HGG - 11

Song Yi was beaten by her father for the first time during middle school.

She had clung desperately to the pocket money she had saved, refusing to let them take it to pay off gambling debts.

She knew there was money in the house—it was just that a new gambling round was about to start, and they couldn’t afford to be short of a few hundred yuan at this critical moment.

Song Zuo became enraged, slapping her across the face and shouting furiously: “Can’t you help the people around you?!”

At that moment, the force of the slap turned her head aside, as if a bee were trapped inside her skull, buzzing incessantly and isolating her in an outer space of dead silence.

In the eerie stillness, she thought, Will there ever come a day when I might throw myself into helping someone else?

When the buzzing faded, Song Yi let go of the coffee pot. She calmly locked eyes with the assistant.

The other party clearly hadn’t expected anyone to interrupt. He stood stunned for a while before retreating. However, Chi Zhao had already risen from his seat.

He gazed calmly at Zhan Luo, a slight smirk on his lips, then leisurely removed his jacket.

Chi Zhao carefully draped his suit jacket over Song Yi’s shoulders. She didn’t flinch, instead pulling the collar tighter around her neck, feeling the phone in the inner pocket.

Zhan Luo waved casually, signaling the assistant to escort her out.

As Song Yi left, she glanced at Chi Zhao out of the corner of her eye. His expression exuded an unfathomable calm. As she passed by, he gently released her shoulder.

Just before stepping out, she heard him say, “By the way, may I use the restroom?”

During the day, spring blossomed outdoors, but the night air was cool and refreshing. The assistant seemed to still harbor some lingering anger toward her, turning away without offering to call a car.

She pulled out Chi Zhao’s phone. Before locking the screen, he had opened a room escape game, which had now finished loading and awaited the player’s click to begin.

Perhaps it would be hard for some to believe, but not long after beginning to trust Song Yi, Chi Zhao had given her the unlock code to his phone. In his words—”If you trust someone, there’s no need to doubt them. Besides, I have nothing to hide.”

And he was right. Chi Zhao was a man of extreme simplicity.

His work email was confidential, but his personal life was plain and uneventful. Family never contacted him; he had few friends, and his romantic relationships were entirely one-sided—always others pursuing him.

While idly tapping to start the game, Song Yi tilted her head back, walking around the duplex to locate the restroom.

When she reached the back of the building, someone pushed open a window under the dim yellow light.

Hugging the jacket tighter, Song Yi turned and looked up. She saw Chi Zhao gripping the window frame, swiftly climbing over and leaping down from above.

The white shirt glowed faintly in the darkness, making him look like a silvery torrent or a seabird flying through the night sky.

Spellbound, Song Yi couldn’t tear her eyes away. She could only watch as he brushed off the dust and walked toward her.

“What are you spacing out for?” He waved his hand in front of her face, then sauntered ahead. “Let’s go. Don’t let them catch us.”

When Chi Zhao complained, “Thank goodness the restroom was in the middle of the floor. Any higher and I’d have broken my neck,” Song Yi finally snapped out of it and asked, “Is it really okay to leave like this?”

She walked slowly, clutching the jacket tightly, causing Chi Zhao to slow his pace.

Chi Zhao studied her, his eyes concealing an icy galaxy, yet his lips curled upward as usual. With a carefree laugh, he said, “I’ll deal with them another day. I didn’t want to see my father today anyway.”

He had prepared a gift for this meeting with his father—a bouquet of flowers his dad liked. But his father hadn’t come to see him; he came for something else.

What maintained their father-son relationship wasn’t the flowers but rather mutual benefit.

“Ah, how embarrassing,” Chi Zhao sighed as they walked along, smiling wryly in the night. “I should’ve taken those blue roses with me. Leaving them made it seem like I was eager to see him.”

He rambled on, then turned around again. Song Yi stumbled forward awkwardly, clutching the jacket tightly. Noticing this, he stopped to wait for her. “What’s wrong? Are you hiding something in your clothes?”

Chi Zhao reached out to tug at the edge of the jacket, but Song Yi lost her grip, and several blue roses slipped out from beneath the hem.

She felt both embarrassed and slightly guilty. This time, it was Chi Zhao who froze.

Song Yi took a deep breath and explained frankly, “…I also feel they’re mocking us. Leaving that behind would make me feel defeated.”

Under the pitch-black night sky, the cool breeze whispered around them. The distant mansion shone brightly, contrasting sharply with the loneliness and quiet here. A boss who escaped through a window, a secretary retrieving a bouquet—only the two of them remained in the world.

Chi Zhao suddenly burst into laughter.

Tall and slender, he bent down, his shirt creasing elegantly at the waist. Song Yi stared at him, tracing the strands of hair blown by the wind to the tie fluttering aside.

Although it was merely intuition, she guessed she must be smiling at that moment.

Looking down, Song Yi returned the phone to him. “I’ll contact the driver now.”

“Hold on.” Chi Zhao laughed until tears nearly fell. Rising to his feet, he turned back to her, his features distant yet serene. “There were reporters earlier. If word gets out that we broke ties with Chongming, it wouldn’t look good.”

Song Yi immediately switched into work mode. “Sorry, I don’t have any cash on me, and there aren’t any taxis around here…”

“It’s fine,” Chi Zhao smiled at her. “I happen to have some spare change.”

“?”

“I’ll treat you to a bus ride,” he said.

Since starting her job, Song Yi had become accustomed to all of Chi Zhao’s whims. He could suddenly send everyone home early or lose interest in Barbie dolls and ask Xia Fan to clean them up.

Could he suddenly decide to take the bus? Of course, he could.

They didn’t wait long at the stop before the bus arrived.

The nighttime bus wasn’t overly crowded, but their formal attire still drew plenty of stares.

After sitting in the rear two-seater, Song Yi couldn’t help asking, “Have you ever ridden a bus?”

Chi Zhao frowned abruptly, as if hearing something unbelievable. “Do you think I haven’t?”

“Given your family background, you probably wouldn’t need to ride buses, right?”

Chi Zhao chuckled lightly. “When I was in Paris, my father didn’t keep tabs on me. So yes, I did ride them.”

They fell silent. Earlier, Song Yi had styled her hair into an updo, which she wasn’t used to and found uncomfortable. Now, she tried to let it down.

She removed a few hairpins, but her hair seemed stuck. Chi Zhao observed for a moment before offering, “Need help?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she replied.

Chi Zhao leaned forward, slowly undoing her hair. He removed the pins, placing them in her palm, then gently arranged her hair. When he was done, he let go. “There.”

Song Yi combed through the ends, politely thanking him.

When they reached their stop, passengers boarding and alighting couldn’t help but glance at them.

The bus jolted along the asphalt road, flashes of blinding light streaking past the windows. The seats vibrated cautiously, and outside, shadows of the city swayed and danced.

Gradually, Song Yi began to doze off. Exhausted from days of relentless work, her eyelids drooped. Just as she was about to lurch forward into the seat in front of her, Chi Zhao quickly reached out, steadying her shoulder.

Drowsy, she was pressed back against the seat. Wanting to thank him, she was simply too tired. Helplessly, she sank into a dream.

When she woke up, the first thing she saw was a bright glow.

Still half-asleep, Song Yi realized the light came from a phone screen. Wrapped snugly in the jacket, she felt warm and cozy, reluctant to move. For a moment, her thoughts froze.

She watched the game for a while, and when he got stuck, she reached out lazily, swiping away a chain of candies he could clear.

The voice beside her sounded unusually close. Chi Zhao asked, “Do you want to play?”

Song Yi nodded, taking the phone from him. Suddenly, she realized what felt strange.

She was leaning on his shoulder.