While waiting outside, Chi Zhan took the opportunity to catch up on some work—but for some reason, he couldn’t shake a creeping sense of unease.
Sure, it was a good thing that Zhou Yanxing had voluntarily agreed to meet a blind date. But something about it just didn’t sit right with him. It felt… off.
Moments later, Lu Xiao emerged, eyes glazed over like he’d just seen the apocalypse.
Chi Zhan asked cautiously, “Mr. Lu, are you… alright?”
Lu Xiao looked at him, patted his shoulder solemnly.
“Comrade, hang in there. I believe you’ll be the first one to crack the code.”
“…?”
Since when were they comrades?
What the hell had Zhou Yanxing said to him?
Back in the office, Zhou Yanxing was calmly sipping coffee. Chi Zhan, still puzzled, asked, “President Zhou, about that Mr. Lu just now—”
“He left. What, you wanted to invite him to dinner too?”
“……”
“Secretary Chi, haven’t I told you? No unauthorized personnel allowed inside the company.” Zhou’s tone shifted—clearly gearing up to settle accounts. “But you, the moment you heard he was a blind date, just brought him right in. Do I really look that desperate to date?”
“…That was my mistake.”
He had assumed that as the NPC sidekick to a romance target, all he needed to do was facilitate interaction between the player and their target. Smooth the way. Help the story unfold.
Who could’ve predicted things would go so spectacularly off-script? Every player who’d interacted with Zhou Yanxing either quit, got arrested, or had their hearts thoroughly broken. None of them met a happy end.
“Admitting fault isn’t enough. Don’t you reflect?” Zhou’s tone was heavy with dissatisfaction. “Empty words mean nothing. What if another one comes along? Are you going to just let them in again? Do you even want this job?”
“I promise it won’t happen again.”
It was his first time playing the support-NPC role—he still lacked experience.
Though he wasn’t sure if he’d get another shot anyway.
“That’s all? Just a promise?” Zhou folded his arms and let out a cold huff. “And what about that Bai-something, and President Su, and all the other randos you’ve ushered in before?”
…His name is Bai Gongzi, not “Bai-something,” Chi Zhan mentally corrected, but outwardly, he kept his apologetic expression.
“I’m reflecting. Seriously.”
Zhou stared at him for a while, then finally said, “Enough. Get out.”
As Chi Zhan walked out, Zhou lightly tapped a finger on his desk, deep in thought.
Yesterday, he’d had a brief conversation with Cen Chi.
“Secretary Chi isn’t from the same world as us,” Cen Chi had said.
It wasn’t until Zhou got home that the weight of that sentence hit him. Cen Chi always spoke with layered meaning—never direct. But the more Zhou thought about it, the more it reminded him of the fight that broke out in his office that one time—and the strange bottle of medicine he’d seen.
They’d lost track of its origin, and eventually the whole matter faded. But pairing it with Cen Chi’s cryptic comment gave rise to an almost unbelievable theory.
What if Cen Chi had meant…
There were two kinds of people in this world?
One: regular people. The other: an odd category—collectively dubbed the “blind date army.”
Zhou hadn’t figured out what this group wanted, but one thing felt increasingly clear: Chi Zhan didn’t belong to either camp.
Cen Chi obviously knew something. But prying answers from him was next to impossible.
Asking Chi Zhan directly was also a no-go. Zhou still remembered those bizarre memory losses people had experienced—as if some unseen force prevented them from speaking the truth. Today’s little experiment with Lu Xiao had only confirmed that theory.
No—he couldn’t ask directly.
Just before noon, Chi Zhan was about to head out for lunch with some coworkers when Zhou suddenly appeared at his desk, tapping on the surface.
“Secretary Chi, come with me.”
Chi Zhan assumed it was a last-minute client meeting. He opened his mouth to ask what materials to bring, but Zhou cut in, “Just bring yourself.”
The destination was Zhou’s choice: the same couple’s restaurant as before. Even the waiter recognized Chi Zhan and greeted him with a grin, “Ah, Mr. Chi—oh! Not Mr. Cen today, it’s Mr. Zhou.”
It was like bringing a new boyfriend to meet old friends, only for the friend to exclaim: Wait, that’s not the one you brought yesterday!
“New boyfriend” Zhou clearly picked up on the implication. He shot Chi Zhan a side-eye and scoffed coldly.
“So you and Cen Chi come here pretty often, huh?”
The waiter realized they’d said too much and quickly tried to save face.
“Today we’re running a special pre-holiday promotion—draw a prize for a chance at a 50% discount!”
That familiar phrasing brought back a very bad feeling in Chi Zhan’s gut.
***
Last time, lured by the massive discount, he’d taken part in the restaurant’s lucky draw—only to pull a high-difficulty dare. The slip had listed something like a romantic challenge—not prank-based, but still clearly designed for couples.
Chi Zhan had no desire to clink wine glasses with the illustrious President Zhou ever again. One bout of social death was more than enough.
Besides, last time the discount was 90% off. This time it was only 50%—not even worth it!
“No discount needed today,” Chi Zhan said swiftly, steering the conversation away. “Please take us to a private room.”
The waiter looked apologetic.
“This gentleman reserved a window seat. Right this way.”
He led them to a spot that Chi Zhan recognized immediately.
It was the same place he often sat with Cen Chi—a window table with the best view in the restaurant, featuring an outdoor terrace bathed in gentle winter sunlight. In the colder months, it was one of the warmest, coziest spots.
But it had a major drawback.
Chi Zhan blinked in confusion.
“President Zhou… this is a two-person table. What about the client?”
“When did I ever say we were meeting a client?”
He casually pulled out a chair. Chi Zhan sat down before realizing something was very wrong.
Since when did the boss pull out the chair?
It took a few seconds for it to hit him: this wasn’t a business meeting.
It was… a personal invitation?
