“……I don’t like you,” Chi Zhan said firmly. “And didn’t you say you didn’t want to stir up any dating rumors? I can arrange for you to meet Zhou Yanxing, but let me be clear—this isn’t something he’s in charge of. You really should be looking into your own agent.”
“I don’t want to fake a relationship with you for publicity,” Chu Xingxiao froze for a moment, realizing that Chi Zhan had misunderstood, and quickly clarified. “I really like you, ge. I won’t ever lie to you again, never,” Chu Xingxiao looked at Chi Zhan with pitiful eyes. “Since you’re single too… could you give me a chance?”
His eyes weren’t pure black—there was a soft amber tint, clear and untainted. The way he looked at him now, all aggrieved and vulnerable, made it hard for Chi Zhan to spit out the words “I don’t like you.”
Even now, at this moment, instead of thinking about how to negotiate with Zhou Yanxing, what was on Chu Xingxiao’s mind… was asking Chi Zhan if he’d date him.
…A romance game’s male lead being hopelessly love-obsessed didn’t seem all that out of place.
Chi Zhan looked away from him and off to the side—his gaze landed on the robot vacuum.
Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind—
Since pretending to be someone’s boyfriend worked, should he keep using that strategy?
But then, if Chu Xingxiao had really believed he was Qi Song’s boyfriend, why hadn’t he given up?
Was it because… Chi Zhan and Qi Song were relatives, so Chu Xingxiao didn’t think it mattered?
His current list of available candidates wasn’t very long. Zhou Yanxing was out—he had already asked Chu Xingxiao to pretend to be a couple in front of him. Qi Song was out too. Tao Ran? Definitely a no-go.
Which left only one reasonable option—
Cen Chi.
Chu Xingxiao barely knew Cen Chi; they’d only met two or three times, with no private interaction beyond that. Even if he lied, it wouldn’t be easy to expose.
But unless it came down to the very last resort, Chi Zhan didn’t want to lie.
Tell one lie, and you have to tell a dozen more to cover it up.
“You should move out,” Chi Zhan avoided the subject of dating entirely and said with a serious tone, “I haven’t forgiven you.”
This time, Chu Xingxiao couldn’t wriggle his way out by acting obedient. He was feeling guilty—even though Chi Zhan didn’t seem that angry, pushing his luck any further would definitely annoy him.
Even his puppy-dog ears drooped. Slowly, he said, “I’ll go pack now, but… Ge, please don’t be mad anymore, okay? If you’re upset, punish me—just don’t take it out on yourself.”
He packed up his luggage, and before leaving, he handed over a Lego model to Chi Zhan.
“This one’s hard to carry. I’ll leave it with you, ge. If you don’t like it, you can throw it away.”
The tiny pieces made Chi Zhan’s head spin just by looking at them. Chu Xingxiao, on the other hand, loved it. He would lose himself in it, piecing it together whenever he had time.
It was only halfway done, and you still couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be.
And yes, models like this weren’t easy to move—any jostle and the whole thing could fall apart. Lose even one tiny part and you’d need a magnifying glass to search the entire floor for it.
Fine. He’d just consider it safekeeping.
Chi Zhan thought that over and agreed to keep it.
Chu Xingxiao clearly didn’t want to leave. Every few steps, he’d turn around, eyes full of desperate hope, like he was waiting for a miracle.
But Chi Zhan didn’t call him back.
Chu Xingxiao’s eyes dimmed. He bit his lip, looked like he wanted to say something, then started walking toward the door—but in the end, he couldn’t help it. He turned back to look at Chi Zhan one more time.
It was only five meters to the door, but he dragged it out like a five-hundred-meter farewell.
He should’ve known, from the moment he lied to Chi Zhan, that this day would come.
But it was just a temporary move. He would come back.
“I’m leaving,” Chu Xingxiao said, suppressing his unease and looking earnestly at Chi Zhan. “Ge, make sure you eat well.”
Click—the door shut softly. The room fell quiet again, and with Chu Xingxiao gone, it somehow felt a lot emptier.
He’d brought in a lot of stuff when he moved in, but left behind just as much. Like that yellow rubber duck, the screaming chicken, a thick deluxe edition of A Brief History of Time, and his denim jacket.
…This guy. What did he actually pack? How do you forget this much?
Chi Zhan couldn’t exactly clean up for him, so he just gathered everything into a box to return once Chu Xingxiao’s place was renovated.
Chi Zhan sat on the couch, turned on the TV out of boredom. It happened to be showing an idol singing competition.
“Our next performer is the genius singer-songwriter, Chu Xingxiao! Please give him a warm round of applause!”
“……”
Chu Xingxiao came onstage with a guitar strapped to his back. The moment his voice echoed through the amplified speakers, vibrating in Chi Zhan’s ears, all sense of awkwardness faded away.
Not just anyone could be called a “genius.”
Even someone like Chi Zhan, who didn’t have a musical bone in his body, found himself drawn into the song.
Chu Xingxiao’s singing voice was nothing like how he spoke. It had a unique texture—something no one else could replicate. When the song ended, thunderous applause broke out across the venue. Yet Chu Xingxiao’s expression barely changed. He stood there and bowed to the audience.
Host: “That was absolutely beautiful. Is this song going to be released soon?”
Chu Xingxiao coolly: “It’ll be out on all platforms in a week.”
Host: “Everyone really loves you. Do you have anything you want to say to your fans?”
Still cool and composed, Chu Xingxiao said, “Thanks for liking me. But don’t spend money—just listen to the music.”
Host: “You haven’t written any love songs so far. Any plans to try that genre in the future?”
Chu Xingxiao: “No. I don’t have the gene for romance. I’m not interested in dating, and I’ve never been in love, so I wouldn’t know what to write.”
Chi Zhan almost spat out his water.
The Chu Xingxiao on TV and the one he knew in real life—how were they even the same person?
And “not interested in dating”—seriously? Was that supposed to be a joke?
