Watching Zhou Yanxing lead Chi Zhan away, Cen Chi didn’t follow. Instead, he stood still, lost in thought, mind circling around something odd he’d noticed earlier.
Just before hypnotizing Chi Zhan, he’d discovered an “anchor point.”
An anchor point was a suggestion node implanted in a subject—something that required a keyword to unlock.
Which meant… Chi Zhan had already been hypnotized once before.
Some of his memories had been sealed away.
Cen Chi had tried probing it, but the resistance was too strong. He didn’t dare push too hard. Still, the style of the anchor—it felt eerily familiar. It looked like his own technique.
But judging by Chi Zhan’s reactions, he didn’t even know he’d been hypnotized before.
What on earth was going on?
***
Back at the company, Chi Zhan was about to return to his workstation when Zhou Yanxing, with an air of absolute authority, whisked him off to the lounge without giving him a choice.
Chi Zhan blinked as he was unceremoniously pushed down onto the bed.
“…President Zhou, it’s—”
“Mm?”
“…Yanxing,” Chi Zhan corrected himself, “It’s still working hours.”
“I didn’t nap at noon today,” Zhou said as he wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. “Sleep with me for a bit.”
Chi Zhan tried to resist.
“But I still have work—”
“What, I can’t nap with my boyfriend?” Zhou’s voice dipped slightly, tinged with disappointment. “There’s only twenty-four hours in a day. Cen Chi already stole half an hour, and now you want work to take another four? Are you trying to kill me?”
“……”
***
Chi Zhan opened his mouth to say something more, but Zhou was already grinning. “Don’t feel like sleeping? Want to do something else? That’s fine too.”
But that smile wasn’t gentle—it carried a dangerous, smoldering heat in his eyes.
It made no sense. Zhou Yanxing had endless energy, the kind of man who seemed to wrestle with his job twenty-four-seven like a hyperactive husky. And yet today, of all days, he suddenly wanted to nap?
Chi Zhan’s heart skipped a beat. Just as Zhou leaned in for a kiss, he quickly raised a hand to block his face.
He really wasn’t good at dealing with this kind of situation. His voice faltered slightly.
“Let’s… let’s just sleep.” He added firmly, “Just a nap. Nothing else.”
Zhou made a face like he’d been wronged, clearly disappointed he couldn’t take things further. But he didn’t push. Instead, he tightened his embrace, resting his head in the curve of Chi Zhan’s neck, like a lazy panther basking in the sun.
“Alright. Let’s sleep.”
Chi Zhan wasn’t used to sleeping beside anyone—especially not someone this close. Their foreheads nearly touched, their noses just short of brushing. It was… far too intimate.
But Zhou Yanxing really did seem tired. Soon, his breathing fell into a slow, even rhythm.
Chi Zhan turned over, putting his back to him. But the separation lasted only a few seconds before Zhou moved closer again and wrapped an arm around his waist.
Chi Zhan hesitated, then didn’t push him away.
They were both in dress shirts, the fabric thin enough that Zhou’s body heat seeped straight through. It was warm—almost too warm. Or maybe it was just Chi Zhan’s own temperature running cool. When Zhou pressed close, it felt like being wrapped in a furnace.
Comforting. Unexpectedly comforting.
There was a faint, barely-there scent of mint on Zhou’s skin, mixed with the clean scent of a man. Somehow… it put Chi Zhan at ease.
Originally, he’d planned to wait until Zhou was asleep, then sneak off to continue working. But his body was warm, and his mind was spinning at full throttle—one question after another flooding in, none of them answered. His thoughts knotted into chaos, and the sleepiness he’d fought off earlier came creeping back, heavy and inescapable.
His eyelids grew heavier and heavier…
***
Zhou Yanxing opened his eyes. There wasn’t even a hint of drowsiness in them.
Chi Zhan was sound asleep now. His long lashes fanned gently down, his side profile and exposed neck impossibly delicate.
Adorable. Completely and utterly adorable.
Of course Zhou didn’t nap. Normally after lunch, he’d rest for a few minutes, then either go meet clients or hit the gym downstairs. Sleeping in the afternoon? Never.
And today of all days—a day this memorable—how could he possibly sleep?
He stared at Chi Zhan’s face for a while. But that wasn’t enough. Slowly, he propped himself up on one hand and leaned in to kiss him.
He didn’t want to wake him. So every kiss was feather-light, delicate and reverent, like spring rain caressing soft white skin.
Chi Zhan really was exhausted. Even then, he didn’t stir. He just frowned in his sleep, as if dreaming that some annoying dog kept licking him. He tried to wave it away, but the dog wouldn’t budge—even licking his wrist until it was damp…
The sharp scent of mint lingered stubbornly in his dream.
Chi Zhan shifted slightly, pressing his head into the pillow. It was soft, warm, just the right firmness. He absentmindedly gave it a little squeeze and mumbled to himself:
Where can I buy a pillow like this?
Then a voice chuckled above him, low and amused.
“Comfy, huh?”
Chi Zhan blinked, dazed.
Zhou Yanxing was now sitting up against the headboard, a laptop balanced on his legs. The screen cast a pale glow over his face. One hand typed rapidly on the keyboard—clearly handling work.
Meanwhile, Chi Zhan was curled against him, arm still draped around Zhou’s waist, his head resting on Zhou Yanxing’s abs.
It was the complete opposite of how they’d started.
Chi Zhan quickly pulled away, pretending nothing had happened. He glanced at the computer screen—and froze.
He’d been asleep for an hour and a half.
That was basically a partial no-show.
His temples throbbed. He felt like he’d just hit rock bottom. He hadn’t even planned to fall asleep, so he hadn’t set an alarm.
“I’m sorry, I…” he started apologizing instinctively.
But Zhou paused his typing and looked at him. “You’re awake now,” he said smoothly. “So that means we can… continue, right?”
