Unfortunately for Chi Zhan, Zhou Yanxing was still his direct superior—he couldn’t exactly scold him outright.
Zhou Yanxing just chuckled.
“Why does this feel like an affair? Secretary Chi, do you like the thrill?”
“The company forbids office romances,” Chi Zhan snapped, clearly exasperated. “Weren’t you the one who wrote that policy in the first place? What if someone finds out—”
“Oh right, I almost forgot about that,” Zhou Yanxing said, tone playful as he casually glanced toward the door. “If you want to go public, I’m all for it. As for any disciplinary action… I’ll take the fall. Actually, you still owe me for the last punishment. Might as well settle everything together.”
“…Let’s set some ground rules,” he said coldly. “If you don’t agree, I’ll… cancel this relationship.”
Zhou Yanxing raised a brow, amused.
“Go ahead.”
“First, no inappropriate behavior at work,” Chi Zhan stated firmly. “And no more indecent remarks.”
He’d figured it out—if he didn’t draw some boundaries with Zhou Yanxing, the man would keep acting like a beast in heat, constantly looking for excuses to pounce. Without limits, things were bound to spiral out of control.
“And the second rule?” Zhou Yanxing asked, pretending to listen intently.
“Second… no inappropriate behavior in public either,” Chi Zhan improvised on the spot. “If someone takes a picture, it’ll be impossible to explain.”
Zhou Yanxing wasn’t a celebrity, true, but he was still a high-profile figure. If some nosy onlooker caught them on camera, they’d have to shell out a fortune in PR just to clean it up.
“Ohh…” Zhou Yanxing nodded thoughtfully. “Then I suppose the third rule is: even at home, I’m not allowed to touch you?”
Chi Zhan replied, “Since you already know, then—”
“I’ll agree to one of those,” Zhou Yanxing cut in. “Work, public, or home—you pick.”
The moment he went on the offensive, the balance of power subtly shifted back into his hands.
“If you won’t compromise—”
“You’ll break up with me?” Zhou Yanxing finished the sentence for him, his tone low and tinged with amusement… but with a dangerous edge underneath. “Then what? You going to run off to Cen Chi? Chu Xingxiao? That male streamer?”
Chi Zhan froze. That took a sharp turn.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said awkwardly.
“Then think carefully before you speak,” Zhou Yanxing said, his expression turning serious. “Let’s both give a little. At work and in public, I won’t touch you. But once we’re home, you can’t keep pushing me away. Otherwise, how’s it any different from before?”
Chi Zhan was about to argue again when Zhou Yanxing suddenly frowned.
“Tch… my tongue still hurts. Did you bite it that hard? And my shoulder, too. You sure love to bite, huh?” he added, deadpan. “Maybe I should buy you a chew toy.”
Chi Zhan didn’t know whether to be angry or laugh. He hadn’t exactly been thinking about pressure control when he was mad earlier, and it did look kind of serious. He couldn’t let the mighty President Zhou limp through a meeting sounding like he had a lisp, so he dropped the argument for now and sprayed some Yunnan Baiyao on the wound.
Neither of them brought up the subject again.
Soon it was time for the meeting. With personal matters pushed aside, Chi Zhan returned to work mode, briskly organizing the agenda. But after everything earlier—and the physical toll it had taken—he stepped into the meeting room feeling strangely drained. The first thing he saw was Qi Song, seated on the right side.
Everyone else looked nervous as they flipped through their materials. Only Qi Song sat like an island unto himself, expression cool and detached—as if nothing around him really mattered. The same aloof aura everyone associated with Seven.
Chi Zhan paused for half a second. That was when Qi Song looked up and met his eyes.
Cold. Clear. Like still water.
They held eye contact for a beat. Then Qi Song lowered his gaze and casually turned a page in his packet.
He didn’t look pleased. Did something happen earlier?
As Chi Zhan took his seat, a jumble of conflicting thoughts swirled through his head.
Strictly speaking, he and Seven weren’t technically dating—just “public partners” in the game. And yet… why did he feel so guilty?
Zhou Yanxing placed a cup of coffee in front of him. Then he sat down, calmly sipping from the other cup—his own—without saying a word.
Chi Zhan blinked.
So that earlier coffee… had been made for him?
Sitting beside Zhou Yanxing and taking meeting notes should’ve been the most routine thing in the world. But now, with two of his strategy targets in the same room, Chi Zhan found himself oddly on edge.
The decisions he’d made today seemed to be changing more than he’d anticipated—like ripples he couldn’t yet see the end of.
Su Ran entered with his usual flair, dressed in a blazing red suit that instantly made him the most eye-catching person in the room. But he noticed right away that Zhou Yanxing’s gaze, while polite, held none of the warmth or interest he’d hoped for—just the baseline courtesy expected between potential business partners.
He had everything: the elite look, the right image, and the inside track to be with Zhou Yanxing. So why didn’t it work? Where had he gone wrong?
Su Ran was beginning to suspect that these targets might not have any real feelings to begin with.
The meeting dragged on for a full three hours. When a break was finally announced, people shuffled out in small groups to get some air.
Chi Zhan quickly tidied up the minutes and handed them off to the secretary department so they could update the existing plan. But just as he stepped out the door, he froze.
Qi Song was standing right there.
Tall, still, eyes brimming with cool detachment. He was looking down at his phone, absently twirling a small charm around his finger—a tiny cat head dangling from it.
Colleagues passing by were whispering, clearly recognizing him as Seven. But that chill, almost untouchable presence kept everyone at bay. No one dared approach.
Chi Zhan frowned slightly.
“Seven… what are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
His voice was calm, but something had shifted in his eyes—still deep and dark, but now carrying a quiet turbulence Chi Zhan couldn’t read.
The quieter the surface, the more dangerous the undertow.
