Ever since their first meeting, Chu Xingxiao had always worn a wrist guard. At first, Chi Zhan had assumed it was just for support or protection—but now, with Cen Chi’s casual remark, his curiosity was piqued.
“Can I see it? Just how pretty is it?”
Chu Xingxiao’s expression froze.
That time, Chi Zhan had bitten him hard, leaving a mark on his wrist. To cover it up, he’d called in a tattoo artist and had a design inked over it.
What kind of design? the artist had asked.
Chu Xingxiao had been about to say “Whatever,” but when he glanced at the bite mark, a vivid memory suddenly surfaced.
The man had thrown his head back in resistance, trying to get a clear look at him, but his eyes were covered by a pure white silk ribbon. Only the sharp line of his nose and those flushed, wine-tinted lips were visible—lips that looked far too tempting. A faint pink hue dusted his cheeks.
His collar was loose, the ribbon meant to tie it missing, revealing the elegant dip of his collarbones. Because he’d struggled, Chu Xingxiao had had to bind his wrists…
Back then, he’d acted out of sheer fury. But recalling it now, all that remained was an erotic tableau—his body pressed against Chu Xingxiao’s waist, that slender yet supple waist fitting perfectly into his palms.
Like a fragile, beautiful butterfly.
And so, that was the design inked onto his wrist—a memento only he would recognize.
But Chi Zhan knew exactly where he’d bitten him.
If he saw it, Chu Xingxiao couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t put the pieces together.
Especially with the silk ribbon element—it would be impossible to explain away.
Too many coincidences layered on top of each other stop being coincidences.
Chu Xingxiao met Cen Chi’s gaze—and finally understood the malice behind that man’s calm facade.
It was intentional. He wanted Chi Zhan to find out.
That’s why he’d been so calm the entire time since entering—because he already held the king on his chessboard. And once that piece was played, Chu Xingxiao would have no moves left.
“What’s wrong?”Â
Chi Zhan noticed something off. Chu Xingxiao glanced at him, and took a deep breath.Â
“Gege, do you really want to see it?”
“If not, that’s fine too.”Â
Chi Zhan felt a bit uneasy now. Was it a weird design?
“No—you should see it.”Â
He extended his hand and slowly peeled off the wrist guard.
That patch of skin, long shielded from the light, was suddenly exposed to the air—a butterfly fluttered between blossoms, inked vividly on his wrist.
Chu Xingxiao could barely breathe.
Chi Zhan stared at the design, silent.
His brows furrowed slightly.
Chu Xingxiao watched his face, his mind spinning. The truth he’d hidden so carefully was now on the verge of being exposed.
…He’ll be angry.
He’d definitely be angry.
What should he do? He should have countless excuses ready—but his mind was blank.
All he could think was: He didn’t want to lie to Chi Zhan anymore.
He’d chosen the wrong path from the very beginning.
***
In the silence, Chu Xingxiao’s hand trembled slightly. He didn’t dare raise his eyes to look at Chi Zhan. Jaw clenched, he could feel Chi Zhan’s gaze on his wrist, like a burning weight.
“This design…” Chi Zhan looked closely. “It’s quite beautiful, but… doesn’t seem like your style.”
The lines on Chu Xingxiao’s tattoo were intricate, especially the butterfly—small-bodied, but its wings were adorned with elaborate patterns. Just looking at it made one feel the pain it must’ve taken to get it done.
Chi Zhan couldn’t quite understand young people’s tastes these days. Maybe, to them, this was how you stayed trendy.
“Did it hurt?”
Chu Xingxiao froze for a moment. He snuck a glance at Chi Zhan and found no suspicion or surprise in his expression—only concern.
“…A little,” he said softly, voice low. His heart pounded faster, both relieved and somehow more uneasy. “But it’s not permanent—it’ll fade after a while.”
“Our company doesn’t really allow stuff like this.”
Chi Zhan nodded with a faint smile.Â
“Didn’t expect you to be the artsy type.”
Chu Xingxiao bobbed his head hastily and pulled the wrist guard back on.
Cen Chi smiled too, with no sign of disappointment, and smoothly shifted the conversation elsewhere.
Chu Xingxiao had completely lost his appetite. He pushed food around on his plate, no longer eager to compete with Cen Chi. After the meal, when Chi Zhan started clearing the dishes, Cen Chi walked into the kitchen.
“Let me do that. Can’t have a patient doing chores.”
“But it doesn’t make sense for the one who cooked to wash too. And it’s not like I’m seriously ill.”
Cen Chi gently took the bowl from his hands, smiling.Â
“If you really want to thank me, then rest properly these next few days—don’t walk around so much. Lie down more. That would be the best way to repay me.”
The words carried so much double meaning that Chi Zhan froze for a beat—then thought to himself: Cen Chi really is a scumbag.
Even the most casual line from him sounded like it had been dipped in honey. No wonder those players kept crying and begging to date him afterward.
But… had Zhou Yanxing not told him about that incident?
Just as Chi Zhan was thinking this, Cen Chi said, “That kid outside seems to have feelings for you.”
Chi Zhan gave a light chuckle.Â
“He just sees me as a gege, that’s all. He’s new to A Province—doesn’t know anyone.”
He got lost just walking around the neighborhood, still signed autographs for fans while running a fever, raised a big fluffy white dog, and aside from nodding off in class all the time, he was really just a simple kid.
Cen Chi quietly washed the dishes. Hearing this, he chuckled and shook his head, seemingly reminded of something.
“People always believe what’s right in front of their eyes. Ah-Zhan,” Cen Chi said slowly, “give it a bit more time with him. Some people’s acting… doesn’t last a lifetime.”
Chi Zhan was baffled by the remark. He took the clean bowls from Cen Chi and dried them with a towel. When he left the kitchen, he found Chu Xingxiao sitting alone, watching TV, looking pitifully out of place.
Cen Chi, however, wasn’t the least bit surprised that Chu Xingxiao was still there. He turned to Chi Zhan.Â
“Shall we head to the bedroom, Ah-Zhan?”
He glanced at Chu Xingxiao, the implication clear.
“We could’ve stayed on the sofa… but with company present, it’s not quite convenient.”
