“What?”
Chu Xingxiao tried to keep his expression neutral, but the moment he heard those words, a heaviness settled in his chest.
He didn’t know exactly what had transpired between Qi Song and Chi Zhan, but at least before Christmas, the two had seemed no more than acquaintances. Otherwise, how could Chi Zhan have remained so unfazed when he’d declared his feelings for his cousin’s boyfriend?
But now, Chu Xingxiao wasn’t so sure anymore.
Qi Song looked him dead in the eye.
“He said… you and he aren’t really in a relationship. He was worried I might misunderstand.”
For once, Chu Xingxiao had no retort.
As far as Qi Song was concerned, this cousin—whom he barely saw once or twice a year—meant little to nothing.
Families like theirs didn’t grow close naturally. What little sense of kinship existed was more often instilled through parental influence—passed down with cold detachment. Power plays and rivalries were the norm. Qi Song had little to do with them, and among the very few he could even stand to be around, Chu Xingxiao had been one of them.
But if Chi Zhan hadn’t been sick—and if Chu Xingxiao hadn’t happened to be in the same city—Qi Song would never have asked him for help in the first place.
Once or twice could be brushed off as coincidence. But three times? No way. Chu Xingxiao wasn’t the kind of guy to obediently call anyone “gege.” That alone was enough to raise red flags.
Could Chi Zhan possibly like Chu Xingxiao?
That thought would occasionally flit through Qi Song’s mind like a ghost—gone before it could settle, but always leaving a faint shadow behind, lingering just enough to unsettle him.
Meanwhile, Zhou Yanxing answered a call. Something seemed to have come up, and he didn’t linger. As he turned to go, he said to Chi Zhan, “Make sure you eat before work tomorrow. If you show up with an empty stomach again, I’ll add ‘eating breakfast’ to your performance evaluation.”
“…Okay.”
“You’re not involved with that male streamer, are you?” Zhou Yanxing pressed. He still wasn’t reassured. After all, both the “male streamer” and his own cousin were currently in Chi Zhan’s apartment, practically circling him like wolves.
Cen Chi, meanwhile, was resting his chin in his hand, watching Chi Zhan with a smile and a glint in his eye.
“Ah-Zhan, before you lie, maybe take a look at who’s around.”
Zhou Yanxing turned sharply.
“What do you mean by that?”
Chi Zhan’s heart leapt to his throat. He immediately cut in, “Doctor Cen, isn’t it about time you left too?”
Cen Chi’s intel network was unnervingly thorough. He seemed to know things even Zhou Yanxing didn’t. Chi Zhan couldn’t shake the feeling that Cen Chi had already seen straight through him.
But Cen Chi didn’t take offense at the implied dismissal, nor did he insist on staying. He checked his watch and smiled.
“Just so happens my next consult’s about to start. I should be going.”
Zhou Yanxing was annoyed by Cen Chi’s cryptic manner, but the doctor said nothing more. He took his time putting on his cashmere coat, buttoning it up with graceful composure, and offered Chi Zhan a gentlemanly nod.
“Thanks for the hospitality.”
Next to Cen Chi’s polished demeanor, Zhou Yanxing looked more like a thug.
He’d never liked Cen Chi’s smug elegance. Sure, the guy had always been aloof, but Zhou Yanxing hadn’t pegged him for a schemer—at least not until now.
And yet, Chi Zhan clearly had a soft spot for that type.
The two men stepped out together.
Zhou Yanxing’s expression was flat.
“What were you about to say?”
Cen Chi replied unhurriedly, “Ah-Zhan and that so-called ‘male streamer’ are much closer than you think. Instead of wasting energy picking a fight with me, maybe focus on the others. That little singer in your company isn’t exactly an amateur either.”
Zhou Yanxing’s temper flared the instant Cen Chi called Chi Zhan “Ah-Zhan.” It felt like someone else was laying claim to something that belonged to him. But Cen Chi’s next comment briefly pulled him out of his jealous haze, brow furrowing.
“You keep calling him a ‘male streamer,’ but that Captain Qi is no ordinary anchor. He’s a decorated, nationally-ranked e-sports pro. Ah-Zhan really admires him. Compared to you, he leans more toward him.”
A nerve twitched at Zhou Yanxing’s temple.
“Oh? Is that so?”
He was tempted to turn around right then and there, drag Chi Zhan into the room, and make him choose between them.
Would Chi Zhan pick someone else over him?
“And besides…” Cen Chi added languidly, “you know Ah-Zhan and Chu Xingxiao are only pretending to be a couple. What you don’t know… is that the one with the real claim is his cousin.”
Zhou Yanxing halted mid-step, his expression turning grim.
“You serious?”
Watching his temper spike like a rocket, Cen Chi replied, “As it stands… not entirely.”
At least, not as long as none of them had succeeded in “capturing” their target. Until then, no one could truly claim to have Chi Zhan.
Cen Chi lowered his gaze.
What would it take to become someone who stood on equal ground with Chi Zhan?
Back inside, Chi Zhan was completely unaware of their conversation. Every five minutes or so, he’d glance toward the terrace. A glass door stood between them, muffling all sound. He couldn’t hear a thing. All he could see was the two cousins, standing on opposite ends with their backs to him.
Qi Song’s black trench coat had been draped over a chair. He now wore only a thin white shirt, the fabric billowing in the breeze. His figure was long and lean—just standing there, he looked like a model in a magazine spread.
Chu Xingxiao, on the other hand, was a walking contradiction—his hair a tousled mess, but still effortlessly handsome. He wore a simple T-shirt, one hand stuffed into his pocket. The same shirt looked casual on Chi Zhan, but on Chu Xingxiao, it exuded a kind of lazy defiance—bold and unruly.
The two of them stood on the subzero terrace for nearly half an hour in nothing but summer clothes. Qi Song was the first to come back in, pushing open the door.
Chu Xingxiao lingered behind.
Chi Zhan, worried, asked, “Aren’t you cold?”
The wind up there was harsh, and Qi Song’s complexion had turned pale as ice—his eyelashes dusted with frost, the air around him practically freezing.
He hated the cold.
Chi Zhan couldn’t help but worry he’d catch a chill.
He was just about to plug in the little cat-shaped hand warmer when Qi Song lowered his eyes and gently took his hand, the one reaching for the warmer.
“Cold,” he said softly.
Chi Zhan offered tentatively, “Want me to warm it up for you…?”
“No.” Qi Song still wouldn’t meet his eyes, and the pressure in the room seemed to drop.
