Be kind, won’t you? Just one bite~
This dog was exactly like its owner, Chi Zhan thought, glancing at Chu Xingxiao again—and became even more certain of it.
Chu Xingxiao rubbed his forehead.
“Dabai, do I ever short you on food? Get down!”
He tugged and dragged the Samoyed away, his voice stern and scolding in the background.
Chi Zhan couldn’t help but smile.
“Was that your package?” Chu Xingxiao asked casually as he returned to the dining area, his gaze sweeping over the still-open box on the table.
“Oh, a keyboard? Looks pretty slick. Didn’t know you were into gaming too, gege.”
His voice had a hint of nervousness.
Chu Xingxiao played games himself and knew a fair bit about gaming gear. One glance was enough to tell—this keyboard was high-end, something not easily bought off the shelf.
“Yeah,” Chi Zhan nodded. “It’s from a friend.”
Friend?
Chu Xingxiao turned back to the package, eyes narrowing slightly.
From what he knew of Zhou Yanxing, that man was a stiff, uptight workaholic—the kind who wouldn’t touch video games with a ten-foot pole. Which meant the gift must’ve come from someone else.
And someone who clearly put a lot of thought into it…
It was getting late, and Chi Zhan, now properly hungry, lowered his head to eat. Between bites, he noticed Chu Xingxiao hadn’t touched his food at all and was simply resting his chin on one hand, watching him.
When Chi Zhan looked up, Chu Xingxiao seemed startled and quickly averted his gaze.
Chi Zhan raised an eyebrow.
“Not eating?”
“Mm… I’m eating now.”
Chu Xingxiao scooped up a mouthful in a hurry, nearly choking in the process. Chi Zhan handed him a napkin.
“By the way, aren’t you an idol? How do you even know how to cook?”
“I’m not really an idol,” Chu Xingxiao muttered, his voice muffled as if the topic annoyed him. “I always wanted to be a singer, but the company wouldn’t let me. They insisted I go down the idol route and keep assigning me a bunch of random gigs.”
He wasn’t trying to make a point—just venting. And Chi Zhan could hear the sincerity in that.
“If you don’t want to follow that path, maybe you can talk to the company.”
“What good would that do?” Chu Xingxiao laughed bitterly. “I’m just a tool to them. Who would actually listen? That old man?”
Chi Zhan blinked.
“Old man?”
“Zhou Yanxing,” Chu Xingxiao scoffed. “He’s twenty-six. Isn’t that old enough?”
It was the first time Chi Zhan had ever heard someone describe Zhou Yanxing like that. He chuckled.
“Twenty-six is still pretty young. You’re only four years younger than him, aren’t you?”
Chu Xingxiao bristled.
“Who’s four years younger? I’m nineteen—”
He cut himself off mid-sentence, but it was too late. Chi Zhan had already heard it.
“I thought you were twenty-two?” he asked suspiciously.
Chu Xingxiao paused, clearly reluctant, before mumbling, “That’s my nominal age.”
Chi Zhan smirked.
“By that logic, I’m twenty-five now.”
“…Fine. I’m twenty by nominal age.”
“So you really are a little brother, huh?” Chi Zhan mused, amused. “That explains your love of rubber duckies and jigsaw puzzles…”
“…???”
Chi Zhan left it there—any more, and judging by that glare, he’d be in danger of getting bitten.
Still, being young really was a blessing.
Chi Zhan reached out and tousled Chu Xingxiao’s hair, suddenly feeling very much like the older brother.
“At your age, you should still be in school. What made you enter showbiz so early?”
Chu Xingxiao went quiet, his expression sinking. “Don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered, eating his noodles silently.
The mood shifted. Chu Xingxiao seemed to wilt like a drooping pup, and all Chi Zhan wanted to do was pet his head and tell him everything would be okay.
“It’s alright,” Chi Zhan said gently. “Things will get better. If you ever need anything, you can come to me.”
Chu Xingxiao looked up, his eyes complicated, lips parting as if he wanted to say something.
Chi Zhan pointed at the corner of his mouth.
“You’ve got sauce there.”
The nation’s favorite top idol—image utterly ruined.
Chu Xingxiao scrambled for a napkin, wiping frantically.
Mortifying.
Chi Zhan’s eyes lit up like he’d discovered a new species.
“Wait, are you blushing? Are you seriously shy?”
“It’s hot!” Chu Xingxiao shouted.
Chi Zhan was still laughing on his way out the door.
This kid was just too much fun—so young, so eager to save face, always trying to act cool and mature… only to blow his cover in the next second.
Being around him made Chi Zhan feel younger too.
“NPC No. 013.”
A robotic voice suddenly spoke.
Startled, Chi Zhan nearly dropped the keyboard he was carrying.
“System? What are you doing here?”
The system was furious. The system was seething.
Its code had all turned into zeroes.
God knew why, but whenever one of the romance targets appeared nearby, its code would short out like a virus had corrupted it—fractured, scrambled. It could barely remember anything beyond being a glorified robot vacuum that swept, mopped, and watered plants all day…
Only today had it finally pieced itself back together. But it couldn’t let an NPC know that.
“I’ve always been here. But your mission… has made no progress. Zhou Yanxing’s favorability toward you has risen again.”
“I promise I’ll make progress soon.”
The system snorted.
“That’s not even the worst part. I’ve got worse news.”
Chi Zhan grimaced.
“There’s something worse?”
The system’s tone grew heavy.
“The system has detected that Cen Chi’s favorability toward you has surpassed the threshold of friendship. In other words…”
“You’ve attracted another romance target.”
“…?”
“Never did the system expect you’d possess qualities so… alluring. It appears we must report your profile to the main server. The bug might be you.”
The robot vacuum whirled in a slow circle around Chi Zhan.
“Thorough analysis is now required.”
