“I’ll be right there,” Chi Zhan said to Xiao Wang, then turned to the man beside him. “You should head back first.”
Only then did he remember he was still holding the cat charm and hadn’t returned it to Seven. Flustered, he tried to hand it back, but in the scramble, the chain somehow got tangled in his shirt collar and wouldn’t come loose.
Qi Song gently hooked a finger around the fine chain. He made no move to untangle it. Instead, he lifted his gaze, eyes like a deep pool glazed with a thin layer of ice—step into them, and you might never climb back out.
“Will you come?”
Chi Zhan blinked.
Qi Song was still waiting for an answer to his earlier question.
If he agreed, the consequences would be serious. They’d be streaming—publicly. There was no way Zhou Yanxing wouldn’t find out.
Knowing his temper, Chi Zhan could practically see the fallout already. Probably enough drama to involve the cops.
“Will you?” Qi Song repeated, voice just a shade firmer.
When it came to certain things, he was far more persistent than Chi Zhan had ever realized. If he didn’t get a response, he wouldn’t move on. He’d simply wait—silent and unmoving—until he heard what he needed to hear.
Chi Zhan grew more and more conflicted.
And if he did agree to game with Seven tonight… how would he explain that to Zhou Yanxing? With how clingy he’d become, sneaking off for a game with Seven would be like breaking out of prison.
Qi Song lowered his lashes and didn’t ask a third time. It was as if he already knew the answer.
With a few precise motions, he deftly unhooked the tangled chain from Chi Zhan’s collar.
“Let’s go,” he said calmly. “We should head back.”
He turned to leave, his back radiating a quiet, inexplicable loneliness that made Chi Zhan blurt out without thinking—
“—Did you see us?”
When he returned to the meeting room, most people had already settled in. Chi Zhan slipped into his seat, lowered his gaze, and quietly organized the documents in front of him while softly reporting updates to Zhou Yanxing.
But Zhou wasn’t particularly interested in the meeting notes. His focus was elsewhere.
“You came back with that male streamer?” he asked.
Guilt spiked through Chi Zhan. He murmured an almost inaudible “Mm,” terrified Zhou would start probing. Lying had never been his strong suit—fabricating a story took immense effort, and afterward, his conscience would eat him alive.
Worse, Zhou Yanxing was ridiculously sharp. Without serious acting chops, there was no hiding anything from him.
Chi Zhan had recently realized Zhou was the type who played dumb while scheming everything. He might look like he was letting something go, but he remembered every detail—just waiting for the right moment to throw it all back at you.
Yet this time, Zhou didn’t press.
He tapped his fingers on the desk and said quietly, “After the meeting, I’ll take you out for dinner. How about fish?”
It was rare for him to let Chi Zhan choose.
But Chi Zhan hesitated. He looked like he had something to say.
Zhou caught it all—the hesitation, the subtle shift in expression. He narrowed his eyes, sensing something was off. But time was tight, and the meeting was about to resume. He chose to let it go. For now.
The meeting went smoothly, as expected. Working with Zhou Rui Group was like being handheld by experts—the kind of collaboration that came with concierge-level service. Every detail had already been discussed beforehand; all that was left was finalizing the terms.
Once it ended, people began filing out one by one.
Only four remained: Su Ran, Zhou Yanxing, Chi Zhan, and Qi Song.
Su Ran kept up appearances, calm on the surface—but inside, his mind was racing.
Who the hell is Zhou Yanxing dating?! He’d asked around, talked to other players—no one had a clue.
But with others still present, he couldn’t ask outright. He’d planned to wait until the room cleared and pounce with questions.
Unfortunately, someone else clearly had the same idea.
“Secretary Chi, take care of these files and come see me afterward,” Zhou said.
Chi Zhan had wanted to speak with him, but since Su Ran was still there, he paused and left with the documents instead.
Just before exiting, his peripheral vision caught Qi Song—still seated.
Why’s he staying behind?
The question flitted through his mind, but another colleague came over to ask about the project, and Chi Zhan had to focus.
Zhou turned to Su Ran.
“Anything else, President Su?”
Su Ran forced a smile. He hadn’t paid attention to a word of the meeting—he’d been too stunned, burning with curiosity.
“President Zhou… the person you’re dating… is it Jiang Yi?” he asked in a low voice.
Zhou raised a brow.
“Who’s that?”
“……”
“Didn’t expect you to be such a gossip,” Zhou said coolly. “When we get married, I’ll be sure to send you an invitation.”
Su Ran left the room in a daze.
Now, only Zhou Yanxing and Qi Song remained in the spacious conference room.
Zhou leaned back, casual as ever.
“Still something you want?”
“You wanted me to see it,” Qi Song said at last, voice like a blade of ice. “Didn’t you?”
Zhou replied evenly, “You just happened to be standing there. Whether you were or not doesn’t change the fact—I’m his boyfriend. The question is, what right do you have to say anything?”
“Boy. Friend.” Qi Song repeated each syllable like it had been dragged through glass. His lips thinned into a razor-sharp line. “Chi Zhan’s boyfriend is me.”
Zhou scoffed. “Still putting on the act? He told me everything. You two have no relationship. Just a couple in a game—that’s not real. If you’re trying to cling, at least do it with some dignity.”
Qi Song rose from his seat. Zhou shut his laptop with a snap, unfazed.
“These days, even middle schoolers know online relationships don’t count,” he said flatly. “Have a little self-respect. He has a boyfriend now. Don’t keep hovering around like some tragic leftover. Try walking away with some grace…”
