Before Chi Zhan could even finish his sentence, the next second, Zhou Yanxing pinned him against the wall.
Zhou’s hand tilted Chi Zhan’s chin up, lips curled ever so slightly, but there wasn’t a shred of warmth in his expression. His voice carried a low, simmering fury.
“Do I have to kiss you before you’ll finally tell me the truth?”
The restroom was pristine, the tiled walls scrubbed spotless, the floors gleaming like polished glass—clean enough to reflect a single strand of hair. A faint trace of aromatic disinfectant lingered in the air, the scent no doubt a reflection of Doctor Cen’s compulsive cleanliness. Not a speck of dust to be found anywhere.
But this was still a public space. Someone could walk in at any moment.
Chi Zhan’s entire body tensed. He tried to shove Zhou Yanxing away, but the man stood solid as steel, completely immovable—Chi Zhan’s struggles only wore him out faster.
“Speak.” Zhou Yanxing’s voice dropped another octave, his face inching close enough for their breath to mingle. “Or go ahead—make up another half-assed excuse and keep stringing me along.”
“President Zhou, please let go—”
Chi Zhan’s nerves were on fire, cold sweat breaking out across his back. If someone opened that door right now and saw them like this… God. It’d be front-page gossip before morning.
Zhou Yanxing ignored him entirely.
The fire burning in his dark eyes only grew more ferocious, twisting his handsome features with a rare edge of violence.
Jealousy licked at his chest like wildfire. He had never, ever felt anything like this before.
He was always the one in control—the golden child everyone fawned over. He’d never had to chase anyone. But now, here he was, practically groveling, and Chi Zhan kept pushing him away. Yet the moment he turned around, Chi Zhan was all soft smiles and warmth toward someone else. Anyone else.
Just not him.
“Chu Xingxiao is acceptable, but I’m not?” Zhou’s voice was low and gravelly. His sharp gaze caught the flicker of surprise in Chi Zhan’s eyes, as if wondering how Zhou had found out. “Everything’s already out in the open. Do you really expect me to believe you didn’t know it was him on that cruise? Fine, you brought him in to reject me,” Zhou gritted out. “But what about that livestreamer? Huh, Chi Zhan? I remember you told me—told me you two were just friends. So why did you turn around and feed the same lie to Cen Chi?”
If Chi Zhan’s evasiveness had been the fuse, Qi Song was the spark that ignited it—and the explosion was immediate.
Chi Zhan’s wide-eyed stare only made it worse. Zhou clenched his jaw so tightly it ached, his angular features sharpened into hard lines as he fought to contain the fury boiling beneath the surface.
Did Chi Zhan really think he was that oblivious? And of all people—that livestreamer?!
From the very first moment Zhou had laid eyes on Qi Song, his hackles had gone up. Back then, he didn’t understand why. Now, he did.
It was because of the way Chi Zhan looked at him—full of admiration, lit up from within.
That man clearly meant something different to him.
Zhou had asked again and again. Every time, Chi Zhan had given the same answer: they were just friends.
And what now? The moment his back was turned, they were out there parading affection in front of Cen Chi, lying through their teeth—again. If Cen Chi hadn’t spilled the truth, would Chi Zhan have kept this up forever?
Cen Chi’s words echoed like a slap to the face—sharp, humiliating, impossible to ignore.
If this were a novel, Zhou Yanxing would’ve tossed it aside after two chapters with a sneer and muttered, “I’ve never seen a more pathetic simp. What a disgrace to CEOs everywhere.”
But Chi Zhan froze.
Because for a moment—just a moment—he saw something in Zhou Yanxing’s eyes he had never seen before.
Pain.
The almighty President Zhou… was in pain.
Who could possibly hurt someone so far above the world?
And then Cen Chi’s offhand revelation resurfaced in his mind, compounding the dread in Zhou Yanxing’s heart—Chi Zhan wasn’t like them.
He didn’t know what Chi Zhan truly was, or whether he carried some hidden “mission,” but the growing sense of helplessness, of something slipping through his fingers, made every second feel like slow torture.
There were still so many strange things about this world. If Chi Zhan could leave—if one day he just disappeared, or ended up with someone else—
Just picturing that sent a wave of violence tearing through Zhou Yanxing’s chest, a desire to burn it all down. But the moment he looked at Chi Zhan, all that rage turned to ash.
I love you so much, Chi Zhan.
Zhou’s voice trembled—a rare moment of emotional fracture for the ever-composed executive. He stared at Chi Zhan, eyes fierce but words achingly soft.
“Would you really not even let me… be your trial boyfriend for just one day?”
***
Faced with Zhou Yanxing’s searing black eyes, Chi Zhan felt something lodge in his throat, heavy and immovable.
He couldn’t say a word.
He had never heard Zhou speak like this before.
Zhou Yanxing always carried himself with authority. Whether dealing with business partners or commanding a room during banquets, his tone was consistently firm, commanding. This—this pleading tone—might have been the first time in his life.
But what was Chi Zhan supposed to say?
The system had once warned him: if he made the wrong choice, the world could collapse.
Yet as that thought passed, Chi Zhan felt a strange flicker of doubt.
The logic… didn’t make sense anymore.
If he were a player, then no matter how high a romance target’s favorability became, it shouldn’t destabilize anything. That was the entire premise of the game. Why, then, had the system warned him about the world crumbling?
Why was he labeled an NPC in the first place?
Then suddenly, warmth and a sharp, stinging pain brushed across his lips.
Chi Zhan startled, instinctively leaning back—but forgot he was already pressed against the wall. There was nowhere left to retreat.
“Who were you thinking about just now?” Zhou Yanxing’s voice cut like glass.
He could see the exact moment Chi Zhan’s mind drifted, and the blaze in his chest surged with renewed fury.
“Still thinking about that livestreamer?”
He tilted Chi Zhan’s chin up again, forcing his head to tilt, baring the line of his throat—smooth and pale—and caught his lips in a bite more than a kiss.
“I wasn’t thinking about any—mmph!”
