HGG - 3

Song Yi was anything but amusing.

After returning to her dark home after work, she thought to herself, knocking on her forehead lightly and silently cursing herself for being influenced by Chi Zhao. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the old mattress that served as both her bed and couch.

Once she caught her breath, she pulled out her phone and sent off everything she had learned about Chi Zhao this week.

Zhan Heqing arranged to meet her at a café two streets away from the company over the weekend.

It had to be said, Song Yi felt like she’d hit the jackpot.

The part-time job Zhan Heqing offered wasn’t bad at all. She didn’t need to steal trade secrets—she just had to inform him of what games Chi Zhao was currently obsessed with, which employees’ proposals he showed interest in, and whether his interactions with the finance department were frequent.

At first, she was inexperienced and inevitably overworked, even recording the minutiae of Chi Zhao’s daily life. As a result, some unnecessary thoughts began to creep in.

Is drinking cola so many times a day really okay for his health? Eating junk food every day can’t be good, right? He’s so thin—is that alright? He’s not eating properly, is he taking too much stomach medicine at once? Napping too much during the day and staying up all night isn’t a good habit…

After pondering these things for too long, she couldn’t bear it anymore and finally found an opportunity to bring it up to Chi Zhao.

At the time, Chi Zhao was stuffing fries into his mouth. Staring blankly, he heard Song Yi say these words expressionlessly. He froze for a few seconds, then continued wolfing down his fast food, shoving more into his mouth: “Let’s talk about it next time.”

Song Yi also reported this incident to Zhan Heqing.

When they met, Zhan Heqing had raised the collar of his trench coat and held up a newspaper to cover his face, giving off an air of “this place has no silver worth three hundred taels.”

He scrutinized her for a long while and asked, “Are you angry?”

“No,” Song Yi replied firmly. “I just think he’s not cooperating with my work.”

Chi Zhao didn’t accept her advice about his lifestyle habits, but when it came to work, he never hesitated to offer opinions to his subordinates.

Sometimes, his tone could be harsh, but most of the time, he maintained a calm demeanor.

This only doubled the intimidation factor.

Yet, his reputation within the company was surprisingly good.

Not just good—it was excellent.

After all, the games he critiqued always ended up performing well financially. His criticisms were always directed at the matter, not the person, and he maintained a clear distinction between professional and personal matters, never targeting any single employee.

One moment, he might give someone a look that said, “How dare you show me this proposal?” The next, he’d excitedly pull that same person over to watch cartoons with him and share his favorite gummies.

Add to that his good looks and single status, and nearly all the female employees at Chongming Games wanted to form a fan club for Chi Zhao.

As Song Yi muttered under her breath, “This is too exaggerated,” Xia Fan casually remarked, “When Boss Chi interned at Chongming Headquarters, the female employees took turns buying him snacks every day. The owner of the dessert shop downstairs became filthy rich overnight because of it. When Chi Zhao’s father found out, he bought the shop outright and turned it into a spicy hot pot restaurant. Chi Zhao refused to eat at the same table as his father for half a year because of that.”

His dad must be quite powerful, Song Yi thought, though she knew better than to ask. After all, she had only stumbled into the company recently and had since done a lot of cramming about Chongming.

Chi Zhao’s father was the CEO of Chongming Culture.

The Chi family was a prestigious clan. Chi Zhao had two older brothers; the eldest was named Chi Chong.

Before the company was renamed, it was simply called “Chi Corporation,” brutally straightforward since it belonged to the Chi family.

After the name change, it became even simpler—Chongming. What did it mean? It meant it was under Chi Chong’s name.

But now, when people talked about the successor of Chongming, no one mentioned Chi Chong—they only thought of Chi Zhao.

The story behind it all? Song Yi figured someone like her, a small fry, didn’t need to know and probably wouldn’t ever find out. However, during her research, she discovered something else:

Zhan Heqing, the vice president, was the son of the Chief Financial Officer of Chongming Headquarters.

Finally, in the café, she asked again, “What about Vice President Zhan? Why does he pay so much attention to Boss Chi every day?”

During their exchanges over this period, she had learned a bit about Zhan Heqing. This vice president wasn’t particularly imposing. All he did at work was sneak around studying Chi Zhao.

“It’s all because of higher-ups…” He suddenly realized he was saying too much and quickly changed the subject. “Next month, Chongming is hosting a banquet. He’ll definitely bring a date. If you hear anything, contact me anytime.”

Song Yi agreed. As usual, Zhan Heqing paid the bill. After settling the tab, he told her, “I’ll leave first. You wait half an hour before leaving.”

She nodded, watching as the vice president of a publicly traded company sneaked out, almost tripping over himself as he scrambled into his luxury sports car.

Song Yi sighed, waiting a while before getting up to leave. As she walked back toward the company, each step grew heavier and more forceful.

Her high heels nearly shattered the pavement beneath her. The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt, as if something inside her chest was troubling her in an unusual way.

What was there to be troubled about? Song Yi couldn’t figure it out, so she buried her confusion in her work.

In the afternoon, Chi Zhao likely skipped some task again, as calls kept coming in looking for him. With her usual calm professionalism, Song Yi registered their requests and continued organizing her work when suddenly, Chi Zhao burst into the office as if in a dream.

“Xia Fan!” he shouted toward the office, which he himself had turned into a mess.

“Assistant Xia isn’t here!” Song Yi stood at the door and called out.

Chi Zhao looked a bit flustered. He paused for a moment, then waved her over. “Then come here.”

This was the first time Song Yi accompanied Chi Zhao on an outing for work, and it was one of the rare opportunities she had to handle something serious. As she stepped into his private elevator with Chi Zhao, she unconsciously raised her hand to her chest.

Chi Zhao turned his head, expressionless, staring at her gesture. “What are you doing?”

Her heart raced. Song Yi lowered her head, realizing her unconscious action. She quickly dropped her hand, her face still devoid of emotion. “I feel like I’ve gained a little more recognition from the boss, so I’m happy.”

Chi Zhao stared at Song Yi as if trying to bore a hole through her face.

The elevator doors opened, and they arrived directly at the garage. This was also the first time Song Yi had ridden in Chi Zhao’s car.

Once on the road, neither of them spoke for a while. Chi Zhao said, “Let me play a song.”

With that, he tapped the music player.

A grand and powerful rhythm filled the car. Just as Song Yi was muttering internally, “This sounds familiar,” and was about to ask what song it was, the first line of the song played.

Chi Zhao was playing “Big Swords Swing Over the Heads of the Devils” in the car.

He paused for a moment and said, “Oh, sorry. That’s what I listen to when I’m alone in the car. Let me switch it for you. What do you usually listen to?”

As he spoke, Chi Zhao pressed pause. The music stopped, and the car fell silent once more.

“Boss, no trouble necessary…” Song Yi politely declined repeatedly.

Just then, another passionate and energetic tune suddenly blared inside the car.

Song Yi pulled out her phone, answered the call, and gave Chi Zhao, who had fallen silent, an apologetic smile. “Please hold on a moment.”

Chi Zhao didn’t speak, quietly turning the steering wheel.

The ringtone on Song Yi’s phone was “Comrades, Comrades, Close as Brothers.”

The person on the other end of the line didn’t seem to be negotiating with Song Yi as much as arguing.

Mindful of Chi Zhao beside her, Song Yi kept her voice low and her tone calm. But in the end, the other party seemed to have mentioned something she couldn’t tolerate.

Frowning, Song Yi spoke into the receiver: “No. Listen carefully—you’re not coming over.”

But the call had already been disconnected. She said “Hello” a few more times into the phone before finally putting it away.

The car fell silent for a few seconds. Chi Zhao didn’t turn the car’s music back on. Instead, he asked, “Are you alright?”

“Mm,” she replied. “Sorry to have distracted you. It’s not a big deal.”

For a moment, the atmosphere grew tense. Song Yi suddenly wanted to ask about that painting competition from their childhood. But just as she opened her mouth, the car came to a stop.

They had arrived at their destination.

Chi Zhao rushed into the office after work, even shouting loudly for Assistant Xia Fan. Seeing how hurried he was, Song Yi had guessed that perhaps the promotional advertisement he purchased had gone live, or maybe there was an accident at the recent exhibition venue—or perhaps he had developed appendicitis—

Of course, if it were really appendicitis, he wouldn’t have been able to drive.

In any case, Song Yi hadn’t expected that Chi Zhao would be in such a rush to get to... a movie theater.

And not just any movie theater—it was the largest one in the entire city.

“Are you ready?” Chi Zhao turned his head and asked.

Song Yi, who had just gotten out of the car, remained silent, calmly staring at the theater’s sign. She was a secretary, a professional whose central nervous system was governed by codes of conduct. Her boss’s orders were everything.

“I’m ready,” she said.

They agreed to divide the tasks: Chi Zhao would buy the movie tickets, while Song Yi would queue up to purchase limited-edition merchandise.

Only those with movie tickets were eligible to buy the merchandise, so once Chi Zhao finished buying the tickets, he needed to immediately find Song Yi.

As Song Yi stood in line, she kept thinking about something very serious.

When they entered, she had clearly seen the name on the theater’s sign.

This theater was clearly owned by Chi Zhao’s family! So why did he insist on personally queuing up to buy tickets?! And why did he drag her along to wait in line in this open-air area?!

She stood there woodenly, waiting. After all, her duty was to follow him and assist him.

Whatever he said went—he was the one paying her salary, after all.

Just then, a woman in her forties or fifties forcefully cut in front of her.

The woman squeezed into the middle of the line, stepping on Song Yi’s foot as she entered, then calmly took her place without a second thought.

Song Yi looked down at her high heels, wincing in pain. Suddenly, a towering figure appeared before her, and without hesitation, she spoke: “Excuse me. Please don’t cut in line. Thank you.”

The woman reacted as if struck in a vulnerable spot, lashing out fiercely: “What?! Who do you think you are calling a line-cutter?! Young people these days have no manners! Which eye saw me cutting in line?!”

“Every Chongming Cinema has surveillance cameras. This area is within the range of the entrance camera. I saw you cut in line. We can review the footage,” Song Yi said calmly.

The woman immediately fell silent. At that moment, two or three boys came rushing over, holding ice cream cones and movie tickets.

Judging by their manner of address, they were the woman’s sons and nephews. Middle schoolers, at an age where they hated losing face, fearless and brazen, they shouted at Song Yi: “Are you nuts?! What gives you the right to yell at us?! Get lost, you hear me?!”

Amidst the flying spit, Song Yi closed her eyes. When she opened them again, there was no trace of anger in her heart, and her expression remained calm and unruffled.

Song Yi said, “You were the ones who cut in line first. Please don’t push your luck—”

“What’s going on?” The scent of hyacinth wafted over. Chi Zhao approached, a paper cup in his mouth and two movie tickets in his hand. He reached around Song Yi without touching her, yet his gesture made her feel supported.

He removed the paper cup from his mouth, his gaze neither warm nor cold, devoid of malice but carrying an innate sense of intimidation.

Even the verbally abusive woman couldn’t help but fall silent. The boys, surprised to see that Song Yi wasn’t alone, flinched.

“Did they bully you?” Chi Zhao asked lightly, his face showing no trace of anger.

Just as he turned his head, the cinema manager, who had been standing by nearby, hurried over. A few security guards trailed behind him.

The manager greeted them respectfully and politely: “Mr. Chi, thank you for visiting today. How may we assist you?”

“These people,” Chi Zhao’s lips curved into a smile, clear and bright, yet his words carried a chilling edge. He waved his hand dismissively. “Make sure they don’t appear in this store again.”

“Understood. Everything will be handled according to your instructions,” the manager replied. Turning around, he signaled to the security guards and staff, who promptly escorted the group away.

The middle-aged woman and the middle schoolers, clearly unaccustomed to such treatment, panicked. But just then, Chi Zhao casually tossed the paper cup in his hand behind him.

“No one taught you what ‘manners’ are? Allow me to enlighten you,” he said, his smile radiant yet his words sharp enough to send shivers down their spines.

The manager skillfully caught the thrown paper cup, smiling as he stepped aside to personally guide Chi Zhao toward the screening hall.

Song Yi was gently pushed forward by Chi Zhao. Though her expression showed reluctance, she couldn’t resist him.

When they reached the entrance of the screening hall, he noticed she was still persistently looking back. He asked, “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?”

“That…” Song Yi frowned, speaking with great seriousness. “I haven’t reached my turn for the limited-edition merchandise yet…”

Chi Zhao froze for a moment, then burst into laughter. He laughed so hard he bent over, supporting himself on his knees, and continued laughing for a good while. Finally, he said, “You don’t need to be so serious. This is my family’s cinema. You don’t actually need to queue to buy anything.”

Song Yi’s face remained expressionless as she earnestly replied, “But… the reason you personally came here is because you genuinely like it, right?

“Not only do you like these things, but you also enjoy the process of participating in such events.

“As your secretary, I hope you can enjoy this happiness today as well.”

Chi Zhao’s light-colored pupils paused for a moment, seemingly taken aback. After a long silence, he turned his head away. “I didn’t bring you here for any formal work. Sorry about that.”

Song Yi met his unwavering gaze head-on, unflinching. Calmly, she continued, “Today, you were willing to invite me to join you in this. I feel equally honored.”

Her phrasing was extremely polite, yet it carried an almost surreal sincerity, making it impossible not to believe that she truly felt that way.

Chi Zhao’s lips curled into a smile. “Then, keep me company and watch the movie.”

The dry ice that perpetually coated Song Yi’s face seemed to soften slightly. A faint, barely perceptible smile emerged on the icy surface of her expression. She said, “With utmost pleasure.”