HGG - 12

At that moment, Song Yi’s astonishment was beyond words. She abruptly sat up, handed the phone back, and locked eyes with Chi Zhao for nearly half a minute.

He, on the other hand, acted as if nothing had happened, calmly lowering his head to resume playing the game. As the bus came to a stop, he spoke slowly: “You’ve reached your stop.”

Song Yi glanced out the window at the bus stop sign—it was indeed her stop. She rose, politely nodding in a manner so precise it seemed robotic: “Then I’ll take my leave.”

She hurriedly disembarked and took a few quick steps forward. The bus had already started moving. Turning around, she saw Chi Zhao still looking down, lost in thought.

She had planned to rest well when she returned home, but by midnight, Song Yi finally understood why the previous tenant had moved out so hastily.

The neighbor across the hall had started blasting Bach at one in the morning, the music grand and overpowering, continuing until three.

Unable to endure it any longer, and knowing that even a perfectly functioning robot like herself needed to recharge at night, Song Yi threw on her coat and went to knock on the door. After a while, Chi Yu cautiously peeked his face out from behind the door.

Song Yi politely explained her request, and Chi Yu, smiling amiably, offered an apology.

But after she returned to her apartment, the music from across the hall shifted from Bach to Chopin.

For the next week, Song Yi went to work with dark circles under her eyes.

Chi Yu appeared to be a meek and kind-hearted man, but in reality, he could only be described as “passively resistant.” No matter what requests for change were made to him, he would agree to them face-to-face but continue doing as he pleased.

Later, they attended a peculiar occasion—the retrieval of Chi Chong’s body.

Chi Chong’s car was eventually found downstream in a river in the suburbs.

The retrieval process required the consent of the nearby estate’s owner, and due to disputes among the board members of Chongming Culture over subsequent matters, it had been delayed for several days.

“They haven’t even let my brother see the light of day again before rushing to discuss inheritance. The agreements have already been drafted. I don’t know whether to call those old men prudent or ambitious,” Chi Zhao remarked with a touch of sarcasm.

Everyone was dressed formally. Dragonflies flitted about near the riverside in the countryside. When the vehicle was finally hoisted up, the crowd fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the deafening roar of machinery.

No one shed a tear, not even a hint of redness in their eyes. They simply stood silently, watching as the Bentley sedan was slowly pulled from the depths of the river.

When the body was retrieved, Chi Zhao didn’t approach; he merely observed from afar. Once everything was over, the crowd dispersed like startled birds and beasts.

Unable to resist, Song Yi interjected with an additional question: “Do you really not want to take a closer look?”

“My older brother cared deeply about his appearance,” Chi Zhao smiled at her. “He wouldn’t want to be seen like this.”

From start to finish, even as the stench of decay and the smell of water assaulted their senses, he never once covered his nose.

Before leaving, Song Yi discreetly scanned the area. Xia Fan asked, “What’s wrong?”

She responded: “I didn’t see Mr. Chi’s father.”

“My father is an absolute pragmatist,” Chi Zhao said dismissively. “He has always focused on results and has no interest in the process. He’ll just wait for the autopsy report to be sent to him—I’m sure that’s what he’s thinking.”

An extraordinary family, indeed.

Her gaze swept past Chi Yu, who was waiting for a taxi by the roadside. Despite being brothers, he hadn’t approached Chi Zhao throughout the entire event, and Chi Zhao hadn’t acknowledged him either.

Just as Song Yi turned to leave, she locked eyes with someone who stood out starkly against the riverside backdrop.

Among the neatly dressed crowd, a handsome young man wore pajamas, accompanied by two women dressed provocatively, leaning casually against him.

Chi Zhao followed her gaze but remained silent. Xia Fan said: “Let’s go.”

It wasn’t until they returned to the company that Xia Fan informed Song Yi: “That man is the owner of the estate. His name is Shan Jingyi, the second son of the Shan family. Thanks to him, the retrieval process went smoothly.”

Song Yi was familiar with the Shan family name, as their enterprises often collaborated with Chongming. She also had some impression of Shan Jingyi.

He had dabbled in esports, attended anime expos, and office gossip often mentioned how he changed girlfriends like changing clothes—a notorious playboy. Handsome, with the status of being the Shan family’s young master, his social media followers rivaled those of celebrities.

During lunch break, Song Yi received a text message. Taking advantage of Chi Zhao’s nap, she went to the smoking room downstairs.

“The other day…” Hearing footsteps, Zhan Heqing looked up, but his words trailed off awkwardly. He stared at her dark circles. “Did someone hit you?”

Living under the torment of Chi Yu’s late-night classical music, Song Yi stifled a yawn and sat down: “What’s the matter?”

“That day, Chi Zhao actually jumped out of a window to escape. Do you know how much his net worth is?” Zhan Heqing launched into a tirade of complaints. “Do you know how angry my father was afterward? Do you know how long he scolded me?! It’s not like I helped him escape!”

She absorbed all of his complaints without comment.

Finally, Zhan Heqing exhaled deeply. “However, the board members did go a bit too far regarding that matter. I couldn’t interject, and speaking up for Chi Zhao only earned me more scolding. What’s Chi Zhao’s plan?”

Song Yi reported truthfully: “He plans to speak with Mr. Zhan Luo again, in a setting where his father isn’t present.”

Zhan Heqing finally relaxed. He then asked: “How’s it going? Anything to report recently?”

After a moment of thought, she mentioned encountering Shan Jingyi earlier that morning. Upon hearing this, Zhan Heqing replied indifferently: “Chi Zhao dislikes Shan Jingyi.”

This piqued Song Yi’s interest: “Why?”

“You know what Chi Zhao is like—quirky and strange,” Zhan Heqing said. “Shan Jingyi is different. He’s the model second-generation heir. Knowing he doesn’t have inheritance rights, he never interferes with family affairs or causes trouble for the adults.

“He’s playful by nature, and sometimes things go awry. For example, when the first promotional ad for ACDF came out, Shan Jingyi said he wanted to participate in the voice acting. Chi Zhao, ever the shrewd businessman, thought it would generate buzz and added a character for him. But in the end, Shan Jingyi didn’t show up. The same happened with animated films and esports competitions. After so many empty promises, Chi Zhao grew tired of him.”

That was rather tiresome. Song Yi nodded thoughtfully.

At the time, she had listened without giving it much thought. However, a few days later, they unexpectedly encountered the man himself.

Chongming’s social engagements were usually handled by Zhan Heqing. As he put it—”Once Chi Zhao goes, dealing with him is more exhausting than the actual socializing.”

Apparently, during a dinner with investors, Chi Zhao complained that the new secretary’s takeaway order was unpalatable, so he tagged along instead.

Zhan Heqing repeatedly warned him not to say anything inappropriate. True to his word, Chi Zhao didn’t utter a single word throughout the meal, focusing solely on eating, which made everyone extremely uncomfortable.

Zhan Heqing agonized for a long time over whether he could excuse Chi Zhao’s behavior by claiming, “Our boss is mute.” Finally, recalling that Chi Zhao hadn’t introduced himself, he cleverly fabricated a lie: “This is my younger brother. He’s a bit slow, so please bear with him, esteemed bosses.”

Chi Zhao immediately retorted: “You’re the younger brother!” making the situation even more awkward.

Since then, whenever there was a social engagement, Zhan Heqing did everything in his power to keep Chi Zhao at home. If he absolutely had to attend, training would begin at least a week in advance.

Upon hearing this, Song Yi finally understood why Chi Zhao had labeled Zhan Heqing as “Younger Brother Supreme” in his contact list.

However, on this particular day, Zhan Heqing tripped while entering the elevator. Unfortunately, he fell quite hard. Song Yi suspected it might have been because he was walking with his head held too high.

Coincidentally, Zhan Heqing had a promotional song release event to attend that evening.

With Zhan Heqing incapacitated, Chi Zhao and Song Yi walked into the KTV room together, exchanging a glance.

Amidst the cacophony of music, Song Yi leaned close to his ear and whispered: “If you’re forced to choose a song, you cannot sing the theme song of Kamen Rider. “

Chi Zhao pondered for a moment: “What about The Smurfs ?”

As they entered, they greeted a circle of music company executives and the advertising heads scheduled to attend the release event. Then they spotted Shan Jingyi.

Compared to Chi Zhao, Shan Jingyi’s handsomeness leaned toward the delicate and feminine. As he nodded in greeting, a so-called secretary sat beside him.

It was rumored that he currently held a nominal position in the family business, but he rarely showed up for work, and no one paid him much attention.

After sitting down, Chi Zhao indeed refrained from speaking out of turn, as per Zhan Heqing’s instructions. Most of the questions were handled by Song Yi.

It must be said that Chi Zhao was the type who became more captivating when he remained silent. He sat quietly, his phone confiscated, unable to play games. Under the colorful lights, he exuded an aura akin to a rare flower atop a lofty peak.

After a few rounds of drinks, the female employees of the music website grew chattier. Song Yi, polite and courteous, struck them as amiable. They initiated conversation: “So that’s your boss from Chongyou? He’s so handsome.”

Song Yi turned her head to see Chi Zhao quietly lost in thought. Under the deep purple lights, he resembled a beautiful sculpture, momentarily mesmerizing her.

However, Chi Zhao quickly glanced over and beckoned her closer. Obliviously, she leaned in as he whispered in her ear: “I want to sing the ending theme of the first version of Astro Boy . Is that okay?”

It must be said—an exquisite exterior was truly deceptive.

Song Yi shook her head: “No.”

They drank a few rounds as well. To her surprise, Chi Zhao had an unexpectedly high tolerance for alcohol. After sitting for a while, Song Yi excused herself to use the restroom.

As she exited the restroom and hurriedly crossed the corridor, a shadow suddenly emerged from a side passage, pulling her inside.

Shan Jingyi pinned her against the wall, his smile light and teasing: “Seeing is believing. So you’re Chi Zhao’s new secretary.”

“Hello, Mr. Shan,” Song Yi’s face remained impassive. Slowly bending her knees, she crouched and slipped out from under his arm braced against the wall.

Shan Jingyi didn’t seem discouraged. He turned slightly, a sly smile spreading across his face: “I didn’t expect you to be so innocent. Don’t worry. While you entertain me, my companion should already be taking care of Chi Zhao. I won’t disappoint.”

After comprehending his meaning, Song Yi’s stomach churned slightly. She responded calmly: “Sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying. I’ll take my leave now.”

She turned to leave but was grabbed again. Shan Jingyi pulled her closer, his breathing growing heavier: “In such a hurry? Want to ruin your boss’s fun?”

Song Yi raised her eyes, enunciating clearly: “What are you talking about?”

Seeing that she no longer resisted, Shan Jingyi boldly pressed his face closer.

Just as he was about to touch her face, Song Yi suddenly retreated a step.

Startled even herself, she was suddenly pulled back. Chi Zhao said: “Song Yi belongs to me.”