Straight Man Gets Reincarnated into an ABO Novel and Ends Up with His Rival - Chapter 25

After leaving the cafeteria, Wang Bu Po and Fu Jing slowed their steps, the comfort of a full meal making them lazy.

The late autumn sun was softer than summer’s glare. It warmed the chill in the air just enough to make the afternoon pleasant. A breeze swept through the walkway, rustling fallen leaves and dislodging new ones from the branches above.

One yellowish camphor leaf landed right on Wang Bu Po’s head, but he didn’t notice at all. He hummed some tune under his breath, basking in the warmth and peace of the afternoon.

Fu Jing, walking a few steps behind while replying to a message on his phone, looked up to see it. He reached out and brushed the leaf from Wang Bu Po’s hair.

“If you’ve got something to do, go ahead,” Wang Bu Po said, peering over curiously. “I’ll wander around by myself.”

Ever since the temporary mark had stabilized his condition, he’d felt much better. Even if it flared up, he wouldn’t lose control anymore, and if it did get bad, he could always find Fu Jing himself. So, being on his own for a while wasn’t a big deal.

Fu Jing tucked his phone away. “My advisor asked me to help sort out some materials. It might take an hour or two. Do you want to head back first?”

“Eh, no rush. I’ll hang around a bit. When you’re done, we can grab dinner together.”

“Alright.”

And so, they parted ways.

Wang Bu Po wandered for a while. Eventually, tired of walking, he spotted the sports gym as a good place to sit, relax, and kill time, and strolled in without hesitation.

The squeak of sneakers on polished wood greeted him immediately. The sound of a basketball game filled the space, lively and competitive.

He plopped down on one of the front seats, eyes lighting up as he watched two teams battle it out on the court. The team on his left was slightly ahead, their coordination tight and fluid.

One player, his hair tied into a small ponytail, dodged the defenders, jumped high, and dunked cleanly.

“Nice!” Wang Bu Po murmured, eyes sparkling. Watching the match made his own hands itch. When the players went to rest, he walked up and asked if he could join.

The guys took one look at him he didn’t look like an omega, and quickly agreed. They were just a few classes mixing for PE anyway, and he seemed easygoing enough.

A few rounds later, Wang Bu Po was already playing like he’d always been part of their group. During a break, they all sat down laughing and teasing each other.

“Bro, you look kinda familiar. Which department are you from? Haven’t seen you in PE before,” said the ponytailed guy.

“Yeah, same! You’ve got one of those faces, man,” another chimed in, the others nodding in agreement.

“Ah? Familiar? Probably just my average face,” Wang Bu Po grinned, flashing his signature tiger tooth.

“Wait, hold u, aren’t you that Gun God champion? Wang Bu Po?!” one of them suddenly exclaimed.

Wang Bu Po blinked, caught off guard. “Huh, you guys watch that competition too?” Then, with a shrug, he admitted, “Yeah, that’s me.”

The group collectively froze, jaws dropping.

No way.

The Gun God National Tournament might not be a world championship, but since it was founded by the legendary “Time God,” it had huge attention, and the last champion was an omega, the first in history!

Yet this omega had just played basketball with them like one of the guys, laughing, pushing, even slapping shoulders!

“Wait, you’re… an omega?” one of them stammered.

“Yeah, what about it?” Wang Bu Po said casually.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the entire group’s faces flushed bright red, as if someone had painted them with embarrassment.

They exchanged awkward looks, like they wanted to say something but couldn’t form a full sentence.

That was the scene Fu Jing walked into.

A circle of men surrounding Wang Bu Po, some with shirts lifted, others holding out sleeves, while Wang Bu Po happily scrawled something across them with a black marker.

“Alright, next!” he said cheerfully, scribbling his signature while the others grinned like idiots.

Fu Jing’s expression darkened immediately. He strode over, grabbed the marker out of Wang Bu Po’s hand, and snapped it cleanly in two. Black ink splattered across his palm.

The sudden sound made everyone freeze.

Wang Bu Po blinked, startled. He’d texted Fu Jing ten minutes ago. How did he get here so fast? And what was with that expression?

The other guys stared, wide-eyed, unsure what just happened.

“What the hell are you doing?” the ponytailed boy finally demanded.

Fu Jing didn’t answer. His face was unreadable, his eyes locked coldly on Wang Bu Po.

“Sorry, he’s my friend,” Wang Bu Po said quickly, sensing the tension.

He patted his pockets, pulled out a few cookies and a pack of gum, and shoved them toward the ponytailed guy. “Marker’s broken. No cash on me. Here, compensation.”

Then, before anyone could react, he grabbed Fu Jing by the arm and dragged him out of the gym.

The players were left speechless behind them.

Outside, Fu Jing shook off Wang Bu Po’s hand and strode ahead to the sink by the track, scrubbing the black ink off in silence.

Wang Bu Po followed, still confused. What’s he so mad about? he wondered. It’s not like I did anything wrong.

“Well, that was close,” Wang Bu Po muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. “If I hadn’t pulled you away fast enough, they might’ve ganged up on you.”

Then he glanced at Fu Jing’s ink-stained hand, snorted, and couldn’t help laughing out loud.

“Pfft—hahaha! Damn, your hand’s black! You look like you just crawled out of a chimney. hahaha!”

Fu Jing pulled his hand back, lips pressed in a thin line. Even after washing up and cooling off, he still felt strangely frustrated.

“Wait…” Wang Bu Po tilted his head, suddenly realizing something. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Fu Jing froze. “What?”

Wang Bu Po grinned slyly. “You’re upset because I didn’t give you the first signature, right? That’s it!”

He clapped his hands, convinced by his own theory. “You’re my best bro, and I didn’t give you the champion’s first autograph, so you got jealous. Makes sense, makes sense.”

Fu Jing blinked, momentarily stunned by how wrong and yet how effortless that explanation was. After a long pause, he only gave a muffled “Mm.”

And for a brief second, Wang Bu Po looked ridiculously pleased with himself.