After Becoming Arch-Enemies with My Best Bro - Chapter 9

Even though He Chenshuang hadn’t given a direct answer, Wen Huihan already had his answer from the man’s attitude.

He had a sudden realization: it was just as he thought. He Chenshuang really didn’t see him as a true brother. Now, everything made sense. Their “brotherhood” was nothing but a castle made of sand. He felt lucky to have seen through the facade before being misled any further.

Since he was already mentally prepared, he didn’t feel disappointed. Instead, it only strengthened his resolve to walk the path of the wicked villain.

Just you wait, He Chenshuang. You’ll be crying for mercy soon enough.

They played a few more rounds. Wen Huihan never drew the King card, though he and He Chenshuang were picked by others a few times for various mini-games. Everyone kept things tasteful; the penalties were simple and fun, mostly designed to keep the energy up.

Just as Wen Huihan was about to give up hope, he finally drew the Joker.

He felt a surge of secret joy. Hard work really did pay off! He’d been waiting for this exact chance, and he’d seen it clearly: He Chenshuang had drawn the Ace of Hearts.

Wen Huihan cleared his throat. “Alright. Ace of Hearts show us your browser search history.”

“Who is it? Who’s the Ace?”

“Oof, if you don’t have a habit of clearing your history, this is going to be a social suicide mission.”

“Speak for yourself. My history is spotless.”

“Are you the Ace?”

“No.”

“Then shut it!”

Amidst the playful jeering, Wen Huihan glanced casually at He Chenshuang. The man’s posture wasn’t as rigid as it had been at the start of the night; he was leaning back against the sofa in a relaxed, effortless pose.

He squinted his eyes, meeting Wen Huihan’s gaze. There was a flicker of something new in those usually calm eyes, and he raised an eyebrow slightly.

Others might not have understood the look, but Wen Huihan knew exactly what it meant. He was saying: “Trying to set me up?”

Wen Huihan smiled back: You’re damn right I am!

“Here.”

He Chenshuang let out an unreadable chuckle, unlocked his phone, opened the browser, and displayed his history for everyone to see.

The group huddled around, heads bumping into each other. Some shouted “Legend!” and “Wow, let me see!” while others started reading the entries aloud.

“NRICH Math Library… AMC Competition Site… Stanford Online. How many days is a TikTok ban for reporting vulgar content.”

As the list went on, the room fell into a mix of stunned silence and shock.

“A scholar is a scholar, man. Everything is so academic. Let me take some notes.”

“So righteous, too. Always reporting the low-quality stuff.”

“He’s like a breath of fresh air.”

“Looking at this makes me want to go back to the library right now.”

“Brother He, are you secretly a TikTok moderator?”

Wen Huihan: 

He Chenshuang is truly terrifying. How can anyone have a search history this wholesome?

Even Wen Huihan occasionally searched for things like “Is a headache a sign of cancer?” or “Why do marmots’ noses make noise?” or even “How many years in prison for beating up a roommate?” Why didn’t He Chenshuang have anything like that?!

Villainous plan another epic failure.

Ultimately, Wen Huihan reached one conclusion: He Chenshuang was simply not a normal human being.

After about a dozen rounds of the game, it was time for the birthday song and cake. Wen Huihan quickly forgot his frustrations, grabbed the KTV mic, and sang with more gusto than anyone else.

Since He Chenshuang was sitting right next to him, he took the brunt of the “magic damage.” It wasn’t that Wen Huihan was a bad singer—he actually had a great natural tone—it was just that he was incredibly loud, which was a serious burden on the eardrums.

“A regular ‘Crossover King’ over here,” He Chenshuang remarked dryly after a song ended.

Wen Huihan: “You clearly don’t know me. Before I wanted to be an e-sports pro, my dream was to be a singer.”

“Mm. It’s a good thing you didn’t stick with it. The Chinese music industry would have been finished.”

“Get lost. Just admit you’re jealous.”

Wen Huihan had rationalized it all now: no matter how cutting He Chenshuang’s words were, they were just born from deep-seated envy. A man’s jealousy is truly a frightening thing.

“So what’s your dream? Let’s hear it,” Wen Huihan asked casually, planning to let He Chenshuang speak so he could ruthlessly mock him.

He Chenshuang: “To be a music critic. And in my spare time, I’ll go to your e-sports base and cook for you.”

Wen Huihan: “Not only would the music industry be over, but the e-sports world would face a cataclysm.”

More importantly, he felt he was more likely to be poisoned to death by He Chenshuang’s cooking.

The A-University dorms had a curfew, and the dorm matron wasn’t known for her mercy, so they didn’t stay out too late. They ended the party just in time.

When they returned to the dorm, Ying Xunshun and Zhao Zhao were still burning the midnight oil. They exchanged quick greetings before Wen Huihan, feeling like his body was falling apart after such an eventful day, took a quick shower and collapsed onto his bed.

Remembering he had to go to the gym tomorrow, he crawled back up with bleary eyes to message Vincent and book a time. He sent it quickly, without checking, and fell back onto his pillow, out cold.

On the other side of the room, He Chenshuang was looking up some data on his phone when Wen Huihan’s profile picture popped up. He glanced at Wen Huihan’s bed, wondering what couldn’t wait until morning, and tapped the message.

Blackened: Brother Wen, I’ll be there tomorrow morning on time. 

Blackened: Cheers to our ‘Double-Door Refrigerator’ plan!

He Chenshuang frowned. He quickly realized Wen Huihan had sent this to the wrong person. Though he didn’t know how he’d managed it, it was clearly meant for that fitness trainer from the mall.

A ‘Double-Door Refrigerator’ plan?

He Chenshuang was vaguely aware of the online slang for a broad-shouldered, muscular physique. Was Wen Huihan really trying to become that?

It wasn’t unusual for guys to work out; He Chenshuang had his own morning run routine. He hadn’t thought much of Wen Huihan’s gym visits initially. But knowing Wen Huihan as well as he did, the guy was simple—if he did something, there was always a clear motivation behind it.

He used to be able to read him like a book. Now, he found himself a bit stumped.

He Chenshuang stared at the text. For the first time, he felt that Wen Huihan had a secret—and a person to share it with that didn’t include him.

He clicked on Wen Huihan’s Moments, trying to find a lead on his friend’s current logic. Wen Huihan loved sharing his life, usually posting once a day. The sheer volume of recent posts caught He Chenshuang off guard.

As he looked closer, He Chenshuang fell silent.

To build his “gloomy villain” persona, Wen Huihan had been posting “edgy” captions every few hours, set to be visible only to He Chenshuang.

If I am happy, it doesn’t matter who suffers. 

My personality is terrible, but at least my face is cute.

This damn life is suffocating! I shall watch the world vanish in silence.

 Congratulations, you’ve been targeted by me. Wait quietly for your end. 

Sunglasses Emoji

I will be watching you… forever! 

Fully Blackened. Do not disturb.

He Chenshuang: 

Maybe I’m overthinking it, he thought. Maybe he just has a screw loose.

Early the next morning, Wen Huihan woke up and realized he’d accidentally sent his message for Vincent to He Chenshuang.

It’s all because of that stupid reminder note!

Vincent’s contact name had a “TT Fitness” prefix. He must have been too tired last night to see the difference. Plus, their profile pictures were somewhat similar: He Chenshuang’s was a photo Wen Huihan had taken of his back under a maple tree, while Vincent’s was also a back shot just with a lot more muscle.

At a quick glance… they were similar.

He stole a look at He Chenshuang. The man had just finished washing up and was quietly tidying his desk. His handsome face was calm, showing no signs of any particular emotion.

He Chenshuang had definitely seen the message, but since he hadn’t asked, he probably hadn’t thought much of it.

Wen Huihan let out a sigh of relief. He messaged Vincent to confirm the time and immediately changed He Chenshuang’s contact name back to normal. This “reminder note” trick wasn’t for him. It only worked for He Chenshuang because his chat list was so short. For a social butterfly like Wen Huihan, it was a recipe for disaster.

Just after changing the name, Wen Huihan noticed he had dozens of unread notifications on his Moments.

What the hell? Did I go viral?

He clicked in, only to find that every single notification was a reply from He Chenshuang, sent in the middle of the night.

If I am happy.. He Aotian: Who upset you this time? Does that include me?

My personality is terrible. He Aotian: You have a pretty deep misunderstanding of yourself.

This damn life is suffocating.  He Aotian: If you feel suffocated, your shirt might be on backward. I suggest checking.

Congratulations, you’ve been targeted. He Aotian: I tried copying this into a shopping app, but nothing happened.

I will be watching you. He Aotian: Fine. If you look away for a second, I’m holding you responsible.

Fully Blackened. Do not disturb. He Aotian: Okay. Goodnight.

Wen Huihan: 

Seriously, is there something wrong with He Chenshuang?

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