Just looking at those few casual photos he’d taken earlier—capturing that soft, cotton-candy warmth in his eyes and the unguarded smile tugging at his lips—Chen Che could tell one thing for sure: Captain Qi definitely had feelings for Secretary Chi.
Qi Song took off his coat and absentmindedly picked up his phone to check his messages. Without even glancing up, he said to Chen Che, “We haven’t gotten to that stage yet.”
That immediately piqued Chen Che’s interest. Qi Song was notoriously private—never talked about his personal life, barely shared his thoughts with anyone. Trying to get a word about his relationships out of him was like squeezing water from a stone. Now that the door was cracked open, Chen Che wasn’t about to miss his chance.
“So what stage are you guys at then?” Chen Che asked eagerly. “You’ve kissed at least, right?”
Qi Song opened the game app and saw a video from CHI. The footage was a bit shaky—it was obvious that Chi Zhan wasn’t used to taking videos. Still, the fireworks in the clip looked even more beautiful than in person. In the background, Chi Zhan’s voice came through in fragments, partially drowned out by the noisy crowd: “Look… there are fireworks going off here.”
Qi Song responded with a sticker: cat head with a heart.jpg.
Then he looked at Chen Che and said flatly, “You’re too nosy.”
“……”
Captain Qi was still the same old Captain Qi. Even in love, the man hadn’t softened a bit.
Qi Song pulled a jade pendant from the pocket of his coat and rubbed it gently between his fingers. The cool stone gradually warmed with his touch.
A gift he hadn’t given.
Maybe… he needed to wait for the right moment.
Perhaps when Chi Zhan finally learned that he was Song Guang.
At that moment, Chi Zhan wasn’t looking at his phone at all. Cen Chi stood beside him, the hem of his trench coat fluttering in the breeze. His side profile was bathed in moonlight, and when he turned his head, the delicate gold chain of his glasses swung ever so slightly, making his refined features seem even more polished and gentle.
The four romance targets all had distinctly different kinds of looks—impossible to compare objectively. Zhou Yanxing’s sharp, masculine handsomeness; Qi Song’s aloof chill; Chu Xingxiao’s rebellious streak; and Cen Chi’s calm, cultured grace.
Of the four, Cen Chi was the hardest for Chi Zhan to read.
He could never quite figure out Cen Chi’s intentions. He often felt like he was being flirted with, but when he examined the behavior closely, everything fell squarely within the bounds of normal social interaction. Even the moments that felt a bit too intimate always came with a perfectly reasonable explanation.
Still, Chi Zhan’s instincts kept picking up on a faint undercurrent of danger beneath it all.
Cen Chi smiled and asked, “Can you close your eyes for a second?”
Chi Zhan hesitated but eventually did.
He felt a brush against his fingers—like someone testing the waters, asking silently if it was okay to hold hands. Chi Zhan didn’t respond. Cen Chi took his hand.
His fingers were cold, and his first instinct was to pull away, but then he heard a soft crackling.
Chi Zhan opened his eyes.
Cen Chi was holding a lit sparkler—keeping it at a safe distance, the tiny firework glowing golden in the dark, bright and playful like a small flame dancing in his hand.
Cen Chi watched the sparkler for a moment before turning back to Chi Zhan. There was a quiet smile in his eyes as he said, “The first time I touched you… I finally understood what color fireworks were.”
Chi Zhan blinked. He had no idea what Cen Chi meant by that.
“Wait… are you colorblind?”
“More precisely. My world’s always been shades of black, white, gray—and red.”
He offered a metaphor.
“It’s probably something like how you see black-and-white movies.”
Chi Zhan was stunned. He’d never noticed before… or rather, in hindsight, the signs had been there.
Cen Chi rarely wore clothes with color. His wardrobe—and even the decor in his home—was all monochrome. Chi Zhan had assumed it was just a minimalist aesthetic. But now it turned out that Cen Chi… literally couldn’t see anything but red?
Chi Zhan couldn’t even imagine what that was like.
“Were you born this way?”
“Maybe,” Cen Chi replied lightly. The sparkler was almost spent, and golden reflections shimmered in his eyes, softening them to a warm chestnut brown. “There’s no record of this condition in medical history. It can’t be explained by basic genetics. But I suspect something else entirely…”
Chi Zhan instinctively asked, “What?”
“Because scientifically speaking,” Cen Chi murmured, “physical touch can’t cure colorblindness—or any disease, for that matter. But the strange thing is… when I hold your hand, my world gains color. Why do you think that is, Ah-Zhan?”
Chi Zhan was silent for a long time. He didn’t know much about medicine, but—
Cen Chi made a compelling point.
What illness could be cured by touch alone? It made no sense. It defied all logic. But then a thought hit him.
This world was never governed by science to begin with. This was a game world—where anything was possible. Whether it was colorblindness, telepathy, or some other supernatural ability or condition, all of it was just “character design.”
Chi Zhan thought it through. It had to be something the System had created—another device to make it easier for players to “unlock” Cen Chi’s route.
If there was one person who could make Cen Chi see in color, then that person would naturally be special to him. Even if Cen Chi started out with zero affection for them, he’d inevitably be drawn to that person, curious about them. And curiosity was always the best way for any romance to begin.
But… why him?
Chi Zhan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He was just a plain old NPC—why would touching him bring color to Cen Chi’s world?
“Have you tried it with anyone else? Maybe someone else could do it too. Like those people you were set up with.”
“I searched for a long time, you know,” Cen Chi said quietly. “Whenever I get close to you, everything around me starts to change—like someone’s gently brushing color onto a black-and-white painting. It’s subtle, like a shade diluted a hundred times in water.”
Suddenly, something clicked in Chi Zhan’s mind.
