For some inexplicable reason… Chi Zhan suddenly thought of Chu Xingxiao.
Even though both voices were clear and bright, the timbre was entirely different—there was no way to mistake them.
“You’re prying into my personal life.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“I wasn’t… It’s just, there was someone before who clearly had a boyfriend but still paid me to tell them bedtime stories. In the end, their boyfriend found out they’d been secretly chatting with a stranger and nearly broke up.”
“What… what?” Chi Zhan sounded incredulous. “That actually happened?”
“Yup. It freaked me out a little. And it’s not like I can fight—if it really came down to that, gege, would you protect me?”
Chi Zhan coughed lightly.
“You’re overthinking it. That kind of situation won’t happen.”
“If you ever want to meet, I’m available anytime.”
“Fill out the form and send it to me first.”
X gave an “Oh,” but didn’t hang up.
Chi Zhan found it a bit odd. He waited for a moment and was just about to end the call when he heard X ask hopefully from the other side,
“…Gege, do I get a goodnight kiss?”
“……”
Chi Zhan replied coolly, “No,” then hung up.
If he had to say it, with X’s unintentional flirtiness, they had a 99.9% chance of accidentally causing someone’s relationship to implode. No wonder people called it a “scumbag voice.”
Only then did he notice a missed video call from Tao Ran. It had already ended by the time he saw it.
Chi Zhan sent over a question mark. Tao Ran instantly replied: Aaaaahhhh Xiao Chi, you have no idea what you just missed!!!
Chi Zhan was completely puzzled. Then Tao Ran sent another video call, which Chi Zhan picked up this time.
The moment the call connected, he heard a lively clamor in the background. The phone camera was shaking, and Tao Ran’s voice came through in a deliberately hushed whisper.
“Xiao Chi, don’t say anything! And definitely don’t scream, or we’ll get caught!”
Chi Zhan grew even more confused, until the camera tilted upward—and he finally saw where this was.
A hotpot restaurant.
The place was bustling with noise and warmth, filled with the golden glow of soft lighting. People were moving about, grabbing ingredients; the bubbling sound of the broth was so vivid that Chi Zhan could almost smell the fragrant steam rising from the pots.
But what exactly was Tao Ran trying to show him?
Tao Ran whispered excitedly, “Look, look—isn’t that your favorite person?!”
“…???”
The camera shook a lot, and the lighting was a bit dim. Chi Zhan squinted at the screen for several seconds before he finally made out who Tao Ran was pointing at…
That person.
It was Seven and his teammates.
Seven was wearing a light-colored turtleneck sweater and fishing for potato slices, clearly struggling a bit. His thin lips were gently pressed together. Despite the shaky footage, Tao Ran’s phone camera was high definition, and Chi Zhan could still make out the finer details—like Seven’s pale, slender fingers, or how his lashes seemed dusted with gold under the light. A highborn flower now touched by mundane fire, he looked impossibly surreal.
Tao Ran chattered excitedly, “We just came out for hotpot, and guess what—WT’s entire team is here too! They’re sitting diagonally across from us! I didn’t used to think he was that good-looking, but seeing him up close? I could hardly breathe. I’m a fan now. A face fan!”
Chi Zhan chuckled. But the next second, his smile froze.
“Hey there, friend.”
Chen Che had somehow circled around from behind, smiling as he addressed Tao Ran.
“Are you secretly filming us? You’ve been recording for quite a while. Mind letting me take a look at your phone?”
“……”
“……”
This was the best hotpot restaurant in the entire province. WT was full of foodies, so naturally, they chose the best spot. Business boomed at night, but thanks to Chen Che’s reservation, they avoided the usual wait.
Unsurprisingly, this place also attracted a lot of livestreamers—people placing their phones on the table for mukbang streams or food reviews. But Tao Ran, who was sneakily filming and not quite filming, stood out like a sore thumb.
Chen Che hadn’t meant to intervene at first, but when that guy just wouldn’t put his phone down—and clearly had no intention of stopping—he couldn’t resist sneaking up to confront him.
Tao Ran quickly flipped his phone face-down.
“I wasn’t filming you guys!”
“You’re clearly panicking. It’s fine to film hotpot, but why are you filming us? We’re not even celebrities.”
“Aren’t you guys from WT…?”
“That’s right.” Chen Che saw Tao Ran walk straight into the trap. “So you do know who we are. Qi-ge, what do we do about this?”
Seven absolutely loathed being filmed without permission. This kind of thing danced right on the edge of his bottom line.
Tao Ran hadn’t expected to get caught and could only watch helplessly as Qi Song walked over.
Chen Che gave Tao Ran’s shoulder a pat.
“It’s him. Phone’s right here, take a look—”
He picked up the phone, glanced casually at the screen, and then froze.
Qi Song took the phone. On the screen, his gaze met Chi Zhan’s.
Chi Zhan was still lying on his bed, wearing a loose, comfy pajama top since the room was warm. As he leaned forward, his pale collarbones and slender neck were exposed.
Qi Song paused.
“Good evening.”
“…Good evening.”
He’d never expected to “meet” Qi Song again in this kind of way. The sheer awkwardness was enough to make him want to die. But the real embarrassment hadn’t even started yet.
“Is this your friend? You’re on a video call—so why is he filming us?”
“That’s… because…”
How was he supposed to explain this? No matter how he phrased it, it would sound wrong.
He didn’t even know Qi Song that well. Their only encounter had been during that one interview, and they hadn’t met since.
Secretary Chi was so flustered he was practically sweating, desperate to explain but unable to come up with a single decent excuse. He was terrified their barely-begun “friendship boat” was about to run aground.
Tao Ran, on the other hand, had no clue about the situation between Chi Zhan and Qi Song. He just assumed Chi Zhan was a regular fan. Seeing him struggle, Tao Ran took it upon himself to shoulder the blame.
“Actually, it’s because my friend’s a fan of yours. He got really excited when he saw you, so I was just sharing it with him.”
