Chi Zhan called the server over and ordered another drink for S. S didn’t object—perhaps he assumed Chi Zhan was already drunk. Soon, another glass joined the table.
And without any prompting, S picked it up and drank it down on his own. This liquor was seriously potent—even for an Alpha, one glass could be enough to stay sharp, but two? Two meant blurred edges and slipping control.
…Why wasn’t he showing any signs?
Should he order a third? But that’d be way too obvious.
Chi Zhan, on the other hand, had taken only a single sip—the rest he’d discreetly poured onto a napkin. His movements had been subtle; S shouldn’t have noticed.
But S had, in fact, consumed both glasses.
“So,” S asked, voice still perfectly clear, “who are you looking for?”
Chi Zhan leaned back into the sofa and closed his eyes.
Even just that single sip was enough to leave him feeling a little dizzy. This stuff was no joke.
“54349,” S said softly, “did you fall asleep?”
Chi Zhan didn’t respond.
S stood and leaned in, as if to check on him. But as he bent down, a strong whiff of alcohol hit his nose—
In the next instant, Chi Zhan’s eyes flew open. In a flash, he grabbed S by the collar and slammed him down hard onto the sofa. A sharp click echoed through the air—the sound of reinforced restraints locking in place around S’s wrists.
Chi Zhan’s watch had been modified. In a pinch, it doubled as handcuffs—tight, durable, and nearly impossible to escape.
Finally, the tension that had been sitting in Chi Zhan’s chest all evening began to ease.
His eyes had been closed not to rest, but to plan every move with speed and precision. He had to act fast, clean, and ruthless. If S had countered, he might never get another chance like this.
But everything had gone perfectly. S hadn’t fought back at all. Maybe the alcohol had dulled his reflexes. Whatever the reason—Chi Zhan had won.
His pulse quickened for no apparent reason.
S’s chest rose and fell steadily. His breath, soft and warm like a passing breeze, brushed against Chi Zhan’s wrist.
Chi Zhan reached for the edge of S’s mask. The moment his fingers touched it, S turned his face away, struggling slightly, as if to stop him.
Let me see who you really are.
Just as Chi Zhan began to lift the mask, the curtain was abruptly yanked aside. A sudden shift in the lighting cast the booth into deeper shadow.
A hand clamped down on Chi Zhan’s wrist, and a voice snapped—furious:
“…What the hell are you doing here? Who brought you?”
***
When the message came in, Zhou Yanxing was attending a banquet at the royal palace. Everyone present had just received a piece of astonishing news—
The old Emperor had personally brought back a child long rumored to have been lost among the common people. Although he hadn’t granted the boy a formal princely title—just allowed him to show his face—it was still a clear slap in the Crown Prince’s face.
The Emperor had always been cool and distant toward the Crown Prince. No one truly knew why. But after the recent war with the Federation, the Crown Prince’s public reputation had soared. So when the news broke, the room was full of veiled glances and whispers of sympathy.
Zhou Yanxing, bored, sipped his wine. Then the old Emperor approached him with his new “son.”
“Crown Prince,” the Emperor said, “from now on, he will be your fourth younger brother. No matter what happens, I don’t want to see infighting between you two. Don’t let anything disgrace the royal family’s name.”
“Of course,” Zhou Yanxing replied, lips curling into a faint smile. “Looking after younger brothers? I’m an expert at that. No need to worry, Father. Just enjoy your twilight years.”
Despite the strained relationship between them, the Emperor maintained appearances. He gave Zhou Yanxing a few gentle warnings—both overt and subtle: don’t lay a hand on the boy.
Then he walked away.
Zhou Yanxing lifted his gaze to the person standing across from him. “So, should I call you Cen Chi now—or Zhou Chi?”
Their eyes met. Cen Chi wore that same infuriatingly flawless smile. Zhou Yanxing, in contrast, looked completely unbothered—idly eating a piece of cake.
But his words dripped with disdain.
The Emperor had not held a formal renaming ceremony for Cen Chi. Without that, he couldn’t legally use the imperial surname “Zhou.” Doing so would break the rules.
“You don’t look all that surprised to see me, gege,” Cen Chi said. “I thought you’d make a special effort to come for me. Seems I overestimated your malice.”
“You think I need to make an effort?” Zhou Yanxing scoffed. “You think too highly of yourself. Do you have a laser cannon trained on me? A reinforced fleet lying in wait? If Father likes you so much, go be a good son and take care of him in his old age.”
“And you’re not afraid Father might hear that?”
“What if he does?” Zhou Yanxing folded his arms and gave Cen Chi a slow once-over, his tone dripping with contempt. “Even if you want this throne, the question is whether you’re fit for it. Even if you sat in it—how long do you think you’d last?”
This wasn’t empty arrogance. The entire military command was fiercely loyal to Zhou Yanxing—they’d fought and bled beside him. Cen Chi could try all he wanted; there wasn’t a single crack to wedge into. Even if Zhou Yanxing were removed, the military would never accept a substitute.
“You’re joking. I have no interest in your throne,” Cen Chi replied smoothly. “My mother’s final wish before she passed was for me to find my father and return her ashes. I’ve done that. I’ve fulfilled her last request.”
“And now you’ve found yourself a lover?” Zhou Yanxing asked with exaggerated interest, making no effort to hide the sarcasm. “Someone from school?”
Several pairs of eyes turned toward them. Zhou Yanxing didn’t care. He was more than happy to play the part of the doting older brother if it meant poking fun at Cen Chi.
He didn’t give a damn whether Cen Chi had a lover. Sure, he could use that as leverage to force him out of the Empire—but frankly, he found that beneath him. Besides, from what the investigation had shown so far, Cen Chi was cunning and calculating, a master of charm and deception. Everyone who spoke of him used the same phrase: a good person.
Someone who could glide effortlessly through any social situation, always smooth, always smiling—someone like that never lacked hidden depth.
As for his claims of having no ambition? Zhou Yanxing didn’t believe a word.
“Yes. Strange as it may seem, my boyfriend and I met by pure chance. If I hadn’t been mistakenly assigned to his dorm… who knows where we’d be now?”
