No, this couldn’t go on any longer.
There were no secrets that stayed buried forever. Rather than sitting around and waiting, it was better to seize the initiative and tell the truth while there was still time.
Chi Zhan’s face was expressionless.
“I don’t need a ‘boyfriend’ service right now.”
Chu Xingxiao suddenly looked past him and asked, confused, “President Zhou? What are you doing back there?”
Chi Zhan tensed instantly. Had Zhou Yanxing overheard their conversation just now? If Chu Xingxiao’s fake boyfriend identity got exposed, the consequences would be a complete disaster…
But then he caught the glimmer of amusement in Chu Xingxiao’s eyes. Realizing he’d been tricked, Chi Zhan turned to look behind him—there was no one there.
Not a soul.
“You lied to me?!” Chi Zhan snapped.
As he spoke, he couldn’t help but step forward and punch Chu Xingxiao in the arm.
“Ow—damn, that hurts!” Chu Xingxiao yelped, clutching his arm and baring his teeth in exaggerated pain.
“Good. Want to see how much more it can hurt?”
“You’re so fierce, gege,” Chu Xingxiao shrank back, mock-fearful. “But acting has to be convincing, right? The secret to making a fake look real… is treating it like the real thing.”
“Oh? Is that your professional ethic as an ‘X’?” Chi Zhan shot back. “Quite the dedicated worker.”
Just then, something else occurred to him. He pulled out his phone and opened the virtual boyfriend app’s transaction platform. Holding it up to Chu Xingxiao, he said, “You charge by the hour. If you keep acting like this, I won’t be able to afford your performance fee.”
“……”
The reason Chi Zhan didn’t want him to keep pretending as his boyfriend… was because he couldn’t afford it?
That left Chu Xingxiao with very complicated feelings.
The two of them stepped outside.
It seemed it had just snowed, and the air outside was particularly crisp and fresh. Each breath carried a sweet chill. Laughter rang out all around them, the festive atmosphere thick in the air. Whatever resistance Chi Zhan had to going out tonight had quietly dissolved as he glanced around.
“Wanna hear a song?” Chu Xingxiao asked, taking Chi Zhan’s hand without warning and slipping it into his own coat pocket.
The movement was so natural that Chi Zhan didn’t even register it in time. He gave a noncommittal “Mm?”—his tone questioning.
Chu Xingxiao lowered his head, took out one of his earbuds, and gently fitted it into Chi Zhan’s ear.
“Can you hear it?”
A soft English song played through the earbud—melodic and pleasant, the singer’s slightly husky voice full of texture and emotion.
Chu Xingxiao’s hand was warm. The music was beautiful. But Chi Zhan had almost no experience holding hands with someone, let alone sharing earbuds—it all felt unfamiliar and awkward.
“You’re awfully smooth at this. Picked it up from past relationships?”
“Never dated anyone. I wasn’t interested before. But everyone around me was in a relationship—doing homework with their boyfriends, gaming with their boyfriends, giving them rides on bikes, or holding hands while listening to a song together. I never understood what the point was. It just seemed… boring.” He paused, voice softer. “But now, I think I’m starting to get it.”
He didn’t look directly at Chi Zhan, but Chi Zhan could tell—Chu Xingxiao was a little nervous.
Chi Zhan found that slightly amusing.
“So all your romantic moves are borrowed from other people? Don’t you have any original material?”
“I do.”
Chu Xingxiao turned his head to glance at him, then quickly looked away, eyes fixed ahead.
“You’ll see in a minute.”
Suddenly, Chi Zhan thought of something interesting.
“Hey, since this is such a great opportunity, why not let President Zhou watch too?” he suggested brightly. “Let him observe your whole romantic routine. If he buys it, that means you succeeded—then we can finally stop acting.”
This time, it was Chu Xingxiao’s turn to go blank. His jaw tightened, molars grinding a little before he squeezed out, “No. If he’s here, I’m out. If I’m in, he’s out.”
“……”
Couples strolled past them hand in hand, smiling in the chill of the winter night. The same as Chi Zhan and Chu Xingxiao.
The restaurant wasn’t far—just a hundred meters from the inn. But to Chi Zhan’s surprise, it was a Western restaurant.
Inside, the lighting was warm and inviting, soft instrumental music drifting through the air. A live pianist played in the corner. Chu Xingxiao had made a reservation in advance. The waiter greeted them politely, took their coats, and guided them to their seats.
“Dinner has already been arranged. Shall we begin serving now?” the waiter asked with a courteous smile.
Chu Xingxiao nodded.
Chi Zhan wasn’t used to walking into a restaurant and getting served immediately without ordering. But as the dishes were brought out one by one—each matching his preferences exactly—he couldn’t help but be a little surprised.
“I picked everything based on what I thought you might like. Did I get anything wrong?”
Chi Zhan was genuinely caught off guard. There weren’t many foods he disliked—celery and carrots, for example—but he had never mentioned those on his profile. So how did Chu Xingxiao know?
“I noticed when we ate together before,” Chu Xingxiao said with a smile. “Like with carrots—you always save them for the very last bite.”
Chi Zhan had a habit of never wasting food. Even if he didn’t like something, he’d still finish it.
But Chu Xingxiao lived by a different philosophy: if you don’t like something, don’t force yourself to eat it. There were so many dishes in the world—what was the harm in skipping one? Adults had the right to reject unpleasant tastes.
It might seem childish, but somehow it felt incredibly comforting.
A bouquet of red roses sat on the table. Chi Zhan glanced at it absentmindedly, and for some reason, Cen Chi’s words suddenly came to mind.
What kind of world did Cen Chi see through his eyes?
“I have a song I want to dedicate to you.”
Chi Zhan was briefly lost in thought. When he came back to himself, Chu Xingxiao was gone.
He looked around—and spotted Chu Xingxiao walking toward the piano.
“…?”
Chu Xingxiao said something to the pianist. The musician nodded and stood up, happily giving up the bench.
Shrugging off his coat, Chu Xingxiao revealed a crisp white dress shirt beneath. He had a tall, lean frame, and as he sat down at the piano, he glanced toward Chi Zhan and smiled—like he wanted to say something, but didn’t.
Instead, he lowered his head.
