Chapter 6: It’s Not Over Yet
Jiang Rong’s moist eyes stared straight at He Siming. An unnatural flush had spread across his face, yet it made him all the more stirring.
He Siming supported the back of Jiang Rong’s head with his hand, the two of them locking eyes. “Can you tell clearly who I am?” He only wanted to speak firmly, to tell him to look carefully at the person in front of him, but the moment the words left his mouth they sounded forceful, almost like jealousy.
If it were someone else here today, would he be begging them like this too?
Jiang Rong’s smooth arms wrapped around his neck again. This time, He Siming held him instead of pushing him away. The usually gentle campus heartthrob’s gaze darkened.
Jiang Rong’s breathing grew heavier. He was utterly certain. Almost brushing against He Siming’s lips, he said, “You’re my roommate, my classmate. You’re He Siming.”
His eyes were clear at this moment—he knew exactly who was in front of him. Even during his heat, he wouldn’t mistake someone.
The hand pressing at his lower back tightened. “If someone else were here today, would you choose them instead?” He applied a bit of force without meaning to.
Jiang Rong shook his head. “No. They don’t have nice-smelling pheromones. You do.”
He Siming thought he was talking nonsense again, but perhaps it was just flirting. Interested, he pressed on, “What pheromones?”
Jiang Rong’s body was extremely uncomfortable. He couldn’t understand why He Siming was being so long-winded.
“You’re so naggy. You don’t even know what a heat is, and you’re supposed to be a top student.” He directly pushed He Siming down onto the bed and bit his lips again. He wanted to draw in the scent on He Siming, that refreshing lime fragrance that made him feel comfortable. He couldn’t think about anything else—he wanted a lot, a lot of pheromones.
This world was really annoying. Even when sleeping with an Omega, there had to be so much talking, so much coaxing—nothing decisive at all.
He Siming didn’t mind having his first kiss stolen. “I’m naggy?”
That hit a nerve. He couldn’t believe the person who needed help was actually complaining about him.
Jiang Rong noticed the change in He Siming’s tone. He immediately understood—no matter whether it was an Alpha or a man, neither could stand being provoked.
He kept pushing, warm breath brushing He Siming’s face. “Are you… not capable?”
He Siming smiled faintly. The hand at Jiang Rong’s waist tightened, pulling him close. Bare skin pressed against damp fabric.
He narrowed his eyes. “Jiang Rong, I hope you won’t regret this.”
“I won’t.” Jiang Rong took the initiative to kiss him. He Siming’s lips were darker in color. Unlike Jiang Rong, whose complexion only showed color when he was healthy, He Siming’s features were naturally vivid—beautiful by birth, the kind that made you want to kiss him just by looking.
He Siming accepted the provocation and responded, his tongue pushing in. Jiang Rong’s puppy-like licking was far from enough.
Jiang Rong shuddered all over, letting himself welcome the intrusion.
He Siming bit at him as if tasting a juicy peach. When the deep kiss ended, silvery strands like peach juice connected the two of them.
“And also, don’t tell anyone about what I did for you,” He Siming said. He had always cultivated a good reputation; he was ambitious and cared about his image.
“Okay, I’ll keep it secret. I definitely won’t say anything.” That request actually made Jiang Rong relax. He didn’t want others to find out about his heat either. If He Siming was aware of that, all the better.
At a time like this, they really couldn’t keep talking.
For the third time, Jiang Rong bit down on He Siming’s lips. This time, the He Siming whose manhood had been questioned took control, pressing him back onto the bed and lowering his head to respond deeply, his own body just as heated.
His response made Jiang Rong feel much better. He felt unlike his usual self—under the influence of heat, he had gone wild, clinging to the other man, wanting more and more.
He Siming’s breath filled with sweet fragrance, slowly luring out desires he had suppressed for years. Kissing was no longer enough.
It wasn’t that there had never been boys who stripped naked in front of him, trying to seduce him—some even more beautiful than celebrities. Yet he had always been unmoved. But today, Jiang Rong shattered his formidable self-control. That night, the fierce tiger he had kept caged in his heart leapt out of the grid he had drawn for himself.
He Siming often heard Ding Yan quote a saying, which felt especially fitting now: When patience is exhausted, there’s no need to endure anymore.
Even so, he still wasn’t as proactive as Jiang Rong.
No one would guess that Jiang Rong, drugged and freed of inhibitions, would be like this. Then why did he usually look like everyone owed him something?
Dissatisfied with how slow He Siming was, Jiang Rong—kissed into dizziness—still remembered to reach out and touch the other man’s skin. He lifted He Siming’s shirt, touching firm, smooth, well-defined abs—eight of them, beautifully shaped, undeniably sexy, with striking V-lines.
He Siming: “…” He grabbed Jiang Rong’s hand before it could go any lower. “Don’t move. I’ll do it.”
Jiang Rong murmured softly, “But you’re so slow. Please, hurry up.”
The way Jiang Rong looked like a lustful little ghost in a hurry didn’t resemble someone doing this for the first time at all. For the sake of that thin shred of pride, even if he took a hit, He Siming had to endure it.
His mind worked fast. He kissed Jiang Rong’s lips lightly. “Mm. How are you so skilled at undressing?”
Jiang Rong shot back, “Everyone’s clothes are basically the same. Is it hard?”
From childhood to now, He Siming had received endless praise—“learns well, learns fast, a genius.” Yet at this moment, he was completely outdone by Jiang Rong, who was just as inexperienced.
He wanted to regain the upper hand, but Jiang Rong, driven by heat, had already tossed aside his clothes. All that remained before him was pale, pristine skin. The scent of peach grew even richer—sweet and enticing.
Unable to turn the tables, He Siming bit Jiang Rong. Jiang Rong’s sensitive body trembled again under the heat.
Jiang Rong jolted. He had never been bitten before. He sensitively noticed the aching pressure at his gland easing a little, his pheromones rapidly releasing.
At this moment, He Siming was his cure.
The night was deep, but the people were anything but quiet.
He Siming asked again and again whether he was capable. Jiang Rong shouted himself hoarse answering him. A man’s strength could not be questioned—once it was, he would keep asking, keep proving it, until Jiang Rong etched that intensity deep into his mind and body.
He Siming’s pheromones worked on Jiang Rong. This first wave of heat didn’t truly subside until dawn. Only before the sun rose did the two hurriedly clean themselves and fall asleep.
Jiang Rong slept until noon. After the chaos of the night before, his body was tired, but much more comfortable overall. Still, his heat wasn’t over—his gland was still burning hot.
When he sat up, he was dazed. Recalling everything from last night, he wished he could crawl into a crack in the wall. Too embarrassing—how could he have been like that?
One side of the bed was empty, but the other still held warmth. The sound of running water came from the bathroom.
After a while, the glass door opened. He Siming stepped out, a towel wrapped around his lower body, steam clinging to him, bite marks visible all over.
His expression was calm, as indifferent as he usually was toward other classmates.
“I ordered food. Eat, then go back to school in the afternoon.”
Jiang Rong scratched his head. He wasn’t fully awake yet. His whole body felt sore, though his legs had recovered some strength. The morning cleanup—He Siming had carried him into the bathroom and then carried him back out.
He glanced below He Siming’s waist. He hadn’t expected that in this world, even men without pheromones could be so impressive.
But if He Siming had no pheromones, why had he been able to soothe him?
Jiang Rong gathered himself and checked the time on his phone, still dazed. “The morning classes…”
He Siming said, “It’s Saturday. No classes.”
Jiang Rong blinked awkwardly. “Oh. I slept myself silly.”
Neither of them mentioned last night. Jiang Rong’s gaze darted everywhere except toward He Siming.
Half of the scent clinging to him now was lime—He Siming’s scent. Those pheromones wrapped around him, buying him a brief moment of peace during his heat.
After washing up and changing clothes, Jiang Rong obediently sat on the sofa to wait for lunch.
He Siming had already changed back into last night’s clothes and was replying to messages on his phone.
Jiang Rong’s phone was quiet. He had just arrived in this world—no one contacting him was normal. The phone itself was old and laggy; he didn’t feel like using it, usually just checking class group messages.
He lowered his head, very quiet. Thinking about what he and He Siming had done last night, he remembered seeing himself in the bathroom mirror—his body was covered in kiss marks, all left by He Siming. They didn’t hurt, but they were mottled blue and purple. His pale face slowly flushed.
When the room phone rang, Jiang Rong jumped—he’d been lost in thought.
He Siming had ordered delivery. A robot brought the food in.
Seeing Jiang Rong curl back into his usual mushroom-like quietness—completely different from how uninhibited he’d been in bed—He Siming couldn’t help wondering how someone could be so different on and off the bed.
“I didn’t know what you like, so I ordered some light dishes,” He Siming said.
“I’m not picky,” Jiang Rong replied. He really was easy to feed.
He was genuinely hungry. He Siming had ordered porridge and pastries, beautifully packaged and clearly not cheap. Jiang Rong quietly noted the shop’s name—food in this world was really good. It was the one consolation he’d found since coming here.
He Siming found it enjoyable to watch Jiang Rong eat. He didn’t eat fast, but he was focused, as if the food before him were a once-in-a-thousand-years delicacy. He himself had a good appetite, and today he ate more than usual. Together, they completely finished everything.
After eating, Jiang Rong grew sleepy. Heat consumed a lot of stamina.
Only after he’d eaten his fill did he realize it was nearly one in the afternoon. “Do we need to check out?”
“I booked two nights. If you don’t want to go back to the dorm, you can stay here until tomorrow noon.”
“Okay.” Jiang Rong nodded and lowered his head to tidy up.
He Siming watched the top of his head. After last night, the image he’d always had of Jiang Rong was gone. The same bowed head, yet now Jiang Rong felt gentle and serene. In the past, Jiang Rong always seemed aggressive toward everyone—perhaps even hostile toward him.
He couldn’t quite tell anymore.
“The cleaner will take it later,” He Siming said.
Jiang Rong set the bags aside. “Alright.”
“I’ll head out first. Remember—” He Siming began.
Thinking he was about to bring up their situation, Jiang Rong quickly said, “I remember. I won’t tell anyone about us.”
He Siming looked at him deeply. “Mm.” What he’d actually meant was to remind him to leave the room card at the front desk tomorrow.
After he left, Jiang Rong opened the window to air out the peach and lime scents. He called housekeeping to change the sheets. He really didn’t want to go back to sleeping on a barely-one-meter-wide dorm bed. He’d enjoy the hotel for two days first.
Fatigue quickly swallowed him.
By five in the afternoon, the sky was half dark.
Jiang Rong woke up from the heat. His gland was burning; even he could smell the strong pheromone scent filling the room.
Oh no—his heat wouldn’t end in just one day!
That wave of discomfort crashed over him again, even fiercer than last night.
With trembling fingers, he opened He Siming’s WeChat. He couldn’t even type properly; his vision blurred with desire.
Beep… beep… beep…
No one answered?
Panting, Jiang Rong felt like a fish that had accidentally leapt onto shore in the summer—no matter how he struggled, he was being seared from both sides, about to be cooked alive.
“He Siming?” He Siming’s voice finally came through.
Jiang Rong pressed his voice low. “Are you busy tonight?”
Little did he know that no matter how much he tried to suppress it, to He Siming it sounded like he was crying—just like last night, crying as he begged, forbidding him to stop, forbidding him not to move, forbidding him not to kiss him. On the bed, Jiang Rong had been incredibly domineering.
He Siming glanced at the first- and second-year grad students gathered around him and said against his conscience, “I’m not busy.”
Curled up in the blankets, Jiang Rong weakly clutched the sheets. “He Siming… can you come back? I feel so awful… mmm…”
