And Sizhui lets himself be drawn closer, half-lidded gaze unwavering, the softest, watermelon-tainted breath puffing across Jiang Cheng's face. He'd known there would be some reaction, but he hadn't expected something so ferociously straightforward. Honestly, what he'd anticipated, was the professor tumbling him off the desk flat onto his ass, and yet—

His lips press tight, teeth clamping down on the ever-shrinking hard-candy, though it somehow does not break. He also knew the rules and of all the ones to break? This was the one he's oh-so-willing to stick his neck out for because something drew him to Jiang Cheng; something he still can't put his finger, but it seems like he's understanding a little more now. First, the response is a faint nod, then he swallows hard a second time before acknowledging, “Yes, professor, I understand.”