Chapter 53: A Small Tiff
At the entrance of the restaurant, water droplets fell from an artificial rockery, making a crisp, tinkling sound.
Jiang Rong hadn’t expected Professor Wen to bring him to such a quiet Chinese restaurant for dinner. There were very few people inside. No servers hovered around; even ordering was done by scanning a QR code, and at the appropriate time, staff would simply bring the food over.
Although Jiang Rong hadn’t yet obtained his license to practice as a psychologist, he could still tell that Professor Wen’s level of social anxiety—if graded by severity—would fall into the category of “significantly anxious.” He wasn’t so tense that he couldn’t work with others at all, but he clearly avoided crowds and was even unwilling to have any contact with servers.
Ever since Professor Wen had seen the course materials Jiang Rong wrote, he had been discussing with him how to realize the project. In truth, many of the things Jiang Rong didn’t understand, he had asked He Siming about, and gradually he’d grasped some of the fundamentals. But going into great depth was still beyond him for now. What he discussed most with Professor Wen were issues related to psychological disorders.
Jiang Rong wasn’t stupid. He could sense Professor Wen’s urgency about this topic.
People with social anxiety were actually easy to understand.
If something wasn’t extremely important, they probably wouldn’t even go out.
Professor Wen’s willingness to chat with He Siming midway was likely because he was very interested in He Siming as a fellow genius—at the very least, they could talk to each other easily. And now, the topic they were discussing was something else entirely.
Jiang Rong wasn’t as lively or proactive as Yao Shule. He wasn’t socially anxious, nor was he overly outgoing.
If he waited for Professor Wen to speak first, they might be sitting there for quite a while, so he decided to take the initiative.
If it were purely about professional matters, Professor Wen talking with He Siming would probably be more efficient. As for himself, it was obvious at a glance that his foundations weren’t yet solid; discussing such things with a genius professor was a bit too advanced.
He had just noticed several notes written on the menu the server brought over.
From his observations, Professor Wen not only had social anxiety, but was also allergic to many foods. It seemed He Siming hadn’t been lying when he said Professor Wen had quite a few “little issues.”
Then why was he so eager to have a student like him—someone who had only just entered the field—join his lab? Did he want an AI mental-comfort robot?
“Professor Wen, did you ask me here to talk about the project? Do you want an AI comfort robot?”
Jiang Rong hit the nail on the head.
Professor Wen wasn’t the pretentious type. He was just socially anxious, and also surprised by Jiang Rong’s sensitivity to details. His keen observation made him wonder—where had he exposed his privacy just now?
Today, he hadn’t intended to share his personal matters with Jiang Rong; he simply hoped to help him complete the project.
Professor Wen pushed up his glasses to cover his slight unease, but quickly calmed himself. “How did you guess?”
“I’ve studied a bit of psychology,” Jiang Rong replied. One more year and he could accumulate enough credits to graduate early and continue his studies.
“Then you must be able to tell that I want to see your project carried through,” Professor Wen said.
Jiang Rong nodded. “Yes, I can tell.”
“You’re very smart, just like He Siming,” Professor Wen said.
Hearing him praise He Siming made Jiang Rong happy. “May I ask why? If you want to continue this project, I have no objections. It could benefit many people in the future.”
Although Professor Wen and Jiang Rong had chatted a lot on WeChat, this was their first time meeting privately for a meal. He hesitated, wondering whether he should explain things in detail to a student so much younger than himself.
In fact, today he only wanted to ask whether Jiang Rong could quickly enter his lab and complete the project. He could, of course, do it himself, but he wasn’t someone who stole others’ academic result. He was willing to help Jiang Rong finish it together—and most importantly, he was more desperate than Jiang Rong.
Seeing Professor Wen fall silent again, Jiang Rong unconsciously slipped into the role of a counselor.
He looked at Professor Wen with gentle eyes and asked in a calm, warm voice, “Professor Wen, may I be so bold as to ask—do you suffer from claustrophobia? Do you urgently need an AI comfort robot?”
Professor Wen could only laugh softly. “You guessed it again. Your psychology is very good—you see right through me at a glance. I’ve lived a few extra years for nothing.”
Jiang Rong smiled. His voice was gentle to begin with, and combined with his approachable smile, it made people more willing to communicate.
“It’s actually not hard to understand,” he said. “You’re very interested in my project, and you keep mentioning ‘claustrophobia’ and ‘extreme mental tension.’ I think what you care about is something happening to yourself. Professor, do you have a psychologist?”
“I’ve seen one,” Professor Wen replied, “but it was useless. They only prescribed medication, which affected my nerves and slowed my thinking. Or they just told me to take deep breaths when I was extremely tense—none of it helped.”
Jiang Rong noticed his clothing: not a single strand of animal hair on him. Even the coat he wore when he arrived was made of very smooth fabric.
He tentatively asked, “Are you also allergic to animal fur?”
Over the past few days, Wen Chengxu had regarded Jiang Rong as a computer science student with ideas. His project and thinking had impressed him; if Jiang Rong lacked the ability to realize it, Wen would discuss future collaborative research with him.
But now, a few sentences from Jiang Rong shattered Wen Chengxu’s long-standing self-protection.
Jiang Rong was indeed extraordinary. He was too perceptive.
Wen Chengxu gradually lowered the reserve and defensiveness he carried as a professor and became willing to communicate with Jiang Rong on equal footing.
“Yes,” he said. “You’re very much like a professional psychologist.”
“If you don’t mind,” Jiang Rong said, “I’d be willing to offer you some help.”
He had previously volunteered as well, spending three hours a week at a government psychological hotline, helping people in need of counseling. He had once helped the police save a Beta who wanted to commit suicide after a breakup with an Alpha, successfully saving a life.
Wen Chengxu likely wasn’t a scheming person either. If he were, He Siming wouldn’t have associated with him, let alone allowed Jiang Rong to dine alone with him. Jiang Rong knew clearly that the people He Siming chose to associate with were generally straightforward, and that He Siming protected him extremely carefully.
“As you guessed,” Wen Chengxu said, “I do indeed have quite a few little problems. I have claustrophobia, and I once thought about getting a therapy dog, but later discovered I’m allergic to animal fur. People who don’t know me naturally aren’t aware of these things. I really do urgently need an AI mental-comfort robot. I don’t mind telling you—this is also why I declined Qin University’s invitations several times before returning to the country. I can’t fly; every flight costs me half my life. And I can’t stay in enclosed spaces for too long either—it affects my academic research.”
“Then you must have been troubled by these issues for many years,” Jiang Rong said.
He knew that mild claustrophobia could heal on its own, but in severe cases—like Wen Chengxu’s, where even flying was torture—it was already very serious. He guessed that Wen Chengxu might experience trembling from fear, a situation that required timely psychological intervention; in more serious cases, hospitalization was even possible.
Troubled by his symptoms for years, Wen Chengxu forced a faint, bitter smile. “There’s no changing it. After all these years, treatment hasn’t worked. My family can’t accompany me every time I go out, so the AI comfort robot is what I want.”
The topic circled back to the project.
“I understand your meaning now, Professor,” Jiang Rong said. “In the original project concept, the AI comfort robot was similar in form to a robotic cat or dog. With current technology, that might take longer to realize. But now I have a new idea—one tailored specifically to you.”
Wen Chengxu’s eyes lit up, as if he had seen a beam of light. “Please, tell me your idea.”
Sometimes, when a person struggles with something for too long, they fall into a vicious cycle. Wen Chengxu and his family had sought countless doctors for his condition, but had never thought of creating a robot uniquely for him based on his own field of expertise.
Jiang Rong elaborated on his new idea based on Wen Chengxu’s symptoms. The robots he had previously made with classmates were mass-market models. But since Wen Chengxu wanted to use one himself first, they could develop a customized version. That way, Wen Chengxu himself would be a ready-made sample—the first user. There’d be no need to find patients at all. If it worked for him, then developing a mass version later would be much easier.
Gradually, Wen Chengxu began talking openly with Jiang Rong as if with a friend. In front of him, he didn’t need to hide his little issues, and he was happy to communicate. Jiang Rong even offered many coping methods that previous psychologists had never given him.
They talked at length about the project, until Jiang Rong noticed his phone ringing and realized how late it was.
It was He Siming calling.
Jiang Rong glanced at the time—it was already 9:30 p.m.
“Professor, I’ll take this call.”
“Mm, it’s Siming, isn’t it?”
Jiang Rong nodded. “Yes.”
He Siming had waited a long time without hearing from him and finally had to call. “I’m right outside the restaurant where you’re eating. Are you two still talking?”
“We’ve finished,” Jiang Rong said. “We’re just about to leave.”
“Then I won’t go up. I’ll wait for you in the car.”
Wen Chengxu paid the bill and gestured for him to go.
“Okay, we’re coming out now,” Jiang Rong said.
Although He Siming said he’d wait in the car, he was anxious and walked straight into the restaurant.
When Jiang Rong saw him, he wanted to run over, but remembered He Siming’s repeated reminders and stopped himself.
He walked up to He Siming, tugged lightly on the pocket of his down jacket, and smiled brightly. “He Siming, did you come to pick me up?”
“Mm,” He Siming said. “It’s too late. I didn’t feel comfortable letting you come back alone.”
Watching their pure, close interaction, Wen Chengxu thought their relationship seemed quite good. He only knew He Siming as a rare computer genius; they’d met once before, and he’d thought the kid looked rather aloof, wearing a cold expression toward everyone. But that suited him, since he didn’t like interacting with people either. After coming to Qin University and hearing his family mention him, Wen had remembered him—and with their fields overlapping, it made sense to have him join the lab.
“Were you afraid I’d sell him off or something?” Wen Chengxu joked.
He Siming wrapped an arm around Jiang Rong’s shoulders. The two of them were so clingy there wasn’t the slightest gap between them. “A little.”
Jiang Rong smiled. “Professor Wen, we’ll head back first.”
“Mm,” Wen Chengxu replied.
He watched from behind as He Siming opened the car door and carefully fastened Jiang Rong’s seat belt. Were male college friendships really this sticky nowadays?
Wait—if the two of them were going to be in the lab together all the time in the future, wouldn’t he have to watch He Siming and Jiang Rong being all clingy every day?
Wen Chengxu’s expression stiffened slightly, then he got into his own car and drove home.
After that day, Jiang Rong decided to pick up his psychology studies again. After learning for so long, he couldn’t let them go to waste.
Once he had motivation, everything he did became proactive.
So He Siming discovered that Jiang Rong wasn’t just studying his own major anymore—he’d also started reading psychology books. He read very quickly, switching to a new batch every two days, and even took quite a few notes.
Jiang Rong took the project in his hands very seriously. He was like a sponge, absorbing new knowledge, learning joyfully.
He Siming watched with a mix of amazement and anxiety. Jiang Rong’s pumped-up, hyper-motivated state had already lasted a week.
He didn’t even crave He Siming’s pheromones much anymore—he’d only asked for them once that week, and after they finished, he fell asleep immediately. He was practically a scumbag.
He Siming knew how much Jiang Rong valued his chosen topic, and that he chatted with Wen Chengxu on WeChat every day.
The words “Professor Wen” appeared more and more frequently between them. He Siming was even starting to get impatient hearing the name. Even in the lab, he wasn’t very pleasant toward Wen Chengxu. What on earth were those two chatting about all day?
For the first time, He Siming realized how many shining points Jiang Rong had.
As Jiang Rong walked together with Wen Chengxu around campus more and more often, rumors began to spread. One day, when He Siming went to buy coffee at Meiling Café, he even overheard some of them.
Wen Chengxu had been at the university for a while now. His handsome looks had captured many people who judged by appearance. Recently, the hottest post on the forum was discussing whether he was single. Even He Siming, the campus heartthrob, wasn’t as popular anymore.
But who would’ve thought—later in that same post, there would appear photos of Wen Chengxu and Jiang Rong sitting in a café chatting. Though it was only a side profile, it was enough for people to start shipping them.
Yao Shule loved browsing the forum and would share posts related to them in the group chat.
They all knew that He Siming had recently joined the lab and knew Professor Wen, so Jiang Rong knowing Professor Wen didn’t seem like a big deal.
Yao Shule: Tsk tsk tsk, they’re shipping Rongrong and Professor Wen!
Li Yizhou: I don’t get it. I don’t see what’s shippable. They’re just sitting together eating a meal, right? We sit together eating every day—why doesn’t anyone ship us?
Ding Yan: You don’t get it. What they’re shipping is the vibe. Honestly, this photo really does look like something.
He Siming, wearing an apron, had just placed the dishes on the table and casually glanced at his phone: …
Jiang Rong was sitting at the computer deep in thought. To his left was a psychology book, to his right a computer language textbook. The books had become increasingly difficult lately—something he wouldn’t have dared imagine last semester. He had already surpassed Yao Shule and Li Yizhou in level.
He Siming resisted opening the photos on the forum and turned to Jiang Rong. “Dinner’s ready.”
Jiang Rong didn’t look up, his eyes still on the screen, but he responded, “Got it, coming in a bit.”
He Siming set out the bowls and chopsticks and waited another two minutes. Jiang Rong still hadn’t moved.
Sighing, He Siming walked over and covered Jiang Rong’s eyes with his hand.
In a gentle voice, he said, “Stop reading. If you don’t eat now, I’m going to get angry.”
Seeing that his expression really was a bit flat, Jiang Rong immediately stood up. “Okay, okay, I’ll eat.”
He really liked this busy, fulfilling feeling lately, but always felt like there wasn’t enough time.
After dinner, He Siming put the dishes into the sink while Jiang Rong stood nearby washing fruit.
“Hey, He Siming,” Jiang Rong asked, “lately I feel like there’s not enough time. Can I choose one or two weekdays to stay at school?”
He Siming paused with the dishes. “You don’t want to live at home?”
“No,” Jiang Rong shook his head. “It’s just that commuting wastes time. Staying in the dorm saves some.”
“No,” He Siming said. “You’re not suitable for living in the dorm right now. You’ve got a baby in your belly—did you forget?”
“But—”
He Siming really was getting a little angry now, his voice rising. “I said no, so no.”
Jiang Rong froze for a moment, then said, “Aren’t you being a bit domineering? I’m just saying that if I study too late in the library, I’d like to stay in the dorm. It’s not like I won’t come home. And I’m not neglecting the baby.”
He felt that He Siming was being a bit irrational right now. He went straight back to the bedroom, not wanting to talk anymore.
He Siming: “…”
He had indeed been impulsive just now. He wanted to apologize, but having just gotten angry, he felt awkward. He shouldn’t have directly shut Jiang Rong down.
But lately, Jiang Rong really had been neglecting him.
After calming down alone in the living room for a long time, He Siming finally went into the bedroom to look for Jiang Rong.
But by the time he entered, Jiang Rong was already asleep.
Even in his sleep, his lips were pouting in grievance. He Siming lowered his head and kissed him. The flesh Jiang Rong had gained over winter break had slimmed down again recently.
The next morning.
He Siming got up on time, but for the first time, found the spot beside him empty.
He searched the apartment but didn’t see Jiang Rong. On the table, however, was the breakfast Jiang Rong had left behind, with a small note pressed under the bowls and chopsticks.
[He Siming, I’ve gone to school first.]
It really was the first time Jiang Rong had gotten up earlier than He Siming. He Siming had indeed been a bit domineering last night, unwilling to listen to his explanation. Jiang Rong was a bit angry too.
Friday morning’s class was held in the programming lab.
When He Siming arrived, Jiang Rong was leaning back in his chair. He didn’t smile when he saw him, but still saved him a seat, sitting directly beside him.
After class began, He Siming grabbed the hand Jiang Rong had resting on the desk and clasped it, placing it on his own thigh.
Jiang Rong had wanted to ignore him, but with his hand being held like that, his face heated up. Yao Shule and Lin Nana were sitting right next to them!
He Siming quickly whispered, “I’m sorry.”
