TAO | Chapter 75

Wei Xiaochi’s heat period had been delayed for several days. He even looked it up online and saw that for a lot of people, the first time was usually pretty unpredictable.

So he didn’t think much of it and kept living his usual home-to-school, school-to-home routine, though now he carried suppressants and blockers with him at all times.

Now, suddenly hearing from Jiang Zhan that his heat might be coming soon, he instinctively raised a hand to touch the back of his neck. “You can smell my pheromones?”

Jiang Zhan nodded with a simple, “Mm.”

Wei Xiaochi didn’t feel anything yet himself, but he definitely trusted Jiang Zhan’s nose.

Jiang Zhan reminded him, “Don’t forget your suppressants. Still got blockers left?”

Worried that Jiang Zhan might spend money again, Wei Xiaochi quickly said, “Yeah.”

Jiang Zhan asked, “Which one do you still have?”

Wei Xiaochi pulled a brooch out of his pocket. His face turned slightly awkward as he looked at the missing stones. “A few of the diamonds fell off.”

Jiang Zhan took it and inspected it. The slender fingers holding the sparkling brooch looked elegant and refined, his fingertips glowing with a soft, glossy sheen.

“It’s fine. This kind can be repaired.”

Wei Xiaochi asked, “Does it cost money to replace the diamonds?”

He felt it was better to get it fixed—this thing was expensive, and missing three diamonds made it look kind of sad.

Jiang Zhan pulled out his phone. “I’ll ask.”

Wei Xiaochi quickly stopped him. “You don’t have to ask now. Let’s talk about it later.”

He carried it around in his pocket every day—if they fixed it now, the diamonds would probably fall out again anyway.

Because of that one word—“later”—Jiang Zhan’s heart felt like it had been gently scooped up and dipped in warm cream. Like eating a slice of soft, melt-in-your-mouth butter cake, sweet and rich from the inside out.

He really liked the word “later.” Liked it even more when it came from Wei Xiaochi’s mouth.

Wei Xiaochi had a weird feeling, like Jiang Zhan had wanted to hold his hand, but in the end, his wrist only lifted slightly before he just shoved his hand into his sweatpant pocket.

Just like that kiss earlier—so close, but ultimately didn’t happen.

Jiang Zhan only said, “Let’s go back.”

Wei Xiaochi looked at his hand and slowly nodded. “Mm.”

—

That night, four-year-old Wei Zimo wet the bed.

He’d been sleeping deep and didn’t wake up. He only kicked off the soaked summer blanket in his sleep.

The noise woke Wei Xiaochi. When he got up to pick the blanket off the floor, he noticed a big wet patch on it.

Wei Zimo didn’t wet the bed often—maybe once or twice a year, which was still within normal range for a toddler.

The mattress was damp too. Wei Xiaochi swapped in clean bedding and carried the wet ones out to the balcony. After washing his hands, he went back to sleep.

He slept straight till morning.

At breakfast, Fang Yuan scolded Wei Zimo for being so big and still wetting the bed.

Wei Zixin poked her chubby cheek and leaned toward Wei Zimo. “Shame shame shame~ bed-wetting king~”

Even though Wei Zimo was little, he already had some pride. His face scrunched up, and he shoved his bowl away in frustration. “I’m not eating!”

Madam Wei picked up his bowl and tried to soothe him. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Your dad used to wet the bed until he was six.”

Wei Zixin let out a dramatic laugh, covering her mouth. “Daddy’s the bed-wetting king too! He wet the bed till eight!”

“All kids wet the bed sometimes. Wetting the bed helps you grow taller. Just look at how tall your dad is,” Madam Wei coaxed as she fed him a spoonful of rice. “Eat up, and you’ll grow tall too.”

Fang Yuan couldn’t help but ask, “Mom, did Dongjian really wet the bed till he was eight?”

Madam Wei replied casually, “He did. The neighbors even made fun of him and gave him a nickname—‘Wei Eight-Pee.’ Don’t ever mention it to him though, he still gets mad if you bring it up.”

Fang Yuan burst out laughing, and the two little ones cackled till they were practically falling over.

It was a rare moment of harmony at the breakfast table. The only one who didn’t say a word the whole time was Wei Xiaochi.

—

As soon as Wei Xiaochi got to school in the morning, he noticed something was off.

Everyone was way too hyped. Like they were heading to a festival, swarming in the same direction.

Someone behind him asked, “What’s going on? Why is everyone acting like they just got hit with a dose of adrenaline?”

Someone else replied, “Jiang Zhan’s arguing with the dean again. Hurry, let’s go watch!”

Wei Xiaochi felt his scalp go numb. Forgetting all about morning reading, he wheeled his bike along and joined the crowd.

The battleground was—again—right in front of the snack shop.

Jiang Zhan, Wei Minzhen, and the snack shop owner, Fan Wenhua, were locked in a tense, three-way standoff like the Three Kingdoms.

“You don’t focus on studying, and you’re always thinking up these shady schemes,” Wei Minzhen snapped, using a rolled-up newspaper to point at a robot next to Jiang Zhan. “What do you even bring this thing to school for?”

The robot was sleek and black, with a round base like a Roomba. Its oval-shaped body topped by a square screen for a face.

Jiang Zhan glanced coldly at Fan Wenhua. “Someone stole my bottles yesterday. I brought it to catch the thief.”

Fan Wenhua’s heart skipped a beat, but her face didn’t show it. She raised an arched brow. “Why are you looking at me when you say ‘thief’?”

Jiang Zhan: “Because I’m talking about you. You stole my bottles.”

Fan Wenhua ground her teeth. “You got proof? Show it if you’ve got it.”

Wei Minzhen looked totally lost. His head was practically buzzing. “What bottles?”

Jiang Zhan: “The ones in my trash bins. She stole them.”

Fan Wenhua quickly denied it. “Don’t talk nonsense. I didn’t touch your bottles.”

Jiang Zhan scoffed and didn’t bother acknowledging her lies.

“What are you scoffing at?” Fan Wenhua wouldn’t let it go. Her mouth revved up like a Gatling gun. “Scoff what? I could say you stole my money—anyone can talk, doesn’t mean it’s true!”

Jiang Zhan, unfazed, shot back, “I’m scoffing because you steal people’s bottles.”

Fan Wenhua: “I—”

Jiang Zhan: “You steal people’s bottles.”

Fan Wenhua: “You—still—”

She barely got the word “steal” out before Jiang Zhan cut her off, “Steal people’s bottles.”

Fan Wenhua: “You’re the one who—”

Jiang Zhan: “Steal people’s bottles.”

Alpha Jiang Zhan was like a high-strung fighting rooster, not letting her get a single complete sentence out.

Fan Wenhua clutched her chest, panting in frustration. “You—”

Jiang Zhan: “You steal people’s bottles.”

Seeing the never-ending bickering, a vein popped on Wei Minzhen’s forehead. He finally lost it. “Enough!”

He still had no idea why Jiang Zhan was making such a huge fuss over a few bottles, but at least now he understood the general gist.

Wei Minzhen put on his solemn “Judge Bao” expression and asked Jiang Zhan, “What evidence do you have that she stole your bottles?”

Jiang Zhan answered with a blank face, “I don’t have any. That’s why I brought the robot—it can record the evidence.”

Wei Minzhen: …

Fan Wenhua: …

Flawless logic. Absolutely watertight.

Wei Minzhen pressed hard on his temples. “So you’re saying—you don’t have any evidence?”

Jiang Zhan replied, “Didn’t I just say? That’s why I brought this thing. We’ll have evidence soon.”

Half of the students watching nodded like it made sense. The other half: good grief, is this what a down payment on evidence looks like??

Wei Minzhen nearly got tripped up by Jiang Zhan’s logic. His mouth twitched as he stressed, “So that means right now, you have NO evidence, correct?”

Jiang Zhan, starting to lose patience, said, “I already said—there will be evidence later.”

Wei Minzhen was about to lose it. “I’m asking about now. As in this moment. Right now, you don’t have any evidence!”

But in Jiang Zhan’s logical universe, no one could beat him. “Right, no evidence for now, which is why I haven’t done anything to her yet. I just brought the robot—so I can get the evidence.”

Wei Minzhen: …

He took a deep breath, massaging his forehead. “And how exactly do you plan to get this evidence?”

Jiang Zhan didn’t answer—he just entered the unlock code.

The robot’s screen immediately lit up with a cutesy anime girl: pink cheeks, big eyes, fluttery lashes.

In a sweet, chirpy loli voice, she said, “Welcome back, Master! You can order Xiao Q around all you like. Xiao Q is your forever-loyal friend!”

Jiang Zhan tapped the controls, and the display popped open with sixteen camera feeds.

“I installed sixteen cameras total on the two bins—no blind spots. Let’s see who dares steal from me again.”

Wei Minzhen’s eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. “You’re insane. Eight cameras on each trash bin?!”

Fan Wenhua finally realized she’d picked a fight with someone completely unhinged.

Jiang Zhan looked at her and said, “I’d advise you not to mess with the robot. It’s got GPS and an alarm system. Even if you shut it down, I can still track it.”

“And as for what happened before, fine, I’ll let that go. But from now on, if you dare—”

Sensing Jiang Zhan starting to go full street-thug mode, Wei Minzhen cut in just in time, “Watch what you’re about to say.”

Jiang Zhan paused, then gave Fan Wenhua a cold look. “Anyway. You steal one bottle from me, I’ll make you pay back ten.”

Wei Minzhen wanted to say—It’s just a damn bottle. A robot and a bunch of hidden cams must cost more than a whole year’s worth of recyclables.

He really didn’t understand what went on in the brains of these rich kids. If Jiang Zhan put even half this effort into studying, every top university would be lining up for him.

With his blood pressure spiking again, and seeing the crowd still gathered to watch the show, Wei Minzhen unleashed the Lion’s Roar Technique once more:

“What are you all gawking at? Go to your morning classes—now!”

The crowd scattered like startled birds. No one dared poke the tiger at that moment.

Wei Xiaochi, naturally, didn’t dare either. He left the scene in a hurry, glancing back every few steps.

After locking up his bike in the shed, he didn’t head straight to class. Instead, he found a corner near the teaching building to wait for Jiang Zhan.

But Jiang Zhan had been “invited” by Wei Minzhen for a little chat. Wei Xiaochi waited nearly eight minutes before giving up and going back to class.

—

Even in Class 1—full of top students—everyone had been rushing to the frontlines to watch this morning’s drama.

Those who’d witnessed it firsthand were now relaying it with great enthusiasm to the ones who missed out. The story of a “bloody case caused by a bottle” had already spawned countless versions.

Only Wei Xiaochi wasn’t in the mood. He nervously flipped through his English book but couldn’t register a single word.

He pulled out his phone and, for the first time, sent Jiang Zhan a message on WeChat, asking if he was okay.

Just after hitting send, Zhang Mingyang suddenly spoke beside him. “What are you guys doing with those bottles anyway?”

Wei Xiaochi had been zoning out. He didn’t catch the full question—only the word “bottles.” Lately, that word had become a bit of a trigger. He turned to look at Zhang Mingyang.

Zhang Mingyang adjusted his glasses and looked at him with a strange, unreadable expression. “I saw you two after school yesterday. In front of the snack shop.”

Then, stiffly, he added, “You were standing pretty close.”

Wei Xiaochi instantly realized what he meant—he’d seen that moment yesterday when Jiang Zhan almost kissed him.

His eyes went wide like a startled Froakie, and it felt like ten thousand Froakies were jumping across his brain all at once.

He knew what kind of guy Zhang Mingyang was: a certified tattletale, teacher’s pet, class snitch—through and through.

“If Jiang Zhan is harassing or threatening you,” Zhang Mingyang said, quick and efficient like he’d practiced this line for days, “you should tell a teacher or your parents. If you’re just being willfully reckless, I’m giving you three days to break up. Otherwise, don’t blame me for putting righteousness above friendship.”

Then he went back to doing math problems like nothing happened.

Wei Xiaochi stared at the side of his face, frozen.

Ding.

His phone buzzed. The sound made his back break out in a cold sweat.

Jiang Zhan: I’m here.

Jiang Zhan: What’s up?

Wei Xiaochi quickly glanced at Zhang Mingyang, then turned slightly to type with his back to him.

Wei Xiaochi: Nothing… Are you okay?

Jiang Zhan: Why wouldn’t I be?

Wei Xiaochi didn’t know how to reply. He hesitated, backspaced a few times, then sent:
Wei Xiaochi: Did the dean scold you?

Jiang Zhan: Nope.

Jiang Zhan: Did someone say something to you? Don’t listen to their crap. Nothing happened.

Wei Xiaochi: I saw it myself…

Jiang Zhan: I didn’t do anything wrong. Why would he scold me?

Wei Xiaochi stared at that last message for a long time, and he could practically picture Jiang Zhan’s expression—definitely a cold snort first, then a raised eyebrow full of arrogance. His tone had to be dripping with disdain.

Zhang Mingyang had already started glancing this way again. Wei Xiaochi didn’t dare continue the conversation. He hurriedly ended it and stashed his phone in his desk pocket.

From that point on, Zhang Mingyang was locked onto him. Every time he so much as touched his phone, Zhang Mingyang would shoot him a laser glare.

Everyone had met someone like this during school—a person who saw reporting people as their sacred duty, religiously fulfilling their tattling KPIs.

Zhang Mingyang was that kind of person. And, to be fair… Wei Xiaochi used to be, too.

The only difference was: Zhang Mingyang chose to do it. Wei Xiaochi had just been the “good kid” who answered honestly when teachers asked him questions.

Because of his past as a Zhang Mingyang-type, Wei Xiaochi both understood… and deeply regretted.

Ah, so this is karma for all the snitching he did back in elementary school.

—

Thanks to Jiang Zhan’s epic performance, those two green trash bins were now hotter than ever.

The kids who had planned to kick over the bins and write “dumbass” under Jiang Zhan’s name? All chickened out.

I mean, the guy installed eight cameras on each trash bin. Anyone dumb enough to mess with them would be tracked and annihilated by the school tyrant within seconds.

That robot, “Xiao Q,” also became something of a school mascot. Students lined up just to mess with it.

Only Jiang Zhan knew the unlock password, so no one could actually operate it—but Xiao Q could still talk, even when locked.

It would only chat for thirty seconds, though—then auto shut down into standby mode.

Wei Xiaochi had seen this robot before at Jiang Zhan’s house. Apparently, it was developed by his brother-in-law’s company. Market price: over 10,000 yuan.

Honestly, using a five-figure robot to guard a pile of bottles worth maybe five bucks—only Jiang Zhan could pull something like that off.

—

No one knew how the trend started, but now, everyone who chatted with Xiao Q for thirty seconds would automatically toss a bottle into the bin beside it.

As a result, the trash bins filled up ridiculously fast. By the end of the day, the bottles were stacked into mini pyramids.

Looking at the day’s “harvest,” Jiang Zhan was quite satisfied. He turned to Wei Xiaochi. “So, can we sell them now?”

Wei Xiaochi swallowed. “Y-Yeah… sure.”

Jiang Zhan brought the robot back to Class Seven, then he and Wei Xiaochi each wheeled a bin to a nearby recycling center.

“Nearby” turned out to be three whole kilometers away. It took them 36 minutes on foot.

Two full trash bins, weighed together—still under four kilos.

The recycling shop owner handed them 8.5 yuan.

Faced with this measly reward, the alpha didn’t complain at all. Instead, he whipped out his phone and calculated. “That’s about 255 yuan a month.”

Seeing he was about to multiply that by 12, Wei Xiaochi stopped him. “You won’t get that many bottles every day.”

Jiang Zhan didn’t argue. He just put his phone away and wheeled the bin along with Wei Xiaochi as they left the station.

They passed a small drink shop with a flashing LED sign advertising lemon water.

Wei Xiaochi slowed down, stared at the price for two seconds, then asked, “Wanna drink lemon water? It’s cheap here. Just happens to be 8.5.”

Jiang Zhan looked at him, surprised. “Aren’t you saving money?”

Wei Xiaochi scratched his head. “Yeah, but this is like… spending pocket money that we earned.”

He paid for a cup and handed it to Jiang Zhan.

Jiang Zhan stuck in the straw and held it to Wei Xiaochi’s lips.

Wei Xiaochi looked up at him.

Jiang Zhan: “Drink.”

Wei Xiaochi licked his dry lips, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and after a moment’s hesitation, leaned in and took a sip.

The cool liquid slid down his throat, instantly washing away the summer heat.

Jiang Zhan took a sip from the same straw, then passed it back to him.

The two of them shared the drink, finishing it together.

Afterward, Jiang Zhan peeled the plastic lid off the cup and pulled out two remaining ice cubes, still mostly intact.

He said, “Wait here,” then ducked into a spicy noodle shop.

Wei Xiaochi stayed by the bins, waiting at the entrance.

Soon, Jiang Zhan returned and placed two freshly rinsed ice cubes into Wei Xiaochi’s palm. “Hold these—it’ll help cool you down.”

Wei Xiaochi blinked at the small, glistening cubes, then wordlessly picked up one and handed it to Jiang Zhan.

Jiang Zhan took both—and then grabbed Wei Xiaochi’s hand.

Hand in hand, they walked forward. The ice slowly melted between their palms, coolness soaking into their skin, spreading through their limbs, heartbeat echoing deep in their chests.

It wasn’t until much later that Wei Xiaochi realized—

That feeling was called “falling in love.”

⸻

Author’s note:

Congrats to Doggo for finally figuring out the right way to go on a date with Chi Chi!

Also, fun fact: Doggo brought the ice cubes to the spicy noodle shop to rinse them with clean water, ’cause they’d been sitting in the lemon drink before. Would’ve been sticky otherwise~