“I can’t get close to the romance targets or I’ll be flagged as abnormal,” the system drawled lazily. “As for why you were chosen…”
“…Among Zhou Yanxing’s favorability rankings, yours is the highest.”
***
“Uh…”
Chi Zhan took a deep breath and said sincerely, “You can skip the mind games—I already belong to Zhou Yanxing. I was born his secretary, and I’ll probably die still filing his paperwork. Unless, of course, you plan on assigning me a new boss.”
The system practically screeched in protest: “The system never lies! You’re insulting my code!”
Chi Zhan blinked innocently. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Still, the whole thing sounded like a delusion. Just moments ago, Zhou Yanxing had been ready to fire him.
Chi Zhan asked, “So what’s his favorability toward me?”
As he spoke, he poured himself a glass of water. The roast duck had been delicious, but now it was sitting a little too heavy in his stomach.
The system replied, “I can’t tell you. You’ll get too full of yourself.”
Chi Zhan nearly choked on his water. “Pfft—”
Full of myself? That’s how you’re putting it?
But the more he thought about it, the more it actually made sense. After all, the one who spent the most time around Zhou Yanxing was none other than his secretary. Bringing tea, reminding him of meetings, ordering meals—it was all part of Chi Zhan’s job.
“Among all the NPCs he’s interacted with, you rank number one,” the system said cautiously. “But don’t get the wrong idea. It doesn’t mean he likes you. Don’t forget your role. You’re just an ordinary NPC. Falling in love with a romance target is strictly forbidden.”
“Thanks for the reminder. I’d never fall for him. You can relax. So, what’s next?”
System: “Battery low. Please recharge me. Everything else… can wait until tomor…row… Power exhausted. Please recharge.”
“Huh?”
With a soft beep, the little vacuum robot went dark, completely motionless.
“What the hell?” Chi Zhan gave it a few taps, baffled. The system could run out of battery?
He had no choice but to carry the robot over to its charging dock. Its “eyes” blinked red. Guess that was the end of tonight’s Q&A session.
After all that, Chi Zhan found himself wide awake. He picked up his phone—and saw a message from Zhou Yanxing.
His heart skipped a beat.
Zhou Yanxing had never messaged him after work before. If there was something urgent, he always called. This message felt… out of character.
Could it be…?
[Secretary Chi, report to work on time tomorrow. Tardiness will result in a pay deduction.]
His heart settled right back into its usual rhythm.
Why did he even let himself fantasize? As if Zhou Yanxing would ever send something like, “Thanks for your hard work today. Get some rest.”
Demon King Zhou really lived up to his name.
Even if he won against 99% of the other NPCs, Chi Zhan probably barely scraped into the double digits on Zhou Yanxing’s favorability panel. A few extra points didn’t mean much in the grand scheme.
Chi Zhan replied with a curt: [1]
Ding-dong!
A floating notification popped up on screen.
[Your special follow “WT-Seven” is now live—go check it out!]
Streaming? At this hour?
Chi Zhan instantly opened the livestream app.
One of his latest guilty pleasures had been watching esports streams. He’d always enjoyed playing games, and now he’d discovered that watching others play was just as entertaining.
There were all kinds of streamers—goofy ones, dumb ones, even ones who shamelessly flirted for views. Two grown men playing duos, one calling the other “baby” and getting “honey” in return. All lovey-dovey—until it was time to fight over a kill. Then came the back-and-forth:
“You take it, baby. You deserve the gold.”
“No, you take it. You’re way better than me.”
Chi Zhan watched with a face full of confusion.
These guys… actually gave away kills they worked so hard for?
He could never.
Chi Zhan played games with an iron fist. Every kill and drop he earned was his and his alone. Not even the Jade Emperor could take it from him.
After bouncing between a bunch of high-skill, hardcore streamers, he stumbled into WT-Seven’s channel—and had his eyes opened.
The guy almost never spoke. All you heard was the crisp clack of keys and his god-tier micro—flawless mechanics, impossible 1-HP turnarounds, everything executed with chilling precision. Compared to the others, this streamer was calm to the point of being ice-cold. Win or lose, live or die—he never tilted, never cursed, never rage-smashed his keyboard.
But what truly hooked Chi Zhan wasn’t his gameplay.
It was his hands.
His skin was cool-toned, his fingers slender—long, elegant, and effortlessly graceful, like something carved by an artist’s hand.
He stared at those hands for an hour before realizing he had a thing for them.
The chatroom was especially chaotic tonight. Only then did Chi Zhan realize how famous this streamer actually was. Apparently, he used to be a global esports champion—but for some reason, he’d disappeared for a year and only popped up occasionally on this platform.
Chi Zhan didn’t care much about the guy’s past. He just wanted to watch the stream. Unfortunately, Seven rarely streamed, and each session was criminally short—barely an hour, tops.
Chi Zhan always had bad luck with the timing. He’d either catch the final minutes or find that the match had already ended.
Tonight, the bullet comments were coming in hot:
[Holy shit, Seven’s making a comeback! I’m so hyped I’m petting my dog bald!]
[AAAAAA Qi God go stomp them! Show them who the real king of esports is!]
[I never thought I’d live to see Seven back on the battlefield—I’m crying, y’all!]
The screen was packed with comments, and the gift notification chimes were nonstop. Unfortunately, the app had one flaw—only the top donor could mute the chat. Everyone else had to put up with it.
It was blocking his view of those hands.
Chi Zhan glanced at the donation leaderboard… then gave up.
Not worth it for a stranger.
He’d just have to deal with it.
While fans were going wild in chat, the streamer didn’t say a single word. His character crouched in the brush, fingers flying across the keyboard. Every keystroke was sharp, deliberate, perfect. It was the kind of cold, logical beauty Chi Zhan found irresistible.
This match, Seven was using a character with icy blue hair and a matching cloak—a frosty little prodigy with a snow-themed bow. He could fire hail to freeze enemies in place, then coordinate with teammates to secure the kill.
