“……”
So this really was hell.
“There’s still time to pull back. But once their favorability reaches ninety, it’ll trigger a new sub—”
The system abruptly paused, then continued, “In short, you absolutely can’t let their favorability reach ninety. The consequences will be serious.”
“Gege, who are you talking to?”
The bedroom door creaked open. Chu Xingxiao shuffled out, rubbing his eyes. The robot vacuum instantly shut down, the red light in its eyes flickering out, reverting to just a regular machine.
It was clear the system hated close contact with the romance targets. Ever since Zhou Yanxing messed with it last time, it seemed like its code had been scrambled.
Chi Zhan vaguely sensed something and said, “Just on a call. Did I wake you?”
“I slept for two hours. Feeling a lot better.”
His eyes swept over Chi Zhan’s phone screen—and his brows immediately furrowed.
“Gege, you’re into this kind of stuff?”
Because Seven had ended his stream, the app had bounced back to the homepage. Unfortunately, the platform’s top recommended stream right now was of a hot guy doing a striptease—massive thumbnail, right across half the screen.
And of course, Chu Xingxiao saw everything.
“That’s not what I was watching—it was just a homepage suggestion.”
Chi Zhan sighed and covered his face. The more he tried to explain, the worse it sounded. He gave up and reached for his phone, only for Chu Xingxiao to swiftly raise his arm out of reach and tap into the photo gallery, swiping through image after image with meticulous focus.
Eight-pack abs. Soaking wet seduction. A stripper pole casually placed in the background.
“Stop looking at that!”
Chi Zhan was mortified. Of all the things for Chu Xingxiao to catch him with… It was like getting caught with a sleazy pop-up ad on your browser.
And it was Chu Xingxiao who saw it.
Chi Zhan suddenly felt like he’d just corrupted an innocent college boy.
Sure, Chu Xingxiao had kissed him when drunk, but Chi Zhan could feel how awkward and inexperienced that kiss had been. It was clumsy, uncoordinated—clearly, he had no idea what he was doing. Just a sweet, tipsy mess. A pure-hearted boy through and through.
Not to mention, Chu Xingxiao was several years younger.
But those arms were long. Chi Zhan reached again—and ended up with Chu Xingxiao pulling him in by the waist, locking their hands together tightly.
“It’s just a striptease,” Chu Xingxiao drawled lazily. “And this guy’s not even good-looking. If Gege really wants to watch something, how about watching me instead?”
“Shut up!” Chi Zhan snapped.
“Gege, you’re blushing.” Chu Xingxiao tilted his head, as if he’d just uncovered a delightful secret. “Even your ears are red… Is it ‘cause I found out about your secret kink?”
“……”
That wasn’t blushing from embarrassment—it was pure rage.
So what if his arms were long?!
“It’s not a kink. It was just a homepage suggestion.” Chi Zhan tried to regain the upper hand, putting on his grown-up tone. “Give me the phone. Stop thinking weird things.”
Chu Xingxiao lounged back on the couch, lips curled into a faint smile. Clearly unfazed by Chi Zhan’s act, he said instead, “But aren’t homepage suggestions personalized? If you hadn’t clicked on that type of content before, why would the app start recommending it?”
“……”
When he’d first started using the streaming app, he wasn’t familiar with it. For business reasons—specifically, the upcoming collaboration with Panda Live—he’d browsed every content section.
Including the Dance section.
Since that section was newly added, the pool of streamers was still small and recruiting. It mostly fell into two camps: legitimate dancers—like classical, breakdancing, street dance—and… well, the less legitimate kind.
But Chi Zhan swore he’d only clicked into one of those for research purposes. Just once. Ever since then, the algorithm had gone berserk, shoving suggestive content in his face every day. And no matter how many times he tried to block it, it kept showing up.
“What I watch is none of your business,” he said, forcing himself to stay calm, not letting Chu Xingxiao throw him off. He reached again for his phone. This time, Chu Xingxiao didn’t pull away. He obediently let him take it.
But the moment Chi Zhan tried to get up, Chu Xingxiao slipped an arm around his neck and gently pulled him back toward him.
Chi Zhan didn’t expect it at all. He toppled into Chu Xingxiao’s chest before he could react. The next thing he knew, the world spun—
And Chu Xingxiao had him pinned to the couch.
Wanting Chu Xingxiao to sleep better, Chi Zhan had added an extra soft cushion. The couch was already plush, and now he felt like he’d fallen into a cloud. No way to get up.
“Gege.”
Chu Xingxiao’s nose brushed his—maybe, maybe not. They were close enough that the air between them trembled. Before Chi Zhan could gather his thoughts, Chu Xingxiao gently took his wrist, threading their fingers together, his eyes glimmering with amusement.
“Instead of watching those guys,” he murmured, “why not look at me? I’m way more professional.”
Professional at what? You’re a singer, aren’t you?
Chi Zhan wanted to retort, but before he could, Chu Xingxiao slowly unfastened the top button of his pajamas—still holding his hand.
He was wearing his own sleepwear. Deep navy blue, sleek and silky. The fabric outlined the contours of his chest and collarbone in the dim light. It was modest, buttoned all the way down, not revealing anything—at first.
But once that first button came undone… the whole vibe changed.
“Let me go…” Chi Zhan struggled to keep his voice from trembling.
“Your voice is hesitant.” Chu Xingxiao chuckled softly, undoing the second button. “Gege, do you want to touch me? I’m not like those streamers,” he continued. “They can only show you things. But you—you can do anything you want to me. Oh, right. Gotta play a song.” Chu Xingxiao picked up the phone and tapped a few times. A sultry, slow-burning English track began to play.
The golden light of sunset streamed through the window like honey, spilling over Chu Xingxiao’s body. It sketched his still-slightly-youthful but already strikingly masculine features into something that resembled a painting—subtle, smoldering, and entirely captivating.
