When Chu Xingxiao gripped his wrist, Susu felt like his arm was about to snap. He quickly activated a pain-dulling item, tears instantly welling in his eyes.
“The teacher said we have to work in pairs… he’s going to pick people randomly.”
Even with teary eyes, Susu was still the prettiest one in the room by a mile.
Chu Xingxiao’s gaze swept over his face, cold and indifferent.
Susu’s heart clenched. He kept staring up at him with a pitiful expression.
Chu Xingxiao let go and carefully adjusted his scarf.
“Sorry. I don’t like being touched.”
“It’s fine,” Susu said quickly. “You don’t have a partner, right? I’ll team up with you!”
He subtly turned his face, angling his better side—his flawless right profile—toward him.
“Don’t need one,” Chu Xingxiao said flatly. “Go find someone else. Stop interrupting my nap.”
“……”
Wait, that’s not how this was supposed to go. Wasn’t this the moment the target should start falling madly in love with him? Why was he still so ice cold?!
He’s just struggling to express his feelings, Susu told himself. Clearly he’s secretly into me! I’ll just have to take the lead.
He pressed again.
“Performance classes are graded, you know. If we fail, they’ll make us take extra lessons.”
Chu Xingxiao gave him another glance.
Susu blinked hard, letting tears gather again on cue.
Chu Xingxiao said slowly, “You…”
Say you love me. Say it!
“…are you fucking deaf?” Chu Xingxiao coughed twice, clearly annoyed. “I. Don’t. Need. One. Got it?”
Susu was stunned silent.
Just then, a knock came at the door. The teacher opened it and started chatting with someone outside.
The trainees snuck glances that way, whispering among themselves.
“Is that President Zhou? Is he here to observe class?”
“Who’s the guy next to him? He’s hot too!”
“Looks like they’re looking for someone…”
Susu turned to look—and immediately froze.
Two absolute heartthrobs.
The system prompt confirmed it: targets Zhou Yanxing and Cen Chi.
Susu had been ready to give up on them after reading all those complaints on the player forum. But seeing them in person—his heart suddenly went haywire.
Were they really that hard to romance? Surely not harder than Chu Xingxiao, right? Susu had already labeled him a heartless assassin.
“Chu Xingxiao, come out for a moment,” the teacher called into the room. “The rest of you, stay focused and keep practicing!”
Chu Xingxiao rose with a visibly irritated expression and strode cleanly to the door.
Susu made to follow, but the teacher stopped him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Ugh, being a trainee was such a pain. Always stuck in the classroom.
Susu returned to his seat and quickly purchased a “Stealth Mode” item from the shop. It was outrageously expensive and only lasted ten minutes—but that was all he needed to slip out.
At the door, Chu Xingxiao gave the two men a wary look. He recognized Zhou Yanxing, but the other man was a stranger.
“You need something from me?”
He’d tried to see Zhou Yanxing before, but couldn’t get through. Now that he didn’t want to, here he was.
He was about to speak when he noticed their gazes lingering on him—subtle, but unmistakably assessing.
“I’m a doctor,” said the man in the dark coat, voice polished and refined. “I heard you’ve caught a cold. How serious is it?”
Chu Xingxiao was even more confused now. Where the hell had this random doctor come from?
Did his manager book him one?
But he’d only started feeling off this morning—there’s no way his manager could’ve known.
The only person who knew… was—
Chu Xingxiao’s heart skipped a beat.
He almost smiled, but forced his face to stay neutral.
“Yeah, I’m not feeling great. But I can still attend class.”
The doctor smiled.
“The equipment’s in the office. Let’s go upstairs first.”
The three of them rode the elevator in silence, each carrying their own thoughts. None of them showed it.
When they reached the executive office, they passed through the secretary’s area. Chu Xingxiao glanced around, but Chi Zhan was nowhere to be seen. He figured he must’ve gone to another floor on business.
Dr. Cen examined him. His cheeks were flushed with an unnatural red, so Cen Chi handed him a thermometer and told him to hold it under his tongue. Then he quietly stepped out of the office to do something unknown.
Zhou Yanxing didn’t acknowledge him at all, eyes glued to his computer, doing god-knows-what. Pretentious old man.
Bored out of his mind, Chu Xingxiao pulled out his phone. Conveniently, he had the perfect excuse to message Chi Zhan—but before he could hit send, he noticed his company’s internal group chat had exploded with over 99 messages.
He accidentally tapped in and saw Chi Zhan’s name mentioned. Curious, he scrolled upward—only to hear Zhou Yanxing suddenly speak.
“You’re on the guest list for Bai Gongzi’s birthday cruise.”
Chu Xingxiao looked up sharply and realized Zhou was staring at his wrist—more precisely, at the wristband he wore.
His heart dropped.
Still, his voice remained casual.
“Yeah. He invited me to perform on the cruise. It was approved by the company. I wasn’t told it wasn’t allowed.”
“Of course it was allowed,” Zhou Yanxing replied with a faint smile, one that carried no warmth. “What’s strange is, the program you were scheduled to perform was replaced at the last minute. Someone else went onstage, and the company had to pay a breach-of-contract fee. As your employer, I think I deserve a proper explanation for why you suddenly disappeared.”
Several days had passed since the cruise incident, and most leads had gone cold. But while combing through every anomaly from that night, this detail stood out to Zhou Yanxing.
It was too much of a coincidence.
Chi Zhan had gone missing during that exact window—and so had Chu Xingxiao.
Before then, the two had never interacted. Didn’t even have each other’s contact info. Yet after that event, Chi Zhan’s old neighbor moved out, and the new one… just happened to be Chu Xingxiao.
The only thing Zhou hadn’t figured out yet—was the motive.
“I wasn’t feeling well that day. Took sick leave and stayed in bed. Is that a problem?”
Zhou hadn’t found his whereabouts when conducting the post-cruise investigation. Maybe he’d been overlooked. And now, after so many days, even the evidence was starting to fade.
