Take a Whiff: The Alpha's Hidden Scent | Chapter 39 | A Fusion of East and West | Novela.app

Teasing someone too much naturally comes with a price. Mr. and Mrs. Tang seemed exceptionally busy lately; by the time the two boys woke up, the parents had already headed out to work overtime. Aside from his initial request for beef rice noodles, Jiang Wei barely uttered a word throughout the morning. After finishing his meal, he went straight back to his bedroom, looking utterly cold and indifferent. He left Tang Zihe alone to clear the table and ponder how to make amends. Unfortunately, after much deliberation, not a single good idea came to mind. Tang Zihe slowly realized the reason: this was the first time he had ever teased Jiang Wei to this extent—usually, their roles in such situations were reversed. Worried that he might make things worse by overstepping, he forced himself to wait until nearly lunchtime before approaching the other’s door. His hesitation stemmed mostly from the fact that whether he said "I'm sorry" or "I apologize," it just didn't feel right. Besides, he had already apologized online. In response, Jiang Wei had only sent back a "?" and a "It's fine." Tang Zihe wasn't heartless enough to believe that things were actually "fine." The turning point finally arrived when he heard a faint rustling sound coming from his door. He watched as a sheet of A4 paper, densely packed with writing, was slowly slid through the gap under the door. He was completely baffled by the gesture. Even if it were an apology letter, shouldn't he be the one writing it? *** Jiang Wei’s internal monologue wasn't nearly as complicated as Tang Zihe imagined. If he hadn't seen Xia Shan’s messages first thing in the morning, he wouldn't have been so silent during breakfast. After all, even the most monumental embarrassment usually loses at least half its sting after a good night's sleep. Moreover, he felt like he was the one harboring "ulterior motives" here. And even more importantly, Xia Shan’s message had reminded him of something terrifying. He finally remembered that both he and Tang Zihe still owed self-reflection essays. To be more precise, *he* owed two—all because he had foolishly promised to write Tang Zihe’s essay to soothe the other’s "wounded little soul" back then. Thus, during breakfast, he had no mental capacity to worry about anything else. His brain was working at full speed, trying to concoct two completely different versions of a self-reflection essay for the exact same incident. Of course, his silence also served as a convenient shield for the remaining half of his embarrassment. Once back in his room, he began writing furiously. His own essay didn't matter much; even if he wrote it quickly, he could easily decipher his own wild, sweeping scrawl. However, the one for Tang Zihe couldn't be quite so flamboyant. He had to manually restrain his hand to avoid any "accidents," which resulted in handwriting that looked erratic—alternating between rushed and hesitant. His usually beautiful script was ruined, looking quite uncharacteristic. When he finally finished the ordeal, he faced a brand-new problem: how was he supposed to get the papers to Tang Zihe? He wasn't the only one who hadn't said a word all morning. He found himself in a dilemma, caught in a tangle of hesitation. He wanted to offer the essays as an olive branch, but he didn't want to actually knock on the door—he could only blame the cursed, stubborn pride of youth. After several minutes of contemplation, he hit upon the ingenious, low-profile method of sliding the papers through the door gap one by one. What he didn't expect was that before he could even finish sliding the first sheet, the door would be opened from the inside. When Tang Zihe opened the door, this was the scene he encountered: a person crouching on the floor, looking up at him with lips slightly parted, eyes wide with bewilderment, and two more sheets of paper clutched in his hand. Once the reality of the situation sank in, a flash of embarrassment crossed Jiang Wei’s face. Though it lasted only a second, Tang Zihe caught it keenly. He smiled, choosing not to focus on the awkwardness at hand. Instead, he asked, "The delivery should be here soon. Want to go eat?" "Yeah." Jiang Wei agreed subconsciously. He picked up the paper from the floor, tucked it back into his stack, and slowly stood up. With a hint of constraint, he held them out to Tang Zihe. "The self-reflection essay I wrote for you." Tang Zihe paused for a moment before reaching out to take them. "If you hadn't mentioned it, I would have forgotten." Now that he remembered, he couldn't help but feel a headache coming on. The prospect of having to perform a "talent" on the flag-raising platform in front of the entire school was a "blessing" he felt wholly unqualified for, yet was forced to endure. It was pure misery. Jiang Wei saw right through his thoughts and let out a rather unkind laugh. "Make sure to check it for mistakes," Jiang Wei said. "At least don't treat Boss Shi like an idiot." "Got it," Tang Zihe agreed pleasantly. "The food will be here in a few minutes. Shall we wait in the living room?" The inexplicable, awkward atmosphere had finally dissipated. Jiang Wei gave a non-committal hum and headed downstairs. "By the way..." Jiang Wei said as he pulled on a pair of plastic gloves. "How did you know I wanted fried chicken?" *Is it really that hard to guess? Besides, this meal was meant to be "bait,"* Tang Zihe answered silently. Outwardly, he remained calm. "These unhealthy things are always your favorites." "As long as it tastes good." Jiang Wei took a large bite and nodded. He felt that Tang Zihe truly was his childhood friend; the guy understood him perfectly. Tang Zihe watched him helplessly. After a moment, he noticed the distribution of food on the table: two-thirds were on Jiang Wei’s side, while he only had a few pairs of wings and a single burger. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, feeling lucky that he’d had the foresight to order more than last time, otherwise he might have gone hungry. He looked the person sitting next to him up and down, his gaze lingering on Jiang Wei’s waist for a moment, feeling even more puzzled. How did this guy manage to eat so much without gaining any weight? Did it all just vanish into thin air? "What are you looking at?" Jiang Wei thought he had dropped a crumb on his clothes. He scanned himself suspiciously, and finding nothing, he stopped worrying. Instead, he brought up a sore subject. "What are you going to do about your talent performance the day after tomorrow?" In truth, it wasn't that Tang Zihe lacked talent. It was just that the things he had learned weren't exactly suitable for a performance at the flag-raising platform—unless you wanted to see someone sit up there in the early morning and play *Moon Reflected on the Second Spring* on the erhu, or have someone break their back hauling a piano all the way from the music room just so he could sit down and play *Twinkle Twinkle Little Star*. Piano was an instrument that eighty percent of children had learned to some degree, so there wasn't much to say about that. But the reason he learned the erhu... was inextricably linked to Jiang Wei. It happened back when Jiang Wei was just a child who knew nothing but loved to talk nonsense. He had overheard someone mention the phrase "a fusion of East and West." Although the four characters together confused him, he recognized each one individually. Being someone who didn't care for deep understanding and simply thought the phrase sounded impressive, he had been looking for a chance to show off. Coincidentally, at that time, Tang Zihe had too much free time and kept pestering Jiang Wei to play. Mrs. Tang, worried that this would bother Jiang Wei and his parents, decided to strip her son of a small portion of his rest time to learn an instrument. She figured it was better to learn more skills; they might come in handy one day—though she certainly never imagined her son would need to perform in such a vastly different context than she had envisioned. As a child who was mostly left to his own devices as long as he didn't commit any major transgressions, Jiang Wei was actually quite envious when he heard about this. However, the more envious he felt, the more his urge to show off became uncontrollable. He caught Tang Zihe at the first opportunity and told him, with great solemnity, that the piano was a Western instrument. He claimed that if one wanted to learn, it was best to learn a Chinese instrument at the same time. Only then would it be a true "fusion of East and West," and only then could one be considered truly impressive—otherwise, just learning the piano was boring. Tang Zihe was young then, and hearing Jiang Wei speak with such conviction, he actually believed him. He immediately ran home and told Mrs. Tang that he thought learning only one instrument wasn't cool enough; he wanted to learn two. Mrs. Tang was baffled. This boy had been sitting in the piano room yesterday looking completely reluctant; why was he so proactive today, even asking for another instrument?! However, as a parent, she felt that a child’s desire to learn was a good thing, so she didn't ask many questions. She simply let Tang Zihe choose what he wanted to learn, while she handled the fees and found a teacher. What did a child know of the world? He could barely name a handful of Eastern and Western instruments combined. After thinking long and hard, the only thing he could come up with was the erhu. Without a second thought, Mrs. Tang found a teacher the next day and took an excited Tang Zihe to pick out an erhu. "What do you think?" Knowing that the day after tomorrow wouldn't be easy, Tang Zihe let out an ambiguous sigh before answering his own question. "I'll just wing it." Since he was destined to lose face regardless, he might as well just go through the motions and get it over with. He was quite philosophical about the inevitable embarrassment. Jiang Wei stared at Tang Zihe’s perpetually calm expression for a long while. Several times he opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. Finally, he couldn't help himself; he put down his chicken wing, sat up straight, and asked, "Do you... regret learning... those things?" He knew that Tang Zihe had never liked them. In the beginning, even the mere mention of the word "piano" would make the guy’s brow furrow into a knot, every pore of his body screaming in protest. Under those circumstances, because of a piece of nonsense someone had made up, he had doubled the misery he had to endure and stuck with it for so many years—thinking back, Jiang Wei felt that while he had the excuse of childhood ignorance, he had been quite wicked. If it were him, Jiang Wei thought, he would definitely regret it. But Tang Zihe only smiled and shook his head. There wasn't a trace of a lie on his face; he looked incredibly sincere. "Why would I?" he said. "The music room is right next to my bedroom. Want to go listen to a piece after we finish eating?" The serious expression on Jiang Wei’s face vanished instantly. Hearing this, he also began to smile. "Sure." "Do you want to hear the piano or the erhu?" "Only children make choices," Jiang Wei said, swinging his feet under the table. "I want both."