HGG - 24

A few years ago, Zhan Luo had scolded Chi Zhao at a banquet with the words “shameful” and “embarrassing.”

In reality, their relationship wasn’t bad. It was said that Zhan Luo once took Chi Zhao to an amusement park.

But when it came to work-related matters, the two were always at odds.

And now, he was actually asking Chi Zhao to represent Chongming’s image at a lecture.

“This isn’t right, this isn’t right,” Chi Zhao muttered as he paced back and forth in the office with the draft in hand. “There’s something suspicious going on here.”

Song Yi was nearby organizing clothes returned from the dry cleaner, while Xia Fan was sorting printed documents. Hearing him say this, they didn’t even bother to look up—after all, he’d already repeated this phrase at least thirty times in the past few days.

While preparing materials for him, Song Yi glanced at the document. The university was a prestigious institution in the country and also Zhan Luo’s alma mater.

“The school has four teaching buildings funded by Chongming,” Chi Zhao said, twirling his pressure-sensitive pen. “At one point, the school insisted on making a bust of Uncle Zhan to place alongside statues of great men.”

“And what happened?”

Chi Zhao chuckled: “Uncle Zhan said if they dared to do it, they could forget about the fifth building.”

The day arrived quickly.

Most universities were similar, but it had to be said, this place had a truly pleasant environment. There was a rockery pond outside the library, and traditional buildings near the dormitories that were designated as cultural heritage sites.

A group of school leaders accompanied Chi Zhao on a grand tour, along with several student council officials. Some curious students who didn’t know the situation peeked around from afar.

On the surface, Chi Zhao appeared calm, but in reality, he picked up his phone and sent a text message to Song Yi.

IceDreamButterflyGrief wrote: I want to smoke.

Song Yi was nodding frequently in response to the school representative’s explanations when her phone vibrated. She pulled it out and glanced at it. From just those few words, it was clear how much Chi Zhao was struggling.

Song Yi replied: You can’t.

Chi Zhao had never liked such occasions, and now it seemed that Zhan Luo’s conspiracy was to make him endure this kind of torment.

Though her reply was harsh, Song Yi still managed to pull aside the school leader’s secretary and privately mentioned: “If possible, please skip unnecessary formalities. Our Mr. Chi isn’t feeling well today.”

After some communication, Chi Zhao finally managed to catch a breather.

He sat resting in the currently empty auditorium, and Song Yi bought mineral water from the campus convenience store. When she entered, however, she noticed a few extra people inside.

It turned out to be a group of students, half of whom were student council members. They stood in a line at the entrance, wanting to talk to Chi Zhao but intimidated by his imposing aura.

Song Yi glanced at them, then quickly approached and handed Chi Zhao the water. “Should I ask them to leave?”

Chi Zhao shook his head: “Never mind. They’ll come to listen to the lecture anyway.”

“Best of luck to you.”

“Damn,” he tilted his head back and self-deprecatingly sighed, “I’m representing Chongming! But my character is terrible—it’s so funny.”

It was work hours, but Song Yi gradually relaxed. She sat down next to him, trying to unscrew the cap of the water bottle as she responded: “Your character isn’t terrible. Mr. Chi is being too hard on himself.”

For some reason, she couldn’t open it. Chi Zhao reached over naturally and twisted it open for her. He continued speaking: “I feel like at next month’s board meeting, Uncle Zhan might hold a knife to my throat and force me to go. It seems he’s started grooming me.”

Song Yi took a sip of the opened water and said: “Isn’t that a good thing?”

He fell silent, and the two sat side by side in silence for a moment.

Even though Chi Zhao had been reluctant to speak earlier, when the venue filled up and the event officially began, he still stepped forward.

Today he wore a mouse-gray suit, exuding the aura of someone in power. On stage, he spoke without notes.

It had to be said, Chi Zhao was born to shine. His contrast gave off an overwhelmingly reliable impression, his creativity was extraordinary, and his words carried immense charisma. He was suited to be a ruler.

“Everyone wants to become a great person, but often, they confuse the definition of greatness,” Chi Zhao said with a smile. His shiny leather shoes stepped across the wooden podium. His figure was impeccable, his suit fitting perfectly—neither stiff nor overly heavy. Under the lights, his face gleamed like that of a spirited youth. He spoke slowly, word by word: “Never give up on yourself.”

Thunderous applause erupted in the hall.

The speech was written by Xia Fan. Chi Zhao had only skimmed through it and made two requests: first, shorten it—cut out more nonsense—and second, could they slip in some advertising for ACDF ?

The next segment was a Q&A session. As everyone was absorbed in his earlier remarks, Chi Zhao made a face at Song Yi standing by the edge of the stage.

Song Yi lightly clapped her hands and smiled back at him.

The first question came from a male student. He looked disdainful as he took the microphone: “Nonsense. What’s the point of us working hard? In the end, we’re just working for you. High or low status is determined at birth. Honestly, you’re not that talented either. I’ve long since lost hope in this society.”

Chi Zhao remained calm, as if the matter didn’t concern him. When the student finished, he nonchalantly applauded and responded: “Who taught you the standards of high and low status?”

The male student hesitated.

“I’m sorry, but if you insist on equating poverty with inferiority, there’s nothing I can do about it. Just don’t judge others by your own standards,” Chi Zhao replied coolly, showing no anger.

“If you use ‘I was born into this situation, so no amount of effort will help’ as an excuse to justify idleness, I suggest you look around at your peers who are striving to realize their value. I deeply respect them.” He stared directly at the student from above: “The true distinction between high and low status comes from places like this.”

The student immediately turned red with embarrassment and received icy stares from his classmates as he sat down.

Then came some scattered questions—about the gaming industry, job prospects, and finally, a young girl stood up and stammered: “Um… does Mr. Chi have a girlfriend right now?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the auditorium erupted in commotion.

Chi Zhao paused, then calmly answered: “I’m single.”

This sparked another wave of cheers, particularly loud screams from female students. Song Yi sighed helplessly and pulled out her phone, opening a game of Candy Crush.

The girl said: “Th-then… do I have a chance? And, I plan to intern at your company this year!”

“Uh…” Are young people these days really this bold and passionate?

Chi Zhao paused amidst whistles and screams.

“Can we take a photo together?!” The girl had already begun walking toward the stage. “Mr. Chi, can you share your social media account?”

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, amid the chaos of life, Chi Zhao turned to look at Song Yi.

Song Yi was engrossed in her game when she suddenly heard someone call her name from the stage. “Song Yi!” Chi Zhao called her name loudly, as if no one else was around.

She looked up dazedly, realizing all eyes were on her. Fortunately, she was behind the curtain, so the students below could only stare curiously.

Meanwhile, the troublemaker Chi Zhao kept calling her name: “Song Yi, what should I do? Can I agree?”

Song Yi raised her head and quickly understood the situation after the school representatives explained. She gestured across her throat, indicating that she couldn’t make such decisions and that he would either have to decide for himself or ask Xia Fan.

Chi Zhao waited for her response but saw her gesture across her neck. He turned and replied: “No, my secretary said she’ll kill me if I dare.”

Not “kill you,” but “I have no say.” Realizing her gesture was ambiguous, Song Yi immediately covered her mouth instead.

Seeing this, Chi Zhao added: “She also told me to shut up.”

In everyone’s minds, the image of this secretary became extremely demonic.

Song Yi finally understood the feeling Zhan Heqing often described—”the urge to beat him up.”

The university lecture finally came to an end.

In recent days, Song Yi had been changing her route home after work. She knew this wasn’t a permanent solution. Past experience told her that sooner or later, she would still be dragged into Li Mei’s mess.

What she didn’t expect was how deranged the entanglement would be.

That evening after work, she was planning to buy some things on her way home when a group of people rushed out from a van parked by the roadside and shoved her into the vehicle without explanation.

Caught off guard, Song Yi struggled fiercely but was struck hard across the face.

Her head buzzed violently, stars swirled before her eyes, and despite shaking her head desperately, she was forcibly dragged into the van.

Inside were several young men, one of whom Song Yi recognized as the gambling boss Li Mei often owed money to.

“Song Yi, we’re old acquaintances, aren’t we?” he turned around from the passenger seat and said, “Let me think… we met when you were thirteen or fourteen.”

Her cheek burned painfully, and Song Yi replied: “You won’t get any money by keeping me.”

“We’ve already negotiated with the other party. We can pay off your parents’ debts in one go.” He grinned and patted her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid, Song Yi. Women need to marry. Have a few kids in the mountains, and life will improve in the future.”

Impossible.

After finally achieving a slightly happier life, she couldn’t let them destroy it like this!

Song Yi tried to stall for time. Just as she was about to be gagged, the rousing song “Comrades, Comrades, Close as Brothers” suddenly blared.

The burly men were startled by the loud music. The gambling boss fished her phone out of her pocket: “IceDreamButterfly… what does this character mean?”

“‘Shāng,’” Song Yi panted. “This is my boss’s call. I’m a secretary—if I don’t answer, my superior will definitely come looking for me.”

“Liar,” the man sneered. “Would you really label your boss like that? Besides, who would choose such a bizarre name?”

Song Yi calmly replied: “Before I met him, I never thought anyone would share my taste in music.”

The world was full of oddities. If there was a subordinate who set their ringtone to “Comrade’s Song,” then there might also be a capitalist named “IceDreamButterflyShāng.”

The man hesitated, seemingly convinced by the logic.

“Be careful what you say, or we’ll cripple you and sell you off. Tell him you need a few days off, got it?!” With that, he kicked the chair.

A fruit knife pressed against her waist as the call connected on speakerphone.

Song Yi took a deep breath and said: “Hello?”

A familiar voice came from the other end. Aside from work-related topics, Chi Zhao’s tone was always somewhat indifferent. “Song Yi,” he began, “where are you? I need you—”

“Chi Zhao.” As soon as the name slipped out, Song Yi realized her voice was trembling.

She hadn’t felt this way in a long time.

Feeling hope for someone, expecting something from someone. Like Cinderella forced by her stepmother to pick beans from the ashes, wishing for pigeons and a fairy godmother, for glass slippers, for a prince to rescue her.

She swallowed her grievance and fear, then firmly said into the phone: “I need you too.”