The craftsmanship was exquisite, the design elegant—honestly, it could make for a pretty decent hidden weapon… Chi Zhan raised the name tag and examined it closely. Under the dim light, he suddenly noticed a subtle engraving along the side—barely visible unless looked at just right. It was a single character:
“Zhou.”
“…?”
Just then, his wrist communicator buzzed.
S: Kitty head pokes you.
That’s when Chi Zhan remembered—there was still that “S” he’d shoved completely out of his mind, waiting on his “let’s meet again next time” response.
Even though the profile pic and the sticker were clearly from the same adorable emoji set, the thought that the other party was the cold, distant S gave Chi Zhan complicated feelings.
Meanwhile, Chu Xingxiao emerged from the bathroom, casually wrapped in a towel, hair a tousled mess. He flopped down on the bed, tapped his optical screen open, and, as expected, his brother still hadn’t reached out.
Casting a sidelong glance at Qi Song, Chu Xingxiao said, “You went on another mission in Darkport today, huh? So you’re just going to ignore what’s happening with my brother now?”
Qi Song replied calmly, “Now’s not the time to act rashly.”
Chu Xingxiao rolled over with a grunt.Â
“You don’t seriously think I’m joking, do you? He said it himself—he has a boyfriend! That Cen Chi guy is just a two-faced bastard. I honestly don’t get what my gege sees in him. Maybe I should just go assassinate him one of these days.”
Qi Song didn’t dignify that with a response. His fingers flew across the keyboard in silence, entering a string of complex code. A moment later, several images appeared in front of him. He scanned them until his gaze halted on one particular photo, which he zoomed in on.
Chu Xingxiao, still stewing, suddenly had a photo pushed in front of him. He glanced at it lazily—then froze. His expression shifted to one of pure disbelief.
“That guy’s actually royalty? An illegitimate son? Are you kidding me?!”
Qi Song’s face remained icy.Â
“He’s His Highness’s roommate.”
“No one can uncover my gege’s real identity—his information’s locked down tight,” Chu Xingxiao snapped, staring at the image of Cen Chi standing beside the Emperor of the Empire. “But Cen Chi’s a med student. If he starts digging into my gege’s gene sequence—”
“He won’t. Not right now,” Qi Song said. “He has no reason to suspect anything. Besides us, no one knows His Highness’s true identity.”
“So what, we just take my gege and flee the Empire in the dead of night—”
“He won’t leave with us.”
“Then what, we just sit here and wait? Until when?”
“Now is not the right time. Do you know how many people in the Federation want His Highness dead? Until the other side is thoroughly purged, don’t act without orders.”
“So we do nothing?”
“Yes.” Qi Song cast him a warning glance. “And stop deliberately trying to get close to His Highness. He’ll start getting suspicious.”
“Tch. Fine,” Chu Xingxiao said irritably.
In the chat box—
54349: Sorry, something came up today and I lost track of time. Are you free tomorrow?
S: You choose time and place.
Chi Zhan was a bit surprised by the response. It seemed S had genuinely forgotten what happened at the bar—and hadn’t noticed he’d tried to take off the mask.
After a pause, Chi Zhan replied:
Tomorrow at 7 p.m., Xingmu Café.
S: Okay.
No questions asked. Surely masks weren’t allowed in cafés, right?
That was Chi Zhan’s thinking, anyway.
He was truly curious now. Who was S?
By the time he returned to the dorm, an hour had already passed. Lights-out time. Cen Chi and Tao Ran seemed to be asleep already. Chi Zhan climbed into bed, only to catch a faint whiff of Cen Chi’s pheromone—the scent of deep forest greenery. But then again, maybe he was imagining it. It smelled more like ordinary flowers.
There were blooming potted plants in the dorm, after all.
Probably just a hallucination.
Chi Zhan closed his eyes. Drowsiness hit him hard and fast, dragging him swiftly into sleep.
***
“Chi-Chi, get up! Wake up! I overslept too—damn, we’re gonna be late!” Tao Ran’s voice grew louder and more frantic as Chi Zhan groggily opened his eyes, his mind a complete mess.
A glance at the clock told him they were already half an hour past wake-up time. He hadn’t even noticed.
Chi Zhan didn’t know what was wrong with him. He felt drained, his body sluggish and aching all over—like he’d just been through intense physical training. But he hadn’t done anything strenuous recently. No reason he should feel this way.
Tao Ran hurriedly pulled on his clothes. Chi Zhan kept his head down, weariness etched all over his face—clearly not his usual self.
Concerned, Tao Ran asked, “Chi-Chi, are you feeling okay?”
Chi Zhan shook his head. “I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well.” He grabbed the bed railing to climb down, but his arms felt weak, and his head was swimming. His foot slipped—and he nearly tumbled down.
He was just about to crash when someone caught him, sparing him a nasty fall.
Chi Zhan squeezed his eyes shut, took a few seconds to reorient himself, then opened them to find himself staring into Cen Chi’s eyes.
They’d just had a full-blown physical altercation yesterday, and Chi Zhan had fully intended to cut ties for good. And now here they were—first day, already broken that vow. And worse, he had to say “thank you.” It was painfully awkward.
Cen Chi seemed freshly showered. A faint mint scent clung to him.
Chi Zhan reflexively inhaled deeply—twice, maybe three times—before realizing how inappropriate that looked. He immediately stopped.
But the scent was inexplicably alluring. Chi Zhan couldn’t suppress the urge to sniff it again.
…It was just regular shampoo. So why did it smell so intoxicating?
Cen Chi didn’t notice the small slip. He lifted a hand to check Chi Zhan’s forehead, then hesitated and grabbed a thermometer.Â
“You feel like you’ve got a fever. Let’s take your temperature.”
“I’m fine. Put me down.”Â
But for once, Cen Chi didn’t back down.Â
“We’ll take it first. Then I’ll let go.”
“I’m going to be late.” Chi Zhan pushed the thermometer aside. “Thanks for the concern.” Then he brushed off Cen Chi’s hand and headed for the sink.
