“Wasn’t this your idea to begin with?” Cen Chi said casually. “Since you’ve already said something like that to him, you have to commit to the act. I’ll cooperate with you. As long as that kid hasn’t given up, I’ll keep playing along—always.”
***
When Tao Ran returned from class, he immediately sensed something was off.
The dorm was unusually quiet. No one was speaking. Chi Zhan sat back in his chair reading a book, and surprisingly, Cen Chi was still in the room as well. Tao Ran had only glanced around absently before he was struck with horror at what he saw.
“Why is there so much blood on your clothes…” Tao Ran pointed at Cen Chi, his finger trembling. Cen Chi’s shirt was soaked with blood, and there were splatters on the floor too. His neck was haphazardly wrapped in gauze, like it had been done in a rush.
Within seconds, Tao Ran’s imagination filled in a gruesome, 100,000-word brawl narrative. Had Chi-Chi been the one to do it? That couldn’t be—Cen Chi was always so gentle and kind. He didn’t seem like the type who’d lay a finger on someone.
“Um… need some help?” Tao Ran asked in a hushed tone, afraid that even a slightly louder voice might cost Cen Chi his life. He carefully kept his voice soft and cautious.
“It’s fine, just a scratch.”
Tao Ran’s face was a picture of confusion. Just a scratch? But it was on his neck! He eyed the gauze wrapped around Cen Chi’s throat—it clearly hadn’t been done by a medical student. At the end of the bandage was a little bow. What kind of twisted sense of humor was this?
But since Cen Chi didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, Tao Ran could only return to his desk, turn on his light-brain, and message Chi Zhan.
Tao Ran: What happened…
Chi Zhan: I did it.
Tao Ran: ???
Chi Zhan: He annoyed me.
Tao Ran: Then it must be Cen Chi’s fault! Want me to help beat him up too?
Tao Ran was a die-hard “Chi Zhan stan.” No matter what Chi Zhan did, he would back him without hesitation. In his eyes, Chi Zhan was always right.
The two were still discussing a hundred different ways to “assassinate” a roommate when they suddenly heard Cen Chi say, “Ah-Zhan, can you get me a glass of water?”
His voice was still a little hoarse, laced with a trace of pain, making speech clearly a struggle. Although the bleeding had stopped, the wound obviously hadn’t healed yet—it had to still hurt.
Chi Zhan poured him a glass of water and set it down in front of him. Just as he was about to leave, his wrist was lightly caught.
The grip wasn’t firm—just a loose hold that could easily be shaken off with a bit of effort.
“Feed it to me, would you?”
Chi Zhan’s brow twitched subtly as he looked down at him, expressionless.
“You don’t have hands?”
“They hurt,” Cen Chi replied, showing no trace of male pride.
The way he said it, you’d think he’d been slashed on the hands instead of the neck.
“We had an agreement, didn’t we?” Cen Chi coughed a couple of times. From the blood loss, his face had turned paper-white, so pale it looked like the slightest touch could shatter it. “If you ignore your boyfriend, he might just die of heartbreak in the next second.”
Chi Zhan leaned down slightly and said coldly, “The deal was to pretend to be your boyfriend only in front of Xiao Xing. The rest of the time, we have nothing to do with each other.”
“Exactly. But if you don’t cooperate, I don’t mind going public with our relationship,” Cen Chi replied with a smile. “Two Betas dating—what’s so strange about that?”
“Oh? You’re a Beta?” Chi Zhan shot back. “That’s news to me. Maybe there’s a mistake in your differentiation report—should I have it retested?”
Yet Cen Chi didn’t respond with the shocked expression Chi Zhan had expected. Instead, he remained calm and unbothered. “If you really want to know, I don’t mind letting you confirm it for yourself.”
Chi Zhan stared at him for two seconds, then picked up the glass of water and brought it to Cen Chi’s lips.
Cen Chi tilted his head up, fully revealing the butterfly knot Chi Zhan had deliberately tied into his bandage. It was meant to provoke him, but Cen Chi didn’t seem to care in the slightest. In fact, he even complimented it with an approving, “Looks good.”
Chi Zhan had no idea what kind of bizarre aesthetic this guy had, or what went on in that head of his. He was unpredictable, a true oddball.
By the time Chi Zhan got back to his seat, Tao Ran had already sent him over a dozen messages—all exclamation marks.
Tao Ran: Chi-Chi! Did I hear that right just now? Did Cen Chi really say… boyfriend?
Cen Chi hadn’t even tried to lower his voice, probably on purpose just so Tao Ran would hear.
Chi Zhan had no intention of dragging Tao Ran into Cen Chi’s mess and replied offhandedly:
Chi Zhan: Yeah, he’s my boyfriend for now. Don’t tell anyone.
He didn’t expect Tao Ran to understand, but a moment later, Tao Ran replied:
Tao Ran: Holy crap, I ship it!! This is peak enemies-to-lovers! A beautifully twisted love story!
…Enemies-to-lovers? Yeah, right.
Chi Zhan didn’t bother to explain further. His mind had already moved on to another matter.
That scent he’d picked up earlier—was it really Cen Chi’s pheromones?
Tao Ran was a Beta and wouldn’t be able to smell it. And pheromones were deeply personal—outsiders usually couldn’t detect them unless they were particularly close.
He needed to confirm it. If it was Cen Chi’s pheromone, then this was going to get a lot more complicated.
Chi Zhan paused, then asked Tao Ran:
Chi Zhan: Does Cen Chi have any close friends?
Tao Ran: Huh? I’m not really sure… I’ll ask around!
Chi Zhan: Don’t let him find out.
Tao Ran: Got it, hehe. I understand—this is that jealous possessiveness lovers have, right?
…What nonsense.
Chi Zhan began seriously considering whether Tao Ran should be banned from reading melodramatic romance novels.
Despite his average academic performance, Tao Ran had a wide social circle thanks to his outgoing nature and ability to befriend anyone. He’d gotten to know a lot of people.
Chi Zhan was the opposite. While he was polite and courteous, most people found him distant and didn’t dare approach him.
In truth, Chi Zhan didn’t care much for making friends. He much preferred reading or training quietly on his own rather than wasting energy socializing. But for a student at the Intelligence Division, this kind of personality was considered a poor fit.
Even the professors had said it—Chi Zhan wasn’t suited for Intelligence Division work. He preferred solo operations to team efforts, which made his missions far riskier.
Tao Ran: Found something! Cen Chi has a labmate named Xu Zou. People say they’re often seen eating together. I think it’s fair to call them friends?
