Zhou Yanxing frowned slightly and called Chi Zhan.
Chi Zhan found it a little odd too. He’d finished all his work for the day—was there some last-minute overtime or dinner engagement?
“President Zhou, is something wrong? …Yes, I’m already in the car. It’s Chu Xingxiao’s—he lives next door to me, so he offered me a ride. Do you want to speak to him?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Chu Xingxiao glanced at Chi Zhan, his brows lifting slightly.
Calling after work to check in? Was that… jealousy?
He’d figured as much—there was no way this was just a simple boss-subordinate relationship.
“…And he hung up.”
Chi Zhan looked puzzled. Zhou Yanxing had asked a bunch of random questions and not said a single thing of substance.
“What’s wrong? Do we need to turn back to the office?”
“No. Maybe he called the wrong number.”
“Oh.”
…As if he believed that. Chu Xingxiao really was terrible with directions. He relied entirely on GPS to get home, but the navigation inside the residential complex wasn’t very accurate. If Chi Zhan hadn’t been watching, he would’ve driven straight into a drainage ditch.
“You really…” Chi Zhan said, exasperated. “The GPS route’s wrong—make sure to update it next time.”
“Then how about you help me get used to the route over the next few days?” Chu Xingxiao grinned. “Dinner’s on me.”
It was the first time Chi Zhan had stepped into Chu Xingxiao’s home.
He often visited Tao Ran’s place, but since Chu moved in and redecorated, the space looked completely different.
The moving company had done a good job; the place was already spotless, with only a few large boxes left unopened.
Chu Xingxiao started opening the boxes, muttering to himself, “Where’s my noodles? Where are my noodles?”
Chi Zhan joined him to help. He opened one box and found it filled with brand-new LEGO models.
“…?”
Chu Xingxiao scratched his head.
“I like building models in my free time. It’s fun.”
Chi Zhan had never played with anything like that, so he refrained from commenting.
The next box was filled entirely with… rubber ducks. And screaming chickens.
Chu Xingxiao picked one up and gave it a squeeze.
“So fun.”
Chi Zhan squeezed one too.
Hmm… Maybe he just didn’t understand the younger generation.
Why did this feel like a generational gap?
The next box contained… a colorful collection of baseball caps, strange silver chains, and various accessories.
Chi Zhan had already entered a state of Zen.
Finally, they found the much-anticipated Italian pasta. Chu Xingxiao grabbed it and headed toward the kitchen. Not entirely trusting him, Chi Zhan followed.
“Gege, can you cook?”
“I can make a few simple dishes.”
Chu Xingxiao smiled mysteriously.
“Then today, let me show you my cooking skills.”
The fridge was well-stocked. The two of them worked in tandem—one cooking noodles, the other prepping ingredients—and the atmosphere was surprisingly harmonious.
During the process, Chu Xingxiao took a call, lowering his voice to speak.
“Not doing it. I don’t care how much they pay, I’m not taking the job. I don’t have time right now.”
It was Pengpeng, the customer service rep for the “virtual boyfriend” platform.
—“That client has high expectations. You’re the only one in the shop who fits. Just chat with them first—if it doesn’t work out, no big deal.”
Chu Xingxiao clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Back in university, he’d suddenly gotten into voice acting and even enrolled in professional courses. Though he never made a career out of it, he and Pengpeng had launched a “virtual boyfriend” shop on the side.
Occasionally, he’d take an order just for fun. But thanks to his versatile vocal range—and because his voice hit all the right notes with today’s youth—the shop was wildly popular. Most clients came specifically for him.
Chu Xingxiao wasn’t hurting for money, so he only took jobs when the mood struck. Pengpeng rarely pushed him, quietly managing the shop while they split the profits evenly.
“I don’t do in-person jobs,” Chu Xingxiao said flatly.
—“Really not doing it? Then I’ll go tell the client.”
Chu Xingxiao glanced at the profile Pengpeng had sent over—clearly a newbie. The profile was a blank slate: no bio, no avatar, just a random numeric ID—“54349.” He wasn’t interested and was about to close the page when his gaze suddenly froze.
[Your distance from ‘54349’: 10 meters]
The site’s main business was actually social networking, so it showed a rough location and how far you were from other users. If someone nearby caught your interest, it made meeting up easier.
But even for a vague location…
Ten meters? Wasn’t that a little too close?
An impossible thought crept into Chu Xingxiao’s mind.
His eyes glinted with a curious blue hue as he reopened “54349’s” profile.
Registered that afternoon.
Default avatar. No visible gender. No personal info. Everything about it screamed “rushed setup with a hidden agenda.”
And… looking to hire a real-life boyfriend?
Pengpeng was about to hang up when a voice stopped him.
“Wait.”
—“What is it?”
“I’ll take this job,” Chu Xingxiao said coolly. “Send me to ‘54349.’”
Pengpeng paused, stunned.
—“Seriously? You’re sure? He’s asking for an in-person boyfriend.”
Chu Xingxiao glanced toward the door, a smile curling at his lips.
“Mm, I’m sure.”
He was curious too—who was “54349”?
If it was who he thought it was…Well, that would be quite the surprise.
***
When Chu Xingxiao returned, Chi Zhan was still looking up how to cook Italian pasta on his phone.
“I’ve got it,” Chu Xingxiao said, rolling up his sleeves. “Gege, go relax in the living room, maybe watch some TV. Or try the LEGO sets. Takes me about a week to build one by myself. If you help, we can finish faster.”
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Chi Zhan asked skeptically. He’d originally assumed Chu Xingxiao was planning to use pre-made sauce. But instead, he pulled out fresh vegetables and beef—clearly intending to make the sauce from scratch.
Chi Zhan didn’t quite trust him alone in the kitchen. The guy just didn’t look like someone who could cook.
