After Transmigrating into an ABO World with My Nemesis (BL) - Chapter 17

A bizarre, thick silence.

Cheng Bing’s gaze finally drifted slowly toward the clothes Jiang Zhou was wearing. They were his—properly zipped up to the very top by Jiang Zhou. The sleeves were a bit long, swallowing half of his hands and leaving only the tips of his fingers peeking out.

The main light in the living room was a cold white, making Jiang Zhou’s exposed legs look even paler—like milk, almost reflective.

Messy hair, flushed cheeks, watery pupils—he looked as if he were wearing nothing but that single jacket.

The scene was… indescribably provocative.

Jiang Zhou was busy stammering through his head for an excuse. He couldn’t find one, and Cheng Bing’s unblinking stare made his scalp tingle and his face burn. Then, he got annoyed.

He thought to himself: Why am I feeling guilty? It’s all a pheromone issue anyway. So what if I changed my mind and snuck out to grab the clothes?

The more he thought about it, the more self-righteous he felt. If Cheng Bing dared to mock him, he’d slap that “Peaceful Coexistence Friendship Agreement” they’d printed out right onto his face!

Jiang Zhou opened his mouth: “I…”

“Is your gland uncomfortable?” Cheng Bing spoke first. His voice was flat, but it sounded a bit raspier than before.

Jiang Zhou froze, stunned that he wasn’t being mocked. It took him two seconds to react, letting out a muffled, “Mhm.”

Cheng Bing’s gaze slid down, landing on the collar where Jiang Zhou had buried the lower half of his face. He asked, “Isn’t it stuffy?”

Stuffy… stuffy what?

Jiang Zhou followed his gaze downward and realized he was still in the middle of burying his face in the collar to sniff it, one hand still clutching the fabric to pull it up.

Jiang Zhou: “…”

Jiang Zhou peacefully closed his eyes and let go of the collar. He didn’t want to be angry or annoyed anymore; he just wanted to die and ascend to heaven immediately.

“I might be dead, so I don’t really feel the ‘stuffiness’,” he said, his heart like cold ash.

Cheng Bing: “…”

Cheng Bing finished the rest of the water in his glass. When Jiang Zhou didn’t hear him speak, he surreptitiously opened a tiny sliver of an eyelid to observe. He caught Cheng Bing tilting his head back, revealing the sharp, clean lines of his neck; his Adam’s apple protruded against that line, sliding up and down.

Inexplicably, Jiang Zhou’s own throat followed suit with a swallow.

Having finished his water, Cheng Bing walked toward Jiang Zhou. Passing the dining table, he set the glass down with a soft clack.

Jiang Zhou’s heart skipped a beat.

As Cheng Bing drew closer, Jiang Zhou found he couldn’t take it anymore. He snapped his eyes open, straightened his spine, and stared at him. “What are you doing?”

He wouldn’t take the clothes back just because I refused them during the day, would he?

Jiang Zhou was now in a state of total self-abandon. There was nothing more embarrassing than rejecting your nemesis’s clothes during the day, sneaking out to wear them at night, and then getting caught by said nemesis. The problem was, he couldn’t exactly strip the jacket off and storm away with dignity; he could only stand there stiffly and explain rigidly, “I didn’t wear your clothes on purpose.”

Cheng Bing gave a casual “Mhm” and said to Jiang Zhou, “Turn around.”

“Turn around for what?”

“To look at your gland.”

?

In this world, that was bordering on sexual harassment.

But fortunately, they were both straight guys from the original world.

So, Jiang Zhou obediently turned around.

He felt some movement at the back of his neck.

The standing collar was turned down. His fingers threaded through the hair at the nape, gathering it and lifting it upward, completely exposing his entire back-neck.

The skin in that area was exceptionally sensitive for Jiang Zhou. The touch of those warm fingertips sent a wave of numbness through his scalp; his heart even skipped a beat.

Warm breath hit his gland.

“It’s red,” Cheng Bing said in a low voice.

“…Is it very red?”

It was redder than during the day and slightly swollen, as if the gland on his neck had soaked up too much water—one squeeze and it might burst.

Jiang Zhou waited for an answer that didn’t come. Just as he was about to turn around to see what Cheng Bing was doing, he felt a thumb press against his gland—a punishing squeeze.

Jiang Zhou could almost feel the ridges of Cheng Bing’s fingerprint pressing deep into the thin skin.

Instantly, sensations of weakness, soreness, and numbness flooded him, flashing like an electric current down his spine. Jiang Zhou nearly jumped out of his skin.

What is he doing?!

Jiang Zhou’s eyes were red, and he was about to turn back and scold him, but his nape was held firmly in a palm. A deep, cold voice came from behind.

“Jiang Zhou. If it hurts, say so.”

The hair was released, and the collar was turned back up. Cheng Bing walked toward the sofa.

It was the same spot where they exchanged pheromones during the day.

Jiang Zhou clutched his fiercely burning gland and shot a “glare-dagger” at Cheng Bing, but before he could even curse, he saw how naturally Cheng Bing had positioned himself.

Jiang Zhou: “.”

Great. Now I can’t scold him again.

He said awkwardly, “It’s not that bad.”

“Even if it’s ‘not that bad,’ you should still say so.”

Jiang Zhou hesitated. “It’s not like it reached that point.”

Cheng Bing’s eyelids tightened. “Not reached that point? Then why sneak out at night to steal clothes?”

Jiang Zhou had thought Cheng Bing was going to act like it never happened and had let his guard down, only for Cheng Bing to drop that line out of nowhere.

His face turned beet-red instantly. His dry lips parted, wanting to curse, but realizing he had no moral high ground, he couldn’t find the words. He finally managed to squeeze out: “Can an intellectual’s actions be called ‘stealing’?”

He heard Cheng Bing let out a very soft laugh.

Jiang Zhou: “…”

Laugh at your grandpa.

Jiang Zhou wanted to say more, but Cheng Bing looked back at him. Seeing him still standing there, he tilted his head and asked, “Aren’t you coming over?”

Jiang Zhou: “…”

Jiang Zhou spinelessly retracted the little daggers in his eyes and whispered, “I’m coming.”

He sat down beside Cheng Bing. Cheng Bing turned his body slightly and tilted his head, making it easy for Jiang Zhou to scent his pheromones.

In the dead of the silent night, with a trace of the day’s heat still lingering, the living room felt warm and ambiguous. Pheromones leaked bit by bit from Cheng Bing’s nape, seeping into Jiang Zhou’s skin.

The thirst that had been briefly quelled by the jacket surged back with a vengeance.

Remembering how Cheng Bing had pinned him during the day, Jiang Zhou licked the tips of his teeth. He reached out, wrapping his hand around Cheng Bing’s neck, and unceremoniously pulled him toward himself.

The neck is a vulnerable place.

Being controlled like that brings a shivering sensation of placing one’s life in another’s hands; it isn’t comfortable.

Cheng Bing instinctively tilted his head away. Jiang Zhou tightened his grip, refusing to let him escape. He leaned over Cheng Bing’s back, whispering into his ear with a touch of malicious revenge: “Don’t move.”

Just as Cheng Bing had pinned him into his embrace earlier that day.

Cheng Bing clearly heard the petty spite in his voice, but it was harmless. He stopped struggling, relaxed his body, and stayed still.

Jiang Zhou’s fingertips were soft against the thin skin of the neck. He could almost feel the blood flowing in the vessels and the heartbeat thumping against his ring finger.

A tingle of itchiness traveled through his palm.

It was Cheng Bing’s Adam’s apple rolling within his grip.

It reminded Jiang Zhou of the way Cheng Bing had looked while drinking water earlier.

He suddenly felt a wave of thirst himself. He lowered his head and took a deep, long breath against the other’s nape.

Jiang Zhou didn’t realize his current state was very “off.” Like an addict, his brows were slightly furrowed, his face bathed in a fine mist of sweat and an unnatural flush, his breathing heavy and long.

His eyelids were half-closed, his light golden eyes vacant and dazed, leaving only instinct to frantically demand the Alpha’s pheromones.

Suddenly, he felt the Adam’s apple in his palm vibrate. Simultaneously, a large hand covered his wrist. Jiang Zhou thought he was trying to pull his hand away, so he tightened his grip, letting out a dissatisfied “Mgh.”

But Cheng Bing only circled his wrist, his index finger lightly tapping against the wrist bone, as if scolding him for being too rough.

Jiang Zhou heard Cheng Bing say: “Don’t rush.”

The voice was deep and cold—part command, part comfort.

The sensation was bizarre. The raspy vibration of the voice hit his eardrum, sending a jolt through his soul as if it were about to fly out of his body.

Next Day.

When Jiang Zhou woke up, he was bewildered.

Strange room, strange layout—this wasn’t his bedroom, nor his dorm. His head throbbed with pain as he sat up.

The bedroom was medium-sized and incredibly clean and tidy. At a glance, there wasn’t a single thing out of place. It was the complete opposite of Jiang Zhou’s style. Jiang Zhou’s bedroom was “organized chaos”—a mix of everything everywhere.

He had never seen such a neat arrangement. On the bed, there were only blankets and pillows—no pile of clothes, no phone chargers, no novels with only three pages turned, no keys or pens.

A familiar scent drifted over—the smell of damp wood and crisp cold, like a vast forest covered in a thin layer of snow.

This was Cheng Bing’s pheromone scent.

On the day they went to the hospital together, Jiang Zhou had seen the report. Jiang Zhou’s scent was peach candy, and Cheng Bing’s was… Forest Snow.

It sounded cold just hearing it. But it smelled surprisingly good.

Jiang Zhou instinctively pulled the blanket up a bit, buried his face in it, and took a light sniff.

As his mind cleared, he finally remembered where he was.

Last night, after Jiang Zhou finished scenting Cheng Bing, he had mumbled a “thanks” and wanted to run back to his own room to sulk in peace, but Cheng Bing had stopped him. Cheng Bing said his gland still looked very red, so he brought him into his own bedroom.

Jiang Zhou had agreed in a daze. So now, he was sleeping in Cheng Bing’s bed.

Jiang Zhou: “.”

Bad news: the experiment failed. They didn’t go back.

But that was normal. With the incident in the middle of the night, they hadn’t replicated the timeline 1:1. Plus, they had moved into the rental. They had transmigrated while in the dorms; if they really wanted to replicate it, they had to go back to the dorms.

Even though they had moved their luggage, their beds in the dorm hadn’t been cleared yet. If they wanted to try again, they could head back tonight.

Jiang Zhou rolled out of bed, intending to tell Cheng Bing. The moment he opened the door, he saw Cheng Bing standing there, hand raised as if about to knock.

Seeing the door open, Cheng Bing’s gaze slid down, scanning Jiang Zhou’s body once before slowly looking up into his eyes. “Come out and eat,” he said.

He turned and walked away immediately.

Jiang Zhou let out a hum. He recalled the way Cheng Bing had just looked at him—it was very intense. So, following Cheng Bing’s previous line of sight, he looked down at himself.

He saw that he was still wearing Cheng Bing’s jacket.

He had slept in the guy’s clothes all night. The collar was still buttoned tight, but the fabric was covered in messy wrinkles.

Jiang Zhou: “.”

He had been too tired last night; he’d crashed and forgotten to take it off. Jiang Zhou’s head started to steam again.

But he quickly comforted himself. Whatever. I wore it, I got caught, I slept in his room for a night. Sleeping in his clothes is nothing.

Jiang Zhou washed up in a relaxed mood, ate lunch in a relaxed mood, and communicated his thoughts to Cheng Bing about trying the dorm experiment tonight in a relaxed mood.

But he soon found it hard to stay relaxed.

“I found some clothes you can wear.” Cheng Bing handed Jiang Zhou a set of his own clothes.

Jiang Zhou: “…”

Did I say I wanted to wear your clothes outside, too?

When Jiang Zhou didn’t answer, Cheng Bing knit his brows and added, “The underwear might be a bit big.”

Holy crap.

Jiang Zhou exploded on the spot: “I don’t want the underwear! Are you a pervert?! And why the hell do you think yours is bigger than mine!”

Hearing that “Big Brother” (implied by the phrasing), Cheng Bing’s lashes flickered. He lowered his eyelids, his gaze sweeping over Jiang Zhou like a layer of thin snow. “They’re new,” he said.

Jiang Zhou gritted his teeth, his face turning red again—this time from anger. “I don’t want them even if they’re new!”

Cheng Bing stared at him for a moment. Once certain Jiang Zhou truly didn’t want them, he let out an “Oh.” His tone revealed no emotion.

Jiang Zhou: “…”

In the end, Jiang Zhou still took the clothes back to the room to change, his face burning. But he was in such a rush that he snatched the folded pile from Cheng Bing’s hands without looking, slammed the door, and ducked inside, missing Cheng Bing’s look of hesitation.

Thus, just as he lifted his T-shirt, he saw a pair of boxers slowly tumble out from the pile.

Jiang Zhou: “…”

I forgot to throw those damn boxers back in his face.

The grey cotton boxers lay on the bed, staring back at Jiang Zhou innocently. Jiang Zhou’s face was on fire, his heart a mess of embarrassment and a bit of defiance.

Is it really bigger than mine? I don’t believe it.

Jiang Zhou stared at the boxers spread out on the bed with a fierce glare, as if looking at an enemy.

Then, he stuffed his fist inside to gauge the size.

At that exact moment, the door creaked open.

Jiang Zhou: “…”