“Didn’t you say you’ve got a little puppy at home now?” Tao Ran grinned playfully and gave Chi Zhan a wink. “I won’t get in the way of the lovebirds. I’d rather not get force-fed PDA.”
“He and I are just—” Chi Zhan started to explain, then suddenly remembered what he had forgotten the night before.
Cen Chi’s words had thrown him off so badly that he’d completely forgotten his plans with Chu Xingxiao.
Chi Zhan unlocked his phone. Sure enough, Chu Xingxiao had sent him a flurry of messages—some even timestamped around 3:30 AM. The last message read: Gege, I’m so tired I can’t even keep my eyes open. If you come, could you call me?
At that hour, Chi Zhan had been sleeping like a log.
For the first time, Secretary Chi had stood someone up. Guilt gnawed at him, softening the anger he’d previously felt over Chu Xingxiao hiding things from him.
He sent a reply and looked out the car window. There was Chu Xingxiao, stepping out of the hotel in a black T-shirt and a baseball cap. Tall and lean, he leaned against a column, yawning as he checked his phone. Then he looked up, scanning the area—until his gaze landed on Chi Zhan already seated inside the car.
Chi Zhan’s phone buzzed again.
Chu Xingxiao: I want to sit with you.
Chi Zhan had initially wanted to refuse. But the thought of Chu Xingxiao waiting half the night for him complicated his emotions. He replied:
Chi Zhan: I’m sitting with a friend. If you don’t mind, come on up.
As expected, Chu Xingxiao didn’t hesitate. He climbed into the vehicle, politely nodded at Tao Ran, and took the front seat just in front of Chi Zhan.
Tao Ran made a move to switch seats with him, but Chi Zhan shook his head, signaling for him to stay put.
“Oh, come on,” Tao Ran said dramatically. “I just wanted to sit on that side to enjoy the view. Don’t mind me. Hey, handsome, why don’t you take my seat?”
It couldn’t have been more obvious he was trying to play matchmaker. Chi Zhan was half amused, half exasperated. But Chu Xingxiao was very well-mannered, gently refusing and insisting Tao Ran remain seated. The two exchanged back-and-forth pleasantries until Zhou Yanxing got in, sat down right beside Chi Zhan, and brought the whole situation to a halt.
“……”
Sensing the strange tension, Zhou Yanxing looked between them.
“Is something going on?”
“No, no, not at all.”
They were all chasing after Chi-Chi—might as well let them compete fair and square.
Tao Ran genuinely couldn’t decide which side he favored more. President Zhou was generous, considerate, and clearly cared deeply for Chi Zhan. The very fact that he’d brought Tao Ran out to Province A just so Chi Zhan wouldn’t feel alone during the holidays had completely changed Tao Ran’s opinion of him.
After all, what kind of overbearing CEO even thinks about their lover’s friends?
And yet… Chu Xingxiao was also a strong contender. He was sweet, soft, youthful, brimming with energy—and on top of that, a genius vocalist. He had that irresistible boyish idol charm. Seriously, this was a showdown with no clear winner.
But in the end, it all came down to who Chi Zhan liked more.
Tao Ran had never subscribed to the whole “NPCs can’t date capture targets” mindset. To him, love—even if brief—was worth chasing. Even if it lasted only a second, that second of genuine affection would be enough.
But Chi Zhan clearly didn’t see it that way.
In his mind, capture targets were meant to end up with the player.
That thought made Tao Ran a little uneasy.
Love might be exclusive, but neither of these two men seemed the type to back down. How was this all going to end?
Cen Chi also messaged him.
Cen Chi: I won’t tell Zhou Yanxing what I said last night. Don’t worry.
Cen Chi: I just hope I can have a place in your heart. If you like me even a little bit… please don’t push me away. Okay?
If Cen Chi had maintained the same confrontational tone as last night, Chi Zhan might have been able to stay firm. But now, his voice was soft—so soft it didn’t even count as a threat. It felt like trying to punch a pillow—no resistance, no pain.
And that only made Chi Zhan feel worse.
The best option now was to do nothing. Go cold.
After all, given how things had gone yesterday, Cen Chi clearly already knew all about the “fake boyfriend” excuse. Trying to hide behind Song Guang again would just be pointless.
Chi Zhan thought it over for a long time but ultimately didn’t reply.
It made him feel like a total fuckboy… but he honestly had no better solution.
Who would’ve thought? Cen Chi—the one always being called a player by the gamers—was now the one getting played.
Zhou Yanxing looked a little worn out. After boarding the car, he barely said a word, leaned back against the seat, and closed his eyes.
Always bursting with energy, like an overgrown husky, it was rare to see Zhou Yanxing actually tired. Chi Zhan found it oddly fascinating. He remembered how, when he’d fallen asleep last night, Zhou Yanxing had still been handling work emails. Being the boss really wasn’t easy.
“Need a sleep mask?”
He was sensitive to light when sleeping and always carried disposable eye masks for car rides.
Zhou Yanxing hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t move. So Chi Zhan reached into his bag and helped him put it on.
Just as he was about to pull his hand away, Zhou Yanxing suddenly clasped his fingers—precisely and firmly.
Chi Zhan froze. But Zhou Yanxing didn’t say a word. He simply held Chi Zhan’s hand and drifted off to sleep.
This was too weird… What kind of boss holds his secretary’s hand while sleeping?
Chi Zhan tried to pull away, but Zhou Yanxing’s grip was surprisingly strong. The struggle left him sweating slightly. In the end, he gave up and draped a blanket over Zhou Yanxing, covering both their hands beneath it.
The corners of Zhou Yanxing’s mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.
Chi Zhan pulled out his phone with his free hand and opened the game.
There had been another update. He skimmed through it—something about a couple’s competition event. After logging in, he saw that Song Guang was online, and had replied to his message from the night before.
He’d sent over a video of fireworks. Song Guang had responded with a sticker of a “kitty head forming a heart” gesture.
Chi Zhan: You’re online at this hour?
Song Guang: Heading home today. No training.
One word caught Chi Zhan’s attention: home.
He typed: You went on a trip?
Song Guang: Yeah. Funny enough, I saw fireworks last night too—but forgot to record them.
