MM | Chapter 55

Over and Over Again

In the days that followed, Sheng Wang didn’t sleep well.

During the day, everything seemed normal. High school students might lack many things, but fresh topics and silly jokes were never in short supply. Even a slip of the tongue could make the whole class burst into laughter. In this kind of atmosphere, as long as Sheng Wang didn’t deliberately think about it, he wouldn’t remember anything.

Gao Tianyang and Song Sirui often led a group of dummies in performing skits, and occasionally, they’d daringly try to drag Sheng Wang into it. Sheng Wang would then pull Jiang Tian into the mix, and with one cold and one warm, they’d always manage to make Gao Tianyang slap his own mouth, saying, “Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?”

Then Sheng Wang would laugh heartily, lean back in his chair, and fist-bump Jiang Tian behind him.

At times like these, he felt that the fluttering emotions from that dark morning were just an illusion—he was clearly so open, no different from Gao Tianyang, Song Sirui, and the other classmates standing around.

But this confidence never lasted long. It would gradually fade in unexpected glances and accidental touches, replaced by another inexplicable emotion, like an undercurrent beneath a calm sea.

At night, it was even worse.

After lights out at the Affiliated High School, teachers would check the dorms. Any dorm with someone missing or being too noisy would be put on the notice board by the dorm manager. So the campus was always very quiet at night, so quiet that only the occasional coughs and whispers of patrolling teachers could be heard, just like that night in the alley—exactly the same!

After three days, the young master Sheng had two dark circles under his eyes.

His skin was fair, and he usually looked well-maintained, so any sign of fatigue was particularly noticeable.

That morning, Sheng Wang went straight to the classroom to catch up on sleep without even buying breakfast. In just twenty minutes, he had two messy dreams and only woke up when the bell for the first class rang.

He vaguely felt something lightly brush against his clothes and thought it was Gao Tianyang trying to grab the papers from his desk. But the next second, he heard Gao Tianyang’s loud voice a few tables away, shouting, “Pepper, give me the chemistry notes! Quick! Old He is coming!”

“For the last time,” Pepper said for the nth time.

“The last time, the last time, hurry!”

“If you copy again tomorrow, your surname won’t be Gao.”

“I won’t, I won’t. If I copy again tomorrow, I’ll call you dad.”

Gao Tianyang would say anything for those papers.

Half-asleep, Sheng Wang muttered a complaint, then suddenly woke up—so it wasn’t that guy grabbing his papers, then who was it???

Frowning and still drowsy, he looked down and saw that his papers were still there, but there was also a plastic bag. The bag had a dark blue logo, clearly from the school’s cafeteria or supermarket.

Sheng Wang took out the bag and opened it. Inside was a cup of tofu pudding, a boiled egg, and a can of milk.

The school cafeteria had two floors with slightly different flavors. The second floor had fewer queues, but the tofu pudding had a stronger alkaline taste. The first floor was crowded, and the tofu pudding was topped with crushed walnuts and peanuts.

Sheng Wang preferred the first floor’s taste, but he often bought from the second floor with others because he was too lazy to queue.

This cup was from the first floor, with a full layer of toppings on the milky tofu, still hot.

The boiled egg surprised him because he didn’t eat boiled eggs without seasoning. But for takeout, boiled was indeed more convenient than fried.

As for the milk, it was the familiar small red can, just like his old avatar.

Whenever Jiang Tian brought him breakfast, there would always be a can of Wang Zai milk. Initially, it was Jiang Tian’s way of teasing him in response to a joke in their WeChat chat. Somehow, it became a habit and a symbol.

Seeing the small red can, Sheng Wang subconsciously sighed in relief.

In his mind, two little figures were dueling with knives. One said, “Good, nothing’s changed, Jiang Tian probably hasn’t noticed anything.”

The other said, “Nonsense, there was nothing to notice in the first place.”

One said, “I mean the physiological reaction that morning.”

The other: “Come on, which guy doesn’t have a physiological reaction in the morning?”

“Still, it’s really embarrassing.”

“Forget it and it won’t be embarrassing.”

“Another way to relieve it is to know someone else is more embarrassed than you.”

“So was Jiang Tian also—”

Before the two little figures could finish, Sheng Wang squashed them both.

When Gao Tianyang returned to his seat, he saw Sheng Wang’s expressionless face. He was startled, “Whoa? Sheng-ge, what’s with the big dark circles?”

Sheng Wang said, “Insomnia.”

Gao Tianyang was still puzzled, “Then why are your neck and ears red?”

Sheng Wang: “…”

He pointed ahead, “Old He is coming, are you going to move?”

Gao Tianyang shrank back and moved away immediately. Only after moving did he realize Sheng-ge had tricked him. The podium was empty, the class bell hadn’t rung, and Old He hadn’t arrived. So he stubbornly turned back, persistently asking, “No, really, why did you get insomnia?”

Sheng Wang thought, if you ask me, who should I ask? He couldn’t come up with a reason, and this dummy Gao Tianyang suddenly called out, “Tian-ge—”

He leaned over Sheng Wang’s shoulder, asking Jiang Tian, “Did something happen in the dorms recently? Sheng-ge’s got such a big heart, and he got insomnia?”

Sheng Wang almost coughed up blood, thinking, thanks a lot, really.

His back tensed, and it took him several seconds to realize he was actually waiting for Jiang Tian’s answer. Even though the question was vague and unlikely to get any answer.

Sure enough, Jiang Tian dismissed Gao Tianyang with a simple “No,” because Old He had already entered the classroom with the bell. No matter how mischievous Gao Tianyang was, he didn’t dare chat under the homeroom teacher’s nose. He pouted and sat up straight to listen to the class.

The content for the second year had already been covered. Recently, Old He and the chemistry teacher were focusing on experimental topics, always starting with a few practical videos. Once the experimental topics were done, they’d start on the third-year content, expected to be completed in a month and a half. After that, it would be all competitions and reviews.

To make it easier to watch the videos, the blackout curtains on both sides of the windows were drawn, leaving the classroom dim, with only the flickering light from the screen.

The person behind him hadn’t said anything more. Sheng Wang waited for a while, and finally, his tense back slowly relaxed.

Jiang Tian hadn’t chatted more with Gao Tianyang or joined him in asking about his insomnia, avoiding a more awkward situation. He should have felt relieved, and he did. But somehow, he also felt a bit disappointed.

Not much, really just a little.

Maybe it was because… even Gao Tianyang, who was so careless, noticed something, but Jiang Tian didn’t ask.

Sheng Wang lazily leaned back in his chair, resting his right hand on the desk, idly twirling a pen between his fingers. His eyes calmly watched the screen, but inside, he mocked himself: I’m being so dramatic.

Just as he was about to throw these thoughts out of his mind and casually jot down experimental notes in the light of the screen, a light suddenly shone from the gap in his backpack.

Sheng Wang’s pen didn’t stop as he reached into his backpack with his left hand to pull out his phone. He swiped the screen and pulled down the notification bar, finding a new WeChat notification showing Jiang Tian had sent him a picture.

A picture?

A meme?

He opened the chat window, which he hadn’t used much in the past three days, and saw the image Jiang Tian had sent.

It was a screenshot from Baidu Baike or some other encyclopedia, mainly a text description, explaining that boiled eggs could eliminate dark circles and detailing how to apply them, cautioning against burns.

Sheng Wang’s pen slipped, accidentally reaching the edge of the notebook. He finally understood what the out-of-place boiled egg in his breakfast was for.

So Jiang Tian had noticed long before Gao Tianyang did.

Sheng Wang pursed his lips, typing “Thanks” in the input box, but it felt too formal, unlike his usual style. So he deleted it and changed it to “Oh,” which seemed too dismissive.

In the end, he sent, “I was wondering why you gave me a boiled egg,” thinking it was casual, natural, and not too cold.

Jiang Tian replied: Mm.

On the podium, Old He played the last video, and the new hues of light and shadow spread out from the front. Sheng Wang, feeling bored, swiped the screen, ready to lock it and put away his phone, when suddenly another message popped up in the chat window.

Jiang Tian asked: Why can’t you sleep?

Sheng Wang’s eyebrows twitched, his finger pausing on the lock button.

For a moment, he almost baselessly suspected that Jiang Tian had noticed something, or that Jiang Tian had been awake that early morning. But then he calmed down in reason, thinking it was unlikely.

He lowered his eyes, quietly looking at the question Jiang Tian had sent. After a moment, he came up with a not-too-far-fetched reason to reply.

Sticker: No, it’s just that I’ve been having nightmares lately, so I haven’t been sleeping well.

Sticker: It’s not really insomnia.

He learned this trick from Sheng Mingyang—mixing truth and lies is the best way to tell a lie. It’s not great, but using it occasionally can avoid awkwardness.

Jiang Tian didn’t reply immediately, leaving it uncertain whether he believed the reason.

Sheng Wang waited for a while, and when the screen dimmed to black on its own, he belatedly felt thirsty and hungry. He reached into the desk for the small red can, subtly turning the lively slanted-eye on the can towards Jiang Tian behind him, then sipped with a smile.

As he took the third sip, he suddenly felt someone lightly tap his shoulder from behind. He froze for a moment, then naturally leaned back toward the rear desk, the rim of the milk can still between his lips.

He tilted his head slightly, sipping the drink in small gulps, but all his senses were focused behind him. He could feel Jiang Tian leaning forward, whispering in his ear, “That night at Wutongwai, did something scare you?”

“……………………”

“Cough—”

Sheng Wang choked on the Wang Zai milk, almost coughing himself to death on the spot.

His brother might not want him to live.