Chapter 9: Not a Chance of Getting Pregnant
Jiang Rong hadn’t seen He Siming just now and was wondering if he had already left, but the moment he saw him, he couldn’t help blushing again.
He Siming, on the other hand, was calm, showing no particular emotion. He handed over the paper bag he was carrying.
“These are my old clothes. Make do with them for now.”
Jiang Rong had basically not needed clothes during the past few days in the hotel. Now that He Siming no longer needed to “provide pheromones” today, he had gone home to bring him a set of clothes.
“Thank you.” Jiang Rong took them and turned back into the bathroom to change.
He Siming had thought things through very carefully—almost considerately.
The clothes seemed to have been left unworn for quite a while, so they weren’t tinged with He Siming’s lime scent.
Jiang Rong still hadn’t figured it out: in a world without pheromones, why was it that after sleeping with He Siming, he could smoothly get through his heat cycle?
He Siming clearly had the pheromones he needed, yet people in this world didn’t have heat cycles or rutting periods.
What He Siming brought him was a hoodie and a pair of jeans. The underwear was disposable—everything was arranged very thoughtfully.
Jiang Rong sniffed the clothes. They smelled nice.
When he came out of the bathroom, He Siming hadn’t left yet and was sitting on the sofa playing on his phone.
He put his phone away and glanced at Jiang Rong. “The clothes fit you. No need to return them.”
Once Jiang Rong put on the clothes, all the marks He Siming had left on him were hidden beneath the hoodie, and those boundless imaginings came to a stop as well.
Jiang Rong nodded. “Okay.”
Most of Jiang Rong’s own clothes were quite old, some even worn through. He didn’t have any hang-ups about wearing someone else’s old clothes—as long as they weren’t torn, it was fine.
Jiang Rong was in very good spirits today, his face carrying a healthy flush nourished by He Siming’s pheromones.
“You should still go to the hospital for a checkup,” He Siming suggested again.
“No need. I’m already better.” After successfully getting through his heat cycle, Jiang Rong’s mood had improved a lot. He no longer acted so recklessly around He Siming and was very restrained.
He Siming glanced at him. After three days of nonstop battles, Jiang Rong actually looked even better than he did—seemed like he himself hadn’t been exercising enough lately.
He didn’t insist further. “All right then. If anything comes up, go to the hospital.”
As for what had happened between them, neither mentioned it again—an unspoken understanding.
Jiang Rong could indeed feel that his glands were no longer burning, his body filled with a smooth, refreshing sense of comfort.
His biology teacher had once said that the first heat cycle was also the declaration of glandular maturity.
Jiang Rong worried about how he’d handle future heat cycles, but for now, he could only take things one step at a time.
He had seen the physiological structure diagrams of this world—there were no glands in their bodies, their structure different from his own. For the time being, he couldn’t go for a physical examination.
After sticking together with He Siming for three days, they were about to separate, and he was actually feeling a bit reluctant.
Jiang Rong’s voice weakened, his mood dropping again. “Got it.”
He packed up his dirty clothes and put them into the paper bag, then tidied the bed to check if he’d missed anything. By accident, he noticed the trash can by the bed.
Inside were all the used condoms He Siming had gone through—two full large boxes, completely empty.
Thinking of something, Jiang Rong suddenly turned around and nervously looked at He Siming, who was drinking bottled water.
“He Siming… weren’t there a few times when we didn’t use protection?”
He Siming’s heartbeat faltered at the way Jiang Rong’s question jumped around. Just a moment ago, he hadn’t dared meet his eyes; now he was asking something so directly—really knew how to torture someone.
“Yeah, there were a few times.” When the mood hit, they hadn’t used anything, and at the time there hadn’t even been time to put one on.
Jiang Rong’s expression changed slightly. He hadn’t thought about it much at the time.
In his world, it was common knowledge that omegas could get pregnant—male or female alike. If intercourse happened during a heat cycle, the chance of conception increased significantly. Many couples or male-male couples who wanted children would deliberately have sex during heat.
Seeing Jiang Rong’s expression shift, He Siming frowned. What was the problem with not using protection?
He said, “Mm. It was my first time sleeping with someone. I’m very healthy.”
To be realistic, gay men were indeed a high-risk group for AIDS—but that only applied to people who slept around.
Jiang Rong was lost in his own thoughts. Anxiously, he ran a hand through his freshly washed, still-damp hair.
Tugging on the drawstring of his hoodie, he murmured, “It’s over, it’s over… I might get pregnant.”
He Siming had just been feeling slightly displeased that Jiang Rong seemed to be doubting him. Hearing this, he nearly crushed the water bottle in his hand. He really couldn’t use normal logic to interpret Jiang Rong’s words.
He Siming felt a bit helpless—over the past two days, he’d already seen plenty of Jiang Rong’s wild imagination.
“You’re male. I’m male. You won’t get pregnant.” You’re a man—there’s absolutely no way.
Jiang Rong wanted to argue, but that would involve the fact that he’d transmigrated here. He hesitated, looking at He Siming.
Troubled, he said, “But I really can get pregnant.”
He Siming smiled and said lightly, “Let’s talk about it when you actually are.”
Jiang Rong lowered his head. Clearly, He Siming was treating it as a joke. Still, He Siming hadn’t smiled like that in the past few days—simple, without any hint of desire—and Jiang Rong’s ears burned.
“All right then. I hope I don’t get pregnant. Otherwise it’ll be really troublesome—I’m still a student.” And really poor.
He Siming’s understanding wasn’t wrong; the problem lay with him. This topic really couldn’t continue.
Suppressing a laugh, He Siming replied, “Put one hundred and eighty hearts at ease—you won’t get pregnant.”
He even found Jiang Rong’s earnest nonsense a little cute, and didn’t poke holes in the joke.
While Jiang Rong was still anxious, a message popped up in the class group chat.
The class monitor was a considerate person, reminding everyone on schedule that the group assignment due this Friday needed to be submitted.
Class Monitor: [Don’t forget the group assignment. Anyone who hasn’t formed a group yet can contact me. Those who have groups, please submit your member list to me.]
Jiang Rong looked at the message in distress. If he grouped up with others, it would immediately expose the fact that he couldn’t do the major coursework at all.
He Siming noticed his gaze lingering on the chat and checked it himself.
Over the past three days, they’d been battling it out in bed. Forget doing assignments—sometimes they only got out of bed briefly to eat, and when Jiang Rong was too tired to move, He Siming even had to pass water to him mouth-to-mouth.
It was obvious that Jiang Rong was troubled by the group assignment, but that no longer had much to do with him—he could finish his own work anytime.
The warmth on Jiang Rong’s face faded as worry over the assignment took over, and he looked dejected.
With concern, he said, “Then I’ll head back to the dorm first.”
He Siming checked the time. “Mm. You go ahead. I’ll check out.”
Jiang Rong picked up the paper bag, thinking He Siming wasn’t coming down together to avoid being seen. He lowered his voice and emphasized, “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone see.”
He Siming: “…” That wasn’t what he meant.
For the first time in three days, Jiang Rong stepped out of the hotel room. He looked back once, then headed toward the elevator.
He didn’t know whether he’d have any more contact with He Siming in the future. Once he left this room, having any further connection would probably be difficult—this had been an accident, after all.
He hadn’t been in the dorm over the weekend and had taken another day off. When he returned, both Yao Shule and Li Yizhou were there.
There was no sign of heartbreak on Yao Shule’s face. He and Li Yizhou were intensely gaming together. The game had a mute system, so their insults were all delivered with heavy sarcasm—sometimes aimed at teammates, sometimes at the opposing players.
Mostly, it was Yao Shule doing the cursing, while Li Yizhou stayed quiet. Usually, Li Yizhou would be the one throwing out a few profanities.
“Jungler, did you not even graduate kindergarten? Even the AI plays better than you!”
“Mage, you’re a squishy—why are you charging forward? In a hurry to drink Granny Meng’s soup?”
“Support, stick with the ADC!”
Li Yizhou tried to soothe him. “I’m the support, follow me—”
“Fuck, just surrender. These idiots don’t know how to play at all.”
In Jiang Rong’s view, Yao Shule was still affected by the breakup. He really could curse—Jiang Rong was a bit envious. He’d never been good at scolding people; he’d just glare at them, unable to get the words out, then regret it later for not performing better.
Li Yizhou had a pretty good temper, but after three days of coaxing someone, he also wanted a change of air and took the initiative to talk to Jiang Rong.
“Jiang Rong, you took leave today? Didn’t see you all weekend either.”
“Mm, had some things to take care of,” Jiang Rong replied gently.
Only then did Yao Shule remember the stupid thing he’d done while drunk. “Sorry about Friday. I got wasted.”
Jiang Rong said, “It’s fine.”
Seeing that Jiang Rong had been easy to talk to lately, Yao Shule added, “We just ordered some chicken racks. Want to eat together?”
Jiang Rong hadn’t expected them to invite him, but he agreed.
He still had to keep living here, after all, so getting along with his roommates mattered—distant relatives weren’t as good as close neighbors.
Li Yizhou said, “It’s already at the door. I’ll go grab the takeout.”
Just as Li Yizhou stood up, their dorm door was pushed open.
He Siming walked in carrying a takeout bag. Jiang Rong happened to look up, and their gazes met.
Then Jiang Rong lowered his head again—just as expected, He Siming didn’t want anyone to know.
