Chi Zhan was utterly baffled.
“President Zhou, why are you giving me a watch all of a sudden?”
“There’s a tracker inside,” Zhou Yanxing replied with a half-smile that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m not like Cen Chi—he always plays dirty. You didn’t even notice when he put a tracker on you. Be careful, or he’ll eat you alive.”
“…That’s not necessary, is it? This was just an accident. I’ll be more careful next time.”
“Chi Zhan,” Zhou Yanxing sat comfortably in a single-seat sofa off to the side, fixing Chi Zhan with a leisurely gaze. “Is it only if Cen Chi gives you something that you’ll accept it?”
“This has nothing to do with that,” Chi Zhan replied, hearing the tone in Zhou Yanxing’s voice and knowing full well he was about to start with his usual backhanded sarcasm. “Fine, I’ll take it. Thanks, President Zhou. Just deduct it from my salary.”
“I didn’t give it to you,” Zhou Yanxing said incredulously. “At best, it’s a loan. You planning to wear a tracker for the rest of your life?”
—Wasn’t that exactly what he meant?
Chi Zhan thought silently. As long as Zhou Yanxing didn’t fire him, he’d probably stay on as his secretary for the rest of his life.
Chi Zhan didn’t say anything, and Zhou Yanxing didn’t push further either. The room fell into sudden silence—a quiet that made the air between them feel oddly tense.
Moments like this—silent, simply staring at each other—were rare between them.
Chi Zhan was the first to avert his gaze.
He was just about to find an excuse to leave when Zhou Yanxing suddenly asked, “Back then… you heard my voice, didn’t you?”
His tone revealed nothing.
Chi Zhan thought for a moment, then lowered his eyes.
“Yeah. But I couldn’t speak at the time.”
Looking back now, the memory was fragmented and chaotic, like a distorted vortex. Darkness. Strange voices. Snippets of conversation, mixed with unclear sounds of intimacy and that person’s intent—it was all like broken shards pieced together into a jumbled mess, impossible to recall fully.
“What did he do to you? If you don’t want to say, that’s fine.”
Under normal circumstances, he’d have been terrified. But because he’d been drunk, his emotions and senses were dulled. Remembering it now, what stood out most was how strangely calm he’d been at the time.
Chi Zhan assumed Zhou Yanxing wanted to reconstruct the scene. He stepped forward and gestured vaguely, raising a hand to hover lightly over the lower half of his face.
“Like this.”
“And then?”
Maybe it was the closeness, but Chi Zhan could feel the other man’s breath warming his palm—like a breeze tinged with a tingling sensation.
Chi Zhan lowered his head slightly, his voice unconsciously softening.
“And then… like this.”
Chi Zhan was standing, Zhou Yanxing seated—the height difference between them quite obvious. Zhou Yanxing tilted his head up just slightly, gazing at him.
It was the first time the mighty President Zhou looked up at him from below.
Their proximity narrowed further. The sharp, heavy scent of Zhou Yanxing’s cologne had faded, replaced by a richer, deeper woodsy note. It was less aggressive now, more grounded, more… composed.
There was even a hint of sweetness, faint and elusive—like a wisp of smoke, or the subtle nutty scent of a pine seed. So subtle that if you weren’t paying attention, it would slip right through your fingers.
As Chi Zhan leaned in, that fragrance brushed past his senses, causing him to halt.
All he’d meant to do was recreate what had happened—but why did it suddenly feel…
The longer this went on, the more intimate the atmosphere became. But Zhou Yanxing didn’t move, nor did he speak. When he noticed Chi Zhan pause, he raised an eyebrow.
“That’s it?”
“N-Not quite,” Chi Zhan struggled to dredge up broken fragments of memory and said uncertainly, “After that, he made another move.”
He leaned in again. As he bent forward, the collar of his shirt dipped, revealing the delicate lines of his collarbone. Unaware, he lightly brushed the back of his hand with his lips.
That small motion pulled them abruptly into a deeply personal zone—an invisible boundary where even the most subtle intrusion would trigger discomfort in most people.
“That person probably knew some oral tricks,” Chi Zhan muttered, pulling back slightly to open up the space between them again. He furrowed his brows in thought. “He mimicked kissing with practiced ease—might’ve been a professional performer or—”
Whether it was Chi Zhan’s unsteady movement or Zhou Yanxing shifting forward a bit, Chi Zhan suddenly felt something soft and warm press against his palm—
He had actually touched Zhou Yanxing’s lips.
Just a light brush, but unmistakable.
Chi Zhan pulled back at once.
“Sorry, President Zhou, I didn’t mean to.”
No one had ever dared push their luck this far—touching Zhou Yanxing of all people. Chi Zhan had officially become the first crab-eater.
Yet Zhou Yanxing didn’t seem angry. His dark pupils held a depth like an unfathomable lake.
“When he did that… you didn’t see what he looked like?”
“I could only make out a vague silhouette. My eyes were covered.”
“Your wrists too?”
“…Yeah.”
The red marks on Chi Zhan’s wrists were faint but visible. That person hadn’t tied them tightly, but Chi Zhan’s skin was pale—any pressure left marks that lingered for hours.
That thin red line looked especially jarring against his skin.
Zhou Yanxing stared at his wrist for a long while before finally looking away.
“I see.”
“Looks like I’ll need to teach you some self-defense,” he said lightly. “Can’t have you getting abducted by every shady bastard that comes along.”
Chi Zhan’s palm was still warm.
Zhou Yanxing’s lips… were surprisingly soft.
So even the fearsome Demon King Zhou wasn’t that different from a regular person.
“Hold still,” Zhou Yanxing instructed, picking up the watch and fastening it around Chi Zhan’s wrist. He murmured, “Why is it still this thin…”
His fingertips brushed against Chi Zhan’s wrist to secure the band. The cool metal clasped snugly around his skin.
By the time Chi Zhan came back to himself, the watch was already on.
From his angle, he could only see the high arc of Zhou Yanxing’s brow and the sharp bridge of his nose—features sculpted like a blade, cold and cutting, capable of wounding with the slightest touch.
And yet, his hands were incredibly gentle.
Chi Zhan found himself oddly unaccustomed to this softer side of Zhou Yanxing.
