“……”
He hadn’t said a word.
“I never said anything like that.”
Zhou Yanxing ignored him and began inspecting Chi Zhan.
“Come closer. Mm, no visible wounds. Turn around.”
Cen Chi was still watching from the side. To preserve his boss’s dignity, Chi Zhan played along with the act.
“I’m not hurt. That person probably didn’t mean me any harm. They were likely just trying to use me to get to you.”
“No harm?” Zhou Yanxing let out a cold laugh. His tone grew heavier, and though his words came slowly, they carried an unmistakable chill. “You sure about that?”
“Couldn’t we check the surveillance footage?” Chi Zhan suddenly thought of a solution. “I was in the bathroom at the time…”
“The footage was destroyed,” Cen Chi interjected. “But we’ve already gathered some evidence.”
He hesitated, as if debating whether or not to continue.
“You already know who it was?”
Chi Zhan was clearly shocked. Zhou Yanxing let out a snort.
“Cen Chi planted a recording device on you. He caught your entire conversation with that person.”
“……”
A recording device?
Zhou Yanxing exchanged a glance with Cen Chi, his eyes clearly saying: Let’s see how you explain this.
That carefully crafted good-guy image was starting to crack. Now that his fox tail was showing, would Chi Zhan still believe him?
When had Cen Chi planted the device? Why hadn’t he noticed at all? And why go that far?
Chi Zhan was completely in the dark.
“I’m sorry,” Cen Chi admitted frankly. “I did place a tracker and recorder on you. This ship is full of unstable individuals. I was afraid someone might hurt you. One of them, in particular—you know him.”
“Who?”
“Xie Ran. I suspect he’s been watching my every move, but I haven’t found any proof. He always seems to know where I’m going. Outside of work hours, he appears like a ghost—if my guess is right, his personality may have some dark, obsessive tendencies.”
“……”
If he remembered correctly, Xie Ran was a player.
After spending enough time around Jiang Yi, he’d learned a thing or two about players.
For instance, each player had a “System” through which they could purchase items in the “System Shop.” The items came in many types: gacha cards, character information, identity cards, plot cards… even all sorts of special tools.
With enough money, you could do practically anything.
So it was entirely possible Xie Ran had simply bought intel on Cen Chi’s movements and timed his appearances perfectly to raise favorability.
Yet this kind of “coincidence” had been completely misread by Cen Chi as stalking.
“Maybe it really was just a coincidence?”
Chi Zhan made an effort to salvage the players’ reputation. Cen Chi smiled faintly.
“But ever since he met you, every time we’ve ‘accidentally run into’ each other, he’s asked about you—your company address, your home address. It’s hard for me not to suspect he has ulterior motives.”
Even Chi Zhan was stumped now.
“I won’t do anything like that again,” Cen Chi said gently. “I promise.”
Zhou Yanxing let out a scoff at the sight of Chi Zhan’s visibly shaken expression.
Cen Chi was always the smoothest talker among them—could turn black into white with just a few words. A shame he wasn’t in debate. But soon, another, far more serious question occurred to Chi Zhan—
Had they already listened to the recording?
The earlier part wasn’t a big deal. But the later section, after Zhou Yanxing walked in…
It was completely that man’s one-man performance.
No visuals, just sound. It’d be so easy to misinterpret.
Even Chi Zhan, who had been there in the moment, couldn’t help being affected.
“We’re reviewing the recording in detail,” Cen Chi said softly, perhaps sensing Chi Zhan’s tension. “But… if that person appeared in front of you again, could you recognize him?”
Chi Zhan nodded.
“I think so.”
Although his memory was hazy from being drunk—as if half the footage had gone missing—he’d made an effort to remember a few distinctive details.
The man’s voice suggested he wasn’t very old. He had a unique scent, likely from a designer cologne.
He probably worked out regularly—his abs weren’t sharply defined, but his body was firm and toned.
Most importantly, there was a wound on his hand.
A clear bite mark. That alone should make it easy to identify him.
As Chi Zhan thought through it, he shared these details with Cen Chi. And the moment he finished, Zhou Yanxing pulled him away.
“You don’t need me to help look?” Chi Zhan asked, still a bit uneasy.
“Cen Chi’s enough,” Zhou Yanxing said with a sideways glance and a cold snort. “Or… do you hate to leave him?”
“President Zhou, what did Doctor Cen ever do to upset you?”
The tension between Zhou Yanxing and Cen Chi was palpable—every glance sparked like flint, ready to ignite at any second.
Zhou Yanxing didn’t reply. He just shot Chi Zhan a frosty glare. This is all your fault.
Chi Zhan looked utterly lost.
If there were three hundred and sixty-five days in a year, Zhou Yanxing probably spent three hundred and sixty of them in a bad mood. Honestly, it was hard not to blame it on being single for so long.
Back in the room, Chi Zhan splashed his face with water again. His hair was still damp, but the chill helped clear his head. He finally felt more alert than the groggy mess from earlier.
He’d wanted to take a full shower, but his toiletries were still in the other room. He’d have to go back and fetch them.
Just as he stepped out of the bathroom, Zhou Yanxing pulled something from a nearby box and handed it to him.
“Put this on,” Zhou Yanxing ordered, leaving no room for argument. “And don’t take it off—ever.”
It was an exquisitely made watch, with a pristine white band. Chi Zhan, who often bought gifts for business partners, could tell at a glance—it cost enough to cover half a year’s salary.
