Well, not really.
In his mind, CEOs didn’t brew their own coffee. He’d never expected that the domineering President Zhou had once worked under others, too.
No wonder the company benefits were so generous.
Zhou Yanxing sipped his coffee and casually flipped through the freshly delivered newspaper, eyes skimming the pages. It was a rare moment of peace.
Chi Zhan bit into a slice of ham while observing Zhou Yanxing, only to be caught in the act.
“Why do you keep staring at me? Is there food on my face?”
“President Zhou, isn’t President Su here too today?” Chi Zhan asked offhandedly, voice calm and careful, as if afraid to ignite Zhou Yanxing’s temper. “Aren’t you going to spend time with him?”
Chi Zhan couldn’t figure Zhou Yanxing out. He had thought Zhou was at least somewhat fond of Su Ran—after all, why else would he invite him here? Yet Su Ran had been nowhere in sight these past two days. What happened to the side story? He’d already collected the mission reward, but now the storyline wasn’t progressing. Secretary Chi was starting to feel guilty.
Zhou Yanxing lowered his newspaper and looked directly at him.
“Are you a goldfish?”
Chi Zhan blinked.
“Goldfish?”
“Goldfish only have a seven-second memory. I just explained this yesterday, and you’ve already forgotten. If you’re not a goldfish, then what are you? I told you. Su Ran and I are just professional contacts. Nothing more. Yes, it was a blind date, but I’m not interested, and neither is he.”
He took a sip of coffee and continued, “It’s obvious he just wants closer ties with Zhou Rui for business. There’s nothing for you to be jealous of.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Oh.” Zhou smoothly corrected himself. “Nothing for you to envy, then.”
“……”
If Su Ran heard that, he’d probably burst into tears.
The poor guy had entered this world purely to pursue Zhou Yanxing. He’d even gone out of his way to pretend he cared about business, all to win Zhou’s favor—only for Zhou’s no-nonsense logic to twist the whole thing into a mere partnership.
So what Su Ran saw as a romantic blind date, Zhou Yanxing had written off as a straightforward business meeting. Chi Zhan silently mourned a full minute for him.
“Did Chu Xingxiao leave?”
Chi Zhan checked his phone—no new messages.
“That kid challenged me to a match just to drag you out of here,” Zhou Yanxing said mockingly. “I won. He couldn’t save face, so he left. Secretary Chi, you really need to work on your taste in boyfriends.”
Chi Zhan looked even more confused.
“A match? What kind of match?”
Zhou Yanxing replied coolly, “Arm wrestling.”
“……”
“And,” Zhou added, voice light and indifferent, “when I carried you to bed last night, you wouldn’t let go. Kept clinging to my bathrobe. So I had no choice but to sleep next to you.”
He glanced at Chi Zhan.
“And you sleep clingy. The moment I tried to get up, you started fussing. Are you like that at home too?”
Chi Zhan went rigid, completely petrified.
He did have a habit of hugging something in his sleep. Curling up on his side just felt more comfortable. But to think that last night… he’d been hugging Zhou Yanxing the whole time?
He really wanted to say “You’re making this up,” but he felt a little guilty.
Knowing how meticulous Zhou Yanxing was, it was entirely possible he’d saved… tangible evidence.
“Is my sleeping really that bad?” Chi Zhan couldn’t help asking.
He had no memory of what he did once asleep.
Zhou Yanxing looked at him, the corner of his lips curving into a cryptic smile.
“Want to see the evidence?”
Of course he had proof.
“……”
Chi Zhan decided it was best not to ask anything else. Eyes on the coffee, nose on the cup—he focused on sipping silently.
The newspaper lay open, but Zhou Yanxing clearly wasn’t reading it anymore. He sipped his own coffee, mind drifting back to the previous night.
He had bent down to carry Chi Zhan, who weighed next to nothing in his arms—light as a feather. On busy workdays, Zhou often glimpsed Chi Zhan’s slender wrists peeking from under his sleeves. There was a time he bumped into him at lunch and saw him eating a sad little “nutritional meal.”
Nutritious, maybe—but barely appetizing, and certainly not enough.
Zhou Yanxing didn’t think Chi Zhan needed to diet. He was too thin already. Like a cloud—pale, soft, and weightless. Sometimes Zhou worried a gust of wind might carry him away. And still… he snacked between meals, yet stayed that slim.
Last night, when Chi Zhan was nestled in his arms, he mumbled in his sleep. Zhou had leaned in, curious, but the words coming out were complete gibberish.
There were times when Zhou Yanxing felt Chi Zhan was… distant.
He never seemed to desire much—dutiful, principled, always performing his role quietly and well. He didn’t curry favor with his superiors, nor bully his juniors. Upright and kind, with clear lines he never crossed. And that just made Zhou want to tease him more—to coax out expressions he never showed anyone else. Like discovering a hidden treasure.
Secretary Chi was perfect in every way… except for his thin skin.
When Zhou laid him down on the bed and turned to leave, he suddenly felt a tug. Chi Zhan had grabbed hold of his bathrobe sash with shocking strength—nearly yanked it off—yet remained fast asleep, totally unconscious.
“……”
If he didn’t know Chi Zhan well enough, he’d have thought the guy was pretending.
If only he were pretending.
Zhou let out a soft sigh and murmured, “Didn’t you say you didn’t like me? Then why are you clinging like this?”
Talking to a sleeping person felt ridiculous—but somehow, it amused him. He leaned in closer, studying Chi Zhan’s face seriously.
This was the only time he wouldn’t dodge his gaze.
“Do you like me? Hmm? Do you?”
“……”
“No answer? I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Huuu… huu…”
“That’s better.”
Zhou smiled in satisfaction, thinking Secretary Chi looked exceptionally adorable when he slept—far more so than when awake.
Boyfriends? Get in line.
Looking down at Chi Zhan, Zhou wasn’t lying. His heart had definitely been beating faster.
He just didn’t show it. That was the only way he could maintain the illusion of being calm and unbothered.
