Chapter 20 - Deeply In Love With You [Quick Transmigration]

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Secret Crush

 

 

Just doing homework was boring, so Lin Heng, pen in hand, proposed, "How about we race? See who finishes faster with fewer mistakes?"

 

"Sure," Zong Que agreed. "What's the bet?"

 

If there's a race, there has to be stakes — reward and punishment both.

 

"The loser... has to go out and buy ice cream at noon." Lin Heng grinned. "How's that?"

 

"All right," Zong Que replied without hesitation.

 

They started working on the same subject at the same time, the scratching of pens against paper echoing softly in the quiet room. Both boys moved quickly through the problems.

 

Even as they reached the final, more complex problems, neither slowed down.

 

The alarm they'd set rang, and both pens came to a stop in unison. Lin Heng turned his head slightly to glance at Zong Que's paper. "Same question?"

 

"Mm," Zong Que replied.

 

"Then let's compare answers." Lin Heng slid his paper over.

 

The comparison was quick. Aside from their handwriting, every answer was identical — even the formulas and steps in the long answers matched exactly.

 

In the end, it was a draw.

 

"So… what now?" Lin Heng looked at the near-identical papers. That familiar feeling of having raised a cub himself resurfaced — and honestly, the satisfaction outweighed any desire to win.

 

But outside, the sun was blazing. He'd had his fridge cleared and unplugged before heading home for the holidays, so if he wanted ice cream now, he was out of luck.

 

"Do you want ice cream?" Zong Que asked.

 

Lin Heng nodded. "Yeah. I do."

 

"Let's go together," Zong Que said, standing.

 

Lin Heng looked up with a smile. "Alright."

 

On a day this hot, he didn't really feel like going out on his own — but with someone else, it felt different.

 

Inside, the air conditioning was blissful, but the moment the door opened, a wave of heat rolled in like they'd stepped into a steamer basket.

 

Lin Heng stopped in his tracks and, when Zong Que turned to look at him, said, "I suddenly feel like… not having ice cream might be just fine."

 

Zong Que reached out, hooked a hand around the back of his neck, and gently guided him out the door. As the door clicked shut, that hand fell away. Lin Heng's palms were already slightly damp. "I was just hesitating for a moment."

 

"I helped you make up your mind," Zong Que said as they headed downstairs.

 

Everything was already packed up — going out was inevitable. Rather than hesitate, it was better to just do it.

 

"Well, thank you then," Lin Heng said, regaining his composure.

 

"You're welcome," Zong Que replied.

 

Lin Heng's palms stopped sweating — but now they itched.

 

The kind of itch that made him want to punch someone.

 

The sunlight was a little too blinding. They stuck to the shade as they walked to the nearby supermarket, bought a handful of assorted ice creams, and stuffed them into the freezer.

 

Even during the holidays, the housekeeper from nearby still came by at noon to cook. After showering, both of them ate and then took a nap.

 

The Lin family had bought this apartment so Lin Heng could live close to school. All the units here shared the same layout: three bedrooms and one living area. Two rooms were used as bedrooms, the third had been turned into a study. It made napping convenient — no disturbances.

 

Zong Que woke after a half-hour nap and washed his face. The other room remained quiet. He gently pushed the door open to find the boy sleeping soundly, tucked under a light quilt.

 

Students on break were prone to staying up late — and once they did, late mornings followed. Summer afternoon naps had a way of pulling people into deep, lingering sleep. Thinking back to how early Lin Heng had woken, Zong Que softly closed the door and returned to the study.

 

He didn't go back to his homework. Instead, he selected a book about piano from the bookshelf and sat down with it.

 

When a family has the means, they often pay attention to well-rounded development. Lin Heng had never shown much of this side of himself at school, but the bookshelf displayed countless certificates for exams and awards. In the corner of the study sat a piano — covered, but free of dust. It was clear it was played often.

 

Zong Que had dabbled in music before. When he was managing entertainers in the industry, he had to understand both acting and singing. As an agent, being familiar with those fields helped prevent unexpected mishaps. Still, his knowledge remained surface-level — enough to understand, not enough to master.

 

He had lived through several lifetimes, and his time had stretched on. Compared to that, Lin Heng was just at the beginning — only a decade or so into life, and already so exceptional.

 

Page after page turned. The harsh afternoon light began to soften. Zong Que checked the time. Though it was still bright, if he didn't leave now, dusk would fall quickly.

 

He slipped a bookmark into the piano book and returned it to the shelf. Picking up his phone, he tapped a few things, then remembered how Lin Heng had been when he woke that morning — his phone probably wasn't on silent.

 

After deleting the message he was going to send, he tore a square from a sheet of scrap paper and wrote a few words:

 

It's getting dark. I'm heading out first. I'll leave the homework with you and come by again tomorrow morning.

 

— Zong Que, 18:03

 

He placed the note on top of the homework, gathered his things, changed his shoes, and closed the door behind him quietly as he left. As he walked downstairs, his phone buzzed.

 

A message had arrived.

 

Ji Zhou: We've confirmed Liao Feng's whereabouts.

 

An address followed, along with details about Liao Feng's current job.

 

Zong Que paused, then typed: Pass this on to Qian Hai's intel network.

 

Qian Hai worked in lending. He surely had connections — and money. But someone like him would never be willing to spend so much to chase a man who might've vanished completely. That's why he turned on those he could reach.

 

Ji Zhou: Got it.

 

Zong Que slipped his phone back into his pocket and boarded the bus heading home.

 

As the sun dipped low and twilight painted the sky in hazy hues, the boy still wrapped in a thin blanket stirred at last. His lashes fluttered before he shifted, slowly sitting up in bed.

 

Scratching his head, he gazed out the window. Awareness dawned in an instant—only to be followed by momentary confusion. He reached for his phone, stared at the time, and stepped outside the room. The apartment was completely silent.

 

Rubbing his temples, Lin Heng winced from the dull ache in his head. He must've slept too long. Sitting at his desk to clear his thoughts, he finally noticed the note left atop his homework.

 

His eyes settled on the words. Seeing the timestamp, he picked up his phone and sent a message.

 

Lin Heng: Home yet?

 

The reply came swiftly.

 

Zong Que: Just got back.

 

"Over an hour just to get home… exactly how early does he wake up?" Lin Heng muttered, then slumped over the desk.

 

Another message arrived:

 

Zong Que: Just woke up?

 

A small smile tugged at Lin Heng's lips.

 

Lin Heng: Mm. Slept from noon till now. Headache. #OuchMyHead

 

Zong Que: Rinse your face with cold water, move around a bit. That'll help.

 

Lin Heng: Don't wanna. #Lazy

 

Zong Que's expression didn't change. Oversleeping during the day could leave a person disoriented, especially with a flipped sleep schedule. But the solutions were simple enough.

 

When no new messages came, Lin Heng's heart fluttered with unease. Maybe he'd come off too warm, too obvious—and Zong Que had caught on.

 

He was typing again when a new message arrived:

 

Zong Que: You could just sleep straight through to tomorrow morning.

 

Lin Heng's fingers stilled. He deleted what he'd been writing and muttered, "What am I, the god of sleep?"

 

His fingers danced again.

 

Lin Heng: It takes you so long to get home… You could just stay at my place these next few days.

 

The weather was scorching. All that back and forth in the heat was exhausting.

 

He had considered suggesting the city library, but with summer break, the place was overrun with noisy kids. Not to mention, they couldn't talk freely—it wasn't ideal.

 

Zong Que glanced at the stack of things on his desk.

 

Zong Que: Not these next few days. I'm off to shower.

 

Lin Heng paused, then sent one simple word:

 

Lin Heng: Okay.

 

"So he does have things to do back home…" Lin Heng let out a soft sigh, put down his phone, and went to prepare dinner.

 

A shower meant the topic was closed. To pick up the thread again, he'd need a new excuse—something practical. Forcing conversation out of nowhere might make his intentions too obvious.

 

If only they weren't just friends… But somehow, he felt that even if they weren't, Zong Que still wouldn't be the type to waste time chatting idly.

 

Lin Heng's sleep schedule hadn't suffered too badly. Even during break, he kept up with homework. Zong Que came early and left late, seemingly unbothered by the long commute.

 

At last, on the final day, with all the assignments completed and sorted, Lin Heng watched as Zong Que packed them into his bag.

 

"School starts the day after tomorrow," he said. "You should take tomorrow to rest."

 

Zong Que looked up at him. "Are you heading home tomorrow?"

 

"Yeah, just to pick up a few things. I'll bring them back in the afternoon." Lin Heng drew a slow breath and smiled. "They don't let us stay in the dorms during competition training… Do you want to stay with me?"

 

Even though he'd tried to reason with himself, he still couldn't help but inch closer.

 

"Alright," Zong Que replied. "What time will you be back tomorrow afternoon?"

 

"Around five," Lin Heng said, feeling a little warm in the chest.

 

"I'll come by at six," Zong Que said.

 

"Mm, okay." Lin Heng smiled.

 

Zong Que packed up and left. Lin Heng stood at the window, watching the tall figure walk away, swallowed up by the sunset—his heart pounding violently in his chest.

 

That uncontrollable happiness—like an itch beneath the skin, tender and bittersweet—was tangled with an aching sense of yearning. There was a trace of sorrow in the unattainable… but the rest, the overwhelming ninety-nine percent, was a dizzying sweetness that surged through him.

 

This feeling of his could only be described as...

 

"A secret crush."

 

…

 

Lin Heng had only gone home to pick up the new seasonal clothes his mother had picked out for him. She had a good eye—nothing too flashy for a student, tasteful designs, and comfortable fabrics.

 

"You know," his mother said, holding up each item for comparison, "I still don't get why you insist on doing your homework at that school apartment. Why not just invite your classmate over here?"

 

"He's shy," Lin Heng replied, folding clothes as he spoke.

 

"Mm?" His mother chuckled and gave his head a playful rub. "That classmate of yours doesn't look shy to me. Where'd you learn to make things up like that, huh?"

 

"From you," Lin Heng replied with a grin.

 

"Fair enough. I did give birth to you after all," she laughed, giving him a light pat. "Alright, I won't ask why anymore. Having a study partner isn't a bad thing. At least it's safer."

 

"Mm." Lin Heng's heart gave a little stir at the mention of Zong Que.

 

Then she glanced sideways at him and asked suddenly, "Son, are you in love?"

 

His hands froze for a second. He instinctively looked away. "No. I just want to focus on studying and get into my dream university."

 

His mother sat nearby, watching her son dodge the question, and gave a quiet tsk in her heart.

 

Love is like sand in your palm—the more you try to hide it, the more it slips out.

 

"Mm, such ambition," she said with a smile, drawing out the last few words. "You'll definitely get into the university of your dreams."

 

Lin Heng could practically hear the lack of sincerity in her voice.

 

…

 

He arrived at the apartment at five. After organizing and putting away the clothes, it was only twenty past.

 

But the wait that followed felt like counting the seconds one by one—agonizing and slow—until the doorbell finally rang at exactly 5:50.

 

When Lin Heng opened the door, the first thing he saw wasn't Zong Que himself, but the conspicuous box he was carrying. "What's this?"

 

"A thank-you gift," Zong Que said, stepping inside and setting it down. "Open it and see."

 

Lin Heng shut the door and opened the box—inside was a stunningly beautiful model of a university campus.

 

The gate, the signature buildings—every detail was exquisite and awe-inspiring, from the tiled roofs to the tiny windows. Every inch was carefully crafted.

 

It was a miniature of his dream university.

 

"Where did you even buy this?" Lin Heng asked, his eyes full of wonder.

 

"I made it myself," Zong Que replied.

 

A gift made with care should always be handmade.

 

In that moment, Lin Heng seemed to understand why Zong Que had insisted on going home every day. He could hear his own heart pounding, thump thump thump, wild and frantic.

 

The feelings he'd fought so hard to suppress now threatened to break free, ready to consume him completely.

 

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