“Even if he doesn’t love me, I still won’t let go,” Cen Chi said calmly. “I’ll stay with him until the day I die.”
“……”
Cen Chi glanced over at him. There was a depth to that look, something heavy and unreadable lurking beneath the surface. But almost immediately, he picked up his phone, smiled at Chi Zhan, and asked, “Another match?”
He was smiling, yet something about him tugged at Chi Zhan.
Was love like this still possible in the world—so pure, so absolute? Admittedly, it bordered on obsession, but if the one on the receiving end was a player, then… Chi Zhan figured it wasn’t so bad.
Players these days were all about the thrill. Domineering CEO wallpaper love, brooding doctor intense love, younger wolfdog diamond love, e-sports god overwhelming love…
Basically, the more dramatic, the better. Maximum melodrama or bust.
“This,” the System chimed in, “is the soul of the game. That’s exactly how this world is built. Once the male lead’s affection for you surpasses a certain threshold, it triggers their ‘second personality’—a darker side marked by obsession, greed, and delusion. You could call it a ‘blackened’ transformation.”
Chi Zhan didn’t quite understand.
“Wouldn’t that kind of love scare them off?”
“The whole point of entering the game is for the thrill. If the male lead were just a regular guy, what fun would that be? It’s a game, so players get to experience emotions they’d never touch in the real world. Love so deep it’s life or death, separation anxiety so intense he can’t bear to be apart for even a moment, and of course—dramatic wall-pinning kisses.”
Chi Zhan couldn’t relate, but he had to admit—it was thrilling. And thankfully, he wasn’t the one being pursued.
As just a bystander NPC, he was more than happy to spectate from the sidelines, cheering them on like a support character should.
“I’m rooting for you,” Chi Zhan nodded. “You’re definitely going to win him over.”
“I’ll take that blessing.”
A server approached with the appetizer—a bowl of soup placed between the two of them.
Inside the bowl… were two spoons.
“…?”
As the server turned to retrieve more dishes, Chi Zhan asked with a frown, “Why is there only one bowl of soup?”
The menu had clearly said the set was for two.
The server smiled.
“Don’t worry, it’s a full two-person portion, just served in one bowl. We never skimp.”
“……”
That wasn’t the problem here.
Then came the main courses—each one a single dish, a single bowl, a single plate. The salad was heart-shaped. The dessert’s whipped cream was heart-shaped. Even the spoons were shaped like hearts.
“…………”
How were they supposed to eat this?
Cen Chi clearly hadn’t expected this either. He gave Chi Zhan an apologetic look.
“I didn’t realize their set menu was like this. I’ll ask them to change it to a regular meal.”
Before Chi Zhan could respond, Cen Chi had already flagged down the server and requested a switch. The server seemed a bit caught off guard—probably had never encountered this kind of reaction before—but quickly gave a polite bow.
“Is there something wrong with the dishes? I’ll remove them right away.”
“What happens to them?”
“If a guest sends back a dish, we either throw it out or the staff buy it themselves,” the server explained.
Chi Zhan had just looked over the menu. This place was known for its couples’ set meals—priced higher than usual, and honestly not very cost-effective. He doubted any of the staff would shell out for it. And the food wasn’t even made wrong—it just looked a little too… romantic. Sending it back felt like a waste.
“Forget it,” Chi Zhan told the server. “Just bring us another set of utensils. No need to replate anything.”
It was just a matter of sharing. No need to make a fuss. But after speaking, Chi Zhan realized he hadn’t asked for Cen Chi’s opinion.
Dr. Cen didn’t seem like the type to share food.
“Let’s go with what Ah-Zhan suggested. Sorry, I should’ve thought this through.”
Chi Zhan shook his head.
“You didn’t know either… I just think food is precious. No need to waste it.”
Cen Chi nodded.
“Agreed. I cherish food too. I won’t waste any.”
His earnest attitude made Chi Zhan feel like his earlier tone might’ve been too harsh. He quickly added, “I wasn’t criticizing you—sorry if it came off that way.”
“It’s fine,” Cen Chi replied gently. “I like you like this too, Ah-Zhan.”
“To apologize for the oversight, allow us to offer you both a complimentary drink,” the server said, returning with two glasses of wine.
Chi Zhan was relieved—it wasn’t just one glass.
Sometimes, he suspected the programmer behind his code had been a real penny-pincher. Despite earning a decent salary, he never spent on anything extravagant—always choosing the most cost-effective option. Aside from occasionally tipping too much during Seven’s livestreams, he spent most of his time saving.
But… he really did want to buy a place of his own someday. Maybe his whole NPC persona was meant to be…
A hardworking, frugal, house-hunting corporate drone?
“……”
What a painfully ordinary backstory. You could find characters like that on every street corner.
So why was he the special one?
No matter how much he thought about it, Chi Zhan couldn’t figure it out.
When the new utensils arrived, they barely fit on the small table. With just enough room for a side plate, Chi Zhan fumbled with his knife and fork. The moment either of them moved, their elbows brushed. Dividing the food ended up being more trouble than it was worth.
“I don’t mind,” Cen Chi paused and looked at him. “Do you?”
Chi Zhan was busy trying to slice the steak.
“I don’t, I just didn’t want you to—hey!”
He bumped his head against Cen Chi’s by accident and jumped.
“Sorry…”
“I don’t mind either,” Cen Chi said, rubbing his forehead with a chuckle. He actually looked amused. “So what exactly are we doing?”
Right. This whole effort to separate the food had been totally unnecessary.
Chi Zhan and Cen Chi looked at each other and burst out laughing. In the end, they just shared the dishes on the tiny table. Dr. Cen’s dining posture was as elegant as ever, and Chi Zhan, without realizing it, began to mirror that same grace.
It was kind of magical.
