In the kitchen, Cen Chi was busy at work. The pot on the stove bubbled with rolling boils—he was cooking for five, so naturally, he’d added extra.
Having Cen Chi do the cooking made Chi Zhan, as the host, feel more than a little embarrassed. He stepped forward and offered, “Let me take over. You should rest.”
Cen Chi smiled faintly.
“It’s almost done. Don’t tell me you still don’t trust my skills in the kitchen?”
With a casual flourish, he tossed in a handful of noodles. The soft curve of his lips never wavered, and his side profile was near-flawless. The gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose gave him an air of refined elegance—gentle, scholarly, like warm jade.
Cooking, in his hands, looked like a watercolor dream—graceful and soothing.
But all of that was just surface-level.
Cen Chi’s gaze flicked briefly to Qi Song. His eyes dimmed slightly, though his glasses caught the sunlight, reflecting a soft gleam. No one could tell what he was thinking, but something about it set off alarm bells in Chi Zhan’s heart.
Sure enough, Cen Chi’s next words were:
“You’re Ah-Zhan’s boyfriend, right? He talks about you all the time.”
“……”
He never imagined Cen Chi would just say it out loud like that.
Ah-Zhan…
Qi Song had felt something off from the beginning. That nickname… it felt a little too intimate.
According to Chi Zhan, Cen Chi was a doctor—the one who had treated his previous back injury. But instinctively, Qi Song didn’t like him.
Qi Song didn’t show much on his face; he only nodded with a simple, “Yeah.” Only when he looked at Chi Zhan did his expression soften.
Cen Chi chuckled lightly.
“Just a while ago, Ah-Zhan and I—”
Chi Zhan cut him off abruptly.
“Are the noodles done? Any longer and they’ll be overcooked. Better fish them out now.”
The interruption was abrupt and obvious. Cen Chi didn’t say another word, simply shot Chi Zhan a meaningful glance, then turned to strain the noodles.
Qi Song looked a little puzzled. He’d sensed something in that brief pause—something left unsaid.
“It’s all just simple homemade dishes. I’m not sure if it’s to your taste…”
As he spoke, he shoved a bowl into Qi Song’s hands.
“Can you take this over first?”
Qi Song pressed his lips together, said nothing, and nodded. He carried the bowl out.
Only Chi Zhan and Cen Chi remained in the kitchen.
Chi Zhan’s heart pounded in his chest.
“What were you planning to say to him?”
Cen Chi smiled.
“I was just going to mention we happened to run into each other at the pet shop a few days ago. Why are you so nervous?”
How could Chi Zhan not be?
Cen Chi had once told him things like, “I don’t care if you have a boyfriend,” and “Let him come find me if he wants.” Chi Zhan lived in fear that Cen Chi would one day blurt something utterly insane to Qi Song and nuke his social life into oblivion.
“How did you know it was Qi—” Chi Zhan stopped mid-question, realizing how stupid it was.
“Online gaming. Long-distance dating. Rarely meeting in person…The clues are pretty clear. I’ve always paid attention to your affairs.”
In Cen Chi’s eyes, he and Qi Song were still just… dating.
Maybe, for now, he could still keep up the facade. But what about on Qi Song’s end? He’d planned to talk to him about breaking up—how was he supposed to bring that up now?
“Don’t say weird things to him,” Chi Zhan said again, worried. “I’m not breaking up with him. And I’m not getting back together with you. I’m serious.”
“Got it,” Cen Chi replied, voice light and nonchalant as he scooped sauce into bowls. “I won’t tell him. But… I’m not giving up on pursuing you. I’ll wait for you to break up with him on your own.”
Cen Chi seemed to know something.
His words were maddeningly vague, tinged with ambiguity. Just how much he knew—or didn’t—Chi Zhan couldn’t be sure.
But one thing was clear: Cen Chi was confident that he and Qi Song would break up. Was that just cockiness?
Cen Chi wasn’t the type to bluff blindly. He never spoke without reason. Every word, every action seemed casual, but in hindsight always felt calculated—like he’d planned it out, gathered his intel, and only made a move when he was sure of the outcome.
Chi Zhan couldn’t shake a creeping sense of unease.
Cen Chi was a wild card—one that could explode without warning.
Normally, Chi Zhan didn’t have guests. The most he ever did was hang out with Tao Ran now and then. He never imagined he’d end up hosting a five-person dinner party.
The highest-tier romance targets, eating the humblest bowl of zhajiangmian.
Chi Zhan hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside Qi Song. Chu Xingxiao naturally took the spot next to him. Cen Chi sat across from them, and Zhou Yanxing, the last to join, glanced around before picking a seat a little farther from Chi Zhan.
Zhou Yanxing had changed into a black dress shirt and half-dried his hair. With a blank expression, he held a bowl of zhajiangmian… If anyone from the company saw him now, their jaws would hit the floor.
To be fair, Chu Xingxiao’s cooking skills were top-notch. Chi Zhan was stunned from the very first bite.
He’d never had zhajiangmian this good.
The noodles were springy with just the right chew, the sauce rich and savory. The crisp veggie strips added a refreshing contrast that balanced the flavors. There was even a faint hint of sweetness.
Chi Zhan usually found his own cooking bland, but this—this had layers of flavor.
Chu Xingxiao, however, didn’t brag. Seeing Chi Zhan’s shocked face, he actually assumed he didn’t like it and said, “Didn’t come out great this time. Might be a bit salty. Just eat what you can.”
If this was just “okay,” then everything Chi Zhan had ever made might as well be prison food.
“It’s delicious.”
Just as he was focusing on his noodles, he felt a nudge against his leg under the table. He didn’t pay it much mind.
His dining table wasn’t very large—perfectly spacious for two or three, but with five grown men squeezed around it, things were getting a bit cramped.
Chi Zhan kept eating.
“I heard you’ve been crashing at Secretary Chi’s place a lot lately,” Zhou Yanxing said coolly, addressing Chu Xingxiao. “The company didn’t assign you housing?”
Zhou Yanxing had never liked the kid. Always pretending to be harmless, always playing nice. The worst part? Chi Zhan had a soft spot for this kind of act—he’d turn a blind eye and let him get away with everything.
As for this so-called “boyfriend”? Zhou Yanxing had never taken it seriously. Chi Zhan might indulge the kid, but it wasn’t love. That much, Zhou Yanxing could see clearly.
