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

When Jiang Zao returned to the apartment, before he could even take out his key, the door opened on its own.

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

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

“Is it strange that I have a key?” Rong Jingcheng asked in confusion.

Jiang Zao was speechless for a moment, then shook his head. “Not strange. Not strange at all.”

He walked inside and asked, “Speaking of which, can the lock on this apartment be changed?”

Rong Jingcheng smiled and said, “It can be changed, but even if you change it, I can still get in.”

“Ah, right. You’re all-powerful and capable of anything. Impressive.” Jiang Zao praised him without the slightest sincerity.

On the coffee table in the living room were fried chicken, hamburgers, fries, and cola still faintly giving off cold mist. Jiang Zao raised a brow. “We’re eating this for lunch?”

Rong Jingcheng nodded. “Because we’re at school, so I suddenly wanted to relive the past with you.”

Jiang Zao picked up a fry and put it in his mouth. “I only ate fast food with you once, right?”

“Twice.” Rong Jingcheng was not very happy. He caught Jiang Zao’s hand and intercepted the second fry he had been about to put into his mouth, eating it instead.

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

“I don’t mind.” Rong Jingcheng bent halfway down and tilted his head. This posture made Jiang Zao a little taller than him, giving off a faint sense of submission.

Jiang Zao withdrew his hand. Saliva remained on his fingertips, warm, wet, and slippery. He could not really say it was comfortable, nor could he say it was uncomfortable.

“I mind,” he said. The open kitchen was just beside them, so Jiang Zao walked to the sink and turned on the faucet.

Rong Jingcheng leisurely strolled over and watched him carefully wash his hands three times, then felt wronged. “It’s not like I have a virus on me.”

“If you had a virus, I wouldn’t just be washing my hands.” Jiang Zao dried his hands clean, walked to the sofa, sat down, unwrapped a hamburger, and began eating.

Taking the cola Rong Jingcheng handed him, Jiang Zao drank a mouthful before saying, “It’s a little cold.”

“Who told you not to come back earlier?” Rong Jingcheng complained.

“Something held me up,” Jiang Zao said.

Rong Jingcheng smiled. “A very troublesome matter, too.”

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

Rong Jingcheng leaned closer, smiling as he looked at him. “Oh? You used me, and you’re not giving me any benefits?”

Jiang Zao was very straightforward. “No. I’m an iron rooster.”

“So cruel.” Rong Jingcheng complained, his hand slowly settling on Jiang Zao’s knee. “Then I’ll have no choice but to ask for it myself.”

Jiang Zao did not move, quietly watching to see what he was going to do.

Rong Jingcheng turned over and leaned backward, his head landing on Jiang Zao’s lap.

He let out a muffled groan.

That sound landed in Jiang Zao’s heart, like being scratched by a kitten’s paw. It itched a little.

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

“Sleep, then.” Jiang Zao said indifferently, his fingers habitually winding into Rong Jingcheng’s hair.

Jiang Zao casually played with the strands in his hand. Time passed minute by minute, second by second. Suddenly, Rong Jingcheng opened his eyes and asked, “How’s the new class? Can you handle it?”

“It’s all right,” Jiang Zao said. “For now, everything is under control.”

Rong Jingcheng’s brows and eyes curved. “Xiao Zao is amazing. You easily did what no one else could.”

Jiang Zao carefully braided the hair in his hands and said casually, “There’s nothing difficult about it. Everyone has their own choices. Just respect them.”

Rong Jingcheng laughed softly. “Being able to talk about slacking off so confidently—truly worthy of Xiao Zao.”

“How is that slacking off?” Jiang Zao raised his brow, then shook his head. “Although that’s not wrong either, but…”

He slowly undid the braid he had just made and said, “People with too strong a sense of responsibility live very tiring lives. It’s better to slack off appropriately. In any case, I’m not a savior.”

“You are,” Rong Jingcheng said.

Jiang Zao’s movements stopped. Just a little more, and the braid would have been completely loosened.

In the next second, his hand was caught. Rong Jingcheng’s long, distinct fingers slid between his, interlocking their hands.

“Xiao Zao is my savior.” He smiled and reached out with his other hand to take off Jiang Zao’s glasses.

Jiang Zao lowered his head. Without the lenses blocking his view, he could see even more clearly. The bewitchingly beautiful man was right in front of him, his long hair scattered messily across Jiang Zao’s lap, across the sofa, wrapped around his hand, and falling to the floor, trapping him like spider silk.

Jiang Zao was unmoved. He took his glasses back and put them on again. “Is that so? I don’t remember saving you.”

“You did.” Rong Jingcheng released their interlocked hands and spread his arms. “You saved me from a boring world.”

His arms closed again, wrapping around Jiang Zao’s neck. With one pull, Jiang Zao was dragged into bending down.

Their faces were almost touching. Rong Jingcheng’s smiling voice drifted over. “Xiao Zao, my heart beats because of you.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Jiang Zao suddenly could not tell whose heart was ringing beside his ear.

He pushed Rong Jingcheng’s face away and straightened. His evaluation was, “Disgusting.”

“Too much.” Rong Jingcheng got angry, turned over, and closed his eyes. “I’m ignoring you now.”

Jiang Zao looked at the sulking man. The corners of his mouth rose slightly, and his fingers wound into Rong Jingcheng’s hair again.

After sending Rong Jingcheng away, Jiang Zao rubbed his ear. How could a man two years older than him love acting spoiled so much? He had clearly overslept and was already late, yet he had still insisted that Jiang Zao finish braiding his hair before he would leave.

But thinking about how the other party had also been like this at eighteen, Jiang Zao felt relieved. It was innate.

He took the elevator upstairs. Just as he was about to reach his apartment, the door next door opened, and Meng Qiuyu came out.

Jiang Zao was a little surprised. He had not expected Meng Qiuyu to live right next to him. Then he smiled and greeted him. “Teacher Meng, going out?”

Meng Qiuyu raised the trash bag in his hand. “Throwing out the trash.”

“Oh.” Jiang Zao nodded and took out his key to open the door.

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

Jiang Zao turned his head.

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

“What?”

Meng Qiuyu exhaled and changed his wording. “The person you just sent into the car was?”

“Rong Jingcheng,” Jiang Zao said very frankly. “He’s my senior. What’s wrong?”

Meng Qiuyu said apologetically, “Sorry, I’m not trying to pry into your relationship. I just wanted to remind you.”

Jiang Zao nodded. He also felt that Rong Jingcheng was being far too conspicuous. He still wanted to keep a low profile. This time could be let go, but next time, he would not indulge that person.

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

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

“You know me?” Jiang Zao was surprised. He had thought he had been rather unknown back then.

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

“Jiayin doesn’t really care that much about academic performance.” Jiang Zao spread his hands. This statement was both right and wrong. With a good family background, good grades were the icing on the cake. Without a good family background, good grades were the last bit of dignity for the poor, a delusional hope of changing one’s fate against heaven.

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

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

Meng Qiuyu’s gaze darkened. “I’m not flattering you.”

Jiang Zao laughed. “You misunderstood. What I meant was, your voice sounds very nice—also, you’re holding trash, and I’m holding a key. Talking like this is a little strange.”

Hearing the implication in his words, Meng Qiuyu was tactful. “I’ll go throw out the trash first. See you later.”

“See you later.”

Jiang Zao opened the door and entered. He could feel that the gaze behind him had not moved away. He casually closed the door.

He was tired. Time for a nap.

Lin Ran was in the backstage lounge, maintaining his violin. But he was clearly somewhat absent-minded, glancing toward the door from time to time, as if waiting for someone.

The concertmaster walked over. The other man was an absolute veteran in the orchestra. As a newly joined member, Lin Ran did not dare disrespect anyone, much less this person. He hurriedly stood up. “Teacher Yu.”

Yu Tian was nearly forty. Although his status was high, he was easygoing. He smiled and nodded at Lin Ran, saying gently, “Lin Ran, tonight will be your first performance since joining. Are you nervous?”

Lin Ran smiled shyly. “I can’t say I’m not nervous, but I will definitely do everything I can and contribute my best performance.”

Yu Tian was very satisfied with his attitude. He liked young people with ambition, so he said a few more words. “Not bad. I noticed you kept looking toward the door earlier. Are you looking for someone?”

Lin Ran’s face reddened. “No…”

He was just about to explain when he heard laughter. Only then did he realize the other party was teasing him, so he relaxed slightly and smiled. “I was only thinking that the scheduled rehearsal time has arrived, so why hasn’t it started yet?”

“Because the conductor hasn’t arrived yet,” Yu Tian said, knowing it was an excuse but still playing along. He smiled and said, “Jingcheng is just like that, always arriving late and leaving early. Since you’ve joined the orchestra, you should get used to all sorts of bad habits from our great conductor as soon as possible.”

Lin Ran nodded, but in his heart, he secretly felt envious. Only someone with the seniority of the concertmaster had the right to call Rong Jingcheng by his name directly. One day, he also wanted to call him that.

Lin Ran secretly made up his mind.

A lazy voice carrying a smile came from far to near. “Old Yu, talking bad about me while I’m not here?”

Yu Tian turned his head with a smile. “How could I? I was just giving the newcomer some general knowledge. He just arrived and still doesn’t know much about the orchestra.”

“Oh?” Rong Jingcheng’s gaze landed on Lin Ran, who was so nervous he did not know where to put his hands. Rong Jingcheng nodded slightly, counting it as a greeting. “A newcomer, is it? I look forward to your performance.”

“Yes!” Lin Ran stood ramrod straight, his voice nearly cracking as he answered.

Rong Jingcheng looked at him with a half-smile, then turned to speak with Yu Tian.

Lin Ran’s heart pounded wildly. This was probably the closest he had ever been to Rong Jingcheng. There was no longer any barrier between them. He could greedily look at this man who haunted his dreams, engraving the entirety of the other man’s appearance into his mind.

Yu Tian seemed to discover something novel. Pointing at Rong Jingcheng, he said, “Oh? Your hairstyle is rather unique today.”

Rong Jingcheng’s long hair had been braided into a plait and draped diagonally over his shoulder. He smiled and stroked it, his tone proud and reserved. “Yes. Does it look good?”

Yu Tian did not know how to respond. With Rong Jingcheng’s face, no matter what he dressed up as, there was only one word to describe him: good-looking. But as for whether this braid itself looked good, hiss—

This craftsmanship was truly hard to praise. He had no idea which great master’s hand it had come from. Perhaps it was the latest fashion?

Yu Tian still had high emotional intelligence. Smiling, he said, “It suits you, this artist. Custom-made for you?”

Rong Jingcheng very much liked his praise. The smile on his face never went down as he nodded and said, “That’s right. My stylist specially custom-made it for me.”

Author’s Note:

Ah, yes, yes, yes. Your exclusive stylist.