Qi Song seemed to be running out of patience. One hand braced against the doorframe, he kept Chen Che from stepping inside. As they stood in a standoff, Chen Che caught a glimpse of Qi Song’s face—half-shadowed just moments ago—now exposed in the light, clearly marked by a bruise. It looked like a scrape from a punch.
Chen Che stared, dumbfounded. Who the hell dared to hit Qi-ge? Could it have been… Secretary Chi?
“Chen Che?” Chi Zhan appeared at the door, spotting him standing awkwardly at the threshold. He took a step back. “You looking for Seven?”
Even in the dim lighting, Chen Che quickly scanned Chi Zhan. Disheveled, yes—but thankfully no sign of injury. If Chi Zhan had also been hit, he would’ve had to report Qi-ge for domestic violence, blood ties be damned!
“Dinner…” Chen Che started to explain.
“Got it,” Qi Song cut in. “You go ahead. We’ll be down shortly.”
Chen Che was still uneasy, but one cold glance from Qi Song—so frigid it could freeze every living thing in its path, friend or foe—shut him right up.
“Alright, I’ll head down first.”
After he left, Chi Zhan stood there, unsure what to say. He lowered his head and began tidying his clothes. The buttons on his shirt had come undone in the earlier scuffle. As he started to rebutton them, a second pair of hands stepped in, helping him fasten them with meticulous care, smoothing his collar gently.
“There’s a claypot rice place downstairs that’s actually pretty good. Wanna try it?”
Chi Zhan hesitated.
“But I should go back…”
“Don’t want to eat?” Qi Song asked, continuing to button his shirt, calm as ever. “Then I’ll let Chen Che know.”
Something in his tone made Chi Zhan pause. He sensed the unspoken meaning beneath the words—”If you’re not eating, we’ll just pick up where we left off.” He immediately changed course.
“…No. Let’s go.”
Qi Song might’ve looked calm on the surface, but sometimes that calm was more dangerous than anger—like a predator hidden in the dark, invisible, intangible, yet always setting your nerves on edge.
Chi Zhan was starting to worry.
If Qi Song had flown into a rage after finding out about Zhou Yanxing—shouting, swearing—it might’ve been easier to deal with. But Qi Song hadn’t asked a single question. He just looked at him with those quiet, obsidian eyes—and somehow, that made it even harder to bear. Even harder to explain.
“You don’t love him,” Qi Song said suddenly, while gently fixing Chi Zhan’s tousled hair. “You said yes to him for some other reason, didn’t you?”
Chi Zhan was startled by Qi Song’s perceptiveness.
Even without knowing anything, that single sentence seemed to pierce through layers of truth. But right now, Chi Zhan had no words.
Sometimes silence is the clearest answer.
“Where’s that… ointment?” Chi Zhan mumbled, fumbling in the dark to find the tube of medicine he’d dropped earlier. He’d forgotten to turn on the lights, and the room was pitch black. Blindly searching, he heard Qi Song say, “This one?”
At some point, Qi Song had already picked it up.
“Yeah. Put it on soon—it’ll heal faster.”
Qi Song didn’t seem too concerned, but Chi Zhan couldn’t stand the thought of him walking into the restaurant with a bruised face. It would cause too much trouble. He turned on the light and pulled Qi Song down to sit, insisting, “Doesn’t it hurt?”
Qi Song shook his head, voice low.
“It does.”
So… does it or doesn’t it?
Chi Zhan said nothing. He squeezed a bit of the ointment onto his fingers and gently dabbed it onto Qi Song’s cheek.
Qi Song closed his eyes. His lashes cast soft shadows beneath his eyes, and the bruise happened to cover the tear mole on his cheek—making it look like he was silently crying.
Chi Zhan couldn’t guess what Qi Song was thinking. Just as Qi Song was likely trying to figure out what Chi Zhan was thinking.
The ointment had a cooling effect, making even Chi Zhan’s fingertips feel chilled. He asked softly, “There, still hurt?”
Qi Song opened his eyes. In the warm light, his pale pupils were especially clear. He replied in a whisper, “Yeah. Then kiss me, and it won’t hurt anymore.”
***
The rain came down harder, forming a curtain of water that blurred everything into vague, shifting mirages. A flash of lightning split the sky, illuminating the corridor in stark white. Thunder rumbled in the distance, deafening and relentless. Then all was still again.
Startled, Chi Zhan instinctively pulled back, putting distance between them.
“I should head back.”
Qi Song rose and draped a jacket over his shoulders. He leaned in and kissed him on the lips—light, natural—and said, “Chen Che and the others are waiting in the restaurant.”
Chi Zhan had only planned to drop something off before leaving. He opened his mouth to refuse, but Qi Song seemed to know exactly what he was about to say.
“After we eat, I’ll drive you home.”
There was no room left to decline.
The restaurant wasn’t crowded—only a few patrons scattered around. The bad weather had thinned the usual flow of customers. Chen Che, Wen An, and the rest were already seated downstairs. When they saw Qi Song and Chi Zhan come in, they had even saved two adjacent seats for them.
Chen Che looked a little dejected. He’d just been scolded harshly by Wen An for interrupting Qi-ge’s romantic moment.
Still not quite convinced, Chen Che thought: What’s there to interrupt? If Qi-ge’s dating someone, doesn’t that just mean they’re gaming together? What else could it be?
Chen Che’s impression of Qi Song could be summed up in four words: pure-hearted and ascetic.
Secretary Chi didn’t seem like the romantic type either.
But when they came downstairs and Chen Che noticed how red Secretary Chi’s lips were—far rosier than usual—he suddenly realized what they’d really been doing.
Thank heavens Qi-ge had spared his life just now!
Chi Zhan placed his order, and just then, his phone lit up. It was a call from Jiang Yi.
At this hour, most players should’ve logged off. The fact that Jiang Yi was still online could only mean one thing—he had results from the investigation Chi Zhan had asked him to do recently.
Chi Zhan’s expression grew a shade more serious. He picked up the phone and stepped into a quieter corner.
Jiang Yi’s voice came through the line.
“Customer service just got back to me. There are a few reasons someone might show as ‘not in the service zone.’ For example—bad network connection, a sudden disconnect; the person’s fallen unconscious but their consciousness is still in the game; or it could be a device malfunction. Any of those might cause that status.”
