Chen Che: I suspect Captain Qi has feelings for Secretary Chi.
Wen An replied with six dots.
Chen Che: Why are you so calm about this?! Captain Qi already has a boyfriend! What he’s doing is totally unethical.
Wen An: Did it ever occur to you that maybe Secretary Chi is Captain Qi’s boyfriend?
Chen Che’s pupils practically quaked.
No. Freaking. Way?!
Meanwhile, Chi Zhan remained blissfully unaware of the emotional rollercoaster Chen Che was riding. With utter seriousness, he said, “You don’t have to go easy on me.”
Seven replied with a simple “Mn,” then turned and began clearing monsters in the buff zone. Chi Zhan, a bit puzzled, resumed pushing the lane. A moment later, the blond prince emerged from the jungle, trailed by a nearly dead buff monster. Chi Zhan reflexively tapped a basic attack and sniped the kill.
“…Oops. Sorry, that was a misclick.”
“It was meant for you. This hero needs more buffs early game to scale properly.”
“Really?” Chi Zhan asked, genuinely curious. Seven then began calmly explaining the optimal way to play the character. The atmosphere between them was more like allies than opponents.
Watching this unfold, Chen Che’s eye twitched.
Help. Why is it only sinking in now?!
He realized—that whole time, he’d been unwittingly chowing down on invisible dog food**. Thinking back… yep. He was full, alright. Thanks for the feast.
While top lane had descended into an all-out brawl over buff monsters—with players getting kills only to be immediately taken out and the buffs wasted in the chaos—bot lane was a serene haven. Buffs were cleared peacefully, and the blond prince and silver-haired marksman looked more like they were sharing a slice-of-life cutscene than a PvP match. Even though their health bars were red and blue, they coexisted without conflict.
After clearing waves and stacking buffs, Chi Zhan finally hit his power spike and joined a mid-lane team fight.
Fully farmed, the marksman was a beast—each arrow taking out more than half an enemy’s HP. The whole team was cheering… until Seven showed up mid-lane.
“Secretary Chi, go for it! You can beat him, I believe in you!” someone yelled.
Chi Zhan gave a small cough and replied calmly, “I’m heading back. You guys carry on.”
Since Seven hadn’t attacked him, he felt awkward initiating a fight.
Chen Che, watching it all unfold, got force-fed another mouthful of dog food.
When the match ended, coffee and desserts had all been served. The group relaxed, sipping drinks and nibbling pastries. Chi Zhan’s phone buzzed with a new message.
Chu Xingxiao: My shoot’s wrapped. Can I come find you now?
Chi Zhan glanced outside. The sky was overcast, dark clouds looming as gusts of wind rattled the street signs. But since Chu Xingxiao was determined to come, Chi Zhan sent over the address.
“I’ve got a friend dropping by later,” he told the group.
“No problem at all!”
They had ordered a group tasting set—budget-friendly, but akin to opening gacha boxes. Each person got a random coffee, and whether or not it suited their taste was entirely up to luck. Thankfully, the café was decent—the drinks and snacks were both great.
Still, personal preferences varied. After a few sips, everyone began swapping drinks and desserts with the people next to them.
Maybe it was getting warm, but Qi Song undid his scarf and tossed it casually aside. Only then did Chi Zhan realize—it looked like the absurdly expensive scarf he’d once worn.
Hm… hopefully, it had been washed.
Qi Song took a sip of coffee. His brow furrowed ever so slightly—just a faint crease—but the expression was unexpectedly childlike, like he’d just bitten into something bitter.
Chi Zhan tried his own. The milkiness overwhelmed the flavor, too sweet for his taste. He preferred coffee with a slight bitterness—aromatic, with a lingering finish. Setting his cup down, he noticed that Qi Song hadn’t touched his drink again either. An idea suddenly came to mind.
“Seven, do you like sweeter drinks? Want to try mine?” Chi Zhan offered.
“Don’t you like bitter coffee?”
Chi Zhan smiled.
“Bitter’s better.”
“This one might suit you better, then,” Qi Song said, accepting Chi Zhan’s cup. Chi Zhan reached for an empty to pour some out, but Qi Song took a sip directly without hesitation.
He swirled the cup lightly.
“It’s good.”
He looked genuinely pleased.
“Glad to hear it,” Chi Zhan said with a soft grin. Qi Song pushed his own cup toward him and asked suddenly, “Want to switch cups?”
“No need.”
You’re clearly fine with it, so why would I mind?
It’s just a drink swap—friends do this all the time.
Chi Zhan took a sip. Though it was slightly bitter, it was still good.
He ranked it second-best. First place still went to President Zhou’s coffee—absolutely phenomenal.
If Zhou Yanxing ever opened a café, business would be booming.
Just then, the bell above the door chimed again. The place wasn’t crowded during the day, and with the gloomy weather, even fewer people had shown up.
“One cappuccino,” a familiar voice rang out.
Chi Zhan turned around—and spotted Cen Chi.
Clad in a long black trench coat and matching slacks, Cen Chi looked like a refined vampire emerging from the night. After placing his order with the server, he was about to choose a seat when his gaze paused.
“Ah-Zhan?” Cen Chi blinked, then smiled, looking pleasantly surprised. “What a coincidence—fancy seeing you here.”
Chi Zhan was taken aback as well.
The resort was brand new, heavily advertised, and offering grand opening discounts—so it made sense that it drew a crowd. But to run into both Seven and Cen Chi?
This side-quest energy was way stronger than he’d expected.
“I came to visit a mentor—he lives nearby,” Cen Chi explained, then glanced at the group and instantly put two and two together. “Company outing? I don’t see Zhou Yanxing.”
“He had something come up last minute,” Chi Zhan replied, then thought for a second and added, “Come join us—there’s room.”
“Then I’ll gladly accept,” Cen Chi said with a smile.
Someone made space, and Cen Chi sat down on Chi Zhan’s other side. As he settled in, his gaze wandered—casually taking in the young man sitting beside Chi Zhan.
**Note: “eating dog food” (吃狗粮) is an internet slang referring to single people feeling envious or awkward witnessing others being sweet or romantic.
