Chi Zhan, feeling suspicious, did a quick search and discovered that the program had aired three months ago. Based on the filming schedule, that meant Chu Xingxiao had said those words six months earlier.
“……”
Ding-dong. A message from Tao Ran popped up.
Tao Ran: So, how’s life with your little boyfriend?
Chi Zhan: Don’t call him that. There’s nothing going on between us, and he’s already moved out.
Tao Ran: Eh? What happened? Did you two get into a fight? Don’t tell me it was because of me? sweating.jpg
Chi Zhan: It’s a long story. Anyway, just don’t say things like that in front of him. I’m serious.
Tao Ran: Aww no, is he really out of the game for good? I thought you two actually made a pretty good match! And judging by how he looked, he doesn’t seem like the kind to give up easily. Chi-Chi, be careful—if your rejection doesn’t go over well, it might backfire. If he loses it, you could be in trouble.
He probably wouldn’t.
Chi Zhan thought about it. Actually, now that he considered it, he’d never seen Chu Xingxiao truly angry.
In front of him, Chu Xingxiao had always been a good, obedient kid. Sometimes a little impulsive and reckless, sure, but with a sweet nature—like a little sun that always shined.
If he did get pushed too far… what would he be like?
Chi Zhan was actually a bit curious.
Tao Ran: Another ship I was rooting for has sunk… But I just watched that video, and it was so sweet! T_T The way he looked at you—he’s totally in love!
Chi Zhan: What video?
Tao Ran: The one where he proposed to you!
…Proposed?
Chi Zhan froze.
When had Chu Xingxiao proposed to him? Why didn’t he know anything about it?
Tao Ran sent over a short video link.
Chi Zhan clicked it. It was a clip from last night, showing Chu Xingxiao playing piano at the restaurant. It looked like it had been taken by another diner—shaky camera, background noise—but the music still came through clearly.
Even hearing it a second time, it was still beautiful. And Chi Zhan couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d heard the melody somewhere before.
Tao Ran: Chi-Chi, don’t tell me… you don’t even know what that song was?
Chi Zhan: What’s it called?
Tao Ran replied with a “shocked” emoji and said: Since he didn’t tell you, I probably shouldn’t either.
Now that Tao Ran hadn’t told him, Chi Zhan found himself even more curious.
What was it…?
He pulled up a music-recognition app and played the video into the mic.
The little record icon spun slowly. A moment later, it returned a result.
[This song has an 85% similarity to “Mariage d’Amour.” Could this be the song you’re looking for?]
Chi Zhan stared, stunned.
Last night in the restaurant, everyone had been captivated by the melody. Chi Zhan hadn’t thought too much of it at the time—he just knew it sounded beautiful.
And the entire time he was playing, Chu Xingxiao had looked only at him.
Chi Zhan had assumed he was just improvising. It had never crossed his mind that the piece itself was already saying everything he wanted to say.
And yet he—like a complete fool—hadn’t understood a single word of it.
A strange mix of emotions twisted inside him. He closed the music app and chatted with Tao Ran a bit more. Before long, it was time for dinner.
Normally, by this hour, Chu Xingxiao would already be in the kitchen cooking. Chi Zhan might help out a little, and soon there’d be a whole spread of four dishes and a soup on the table.
Tonight, he made a simple egg fried rice for himself. The evening passed quietly without anyone to talk to. After clearing the trash, he headed downstairs to take it out.
As he got in the elevator, a young man stepped in with him and politely asked, “Which floor are you on?”
Chi Zhan told him. The man paused, surprised, and smiled.
“What a coincidence, I live just one floor up—next door.”
Wasn’t that the same apartment that had the pipe burst and completely flooded Chu Xingxiao’s place?
Chi Zhan glanced at him again, a bit more carefully.
The guy clicked his tongue and said, “Your neighbor must be one of those rich idiots.”
Chi Zhan looked at him blankly.
“I mean, he came to me and asked me to screw up the plumbing. I didn’t want to at first, but he paid me,” the man said, clicking his tongue again in disbelief. “First time I’ve ever met someone who wanted to flood his own apartment. Unbelievable.”
“……”
***
Just how many things had Chu Xingxiao hidden from him?
As the saying goes: there’s no such thing as a free lunch. And there’s no such thing as a mysterious neighbor who’s just inexplicably sweet and good to you—for free. If there is, there’s always something buried underneath.
Back in his apartment, Chi Zhan picked up his phone and remembered that his conversation with Seven had been left hanging—it had stopped at “I was rejected by the person I like.” After the system suddenly interrupted, Chi Zhan had forgotten to reply.
Seven’s avatar was lit up—still online.
What should he say?
Chi Zhan hesitated between “Should I probe whether Seven is really Song Guang?” and “Better to just steer clear of that topic.”
If he guessed wrong, it’d be so awkward.
CHI: When one chapter ends, a better one begins. You’ll definitely meet someone even more amazing in the future.
Seven: There’s no one better than him.
That stumped Chi Zhan completely. The comforting line he’d carefully crafted was instantly shot down.
He wasn’t a relationship coach—he didn’t know how to console someone going through heartbreak. In the end, he awkwardly selected a reaction image and hit send.
CHI: pat pat kitty head.jpg
The moment he sent it, Chi Zhan suddenly felt like he wasn’t chatting with “Seven” at all, but with Song Guang.
The screen filled with little kitty heads.
Qi Song’s gaze dropped to the message. Looking at the screen, he sighed quietly.
The black-and-white kitten he’d just brought back from the pet shop was bouncing around like it had sniffed catnip the moment it entered the dorm. It pounced into Qi Song’s lap, stretched its head toward the phone, and seemed quite fascinated by all the cartoon cat heads. With a loud smack, its little paw landed right on the screen, as if trying to reach out and pet one of the cute kitties itself.
