His favorability ratings were all in the single digits—alarmingly low.
Was this… really okay?
Chi Zhan wasn’t sure what would happen if things continued like this, but a nagging sense of dread loomed over him.
The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. Taking advantage of the moment, Chi Zhan flipped open the NPC Handbook.
He’d spent the past month adjusting to this new life and hadn’t found the time to properly read through it.
…
Clause 256: If the original identity is terminated, the NPC will be reclaimed. In severe cases, subject to disposal.
Disposal?!
Chi Zhan’s heart gave a violent jolt.
The consequences sounded… genuinely dire.
Zhou Yanxing finished his shower and stepped out, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. As expected, Chi Zhan was still in the room, probably engaged in some silent self-reflection. Zhou Yanxing raised an eyebrow.
To be fair, Chi Zhan was exceptionally competent. Zhou Yanxing had gone through over a dozen secretaries, and none had performed with Chi Zhan’s combination of precision, professionalism, and calm temperament. He wasn’t some clueless newbie fresh out of school, nor was he overly slick. Occasionally, that inexperience showed through, but it was never egregious.
What irritated Zhou Yanxing the most was how soft Chi Zhan was—always agreeing with everyone, never willing to offend, inevitably turning himself into a human buffer. Even when squashed in the middle, he’d go out of his way to justify the other person’s actions.
This time, Zhou Yanxing was determined to make him understand just how dangerous it was to let all these shady people linger in the company.
“President Zhou,” Chi Zhan said, shaking out a crisp shirt and smoothing the wrinkles. “Shall I help you dress?”
“…No need.”
He took the clothes without a second glance at Chi Zhan. Still damp from his shower, steam clung to his skin as he moved. His broad, bare back was muscular—firm without being bulky, radiating strength and aesthetic appeal.
It was no exaggeration to say that the highest beauty stats in the entire world were maxed out on Zhou Yanxing. Chi Zhan wasn’t attracted to men, but he couldn’t help sneaking a glance.
‘He’s… seriously huge.’
Jealousy, perhaps.
“Enjoying the view?” Zhou Yanxing asked flatly without even looking up.
“……”
Caught red-handed.
Zhou Yanxing was still radiating residual warmth from the shower. His shirt hung open, unbuttoned, with no sign of a tie, revealing glimpses of firm chest muscles beneath the thin fabric. His hair was damp, clinging slightly to his forehead as he gave it a few careless swipes, clearly lacking the patience for anything more.
The phone rang again.
“I’ll dry your hair,” Chi Zhan offered quickly.
Zhou Yanxing glanced at the caller ID and answered with a casual, “Mn.” He leaned against the wall and said, “Grab a tie too. I’m heading out later… Hello?”
Chi Zhan wasn’t about to miss this chance to earn some goodwill. He grabbed a towel and stepped closer. Zhou Yanxing’s hair wasn’t particularly short—his stylist maintained a precise “business elite” cut for his magazine spreads and TV interviews.
Of course, judging by Zhou Yanxing’s personality, he cared more about market trends than hairstyle. Still, this probably catered to the players’ desire to romance a CEO who always had a trendy cut ready at all times.
For guys, drying hair was usually a quick task. Chi Zhan tossed the towel aside and began buttoning the top of Zhou Yanxing’s shirt.
Zhou Yanxing was still on the phone, so Chi Zhan slowed his breathing and made his movements gentle and precise, careful not to touch him more than necessary.
Still, some contact was inevitable.
‘His chest muscles are insane. What kind of workout does he do?’
Zhou Yanxing had no tolerance for overpowering scents—even his body wash was a plain, understated mint. Yet that crisp freshness, warmed by his skin, subtly permeated the room, faint and intimate.
It was his scent.
This lounge was Zhou Yanxing’s private domain—Chi Zhan rarely entered it. But now, the overwhelming presence of his masculine aura made Chi Zhan feel… oddly uncomfortable.
As he tilted his head slightly, he realized Zhou Yanxing was watching him. There was something unspoken in those deep, dark eyes.
Chi Zhan raised his brows in silent question but, wary of the phone call, didn’t speak.
Zhou Yanxing didn’t explain either. He simply cast him a fleeting glance and returned to his call as if nothing had happened.
It sounded like he had a dinner meeting tonight.
After some thought, Chi Zhan pulled a discreet, dark-toned tie from the wardrobe and began knotting it around Zhou Yanxing’s neck.
This was the first time they’d been in such close proximity. Usually, Zhou Yanxing had no trouble dressing himself—Chi Zhan never had to do this for him.
Chi Zhan was quick at tying his own ties, but doing it for someone else…
Naturally, he fumbled.
Zhou Yanxing ended the call, glanced down at the mangled, scrunched-up tie around his neck, and said coolly, “Secretary Chi, do you have a problem with me?”
***
In the end, Zhou Yanxing tied the damn thing himself.
Chi Zhan cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure.
“Apologies, President Zhou. It won’t happen again.”
Of course. Just his luck—handing Zhou Yanxing yet another excuse to fire him, neatly wrapped and gift-ready.
A few seconds passed before Zhou Yanxing gave a noncommittal, “Mn.”
His tone was flat, emotionless—yet somehow, it still managed to sound like thinly veiled displeasure.
Chi Zhan’s nerves stretched taut, bracing for the dreaded words: You’re dismissed. Go settle your final paycheck.
But Zhou Yanxing let it go. He simply instructed him to make arrangements for a dinner meeting that evening.
Chi Zhan quietly took his leave.
Back in the room, Zhou Yanxing leaned against the headboard, his thoughts drifting. Secretary Chi always carried a subtle, pleasant scent—so faint it only revealed itself up close, brushing past the tip of his nose like a whisper before fading away.
Something like sweetened sandalwood… no, not quite. More like freshly roasted tea leaves—warm, mellow, and lingering in a way that teased the senses without overwhelming them.
Lately, Zhou Yanxing had been unusually irritable.
Just the other morning, someone had “accidentally” crashed into him during his run. Thankfully, his reflexes kicked in, and he dodged in time. But the person still stared up at him, teary-eyed, like he was the one in the wrong.
Utterly baffling.
Then there was his mother, who had resumed her weekly matchmaking crusade. The list had ballooned into three full A4 pages. Zhou Yanxing had stared at it in disbelief—he’d honestly thought she was brainstorming baby names for his older sister’s newborn.
