Hearing those words from Chi Zhan’s mouth felt… bizarre, no matter how you sliced it.
Everyone knew Zhou Yanxing was the real workaholic—he’d pull an all-nighter and still show up at the office the next morning full of energy, rattling off a slew of task schedules like clockwork.
Zhou Yanxing curled his lips into a cold sneer.
“Do you even care? You don’t give a damn. All you care about is that… streamer.”
His voice had already started to falter as he spoke.
Chi Zhan glanced at the bottle’s alcohol content and nearly jumped.
This kind of liquor? One sip and he’d be wasted—yet Zhou Yanxing had downed an entire bottle?! In retrospect, the alcohol he’d drunk before was child’s play compared to this.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced in Chi Zhan’s mind—
That night, the waiter had called him, saying Zhou Yanxing had had too much to drink and needed someone to pick him up. But the alcohol from that night… clearly wasn’t anywhere near this strong.
Given Zhou Yanxing’s tolerance, would he really get drunk that easily?
It had been a long time ago, yet oddly, the scene from back then overlapped perfectly with the one in front of him now.
Could it be that Zhou Yanxing had faked being drunk that night?
That would explain how he’d sobered up so quickly, speaking with such clear logic and awareness.
Chi Zhan hadn’t even considered that possibility at the time, but now, the more he thought about it, the more suspicious it seemed.
When the gathering finally ended, Chi Zhan helped Zhou Yanxing into the car along with the others. By the time they arrived at the hotel, Zhou was barely conscious.
Chi Zhan fished the room card out of Zhou Yanxing’s pocket, half-carried him to the bed, gasping for breath by the time he got him down. He then made a call and ordered a sobering soup. That’s when Zhou Yanxing suddenly called his name.
Seemed like this time, he really was drunk.
After placing the order, Chi Zhan didn’t stop—he immediately set about organizing the next day’s schedule. Winter night or not, he worked until he was sweating all over. By the time he showered and came out, the soup had arrived.
The Panda Live stream had wrapped up perfectly, and their next meeting didn’t happen until they returned to Province A.
And this time, out of nowhere, they’d landed on the trending topics list.
There were several trending tags:
[Seven fan]
[Seven’s scarf]
[Seven in love]
Chi Zhan’s hand moved almost on its own, clicking on the third one.
The main post came from a popular influencer who had analyzed every micro-expression on Qi Song’s face during an interview and concluded:
“Your beloved e-sports god is definitely in love lately—or wants to be! Trust me, I never miss!”
The comments below were full of speculations about “scarf guy,” and some fans had even dug up the brand and cost of that scarf, launching a frenzy of buying Seven’s exact model.
[Qi-god’s never been short on cash. He plays e-sports purely out of love. If you knew who he really is, you wouldn’t believe it…]
[Wait, what? Don’t drop a cliffhanger and run!]
Just as Chi Zhan tried to scroll down further, that comment had already been deleted.
Back in the room, Zhou Yanxing had fallen asleep. A faint flush colored his handsome face, his brows tightly furrowed, as if even in dreams, something had made him unhappy.
“President Zhou,” Chi Zhan said gently, “have some soup before sleeping. Otherwise, you’ll wake up with a headache tomorrow.”
Zhou Yanxing cracked one eye open to glance at him, then promptly shut it again.
Clearly didn’t want to engage.
Chi Zhan was helpless—what had he done now to piss Zhou Yanxing off again? Could it be…
“President Zhou, who am I?”
Zhou Yanxing gave him a sideways look.
“Secretary Chi.”
“How many fingers am I holding up?” Chi Zhan raised one.
Zhou Yanxing let out a snort.
“Same answer you always give me.”
“…?”
He paused to think.
Don’t tell him… Zhou Yanxing was still holding a grudge over how he always replied with a “1”?
Seriously? That’s a grudge worth remembering?
Still, rare as it was to get a chance to question Zhou Yanxing like this, Chi Zhan couldn’t resist pushing further. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked softly, “Do you like me?”
Zhou Yanxing’s eyes opened fully, a hazy drunkenness swimming in them. He stared at Chi Zhan in a daze, but said nothing.
Chi Zhan had always doubted the system’s claims.
After all, he was just a regular, run-of-the-mill NPC. What could Zhou Yanxing possibly see in him?
That kind of scenario had never been mentioned in the “NPC Guidelines.” No one expected a target to fall for an NPC. Because the core principle embedded in a target character’s code was to fall for the player.
Only the player.
It was precisely because of those clear rules that the world continued to function normally.
So then… where had things gone off-script?
“Who said I liked you?” Even drunk to the point of incoherence, the mighty President Zhou clung fiercely to his CEO pride. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Okay, okay, you don’t like me,” Chi Zhan replied smoothly. Seeing that Zhou Yanxing was awake, he tugged him up. “President Zhou, come on—drink the soup and go back to sleep. As for showering… forget it. I’m afraid you’ll slip. Do it in the morning.”
Zhou Yanxing’s body temperature was always higher than his, and now that he’d been drinking, the contrast was even more pronounced. Chi Zhan’s skin felt almost cool to the touch, like porcelain. Just as he spoke, Zhou Yanxing suddenly flipped his hand over and pressed down on his wrist.
His fingertips were scorching hot, exuding the same kind of presence as the man himself—impossible to ignore. Zhou’s fingers kept moving along Chi Zhan’s wristband, as if searching for the location of the alert trigger.
That wristwatch, once crafted by an old family of luxury horologists, then sold through auction and aged over the years, was now priceless.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t take it off,” Zhou Yanxing murmured. “If you do, I won’t be able to find you. I’ll dock your pay.”
…How were those two things even related? He really was drunk out of his mind.
Chi Zhan couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Don’t worry, President Zhou. I’ll keep wearing it.”
“I’ve been kidnapped before,” Zhou Yanxing said after a moment of silence, as if lost in memory. “Three or four times. Eventually, I got used to it. You shouldn’t have to go through things like that,” he added in a slurred voice, which suddenly took on a commanding edge again. “Do you hear me?”
