“Doctor Cen prioritizes style over warmth,” Chi Zhan teased with a faint smile. “Didn’t think you were the type to feel the cold.”
Though holding hands felt a bit inappropriate, Cen Chi looked so fragile in that moment—like he’d just been dealt a blow—that Chi Zhan’s heart softened. He didn’t pull away, letting Cen Chi lead him along for a while.
“It’s better to dress warmly. Might not look the best, but it’s practical.”
Cen Chi looked at him.
“But you look really good in it.”
Chi Zhan couldn’t help thinking—Doctor Cen sure knew how to compliment someone. Honest and unadorned, but undeniably sincere.
“If I get the chance, I’d really like to meet your boyfriend,” Cen Chi said suddenly. “I want to see who it is that Secretary Chi likes.”
Chi Zhan looked a little embarrassed.
“If there’s a chance. But he’s really busy. Oh—” Something important suddenly occurred to him. “Could you not mention this to President Zhou? I just… think it’d be a little awkward.”
“I won’t. We’re not the gossiping type.”
“Glad to hear that.” Chi Zhan let out a breath of relief. “You should head back soon, too. Get some rest while you still can.”
Cen Chi nodded and released his hand. Chi Zhan turned and walked off. After crossing the street, he looked back—Cen Chi was still standing there, watching him.
Chi Zhan raised a hand, gesturing for him to go. Cen Chi waved back, signaling he got the message, then finally turned to leave.
When Cen Chi glanced back again, Chi Zhan’s figure had vanished into the fog. All that remained was a faint silhouette, barely discernible.
The misty blue air, the frost-covered dead leaves, the light beige down jacket—all of it faded from Cen Chi’s sight.
In the end, it wasn’t him. And it wasn’t Zhou Yanxing either.
It was someone else who swooped in and stole his place.
A “online friend,” no less—someone who lived far away, in a long-distance relationship.
Love really was a fragile thing.
Still… what he said—was it true?
Cen Chi could pick out a hundred inconsistencies in Chi Zhan’s story, but the way he and Song Guang interacted in-game had been real. It wasn’t something you could fake.
Even with a thousand reasons to believe it was all a lie, that single, subtle instinct remained impossible to ignore.
He believed it.
The original plan was no longer viable.
Cen Chi returned to his office. It was still lunchtime. The receptionist was watching something on her computer with headphones on. When she noticed him approaching, she flinched nervously.
“D-Doctor Cen, is there something you need?”
“Could you pull up Qi Wen’s registration form?”
“Sure thing.” She moved to close her video, but Cen Chi caught a glimpse and asked, “Wait—are you watching a gaming stream?”
“Yeah, yeah! Doctor Cen, are you into this game too? WT is streaming right now!” The receptionist lit up with excitement. “I’m a huge WT fan. They’re amazing! And they’re coming here soon for a match! I really want to go watch them live.”
“WT…” Cen Chi echoed, thoughtful. Then he asked, “Do you know a player named Seven? Is he on WT?”
“Of course I do! He’s WT’s captain! He’s my absolute favorite.” She launched into a vivid rundown of WT’s glory days and Seven’s dazzling plays. Cen Chi listened patiently, then said, “Could you send me the link to his livestream?”
The receptionist was a total Seven fangirl—she had all the info at her fingertips. Within moments, Cen Chi, who had never watched a gaming stream in his life, was flooded with new information.
In short: Seven was a top-tier player, the core of WT, with a cold personality. He never did interviews, had a serious case of mysophobia, and absolutely avoided all physical contact. As for his love life—nonexistent. Some even suspected he wasn’t interested in dating at all.
Everything about him stood in stark contrast to the “Song Guang” Cen Chi had played with earlier today.
That guy was just decent at the game—not a burden, but not a standout either. He frequently sent cute emoji stickers.
They were worlds apart.
Cen Chi thanked the receptionist and took Qi Wen’s registration form with him.
Back in his office, he sat down at his desk, hesitated for a moment, then typed “Seven” into the search bar. Instantly, the screen filled with headlines—“Seven Wins Championship,” “Seven Match Highlights”… He clicked on one at random, a montage of Seven’s most electrifying plays.
Even a cursory glance made it obvious: the gameplay he saw earlier today was nowhere near this level.
Had he guessed wrong?
One video thumbnail caught his eye—a clip from a “Panda Live” interview.
“…So you want to travel to Province A?”
“To find someone. An online friend.”
Cen Chi’s eyes narrowed, a chill flickering in their depths, replacing his usual warmth.
Meanwhile, Chi Zhan had just returned home when his phone rang. It was Tao Ran.
“Xiao Chi! Did you hear? WT’s match schedule is out!” Tao Ran sounded thrilled.
Chi Zhan’s face was nearly frozen stiff. He switched the call to speaker while hanging up his coat.
“When?”
“One week from now! Right here in Province A! I’m gonna take time off to go—already snagged tickets for you. Aren’t I great?”
Chi Zhan was stunned.
“You actually got tickets?”
“Honestly, I used a bunch of proxy buyers. Out of ten, only three managed to grab one!”
Chi Zhan whistled in awe.
“You’re incredible.”
He’d been keeping an eye on the news too. WT tickets were always in ridiculously high demand—sold out the instant they went live. It was like trying to get into one of Chu Xingxiao’s concerts.
“Anyone else going with you?”
“I did end up with an extra ticket, but I can’t bring myself to return it. No one around here really watches esports. Do you have any friends who’d be interested? If it’s for you, I’ll even give it away.”
Chi Zhan thought about it. He wasn’t sure. Just as he was about to answer, a thought struck him—would Song Guang be interested?
He was an esports player too, right? Surely he’d want to see QT compete. What better chance to study potential rivals up close?
Chi Zhan still didn’t know which team Song Guang was from. The guy had never mentioned it. When he picked up his phone to check, Song Guang was already offline.
