After Transmigrating for the Third Time, the Real Young Master Decides to Slouch - Chapter 8

Jiang Zao returned to his apartment. Before he could even pull out his keys, the door opened on its own.

Rong Jingcheng, who had already changed back into his artist’s attire, stood behind the door smiling at him. “Xiao Zao, welcome back.”

Jiang Zao shot him a glance. “Why do you have a key to my apartment?”

“Is it strange for me to have a key?” Rong Jingcheng asked, sounding puzzled.

Jiang Zao was momentarily speechless. He shook his head. “Not strange. Not strange at all.”

He walked inside and asked, “By the way, can I change the locks on this apartment?”

Rong Jingcheng smiled and said, “You can change them, but I’d still be able to get in even if you did.”

“Ah, right. You’re omnipotent. Impressive,” Jiang Zao complimented him half-heartedly.

On the coffee table in the living room sat fried chicken, burgers, fries, and a Coke misting with cold air. Jiang Zao raised an eyebrow. “This is for lunch?”

Rong Jingcheng nodded. “Since we’re at the school, I really wanted to relive the old times with you.”

Jiang Zao picked up a fry and popped it into his mouth. “I think I’ve only eaten fast food with you once.”

“It was twice.” Rong Jingcheng looked unhappy. He grabbed Jiang Zao’s hand and intercepted the second fry he was about to eat, popping it into his own mouth.

Jiang Zao’s finger was briefly held in his mouth. He frowned. “I haven’t washed my hands yet.”

“I don’t mind.” Rong Jingcheng leaned half-forward, tilting his head. In this posture, Jiang Zao was slightly higher than him, creating a faint sense of submission.

Jiang Zao pulled his hand back. A trace of saliva remained on his fingertip—warm and slick. He couldn’t say if it was comfortable or uncomfortable.

“I mind,” he said. The open kitchen was right there; Jiang Zao walked to the sink and turned on the faucet.

Rong Jingcheng strolled over leisurely, watching him seriously wash his hands three times. He felt aggrieved. “It’s not like I have a virus on me.”

“If you had a virus, washing my hands wouldn’t be enough.” Jiang Zao dried his hands, sat on the sofa, and unwrapped a burger.

Taking the Coke Rong Jingcheng handed him, Jiang Zao took a sip before saying, “It’s a bit lukewarm.”

“Whose fault is it for not coming back sooner?” Rong Jingcheng complained.

“I got held up by something,” Jiang Zao said.

Rong Jingcheng smiled. “A very troublesome thing, I imagine.”

Jiang Zao glanced at him. “That’s why I pushed the trouble onto you.”

Rong Jingcheng leaned in, looking at him with a grin. “Oh? Utilizing me and not giving me any benefits in return?”

Jiang Zao was blunt: “None. I’m a total stingy miser.”

“How heartless,” Rong Jingcheng grumbled. His hand slowly came to rest on Jiang Zao’s knee. “Then I’ll just have to take what I want myself.”

Jiang Zao didn’t move, quietly watching to see what he would do.

Rong Jingcheng turned over and leaned back, resting his head directly on Jiang Zao’s lap.

He let out a low hum.

That sound landed on Jiang Zao’s heart like the scratch of a kitten’s paw—a bit itchy.

“This is still the most comfortable place,” Rong Jingcheng sighed, his eyes half-closed. “I have to head back at two to prepare for tonight’s concert. I’ll sleep here for a while.”

“Go ahead,” Jiang Zao said indifferently, his fingers habitually twisting into the man’s hair.

Jiang Zao idly played with the strands of hair as time ticked by. Suddenly, Rong Jingcheng opened his eyes and asked, “How is the new class? Can you handle them?”

“They’re alright,” Jiang Zao said. “For now, everything is under control.”

Rong Jingcheng’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Xiao Zao is amazing, easily doing what others couldn’t.”

Jiang Zao concentrated on braiding the hair in his hands, saying casually, “It’s not that hard. Everyone makes their own choices; you just have to respect them.”

Rong Jingcheng gave a light laugh. “Only Xiao Zao could sound so righteous while talking about ‘slouching’ (lying flat).”

“How is it slouching?” Jiang Zao’s eyebrow twitched, but then he shook his head. “Though you aren’t wrong, but…”

He slowly unraveled the braid he had just finished. “People with too much sense of responsibility live very exhausting lives. It’s better to slack off properly. After all, I’m not the Savior.”

“You are,” Rong Jingcheng said.

Jiang Zao’s movements stopped. The hair was just a fraction away from being completely unraveled.

The next second, his hand was caught. Rong Jingcheng’s long, distinct fingers slotted into the gaps of his own, locking their fingers together.

“Xiao Zao is my Savior,” he said with a smile, reaching out his other hand to remove Jiang Zao’s glasses.

Jiang Zao looked down. Without the lenses in the way, he could see even more clearly. The exquisitely beautiful man was inches away, his long hair scattered messily over Jiang Zao’s legs and the sofa, tangled around his hands and trailing onto the floor, trapping him like a spiderweb.

Unimpressed, Jiang Zao took back his glasses and put them back on. “Is that so? I don’t recall saving you.”

“You did.” Rong Jingcheng released his hand and opened his arms wide. “You saved me from a boring world.”

He pulled his arms back in, hooking them around Jiang Zao’s neck. With a firm tug, Jiang Zao was pulled down to lean over.

Faces almost touching, Rong Jingcheng’s smiling voice whispered, “Xiao Zao, my heart beats because of you.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Jiang Zao suddenly couldn’t tell whose heartbeat was echoing in his ears.

He pushed the man’s face away and straightened up, evaluating: “Disgusting.”

“Mean!” Rong Jingcheng got angry, rolled over, and closed his eyes. “I’m ignoring you.”

Jiang Zao looked at the sulking man, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as his fingers returned to playing with the man’s hair.

After seeing Rong Jingcheng off, Jiang Zao rubbed his ears. How could a man two years older than him be such a crybaby? Even though he had overslept and was late, he insisted that Jiang Zao finish braiding his hair before he would leave.

But then, remembering the man was like this at eighteen too, he came to peace with it—it was innate.

Taking the elevator back up, he reached his apartment just as the door next door opened. Meng Qiuyu stepped out.

Jiang Zao was surprised; he hadn’t realized they were neighbors. He smiled and greeted him, “Teacher Meng, going out?”

Meng Qiuyu held up the trash bag in his hand. “Taking out the trash.”

“Oh.” Jiang Zao nodded, pulling out his keys to open his door.

“Teacher Jiang,” Meng Qiuyu called out to him.

Jiang Zao turned his head.

Meng Qiuyu’s expression was somewhat conflicted. Jiang Zao waited patiently for him to finish hesitating, eventually hearing him say: “I saw it from the window just now.”

“Saw what?”

Meng Qiuyu let out a breath and rephrased: “The person you just saw off to the car… who was that?”

“Rong Jingcheng,” Jiang Zao said candidly. “He’s my senior. Why?”

Meng Qiuyu said apologetically, “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pry into your relationship. I just wanted to give you a reminder.”

Jiang Zao nodded. He also felt Rong Jingcheng was being too flashy; he wanted to live a low-profile life. He’d let it slide this time, but he wouldn’t let that man have his way next time.

“It’s fine, I understand. Thank you,” Jiang Zao said.

Meng Qiuyu smiled and pointed to himself. “Actually, I graduated from Jiayin Middle School too. I was one year above you.”

“You knew me?” Jiang Zao was surprised. He thought he had been quite obscure back then.

Meng Qiuyu said, “How could anyone not know the top student who ranked first in the grade every single time?”

“Jiayin doesn’t actually value academic performance that much,” Jiang Zao said with a shrug. This was both true and false. If you had a good family background and good grades, that was the icing on the cake. If you had no family background but good grades, that was just a poor person’s last bit of dignity—a delusional dream of changing one’s fate.

“But excellent people will always shine,” Meng Qiuyu said.

Faced with the compliment, Jiang Zao felt neither happy nor unhappy. He was very calm. “You speak very nicely.”

Meng Qiuyu’s gaze deepened. “I am not flattering you.”

Jiang Zao chuckled. “You misunderstood. I meant your voice sounds very nice—I must say, with you holding trash and me holding my keys, talking like this is a bit odd.”

Catching the underlying meaning, Meng Qiuyu took the hint gracefully. “I’ll go throw out the trash then. See you around.”

“See you around.”

Jiang Zao opened his door and entered. He could feel the gaze behind him hadn’t shifted away. He closed the door casually.

Tired. Time for a nap.

Lin Ran was in the backstage lounge maintaining his violin, but he was clearly distracted. He glanced toward the door from time to time, seemingly waiting for someone.

The concertmaster walked over. This person was an absolute veteran in the orchestra. As a newcomer, Lin Ran didn’t dare show disrespect to anyone, let alone this person. He hurriedly stood up. “Teacher Yu.”

Yu Tian was nearly forty. Despite his high status, he was approachable. He nodded to Lin Ran with a smile and said gently, “Lin Ran, tonight is your first performance since joining. Are you nervous?”

Lin Ran gave a shy smile. “I can’t say I’m not nervous, but I will do my absolute best to give the best performance possible.”

Yu Tian was satisfied with his attitude. He liked ambitious young people, so he said a few more words: “Good. I noticed you’ve been looking toward the door. Are you looking for someone?”

Lin Ran’s face reddened. “No…”

He was about to defend himself when he heard a laugh and realized it was a joke. Relaxing slightly, he smiled. “I was just thinking that the scheduled rehearsal time has arrived, but we haven’t started yet.”

“Because the conductor hasn’t arrived yet,” Yu Tian said, playing along with his excuse. He smiled and continued, “Jingcheng is just like that—always coming in late and leaving early. Since you’ve joined the orchestra, you’ll need to get used to our great conductor’s various bad habits as soon as possible.”

Lin Ran nodded, feeling a secret sense of envy. Only someone with the seniority of the concertmaster had the right to call Rong Jingcheng by his name directly. One day, he wanted to call him that too.

Lin Ran made a silent vow.

A lazy, smiling voice approached from a distance: “Old Yu, talking behind my back while I’m not here?”

Yu Tian turned with a laugh. “Not at all. Just giving the newcomer a heads-up. He just arrived and doesn’t know how things work in the orchestra yet.”

“Oh?” Rong Jingcheng’s gaze landed on Lin Ran, who was standing nearby so nervously he didn’t know where to put his hands. He gave a slight nod as a greeting. “The newcomer, right? I look forward to your performance.”

“Yes!” Lin Ran snapped to attention, his voice almost cracking as he replied.

Rong Jingcheng gave him a half-smile and turned to speak with Yu Tian.

Lin Ran’s heart pounded. This was likely the closest he had ever been to Rong Jingcheng. There were no longer any obstacles between them. He could greedily gaze at this man who haunted his dreams, etching every detail of his appearance into his mind.

Yu Tian, as if discovering something extraordinary, pointed at Rong Jingcheng and said, “Whoa, your hairstyle today is quite unique.”

Rong Jingcheng’s long hair was braided into a plait draped over his shoulder. He smiled and stroked it, his tone arrogant and proud: “Isn’t it? Does it look good?”

Yu Tian didn’t know how to respond. With a face like Rong Jingcheng’s, no matter how he dressed, the only word to describe it was “good-looking.” But as for whether this braid was good specifically… hiss—

The craftsmanship was honestly nothing to brag about. He had no idea which “master” it came from. Perhaps it was the latest trend?

Yu Tian’s emotional intelligence was high; he said with a smile, “It suits an artist like you. Was it custom-made?”

Rong Jingcheng loved the compliment. The smile never left his face as he nodded. “Yes. My stylist tailored it specifically for me.”