“I’ll need five minutes.”
After that, all Chi Zhan heard was a soft beep—X had probably muted himself. Whatever he was doing, he’d gone silent.
Young, but clearly burdened with a serious idol complex.
Meanwhile, next door—at Chu Xingxiao’s place.
He was huddled over a recorder, testing out different voice styles.
Frustration mounted.
Did his voice really sound that old? But everyone loved it, didn’t they?
From the very first moment “54349” had spoken, Chu Xingxiao had known it was Chi Zhan.
A person’s vocal tone might change, but their emphasis, pauses, and cadence—those were habits that even a professional voice mod couldn’t fully mask. To someone trained, the clues were obvious. Honestly, Chi Zhan using a Minion filter was kind of… adorable.
Chu Xingxiao turned to Pengpeng.
“Do you think my scumbag voice sounds bad?”
Pengpeng immediately gushed, “Absolutely not! You’ve got that mature charm—who wouldn’t fall for that?”
“Be serious. Someone said my voice sounds too old.”
“Who? Wait—don’t tell me it was that client just now? I don’t think he meant ‘old.’ Maybe he just wanted something that didn’t sound… forced?”
Chu Xingxiao looked downright offended.
“Forced?”
“No, no—weathered! You know, that low, husky tone sounds great, but how many people actually talk like that in real life?”
Plenty, Chu Xingxiao thought to himself. That Zhou Yanxing guy talked exactly like that. Old man energy!
“And you’re going to be meeting in person anyway, right? Your natural voice is good enough.”
Honestly, speaking in a forced tone all the time wasn’t comfortable either. Chu Xingxiao got up, walked to the kitchen, drank some water, and unmuted the call.
“You still there?”
Chi Zhan was half-asleep by now, his head resting on the pillow. He let out a groggy “Mm.” The voice on the other end softened noticeably.
“Are you about to sleep? …It’s getting pretty late.”
X’s voice had changed again.
Gone was the deep, sultry register. It sounded much clearer now—gentler, more pleasant to the ear.
Strangely… it felt familiar.
“Let’s pick this up another time,” X said after a pause. “Consider this a complimentary bedtime story. Want to hear one?”
The rustle of pages flipping followed.
“I usually like reading classics,” X said casually. “Not like those tacky CEOs who spend all day on finance books. Tonight’s pick: A Brief History of Time.”
Chi Zhan wasn’t really into classics—especially dense, cerebral ones. But X had already started reading, and it felt rude to interrupt.
…His enunciation was crisp and articulate—surprisingly soothing.
Ten minutes later, both Chi Zhan and Chu Xingxiao had drifted off to sleep.
When Chi Zhan woke the next morning, he found the call still going. It had lasted eight hours—and he was stunned.
X hadn’t hung up?
Chi Zhan ended the call and went to wash up. He’d slept well last night. Maybe it had something to do with X’s story. He wasn’t sure how long the guy had read, but he clearly put in effort.
Still, falling asleep in ten minutes felt like a bit of a waste.
With that thought, Chi Zhan transferred some money to X—calculated by the hour.
After all, X wasn’t a real boyfriend. He couldn’t freeload the guy’s time.
X replied almost immediately: …?
Chi Zhan: Payment for last night’s reading.
X: You gave too much, gege. I only read for ten minutes.
Chi Zhan: …
X: I’ll use the rest to treat you to a meal next time ^_^
X: By the way, to maintain a high standard of professionalism, I need you to fill out a form.
Chi Zhan opened the file. It was a detailed questionnaire about his preferences—from favorite color, to food allergies, to what kind of boyfriend he’d ideally like.
It even included… preferred positions.
There were eighteen options. And it was a multiple choice question?
By the time he reached the end, Chi Zhan was a little speechless. Was this really necessary?
X: How can I be a qualified boyfriend without knowing you? Besides, if you want to convincingly reject that old man, we need to be flawless.
Old man?
Chi Zhan paused.
He realized something felt… off. He didn’t remember ever telling X the guy’s age. So how did he know? Before he could think it through, the doorbell rang.
Chi Zhan set his phone aside and got up to answer it. Chu Xingxiao stood at the door, dressed in a black denim jacket over slim-fit jeans, his hair styled into an effortlessly handsome, rebellious look.
“Good morning, gege,” Chu Xingxiao greeted. “Want to grab breakfast together? I found a great dim sum spot.”
Snow had started falling outside. Fine flakes drifted down through the thick fog, blanketing the world in white. Chi Zhan was bundled up in a sweater and a down coat, with a scarf wrapped snugly around his neck.
Normally, he didn’t like scarves—too much hassle. But that day, when Seven had handed him one, he’d suddenly realized… scarves could be really warm.
Compared to him, Chu Xingxiao looked like he lived in summer. All style, no concern for temperature.
Chi Zhan had been living in the neighborhood for a month and had never noticed the dim sum place. It was just outside the complex, not far. The place was packed—if they’d arrived any later, they wouldn’t have gotten a table.
Chu Xingxiao let Dabai play outside the entrance.
“Is it okay to leave him alone?”
“Dabai won’t run off. He’s trained.”
For some reason, Chu Xingxiao’s voice was a bit hoarse this morning. Chi Zhan noticed immediately.
“You’ve caught a cold?” he asked, handing him a bowl of plain congee and pushing over some spicy pickled vegetables. “If your throat’s acting up, don’t eat anything too spicy.”
Chu Xingxiao turned away, coughing lightly.
“Forgot to close the window last night.”
Maybe it was his sore throat, but he barely spoke the entire meal. He just sipped his congee in silence, looking a little drained.
A young man carrying a tray passed by their table, caught sight of Chu Xingxiao—and suddenly stopped in his tracks.
