HGG - 23

“Um… could you not leave me alone?”

Zhou Shuhua slightly raised her head, tears shimmering in her mirror-like eyes.

Chi Zhao turned around to look at her. A smile slowly spread across his face like ripples on the water.

“You don’t want to be alone?” he asked with a grin.

Zhou Shuhua hesitated and nodded, her teary expression evoking pity.

Then, Chi Zhao tossed out a quick “Wait here,” and walked out the door without looking back. As he pulled out his phone and stepped through the doorway, he immediately spotted Song Yi in the corridor.

His departing steps halted as he brought the phone to his ear, complaining to Song Yi while waiting for the call to connect: “Why did you run so fast? It’s night, and you’re a woman…”

Just as he was speaking, the call connected.

He casually chatted with the person on the other end for a few moments. By the time he hung up, Song Yi had already entered and handed the medicine to Zhou Shuhua.

Zhou Shuhua picked up the ointment and kept rubbing it on the back of her hand. Chi Zhao remained seated on the chair by the door, lost in thought.

Less than twenty minutes later, the Chongming Gaming Building was brightly lit in the dead of night.

Chi Zhao had called the Planning Department, asking them to contact other departments to come over for a relaxation party—all expenses covered by him.

Most of the employees at the gaming company were young people who loved parties, adhering to the life principle of “work hard, play hard.”

Especially the Planning Department, known as a group of fun-loving eccentrics. Hearing that the boss was footing the bill, three-quarters of the department showed up.

Other departments also sent some attendees. The lights were dimmed, cocktails were poured, music played, movies projected, VR games set up, and pizzas, barbecues, and chocolate fountains ordered.

Zhou Shuhua sat alone in the middle, utterly bewildered by the situation.

She stared wide-eyed, completely unprepared for what was happening.

Not long after the party began, Chi Zhao signaled for everyone to quiet down, then announced grandly: “Everyone’s worked hard these past few days, and there’s still more to do ahead. Have fun tonight. Also, from the Design Department… Zhou… what’s her name again? She was left behind in the mountains by Vice President Zhan today. She said she didn’t want to be alone, so everyone should keep her company.”

Some of Chi Zhao’s loyal followers—employees from the Planning Department who were closest to him—even whistled and shone spotlights on Zhou Shuhua, making her the center of attention instantly.

“Alright,” Chi Zhao said, “Have fun, everyone. I’m paying tonight.”

How embarrassing.

Watching Zhou Shuhua at this moment, even Song Yi, who prided herself on lacking empathy, couldn’t help but feel sympathy in her heart. Although everything Chi Zhao said was true, his wording and timing were awkward and abrupt, making one want to find a crack in the floor to hide in.

However, Chi Zhao himself seemed completely oblivious. Turning around, he earnestly asked Song Yi, “Well, as your boss, wasn’t I considerate?”

As he spoke, he let out a small sigh, seemingly very satisfied with his decision.

“Yes, Mr. Chi is very considerate,” Song Yi replied. She glanced at Zhou Shuhua out of the corner of her eye.

Zhou Shuhua sat frozen in place amid colleagues dancing and playing games. A few men from neighboring departments were chatting her up, though none seemed particularly high-quality.

Yet, her gaze remained fixed on this side.

When Song Yi met her eyes, Zhou Shuhua’s expression suddenly turned cold and sharp.

Chi Zhao stood far away by the door, instructing the director of the Planning Department to “not make too much of a mess,” then turned and left.

Song Yi shook her head, pretending not to notice Zhou Shuhua, and followed Chi Zhao out: “Is this okay?”

“Mm, she said she didn’t want to be alone. I’ve been wanting to throw a relaxation party anyway,” Chi Zhao replied nonchalantly. “Now she’s not alone.”

“So you’re not joining because you want to rest?” Song Yi responded. “I’ll go check the hot water and humidifier now—”

Unexpectedly, Chi Zhao shook his head. Alone in the narrow elevator, he tilted his head back and said, “It’s almost two.”

The Japanese restaurant Chi Zhao liked wasn’t far from the company, but they still drove over. Chi Zhao seemed to hesitate for a moment about riding his motorcycle but eventually gave up.

The restaurant’s operating hours were from 10 PM to 2 AM—extremely任性 (self-indulgent).

Upon entering, Chi Zhao confidently took a seat at the bar. When Song Yi sat down, the Japanese-looking owner approached and greeted them in Japanese: “Did you bring your girlfriend?”

Chi Zhao smirked while flipping through the menu: “What’s it to you?”

The owner immediately switched to standard Mandarin, nodding politely to Song Yi: “Hello, miss. My name is Mishima. Nice to meet you.”

Song Yi returned the greeting with equal politeness. Chi Zhao closed the menu but didn’t order anything listed. Finally, he turned his head and asked Song Yi: “Can I order for you?”

“Thank you,” Song Yi replied.

When Chi Zhao asked for her opinion, his words came out slowly and gently, inexplicably giving off a tender vibe.

Mishima couldn’t resist asking another question: “Why didn’t you ride your BMW here today?”

Here, “BMW” referred not to a car but to one of Chi Zhao’s motorcycles.

“Go cook your food. I’m starving,” Chi Zhao joked with him casually, clearly familiar enough to speak without restraint, like classmates teasing each other.

“We are classmates. We were in the same class in our second year of high school.” Unexpectedly, Chi Zhao suddenly answered. “He loves motorcycles, so he always asks about them.”

After pondering for a moment, Song Yi impulsively asked: “Then why didn’t you ride your motorcycle here today?”

“Ah…” Chi Zhao paused for a few seconds. “Riding with someone else inevitably involves physical contact, doesn’t it?”

He was right. On a two-wheeled vehicle, the passenger often has to hold onto the rider’s waist.

Song Yi realized she had touched upon a topic Chi Zhao had been avoiding. The atmosphere instantly grew quiet. Chi Zhao turned his face toward the calendar in the shop, while Song Yi lowered her head, staring at her chopsticks.

Why was the food taking so long?

Song Yi found herself wondering.

Suddenly, Chi Zhao turned back. Out of nowhere, he added: “I’m not averse to… physical contact with you. I don’t dislike Song Yi.”

“Mm,” Song Yi replied. “I understand.”

Chi Zhao also lowered his head, gazing at the tea leaves standing upright in his teacup. Without looking away, he asked: “And you?”

In the traditional Japanese restaurant, the lighting was dim, and there weren’t many customers. They sat at the fragrant nanmu wood bar. In the quiet night, the sound of dishes being washed occasionally echoed faintly from the kitchen.

Song Yi looked up, avoiding eye contact just as deliberately as she answered: “I don’t dislike Mr. Chi either.”

The person beside her seemed to exhale in relief. Slowly, she glanced over. Chi Zhao smiled, cradling his teacup in his hands: “Thanks.”

The sashimi was fresh, paired perfectly with rice. After eating, they rested briefly before leaving. Just as they were about to go, Mishima chased after them, handing Chi Zhao a packaged bottle of sake.

Winking, he asked in Japanese: “So she really is your girlfriend?”

Chi Zhao coldly accepted the gift and replied: “No, she’s my secretary.”

“Then when will she become your girlfriend?” Mishima pressed.

Chi Zhao didn’t answer, turning and walking away. Once they were in the car, Song Yi finally spoke: “May I ask a bold question? What were you two talking about earlier?”

“That?” Chi Zhao released the handbrake and casually lied: “He asked if I liked curry and when I’d go eat curry.”

Song Yi suddenly understood. After driving a few hundred meters, she suddenly said: “I like curry.”

“?”

“It’d be nice to have curry soon,” Song Yi said.

They rested briefly at the company before heading to the hospital early in the morning.

A single-person VIP room required an appointment, but they were immediately let in upon seeing Song Yi’s business card.

To visit Zhan Luo, Chi Zhao dressed much more formally than usual. As he tied his tie in front of the mirror, Song Yi happened to walk by. Watching his fingers, usually busy typing on a keyboard, skillfully handle the satin fabric, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Only after he finished did Song Yi step forward to hand over the schedule. She still noticed the black tie at his collar. Just as she was about to leave, Song Yi spoke: “Excuse me, may I?”

She reached out, adjusting Chi Zhao’s tie slightly before stepping back to the side.

“Thank you,” Chi Zhao turned to look in the mirror and asked, “Song Yi, would you do this for someone else in the future?”

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Song Yi thought for a few seconds: “…A husband?”

Chi Zhao crouched down in front of a LEGO set, reaching out to move a piece. Though he wore a suit today, his tall frame made the clothing fit perfectly, accentuating his slim figure even more.

“I meant a boss,” he said, looking up. His bangs were tousled by the wind, his eyes clear, his entire face glowing.

Song Yi answered honestly: “For now, I haven’t thought about changing jobs.”

“Sorry,” Chi Zhao raised his hand to his forehead, his voice tinged with amusement. “I’ve been feeling a bit paranoid lately. Even Uncle Zhan getting sick was kept secret from everyone because he feared the board plotting against him and kicking him out of the company. What if it were me?”

“No,” before she could process it, the denial slipped out. Song Yi suddenly felt a surge of emotion. She realized she must have been provoked by Chi Zhao. Zhou Shuhua’s words flashed through her mind, and Song Yi continued: “I won’t leave Mr. Chi alone.”

Chi Zhao often provoked Song Yi.

His pitiful expressions, his hidden tenderness, and even his decisive yet cold demeanor could stir something within her.

She didn’t understand why.

But just as she finished speaking, Chi Zhao suddenly stood up. He walked toward her, his expression unexpectedly icy.

Song Yi didn’t retreat. She watched him approach. Chi Zhao stopped in front of her, leaning down to meet her gaze. His dark eyes drew infinitely close, and as he gazed at her, a smile slowly emerged.

His smile was like ice under thin frost—slightly blurred but incredibly clean.

“Then,” Chi Zhao enunciated each word carefully, “let’s leave it at that.”

Walking into the VIP ward, Zhan Luo was having breakfast. He looked well.

Zhan Heqing stood by his side, always formal and respectful in front of his father.

“You’re here,” Zhan Luo said, “Xiao Zhao.”

“Is there something?” Chi Zhao got straight to the point.

“It’s like this,” Zhan Luo wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Chongming has a lecture at the university in a few days. It was originally supposed to be me…”

Such lectures generally served two purposes: one, to promote Chongming and attract outstanding graduating students to apply; and two, to maintain friendly relations with the school—Chongming invested in top-tier domestic institutions.

Regardless, this was work representing Chongming Culture’s headquarters image.

Chi Zhao subtly raised an eyebrow.

“This time, you’ll take my place,” Zhan Luo said decisively.