He couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.
The atmosphere in the office that afternoon was unusually tense. While Chi Zhan was getting some water, he noticed quite a few employees watching him, whispering among themselves.
Generally speaking, when something significant happens in the company and you’re the last to know, that’s exactly the kind of vibe you get.
Chi Zhan swept his gaze across the room, and everyone immediately looked away and fell silent.
When he arrived at the HR department, a few staff members quickly greeted him with a hasty “Good evening, Secretary Chi,” before grabbing their bags and practically fleeing. None of them dared meet his eyes—it was obvious something was up.
Only Xiao Jia was moving a bit slower, still packing up.
Chi Zhan started by asking who had arranged the afternoon snacks today. Xiao Jia looked blank for a moment before answering truthfully: the snacks were the usual selection, except for the addition of fruit jelly, which had been specially requested by President Zhou.
Chi Zhan’s heart sank.
Zhou Yanxing was definitely sending a signal.
“Any company news I should know about?” Chi Zhan asked again.
Ordinarily, he was the one most in the loop. After all, he worked right at Zhou Yanxing’s side, attending every major meeting. There was very little that slipped past him.
But as soon as Xiao Jia heard the question, a guilty expression crossed his face. That alone told Chi Zhan everything—something had happened. And it had already spread throughout the office.
“S-Secretary Chi, it’s not official yet—it might not even be true…” Xiao Jia stammered. “We were just gossiping, really.”
“Is that so?” Chi Zhan smiled gently. “Gossip about me?”
In the company, Chi Zhan had always been like the dependable older brother—approachable and well-spoken, never putting on airs. He was close in age to many of the employees, and with his looks, people naturally found it easier to talk to him than to someone like Zhou Yanxing.
But at that moment, Xiao Jia could feel a subtle, chilling pressure radiating off him.
Chi Zhan might be mild-mannered on the surface, but he worked directly under Zhou Yanxing. No one dared ignore his words.
“Secretary Chi, we only just got the internal notice. It might not have come from President Zhou himself…” Xiao Jia hesitated for a while before finally gritting his teeth and continuing, “They’re planning to recruit a new secretary. The job description and salary are both aligned with… your position.”
Chi Zhan thought he’d misheard.
His role had always been a one-man position, with everyone else in support. Bringing in another person to fill the same role could only mean one thing.
At that very moment, the aloof CEO who kept running into strange passersby had decided to stay a little longer at the office. As he read the news, he suddenly sneezed—a rare occurrence that left him baffled.
Why the hell do I keep sneezing lately?
The air conditioning was fine, and he wasn’t showing any signs of a cold.
…Could someone be talking shit about him?
***
An hour later, at a hot pot restaurant.
“Is your company hiring?” Chi Zhan asked.
Tao Ran was fishing meat out of the bubbling pot when the question made his hand twitch. A perfectly marinated, glistening, aromatic piece of meat slipped from his chopsticks and splashed back into the broth with a “splat.”
“You’re joking, right?” Tao Ran stared at him in disbelief. “Your job is more desirable than this piece of meat! My company’s a dead-end with zero attention, and we work overtime like dogs. Don’t even think about it.”
“I’m not joking.” Chi Zhan’s tone was numb. “And it’s not that I want to quit—I might not have a choice. If Zhou Yanxing beats me to it, I’ll be too late.”
“Hold on, I don’t get it. You’re saying Zhou Yanxing wants to fire you?”
Chi Zhan nodded.
“He’s out of his damn mind!” Tao Ran slammed his chopsticks down. “You’re an absolute catch! Top-notch skills, top-tier looks—what more does he want? If he fires you, who the hell does he think he’s gonna find? I swear, give me five minutes and I’ll pour this hot pot over his head.”
Chi Zhan quickly tried to calm him down—he knew Tao Ran well enough to believe he just might do it.Â
“It’s my fault.”Â
He thought for a moment, then gave Tao Ran a brief rundown of recent events. Only at the end did he mention the most critical detail.Â
“Remember when I was on the phone with you that day, talking about him? …He overheard.”
“That still doesn’t make it your fault!” Tao Ran bristled with righteous fury. “Only someone insecure would get hung up on that. Honestly, I’m starting to think your boss—Zhou Yanxing—he might be one of those emotionally repressed types. What kind of man is that petty? You’re just too easygoing. That’s why he keeps taking advantage of you. Wait—what if he’s jealous of you?”Â
Tao Ran suddenly lit up.Â
“Jealousy between men, especially single, successful ones, can be intense. You two ever use the bathroom at the same time? You probably outclass him!”
“Seriously?” Chi Zhan massaged his forehead. “Is that really the focus here? And I probably… don’t measure up to him anyway. Let’s just drop it and eat.”
“Do you have to resign?”
“I need to do it before Zhou Yanxing makes the first move. If I get fired… the consequences would be ugly.”
The spicy, mouthwatering hot pot had suddenly lost all appeal. After a few bites, Chi Zhan set down his chopsticks.
Back home, he didn’t bother turning on the lights. He walked straight to the study, opened his laptop, and typed a single line into a blank Word document:
[Resignation Letter]
A month ago, Chi Zhan had been full of confidence. Now, he couldn’t feel more defeated.
More than twenty secretaries had warned him—with the voice of bitter experience—that getting close to a romance target was like dancing on a razor’s edge. At the end of his notebook, written in bold, bright red text, was a reminder:
Live frugally. Don’t waste your salary. Save for a house!
He used to scoff at that advice. Now, he couldn’t even afford to dream.
He kept typing:
[I’ve always been diligent, loyal, and dedicated to my work. I treated my boss with warmth like spring melting snow, and in return, he treated me like autumn sweeping dead leaves…]
The more he wrote, the angrier he became.
Looking back, it all made sense—why Zhou Yanxing had uncharacteristically shown concern for him earlier.
It was a damn last supper.
Normally, any personnel changes would go through Zhou Yanxing, who’d then relay the task to his secretary. The secretary would inform HR.
But this time, the notice about hiring a new secretary had gone straight to HR—without ever passing through him.
