asked me to go to the office,” Jiang Rong said.
Yao Shule stood up immediately. “I’ll go with you. That forum post is complete nonsense—the teacher should be looking for the idiot who made it.”
Jiang Rong shook his head. “No need. It’s probably not about the post.”
“No way, I’m coming with you,” Yao Shule insisted.
Li Yizhou added, “I’ll go too.”
Yao Shule said, “You stay for now. If anything happens, we’ll let you know.”
“Alright,” Li Yizhou agreed.
Jiang Rong couldn’t argue with him, so they went together.
At the office door, however, Yao Shule waited outside and didn’t go in.
The counselor was a young man in his early thirties. Jiang Rong had only seen him once, during the New Year’s performance.
He asked Jiang Rong to sit down first. “I have some bad news for you, and I want to ask about your situation first.”
“Just say it, teacher. I’m fine,” Jiang Rong replied.
The counselor felt Jiang Rong had changed a lot. Back in freshman year, he’d known Jiang Rong was rather withdrawn and had even spoken to him privately, but Jiang Rong always seemed indifferent and stubborn. It had been hard to get him to integrate into the group.
Now, his overall aura was gentler, as if all his sharp edges had been put away. They hadn’t interacted much for months, yet the change was striking.
The counselor said, “A student reported that you used financial aid money to buy brand-name clothing. This could affect your application for next year’s financial assistance.”
“Teacher, I didn’t apply for financial aid next year,” Jiang Rong said.
The counselor: “…”
Jiang Rong remained calm. “Then doesn’t that mean the report doesn’t stand? Teacher, can I counter-report them? Maliciously slandering a classmate should be punishable, right?”
“It was an anonymous report,” the counselor said. “I just wanted to verify whether it was true.”
“Teacher, you’ve seen my personal file. Do you think the report is reasonable?” Jiang Rong asked.
“They provided some evidence, which is why I asked,” the counselor replied.
“May I know what kind of evidence?” Jiang Rong asked.
“The clothes and shoes you wear,” the counselor said. “They’re brands that students from ordinary families usually can’t afford.”
“I understand,” Jiang Rong said.
The counselor was just following procedure and trying to smooth things over. He assumed Jiang Rong might have been afraid of discrimination and had bought knockoffs to look normal, but accidentally bought big brands and got targeted.
He advised earnestly, “Jiang Rong, I don’t know if I should say this, but sometimes wearing ordinary domestic brands is good too—good quality, no need to chase big names. Look at my down jacket—it’s a common style, reasonably priced. There’s no need to compete with other students.”
“Teacher, the clothes I wear are—” Jiang Rong began.
Before he could finish, a figure swept into the office, bringing a chill with him.
He Siming said with a dark expression, “Teacher, his clothes were all bought by me. There’s no such thing as using financial aid money to buy brand-name clothes.”
“Ah? He Siming, why are you here?” the counselor asked.
“Teacher, if you have questions, ask me. As for the forum post, please deal with it,” He Siming said.
“I know about the post. I’ll contact the administrators to handle it,” the counselor replied.
Yao Shule followed in behind him. “Teacher, Jiang Rong is sick. He Siming is taking care of him right now. This needs to be handled quickly—we can’t let students get their hearts chilled by malicious yellow rumors just for helping someone.”
The counselor looked at Jiang Rong. “You’re sick?”
Yao Shule was frantic—the counselor was reacting way too slowly. “There’s a tumor growing in his stomach! He needs to recuperate now, and he’ll need surgery next year!”
The counselor finally grew alarmed and looked at Jiang Rong, thinking of his situation. “A tumor? Do you need help?”
Jiang Rong looked at He Siming. “…”
He Siming hadn’t expected Yao Shule to jump straight to imagining a tumor.
Jiang Rong rounded it off. “Teacher, I really do need surgery next year.”
“I see. If there’s anything you need help with, make sure to tell me. What about the surgery costs?” the counselor asked.
It was true that Jiang Rong was a student from a poor background.
“There’s no need to worry about the surgery. I’ve already made arrangements,” He Siming said.
“That’s good. You two have a close relationship. I’ll have the forum post deleted,” the counselor said.
Suddenly, Jiang Rong stood up. “Teacher, there’s no need to delete the post.”
The counselor froze. “Why not?”
Jiang Rong looked at He Siming. He Siming held his arm, giving him strength.
With a firm gaze, Jiang Rong said, “Because I’m going to report it to the police.”
