“There’s something I’ve been curious about,” Cen Chi said, raising his glass and glancing at Qi Song, who’d remained silent all this time. “Forgive me for asking, but the two of you seem so different in personality—are you really brothers?”
Zhou Yanxing looked puzzled.
“Brothers?”
“You didn’t know?” Cen Chi drawled lazily. “They mentioned it back at the resort. This Captain Qi here is Xiao Chu’s older cousin—relatives, technically speaking.”
Zhou Yanxing turned to study the two men. Now that it was pointed out, they did both have tear-shaped moles—there was a resemblance if you looked closely. Still, it had never once crossed his mind…
That the streamer was somehow related to Chu Xingxiao didn’t surprise Zhou much—but the fact that both of them had a thing for Chi Zhan? That, he couldn’t tolerate.
Qi Song responded in a calm, detached voice.
“That’s right.”
Among the four, Qi Song’s interest in Chi Zhan was actually the most overt. He didn’t need to speak, didn’t even need to interact with him—his presence alone exuded a quiet, intimidating pressure.
But everyone here was shrewd. Before things truly crossed the line, they were all playing the long game, testing each other’s patience, waiting for someone to slip first.
Chi Zhan began clearing the dishes. The others stood up and followed suit, helping him gather everything.
“You guys head to the living room,” Chi Zhan said, rubbing his temples. “No need to help.”
There were only seven or eight dishes. With so many people crowding in, the kitchen would be a mess.
Besides, he needed a few minutes to himself—to think about what the hell he was going to do next.
But Qi Song stayed and started washing the dishes anyway.
For a moment, Chi Zhan was almost in a daze.
Seven was washing dishes in his kitchen.
The image alone was surreal. “Let me do it,” Chi Zhan offered. “You can just—”
Qi Song didn’t respond. He just turned to glance at him. His gaze wasn’t sharp or dangerous, held no threat at all—but still, it made Chi Zhan forget what he was about to say.
Qi Song turned back and kept washing. Chi Zhan had no choice but to hand him a pair of gloves.
“The national e-sports champion’s hands really shouldn’t be touching dish soap.”
“I’m not that delicate,” Qi Song said, eyes lowered. His voice was calm, but the air around him felt noticeably colder.
Maybe he should explain things to Seven… But how?
Chi Zhan’s mind raced. I’m not really with your cousin. We’re just acting.
But even that explanation felt like too much. Besides, his original plan had been to convince Seven that he already had a boyfriend.
That was a line he just couldn’t seem to cross.
While Chi Zhan was stuck overthinking, Qi Song had already finished washing. Chi Zhan took the dishes, dried them off, and placed them in the cabinet.
They moved with perfect, wordless coordination.
“You didn’t tell me he was living with you. Is it hard for you… because of me?”
So he really had misunderstood.
All those elaborate excuses Chi Zhan had prepared instantly fell away.
“I… I’m not actually with him.”
Qi Song’s hands froze mid-motion.
“He said he was your boyfriend. You didn’t deny it.”
Chi Zhan hesitated.
“That’s… a long story. Do you want to hear it now?”
To explain it properly, he’d have to start from the very beginning—when Chu Xingxiao moved in next door.
Back then, Chu hadn’t mentioned Qi Song at all, much less their family connection.
Qi Song looked at him silently, lips pressed together.
After a moment, he shook his head. “Later.”
There was something else he needed to sort out first.
He left the kitchen. Chi Zhan stayed behind, absentmindedly wiping surfaces just to delay going out and facing reality. That was when a light bump came from the door. Chi Zhan opened it—and in scurried the robot vacuum.
“Close it! Hurry!” it said in a panic.
Chi Zhan blinked in confusion, only to hear the system’s voice shriek, “What the hell just happened?! Things just got worse!”
All four of the romance targets’ Blackening Values just activated.
Unprecedented. Absolutely unheard of.
Even the system was in full meltdown mode.
“What happened?” Chi Zhan asked, baffled.
The system went silent.
“…Forget it,” it finally muttered, suddenly resigned. “Stick to the original plan. Hold out until the last second—victory lies in endurance.”
The main system had already approved its viability report. As long as this world didn’t completely collapse, they could successfully transition to the next one—and even get performance points.
As for this current world? All the embarrassing black history would be sealed up and never see the light of day.
Back in the living room, the four men each sat in a different corner of the sofa. No one sat next to anyone else. No one spoke.
“Chu Xingxiao,” Qi Song called out flatly. “Come here.”
Chu got up, and the two walked out onto the rooftop. Chi Zhan usually kept a small garden there. Chu had volunteered to take over watering duties—only to nearly drown everything. He’d panicked, dragged himself to the florist for advice, and managed to nurse the little sprouts back from the brink.
Now he leaned against the railing, one hand in his pocket, staring at one of the flowers he’d almost killed and then saved.
“What is it?”
He only dropped the act when Chi Zhan wasn’t around.
Dark, unbothered, utterly aloof.
The two cousins stood face to face.
“I told you to take care of him,” Qi Song said, eyes fixed on him. “Is this how you’ve been taking care of him?”
***
The small pot was still simmering on the stove. Chi Zhan worried it might boil dry. He was about to call Chu Xingxiao to check on it when he pushed open the door—and realized both Chu and Qi Song were gone from the living room.
He frowned in confusion, just as Zhou Yanxing’s voice piped up from the side.
“Finally decided to come out?”
Zhou stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching him with a lazy smirk. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, making it look like he’d been lying in wait.
“Looks like you’ve been hiding quite a bit from me. Even Chu Xingxiao moved into your place. And that streamer—you two seem awfully close.” His drawl was casual, almost lazy, but that just made it harder to read whether he was angry or not.
And the more nonchalant he sounded, the worse his mood likely was.
