Zhou Yanxing gave a cool, noncommittal grunt and crossed one leg over the other, clearly settling in to wait. Chi Zhan hadn’t expected this tactic.
“President Zhou, shouldn’t you be heading back to the office?”
Zhou replied icily, “What, afraid your boyfriend’s going to see me?”
Saying that only stoked the fire in his chest.
What exactly had Chi Zhan seen in that livestreamer? What part of that guy was supposedly better than him? The way Chi Zhan was so obviously trying to shield the other man—just thinking about it pissed Zhou off.
He was the goddamn CEO of Zhou Rui Group, and yet here he was, green with jealousy over some no-name internet pretty boy.
Unaware of Zhou’s spiraling thoughts, Chi Zhan simply wanted to avoid further complications. The real reason he didn’t want Zhou sticking around was because—truth be told—there was no “boyfriend” on the way. Even if Zhou waited all night, no one would show. And when that happened, the whole lie would fall apart, and Chi Zhan had no clue how he’d talk his way out of it.
Suddenly, Zhou stood up.
“Fine then. I’ll go.” He gave a chilly smile. “Secretary Chi, take care of that injury.”
With that, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door without a backward glance.
Yet in his mind—
…Why isn’t he stopping me?
Why won’t he call me back?
He was really going to let his boss walk out the door like that—all for the sake of some vixen?
But Zhou had already made a show of leaving, and turning back now would be humiliating. So he could only stoically put on his shoes, wearing a cold expression as he opened the door.
“President Zhou,” Chi Zhan said behind him, “watch your step on the way back. The roads might be slick.”
Zhou didn’t even turn around. “Mn,” he replied curtly. “Oh—and everything I said earlier? Just a joke. Forget it.”
With that, he slammed the door and stormed off.
“……”
A small mechanical head peeked out from the corner of the wall, its round eyes blinking anxiously.
“Why is he here again?” the System muttered, still rattled. “Next time, don’t let him in. His presence scrambles my code.”
“…He probably won’t come back. What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to check your task progress,” the System huffed. “Have you even been doing your job? The target’s favorability toward you has been climbing fast!”
“I just finished a task. Should see the results soon.”
The System squinted suspiciously.
“We’ll monitor it over the next few days. If his favorability toward the player keeps going up, we’ll know it worked.”
Chi Zhan, however, had another question on his mind.
“If the target’s favorability with the player hits max… will this world end?”
“Nope,” the System said breezily, catching him off guard. “There are still hidden ‘dungeon’ storylines embedded in this world. They unlock under different conditions.”
“Dungeon storylines? Like what?”
Chi Zhan didn’t remember seeing anything about this in the NPC Protocol guide.
Maybe it was because he’d just completed a task, but the System was unusually patient as it explained.
“This modern-day world is the main anchor point. From here, other branches can diverge. Think of them as alternate timelines—different ‘lifetimes’ between the player and the target. Each dungeon is built around the main world, with your core identity remaining unchanged. For example, since you’re Zhou Yanxing’s secretary here, you’ll still be his secretary in every alternate world.”
“……”
So he wasn’t just Zhou Yanxing’s secretary in this life—he’d been his secretary in past lives, and would be his secretary in future ones too?!
Chi Zhan resisted the urge to complain and asked sincerely, “What if I resign?”
“Your identity in the side worlds will match your final identity in the main world. If you end up as a nobody here, the dungeons will assign you as a background character.”
Chi Zhan exhaled in relief.
“But if you successfully complete the assist mission,” the System continued, “you’ll no longer be assigned any roles. You can live freely in any world you choose.”
In other words, if he helped Zhou Yanxing get together with the player, he’d earn his freedom.
What NPC wouldn’t want that?
But choosing to stay meant continuing to work alongside Zhou Yanxing every day… Even if he could endure that, could Zhou?
“So the essence of this dating sim,” Chi Zhan muttered, “is endless dungeon grinding.”
He’d thought maxing out favorability was the endgame. But in order to keep the game alive, it just kept spawning new worlds—same love interest, different setting, fresh coat of paint. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Lying in bed, Chi Zhan absentmindedly poked at his phone. A message floated in.
WT-Seven: Got your gift. It’s adorable.
WT-Seven: [Image.jpg]
He’d completely forgotten about that. The message jogged his memory.
Chi Zhan: Thought Milk might like it.
To return a favor, he’d browsed the gift shop for ages, but nothing felt right. Then he saw a set of pajamas—super soft, wonderfully warm. The best part? It came in a matching pet set.
Granted, giving pajamas might’ve felt too personal, so Chi Zhan had kept the adult set and only sent over the pet version, along with a box of carefully selected cat supplies.
WT-Seven: Wait, isn’t this part of a set? Why’s there only one piece?
WT-Seven: I saw it online a while ago and wanted to get it—sold out before I could.
Chi Zhan hadn’t expected Seven to know about that. He laughed.
Chi Zhan: Didn’t think you’d like that kind of pajama. Wasn’t sure of your size, so I just sent Milk’s. If you’re into it, I’ll send the other set later.
The pajamas were from a popular brand, only sold through a single official store online. New releases sold out in minutes. But by luck, Chi Zhan had found a freshly opened physical boutique, where stock was plentiful—and snagged a set.
WT-Seven: I’ll be in Province A for a tournament in a few days. Just give it to me then. [Smiling cat emoji]
Chi Zhan couldn’t help but smile, replying with the same cat emoji.
That little cat face inevitably reminded him of Song Guang—another person who loved using that exact expression.
