After Transmigrating into an ABO World with My Nemesis (BL) - Chapter 12

Jiang Zhou had no reason to refuse.

Even if they couldn’t stand the sight of each other and might end up putting laxatives in each other’s water after moving in, what other choice was there? How else were they supposed to solve the issues with these broken bodies and their broken problems?

Besides, they still had to find a way home.

The sky gradually darkened, and a hazy, endless gloom swallowed them both.

Jiang Zhou felt a bit depressed. It seemed that under the whims of fate, he had no power to resist; he was forced to accept and face all these bizarre occurrences.

But—

Jiang Zhou looked up, meeting Cheng Bing’s calm eyes.

He had to admit, Cheng Bing’s composure—his attitude that this wasn’t some world-ending crisis—was actually quite reassuring. It made it feel like no matter what happened, it could be solved.

After a long silence, Jiang Zhou gripped the corner of Cheng Bing’s shirt tightly and whispered his response: “…Okay.”

The moving process moved quickly.

First, Jiang Zhou and Cheng Bing signed a “Mutual Assistance and Peaceful Coexistence Friendship Agreement.”

In this parallel world, they were to set aside all past grudges and help each other through Heats and Ruts with their full effort. No sarcasm, no standing idly by; they would work together to find a way back to their original world.

Naturally, Jiang Zhou was the one who cooked up this agreement. Cheng Bing showed intense resistance to such a childish document, but after much coercion, bribery, and Jiang Zhou’s repeated emphasis, Cheng Bing finally gave in. They reached a verbal agreement, marking their first step toward cooperation.

Truly a cause for celebration.

Jiang Zhou’s emotions always shifted quickly. For him, sadness and grief were temporary; as long as he could go home and crash for a night, he’d be a brand-new man the next day, ready to face any difficulty with a smile.

With the agreement settled, they prepared the paperwork for off-campus housing. However, Jiang Zhou heard that the department leadership was away on a business trip, meaning his paperwork wouldn’t be processed immediately. He decided to just find a place and move his things first, then settle the formalities with Cheng Bing later.

They spent two days looking at apartments, comparing pros and cons. Finally, they chose a two-bedroom unit about two hundred meters from the school, scheduled to move in on Friday afternoon.

The rent was a bit steep, but the environment and security were good, the room had great natural light, and the furniture was all new and clean.

However, the cost was a bit beyond his typical allowance.

Jiang Zhou was planning to sneakily ask his “mother” in this world for help, but Cheng Bing simply paid the full amount upfront.

On Friday afternoon, as Jiang Zhou dragged his suitcase across the threshold of the rental, he turned back in confusion. “Where did you get so much money?”

Cheng Bing and Jiang Zhou lived across the hall from each other; they knew each other’s family situations perfectly.

Jiang Zhou’s family was in the furniture business. It wasn’t a massive enterprise, but it brought in a steady income—enough for a very comfortable life. The shop used to be managed by his father while his mother was a high school literature teacher. After his father passed away, his mother resigned to take over the shop and invested in other industries. Over the years, the business had flourished.

As for Cheng Bing, his situation was more complicated.

His household consisted only of himself and his maternal grandmother; they relied on each other. However, since Jiang Zhou also lived in a single-parent household and they were neighbors, the two families were close and visited often.

But as much as he thought he knew, Jiang Zhou realized he didn’t know everything about Cheng Bing.

He only knew that Cheng Bing’s mother died during childbirth and that his grandmother had originally been a farmer before moving to the city to work as a janitor to put Cheng Bing through school.

Actually, it was quite strange. Their neighborhood was in a prime school district in the city center; property values were high. Jiang Zhou had never heard of a landlord coming to collect rent across the hall, which meant the apartment likely belonged to Cheng Bing’s grandmother.

Furthermore, supporting a child through school for so many years was a massive expense. A janitor’s meager salary definitely wouldn’t cover it. How did an old woman who lived off farming, whose husband died early and whose only daughter had passed, manage these costs?

And Jiang Zhou had never seen Cheng Bing’s father. He had once asked his mother about it. She had stroked his head and said softly that everyone has pasts and pains they don’t want others to know; if they don’t speak of it, don’t ask, or you might hurt them.

So, for all these years, Jiang Zhou never asked—though he had heard some nasty rumors.

People love to invent tawdry, bizarre stories about others to satisfy their own curiosity and ego—to prove that others are always worse off than themselves. Even if someone is successful, they must have some hidden filth, just to keep the world balanced in their minds.

It was truly pathetic.

Jiang Zhou had even argued with adults who gossiped before his mother dragged him away by the scruff of his neck. She praised his sense of justice but criticized his recklessness.

Back then, his relationship with Cheng Bing wasn’t that bad. He had babbled the whole story to Cheng Bing, only to receive a cold, somber look. Cheng Bing had pushed him away and said, “Who asked you to care?”

Jiang Zhou was devastated that day. Even though Cheng Bing was eventually forced by his grandmother to apologize, Jiang Zhou remained heartbroken.

That was the beginning of the end for their friendship. Jiang Zhou finally realized that Cheng Bing didn’t value his kindness at all.

But Jiang Zhou was resilient. It was no big deal; he wasn’t a pot of gold—there was no rule saying everyone had to like him. Everyone has the right to dislike someone. If you won’t accept me, I won’t accept you. If you hate me, I hate you. Thus, they somehow became arch-nemeses.

Who could have guessed? These two, who once couldn’t stand the sight of each other, were now intimate partners in cooperation.

Jiang Zhou sighed at the irony, but he couldn’t let Cheng Bing pay for everything alone. He pulled out his phone, ready to transfer money. “I’ll send you half.”

Cheng Bing pressed his hand down over the phone and Jiang Zhou’s hand, saying flatly, “It’s my father’s money.”

Jiang Zhou snapped his head up, his ears practically perking up, his thumb frozen over the screen.

“Your dad?” His eyes went round with curiosity.

This was the first time in all these years Cheng Bing had ever mentioned his parents.

Cheng Bing didn’t seem to want to talk. His dark brows were low, and his eyes held a trace of mockery. He said coldly, “A dead man.”

Jiang Zhou: “.”

The relationship was clearly bad. His expression was fierce—fiercer than when he was mad at Jiang Zhou.

“Truly dead, or ‘metaphorically’ dead?” Jiang Zhou asked very cautiously.

Cheng Bing glanced at him and said calmly, “From a psychological dimension, he has already been laid to rest.”

So, from a physical dimension, he was still alive.

Alive, but only sending money and never coming back to see his kid? No matter how bad a father-son relationship is, could it be so bad that he wouldn’t visit once in over a decade?

Jiang Zhou recalled various rumors about Cheng Bing’s identity. One version claimed he was the illegitimate son of a major corporation’s chairman; his father had a family that couldn’t tolerate Cheng Bing’s existence, so he was sent away.

Jiang Zhou opened his mouth but ultimately didn’t pry further.

Cheng Bing could tell he wanted to ask. In fact, Jiang Zhou had wanted to ask more than once over the years, but he always cut himself off just in time.

Sometimes Cheng Bing felt that this kind of consideration was also uncomfortable. it served as a constant reminder that he was abandoned, pitiful, and weak—someone who required the mercy of others.

But after all these years, the things that used to bother him seemed as small as sesame seeds when looking back. They weren’t worth caring about.

And they weren’t worth… making someone else sad.

He turned his head to look at Jiang Zhou, wanting to say something, but the words had been suppressed for too long to come out easily.

Jiang Zhou seemed to forget the topic instantly, pivoting instead. “Um… then I’ll cover the utilities and groceries? Oh, and we need to buy some household supplies. Is that okay? Please?”

He knew Cheng Bing wasn’t reckless; if he was paying, it meant he had the money and wasn’t just “putting on a front” to save face. In that case, Jiang Zhou would handle the other expenses.

However, Jiang Zhou didn’t know that Cheng Bing was actually using his own savings, not his father’s. It wasn’t that he found his “dead” father’s money disgusting; after all, it was child support his father was obligated to pay. Cheng Bing usually didn’t touch it, but he didn’t feel guilty about spending it, either.

Originally, Cheng Bing had intended to use that money, but for some reason, he ended up using his own savings instead—scholarships from high school and money from part-time jobs during breaks. He had several tens of thousands saved up. It was enough for this semester’s rent.

Seeing that Cheng Bing was just staring at him without speaking, Jiang Zhou knit his brows slightly. “I can’t just contribute nothing, right? Then I’d be like a mistress you’ve ‘kept’ in a golden villa!”

His tone was helpless as he made the joke, hoping to gross Cheng Bing out enough to abandon the ridiculous idea of bearing all the costs alone.

At the mention of “a mistress in a golden villa,” Cheng Bing’s eyebrow twitched slightly.

Jiang Zhou mistook this for a look of disgust and pressed his advantage. He poked Cheng Bing’s arm, drawling his words in a way that sounded almost like he was acting cute.

“Cheng—y—Bing—you don’t want it to be like that, do you?”

He looked up, staring at Cheng Bing with those clear, bright eyes without blinking.

After a moment, Cheng Bing’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He said flatly, “Fine. Up to you.”

Only then did Jiang Zhou break into a smile, flashing an “OK” sign. He dragged his suitcase into the bedroom and started tidying up.

Jiang Zhou’s mood had clearly improved over the last two days; even his movements were light. Cheng Bing watched his back, motionless for a long while.

Regarding the past, he still said nothing.

Cheng Bing had thought he’d forgotten, but once the thought was sparked, the memories flooded back with undeniable clarity.

He could almost see the “little bean” version of Jiang Zhou from ten years ago, running over huffing and puffing to tell him he’d fought with adults over those rumors, only to look so pitiful after being bullied himself.

Back then, Cheng Bing had just been “thrown back” to the city; he was in a state where no one could touch upon those subjects. He had been furious, so he pushed Jiang Zhou away.

Jiang Zhou, who usually had a sharp tongue and could talk for hours, had gone silent as if struck dumb. He just stared with those beautiful round eyes, brimming with tears, his lashes wet as he looked at Cheng Bing with both sadness and anger.

Then, wiping his eyes, he had turned and run away in a fit of grievance.

Cheng Bing had forgotten how he felt at the time. Perhaps he had regretted it a little.

“What are you still standing there for? Aren’t you going to unpack?” Jiang Zhou realized he’d left his bag on the sofa and came back out of the room. Seeing Cheng Bing standing there like a stone statue, he asked a question.

It was just casual concern; he was about to duck back into his room when he suddenly remembered something. He turned back and gave Cheng Bing a mysterious wink.

“Hey, I found a ‘flick’ about the ABO world. Want to watch it together later?”