“……”
Su Ran’s surprise didn’t seem the least bit fake. Zhou Yanxing was a complete novice, and it was impossible he had any friends added. Now, both of them turned to look at Chi Zhan.
As the saying goes, telling one lie means you’ll need a hundred more to cover it. One slip, and everything collapses.
Secretary Chi was panicking.
But in the next second, a lightbulb went off in Chi Zhan’s head—ding!—and drawing on every ounce of his lifetime of acting experience, he forced himself to stay calm.
“It must’ve been Jiang Yi who invited him. I don’t have Seven on my friends list either.”
Sorry, Jiang Yi. You’re taking the fall for this one. I swear I’ll help you win favor later.
“Jiang Yi works at your company?” Su Ran’s tone was laced with suspicion. He clearly knew Jiang Yi’s in-game identity and was now treating him like a rival.
Chi Zhan gave a perfunctory reply and glanced at the NPC Favorability Panel.
Ever since that last blow-up between Jiang Yi and Zhou Yanxing, the two had parted on sour terms. Zhou Yanxing’s favorability toward Jiang Yi had plummeted into the negatives—it was mutual loathing at this point.
“Since everyone’s here, I’ll start the match,” Su Ran said.
“Wait,” Zhou Yanxing suddenly interjected. “Kick Jiang Yi.”
“……”
Zhou Yanxing gave a cold snort.
“I thought he was already gone. Make sure he gets his final paycheck, and don’t let me see him again.”
Zhou Yanxing clearly held grudges. Anyone who crossed him would be jotted down in an invisible little black book. A textbook Scorpio. After yesterday’s incident, Jiang Yi had clearly kicked a hornet’s nest. No way Zhou Yanxing was letting it go.
“Kick him, then.”
Su Ran acted like nothing had happened and quickly booted Jiang Yi. Just then, a pop-up appeared on Chi Zhan’s screen—a friend request to join the room. His hand slipped and he accidentally clicked “Accept.”
Someone entered the room.
“Who’s that?” Su Ran was clearly baffled. “I didn’t invite anyone.”
Zhou Yanxing obviously hadn’t either.
Both of them looked at Chi Zhan again.
“……”
At this point, he could only blame Seven.
“It’s… Doctor Cen,” Chi Zhan said stiffly, scrambling for an explanation. “Just added him by phone number.”
In the game’s chat window:
Cen Chi: smile.jpg
Cen Chi: So lively today, Ah-Zhan. Who are you playing with?
“Ah-Zhan?” Zhou Yanxing’s expression soured. But since they were still in the car, he couldn’t say much aloud. Instead, he quickly figured out how to use the game’s private chat feature and messaged, “Why’s he calling you that? And this game lets you add friends by phone number?”
“Uh… that’s not important. Su-ge, let’s just start.” Chi Zhan hastily shifted the topic. “My phone’s about to die—I can only play one match.”
Su Ran chuckled, teasing, “Secretary Chi, sure you’ve invited everyone you wanted? No more room left in this game lobby.”
“……”
***
Thankfully, after asking that one question, Cen Chi didn’t send any more messages.
The game began. But Chi Zhan knew—this matter was far from over.
The match moved into the character selection phase.
Su Ran smiled.
“Pick whatever characters you like. Don’t worry about class balance—I’ll support you guys.”
The game was divided into five roles: Warrior, Mage, Marksman, Support, and Jungler. Each had its own responsibilities, but the system didn’t explain them clearly, so beginners didn’t need to worry. What really mattered was skill.
Zhou Yanxing frowned, obviously baffled by all the flashy options. After much deliberation, he picked a character that looked bulky and powerful—the “Miner.”
A tough-guy type. Very on-brand for him.
Chi Zhan was also choosing a character, but he could feel a curious gaze probing him from one side. Thankfully, he’d looked into it earlier and confirmed the game did allow adding friends via phone number, so he kept his expression neutral and continued pretending to be a clueless newbie.
Seeing Zhou Yanxing’s choice, Chi Zhan pressed his lips together, holding back a laugh.
The “Miner” was a muscle-bound guy who favored tank tops to show off his biceps. His second skill involved wildly swinging bricks that looked suspiciously like small yellow cards—earning him the player nickname: “The Card-Slinging Gym Bro.”
The art style was American comic book-style, and since his attacks required wind-up time and could be interrupted easily, he wasn’t very popular. Few people used him.
After locking in, Zhou Yanxing jabbed at Chi Zhan.
“What are you daydreaming about? Pick this one.”
He was pointing to a Support character—another comic-book-style design, a buff sailor-type.
“President Zhou, why do you always like these kinds of characters? Just because they have muscles doesn’t mean they’re strong. The other characters look much better.”
Chi Zhan was, without a doubt, an appearance-obsessed gamer.
Especially when it came to his characters. He’d even spent money to buy skins. His characters could be cute, pretty, cool, or even non-human—but never comic-book-style.
Unfortunately, Zhou Yanxing’s taste was the complete opposite.
Zhou Yanxing gave a dismissive snort, and raised an eyebrow at him.
“Haven’t you heard the saying?”
Chi Zhan had a bad feeling. He knew what was coming.
Sure enough.
“The better-looking a man is, the better he is at lying.”
…You should be called Zhou the Roaster, not Zhou Yanxing.
Chi Zhan had no doubt that line was aimed right at him. But since this was his boss, he swallowed his frustration.
In the end, Chi Zhan picked the buff sailor too, though his mood was decidedly sour. Zhou Yanxing leaned back lazily in his seat and ordered, “Where are you going? Stick with me. The strong should always team up with the strong,” he said, like it was obvious.
Strong my ass, Chi Zhan seethed. If you don’t get pummeled into oblivion later, I’ll be seriously disappointed.
The other three had finished selecting. Su Ran went Support with the Little Sprite, Cen Chi picked the Ice King, and Seven chose “Yan.”
Oh my god. If Zhou Yanxing hadn’t been sitting right beside him, Chi Zhan might’ve screamed “I’m so blessed!” three times on the spot.
