Being able to naturally bring up having a boyfriend—just like that—meant he could finally let his romance target give up hope.
After saying it, Chi Zhan felt like he’d completed some monumental task. He let out a deep breath, as if the boulder weighing on his chest had vanished. Picking up his fork, he took a bite of cake.
“Mm.” Cen Chi picked up a wet wipe and slowly cleaned his fingers—even though there wasn’t a trace of frosting on them. “Is he a gamer too?”
Chi Zhan gave a vague hum of agreement, anxiety rising again. He just hoped Cen Chi wouldn’t start probing for details, since he and Song Guang hadn’t coordinated their story at all.
“I see… Does Zhou Yanxing know?” Cen Chi’s tone cooled a little. “He should, right? He seemed pretty pissed off last time.”
Chi Zhan’s heart gave a sharp jolt. He didn’t respond.
“It’s pretty obvious Zhou Yanxing likes you,” Cen Chi said with a faint smile, murmuring to himself, “…No wonder he was mad.”
“He only just found out,” Chi Zhan muttered. “But it won’t affect work. It’s not important.”
Watching Cen Chi’s expression, he could at least confirm one thing—Zhou Yanxing hadn’t told Cen Chi that he had a boyfriend.
“It really isn’t important.” Cen Chi smiled lightly and picked up his phone. “Wouldn’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting. Let’s finish the match.”
Chi Zhan wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but when Cen Chi said “your boyfriend,” it sounded… weird.
Like he was forcing himself to stay composed. Like there was emphasis where there shouldn’t be.
“That room you pulled me into last time—he wasn’t there, was he?”
“No. That time I was playing with President Su and the others. He wasn’t around.”
Chi Zhan was a little surprised—he hadn’t expected Cen Chi to remember something from that long ago. That had been a five-man team with him, Zhou Yanxing, Su Ran, and Seven.
The game started. The other two teammates had already headed to their lanes, and when Chi Zhan glanced down, he noticed that Song Guang hadn’t moved either. Instead, he was circling around Chi Zhan, and a speech bubble popped up above his head.
Song Guang: confused cat face.jpg
Chi Zhan replied with an emote of his own: cat face go get ‘em.jpg
Then he sprinted off toward his assigned lane.
So that was a couple emote.
Cen Chi saw everything.
Matching speech bubbles, matching expressions… They were clearly very familiar with each other.
No wonder Zhou Yanxing had looked so sour that day—and said all those strange, cryptic things. This was what he’d been holding back.
He’d been waiting… waiting to see him lose control.
A strange situation unfolded in the match.
Cen Chi, playing support, stuck to the jungler like glue. Meanwhile, Song Guang’s mage followed suit. When they reached the buff zone, Chi Zhan thought Song Guang wanted the buff, so he left half of it for him. But Song Guang blocked his path, another speech bubble popping up.
Song Guang: It’s for you.
Chi Zhan: You need mana. You take it.
Song Guang: It was always meant for you.
Chi Zhan: Uhh…
“Oops, sorry,” Cen Chi’s voice came from beside him. “You guys weren’t taking it, so I accidentally got it.”
Cen Chi had taken the blue buff. His support character, the Little Sprite, blinked innocently at them.
“No worries! There are other monsters we can kill.”
He continued clearing the jungle with Little Sprite. A moment later, a teamfight broke out in the mid lane. Everyone rushed to help. The clash was fierce. Chi Zhan gritted his teeth and fought through it. But when the dust settled—only Song Guang had died.
The Sprite’s ultimate hadn’t gone to the mage.
“I thought he was strong,” Cen Chi said apologetically. “Didn’t think he needed healing.”
“It’s fine! Mages are glass cannons anyway.”
After respawning, both the mage and the Sprite returned to base. They didn’t say a word to each other, just stood there in silence… until Chi Zhan came back to life, and then they walked off together, side by side, arm in arm.
Totally normal…
Yeah, right.
Why did the atmosphere feel so incredibly awkward right now?
Could someone please tell him what the hell was going on?
In Chi Secretary’s mind, a tiny stick figure version of himself was crying dramatic anime tears.
Was this… was this the legendary case of a best friend not getting along with the boyfriend?
He’d heard the saying before—friendship could be jealous of romance. But he never thought Cen Chi would be the jealous type. It all felt so surreal, and too awkward to bring up directly.
Once the match ended, Chi Zhan immediately disbanded the team. He messaged Song Guang privately, saying he was eating and would play more later. Then he turned to Cen Chi.
“Let’s eat first—it’s getting cold.”
Cen Chi gave a soft “mm.” Watching Chi Zhan type busily away, clearly chatting with someone, he smiled faintly, something self-mocking in his expression.
“You seem to really like him.”
“He’s alright,” Chi Zhan said casually, remembering to stick to the backstory in case Cen Chi started asking more questions. “We met through gaming. He looks out for me.”
“You two haven’t met in person?”
“…Once,” Chi Zhan lied. “He’s pretty busy. Doesn’t work locally.”
“Well, if he ever comes over, bring him here to eat. You and I already tested the place—it’s great. You should recommend it to him.”
“If we get the chance.”
After eating, Chi Zhan paid the bill. The two of them walked together along the misty street. The sky was gray and heavy with clouds, blocking the sun. A thick fog had rolled in, reducing visibility. Cen Chi seemed distracted and absent-minded. He accidentally stepped on something and stumbled, and Chi Zhan quickly reached out to steady him.
“Careful—”
Cen Doctor’s hand was cold. Colder than Chi Zhan’s own.
Maybe it was because he’d just been told Chi Zhan had a boyfriend. That’d explain it.
Talking about your relationship in front of someone who might be nursing heartbreak… yeah, that was cruel. Chi Zhan didn’t want to make things worse, so he stayed quiet.
Just as he was about to pull his hand back, Cen Chi suddenly tightened his grip, intertwining their fingers. His palm pressed against Chi Zhan’s, as if trying to absorb his warmth.
“It’s cold,” he said.
Cold was an understatement.
Chi Zhan glanced over. Cen Doctor’s usual fashion sense leaned toward simple black and white—he wore a cashmere sweater underneath, but his outer coat was thin and clearly not windproof. Meanwhile, Chi Zhan had on light innerwear but was bundled up in a slightly bulky down jacket. He didn’t feel cold at all.
