“You might need to wait a bit longer… it’s way too crowded over here,” Chi Zhan said apologetically.
They were separated by just a single street, yet it felt impossible to cross.
“I’ve waited years for you—a few more minutes won’t make a difference.”
The street was a cacophony of voices: chattering, laughter, honking cars, street vendors hawking their goods… but amidst the chaos, the man’s voice came through low and steady, piercingly clear.
“It’s been a long time… boyfriend.”
At those words, Chi Zhan suddenly froze in place.
The entire noisy world around him seemed to dissolve into silence.
His heart skipped a beat, just slightly out of rhythm.
For a moment, he felt dazed. Had he misheard?
What… did Seven just say?
Why would he say the word boyfriend?
Driven either by instinct or some ominous premonition, Chi Zhan glanced down at his phone, which was still lit up.
It wasn’t a WeChat voice call like he’d assumed.
It was the newly added in-game voice call function—and the caller wasn’t Seven.
It was Song Guang.
***
Chi Zhan’s fingers involuntarily clenched around his phone. He even stopped breathing for a second. Despite the crush of people around him, he could clearly feel a steady gaze locked on him.
It was Seven.
And it was also Song Guang.
But Chi Zhan had never imagined that Seven would so boldly lay his cards on the table today.
What now…?
Secretary Chi was in a mild panic, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say. All he could do was start walking toward the other side of the street.
Pretending he had bad signal or didn’t hear clearly because it was too noisy…
That excuse was clearly bullshit.
Seven wasn’t Chu Xingxiao—he wasn’t so easy to fool. And besides, Chi Zhan had just broken up with him unilaterally not long ago. That sentence just now definitely carried an air of reckoning. Whether morally or emotionally, Chi Zhan felt deeply guilty.
It took him five whole minutes to cross a short stretch of road.
He did his best to compose himself. Though his heart was still uneasy, his expression had returned to normal.
Seven said nothing, only looked at him.
Chi Zhan smiled and said, “The match just now was incredible. My friends said it was totally worth the ticket—they’ve become hardcore fans.”
Seven replied with a simple, “Mm. Let’s go.”
At those words, Chi Zhan exhaled in relief. Seven didn’t seem interested in bringing up what had just happened—maybe he could still pretend not to know.
The crowd was overwhelming. People jostled shoulder-to-shoulder, cars jammed the roads. As they walked, Chi Zhan kept getting bumped toward Seven.
There was no way to maintain proper social distance.
After the third or fourth time, a hand suddenly took hold of his.
Chi Zhan froze and turned to look. Seven’s expression was calm, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Just like that, the two of them quietly walked off the bustling street, hand in hand.
They stood together at a corner, waiting for a car. Seven never let go of his hand.
It was that same hand that often appeared on livestreams—the one Chi Zhan had fallen for at first sight—now holding his.
It felt like something out of a dream.
And yet, Chi Zhan’s feelings were far from simple.
“Seven…” he began, wanting to suggest that maybe it was time to let go—but saying it out loud felt oddly inappropriate, so he hesitated.
He’d never walked hand in hand with another man in public before. It felt like the entire street was staring at them—though that was probably just his imagination.
Seven, dressed in a simple black down jacket and scarf, his face half-covered, still stood out—but not to the same extent as Chu Xingxiao, who couldn’t even visit a breakfast joint without getting recognized. Seven wasn’t quite that famous.
Seven glanced at him and said coolly, “Going to break up with me again?”
Chi Zhan choked up instantly, unable to respond.
The word again was perfectly chosen—sharp and precise.
He’d thought Seven had moved past it, but clearly, from that one line, that wasn’t the case at all.
But Song Guang… how could that possibly be Seven?
Chi Zhan still couldn’t wrap his head around it. Yet thinking back to the way Song Guang spoke, it was exactly like Seven.
Who could’ve imagined it would turn out like this? That a “boyfriend” who’d appeared so randomly… would turn out to be his all-time favorite esports player. The odds of that had to be lower than winning the lottery.
Chi Zhan was about to say something when a car pulled up, cutting off his thoughts—thank god. It was like being rescued from drowning. Just before getting in, Chi Zhan had the strange sensation that someone was watching him. He looked around in confusion but saw only crowds—nothing suspicious.
The car pulled away.
On the opposite side of the street, Chu Xingxiao stood with a backpack slung over one shoulder, dressed in a simple windbreaker and black pants, staring at the hands Chi Zhan and Seven had just been holding.
Chu Xingxiao had had a rough morning.
The concert earlier had a stage malfunction—the mic went dead. Fortunately, his fundamentals were strong enough to carry the entire show. Then it started pouring, traffic was a mess, and his flight got delayed. He tried to message Chi Zhan, but his phone had died. He’d been in such a rush he hadn’t even brought a charger.
After landing, he borrowed a power bank from a convenience store, barely scraped together enough cash for a ride. He hadn’t had a sip of water, his throat ached from the strain of singing nonstop, and still—he arrived late.
He was deeply frustrated. He hadn’t wanted to leave a bad impression on their first real date by showing up late. He’d been wracking his brain for how to explain—
And then he saw Chi Zhan.
With Qi Song.
Guys didn’t hold hands unless they were in a relationship. Usually it was a slap on the back, an arm around the shoulder—but hand-holding?
His famously aloof, cold-tempered cousin—who hated physical contact—was holding Chi Zhan’s hand, eyes full of warmth, completely unconcerned about being in public. And the way Chi Zhan looked at him…
Chu Xingxiao felt his heart plummet into a frozen abyss.
