HGG - 31

It’s over! Chi Zhao must have been transported to another world!

As he passed through the office, employees greeted Vice President Zhan with enthusiasm from behind their partitions. However, Zhan Heqing only frowned deeply and waved a casual response.

His face clouded with gloom, he strode into his office and only began sighing heavily after sitting down.

He simply couldn’t figure out where Chi Zhao had gone.

Earlier, in front of Xia Fan, Zhan Heqing hadn’t lied. He truly had taken the rare initiative to contact Zhan Luo. After hearing Zhan Heqing stutter out his question, Zhan Luo immediately scolded him harshly: “If Chi Zhao isn’t here, does that mean you can’t work? Wasting your own time is one thing, but coming to bother me?”

After the scolding, Zhan Luo softened his tone: “That kid Xiao Zhao has a lot of pressure. It’s good for him to occasionally go out and clear his mind. If Xia Fan said there’s no problem, then it’s fine.”

Zhan Heqing said: “Dad, I’m under a lot of pressure too.”

“Stay at Chongyou and work hard,” Zhan Luo said before hanging up the phone.

Holding the phone, Zhan Heqing stood alone in the biting wind, unable to help but recall the time when he was in sixth grade and Zhan Luo took him and Chi Zhao to an amusement park.

Chi Zhao wanted to ride the roller coaster, so Zhan Luo accompanied him on three rides. When Zhan Heqing wanted to ride the carousel, Zhan Luo nodded: “Go ahead. We’ll wait for you here.”

That day, Zhan Heqing sat alone on the carousel in the cold wind. The wind back then was just as piercing as it was now.

When he was young, he had tearfully complained more than once: “Dad! Are you really my dad or Chi Zhao’s dad?”

Zhan Luo didn’t answer him, only telling him to study hard. However, Zhan Luo’s assistant, who had been by his side for over twenty years, felt pity for him.

One time, Zhan Luo asked the assistant to buy a birthday gift for Zhan Heqing. The assistant added a few words: “For Mr. Zhan Luo, you and Chi Zhao are different. You and Miss Xiao Hong have received enough attention since childhood, but Chi Zhao hasn’t.

“No matter what, in Mr. Zhan’s heart, you and Miss Xiao Hong will always come first. I hope Young Master Zhan doesn’t misunderstand your father.”

Zhan Heqing opened the paper box, and inside was the book he had been longing to read recently.

Later, as Zhan Heqing grew up, he gradually came to understand Chi Zhao better. He had seen Chi Zhao’s stern father, his mother who kept everyone at arm’s length, and his biological mother who was too fragile to bear the title of “mother.”

Zhan Heqing often felt there was an insurmountable barrier between him and Chi Zhao.

But as he worked hard to climb over it, Chi Zhao would occasionally lean against that wall, throwing gummy candies over from the other side, saying with a smile in his voice: “This is super delicious—you should try it.”

That evening, Zhan Heqing went to a bar.

He ordered a cocktail, sipping it while pondering where Chi Zhao might be.

Chi Zhao’s biological mother had gone to the U.S. to judge a film award and was rumored to be in a passionate romance with a Hollywood actor—so Chi Zhao probably wasn’t with her.

There hadn’t been any major gaming exhibitions in the country recently either…

At that moment, a possibility suddenly flashed through Zhan Heqing’s mind.

Song Yi.

Over the years, Chi Zhao had always been unpredictable in his interactions with people.

He treated everyone with a mix of aloofness and warmth, capable of switching companions at a moment’s notice even if they had just been close.

Was Song Yi somehow different?

As Zhan Heqing thought about this, several beautiful women suddenly surrounded the seat next to him. The leader of the group had a fiery figure, a mole at the corner of her eye, and a smile that was perfectly warm, like heated wine. She placed her hand on his shoulder: “Alone?”

Zhan Heqing turned his head away without interest. He knew the likely culprits attracting them were the brand of his suit, the watch on his wrist, and the car keys casually set aside.

“Sorry, I’m waiting for someone,” he said, though it was clearly a lie since he’d already been sitting there for over half an hour.

The woman probably hadn’t expected him to refuse. With her friends watching, she was undoubtedly embarrassed. Just as she was about to lash out, someone else pulled her aside.

Zhan Heqing sighed in relief, but another person quickly approached the bar as a replacement.

She had long hair, a gentle and clear smile, and wore a chiffon dress.

“Sorry,” her voice was soft and sweet, “my friend was being impulsive. Let me apologize on her behalf.”

Zhan Heqing held his glass, momentarily stunned.

She reminded him of Zhou Shuhua.

Since discovering Zhou Shuhua’s true nature, Zhan Heqing had begun questioning his own taste in women. He now understood their danger, but he couldn’t deny that he was powerless against this type—

“She didn’t mean any harm. She just saw you sitting alone and wanted to keep you company,” the girl said softly. “Actually… I’ve been watching you for a while. If you don’t mind, perhaps we could exchange contact information?”

No.

He had to reject her. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Just as Zhan Heqing was about to speak, a loud shout suddenly rang out from afar.

“Little brother!”

That call felt like a beam of light shining down on Zhan Heqing.

Both he and the girl turned toward the sound, only to see a young woman who had recently graduated walking toward them.

Zhan Heqing squinted, scrutinizing her for a while before vaguely recalling who she was.

Hadn’t she been the new secretary he hired for Chi Zhao?

Her name was something like “Jiji Ji” or “Wu Qi Qi.”

During off-hours, the young secretary wore trendy leather clothing and ripped jeans. She walked over and wrapped her arms around Zhan Heqing, completely ignoring their contrasting styles, and continued speaking: “Sister is here! Did you wait long?”

Zhan Heqing looked suspicious but noticed the secretary winking at him.

What kind of damsel-in-distress-saving-the-hero scenario was this?!

Clearing his throat, Zhan Heqing addressed the increasingly frosty doppelgänger of Zhou Shuhua: “Sorry, the person I was waiting for has arrived. If you don’t mind, could you please let us have the seat?”

Once the others had moved away, Zhan Heqing turned to the girl and asked: “Little Secretary? What’s going on with you?!”

“Oh, don’t call me Little Secretary anymore. Assistant Xia has already processed my resignation. It’s so hard to survive in big companies—but luckily, President Chi wrote me a recommendation letter!” She grinned and extended her hand. “Call me by my name—Wu Qi Qi!”

So it really was “Wu Qi Qi.”

Zhan Heqing didn’t shake her hand: “You just now… Who’s your little brother?”

Wu Qi Qi had already picked up her drink and started sipping. She smiled foolishly: “Because I saw the look on Vice President Zhan’s face that screamed ‘Someone save me!’”

Zhan Heqing admitted defeat.

“Put whatever she ordered on my tab,” he casually told the bartender, then got up to leave.

“Hey! Wait! Vice President Zhan!” Wu Qi Qi, who hadn’t drunk much, quickly got up to chase after him.

For some reason, Zhan Heqing found it hard to face the girl behind him. Instinctively, he quickened his pace, but Wu Qi Qi matched his speed. Zhan Heqing broke into a run, not expecting Wu Qi Qi to immediately kick off her high heels and chase after him barefoot.

As the two were about to engage in a life-or-death race down the bustling street, the tension was palpable, ready to explode at any moment.

Just then, Zhan Heqing stumbled and fell to the ground.

Wu Qi Qi behind him was startled, hesitated for a moment, and finally ran up: “Vice President! You left your car keys!”

From the bustling city to the quiet countryside at night.

Unlike the busy Chongming Games building, there were corners of the world still enjoying leisure.

After watching the outdoor movie, the two walked back hand in hand through the darkness. “I miss you too,” Chi Zhao said under the moonlight.

Song Yi stared at Chi Zhao in surprise, her fingers involuntarily curling, eventually gripping his hand tightly. She froze, but something slipped through the cracks of her heart along with the moonlight.

“I do too,” Song Yi finally said in a cold voice. “Working at Chongyou made me miss it a lot.”

“Then come back to work,” Chi Zhao responded calmly. “We all miss you. ACDF is on track, and we’re short-handed right now. Your desk and broccoli plant are still there.”

Song Yi felt a heavy weight in her chest. But the more trust Chi Zhao showed, the guiltier she felt. She withdrew her hand from his grip and spoke as calmly as possible: “Before, I promised I wouldn’t leave Mr. Chi alone. But in the end, I did the opposite. Returning now would be meaningless.”

Chi Zhao’s expression didn’t change; there was no anger, only the same faint smile.

Suddenly, he asked: “Are you still drawing?”

Though surprised by the abrupt topic change, Song Yi immediately replied: “I’ve stopped.”

“What a pity—I really liked your work,” Chi Zhao said lightly.

“Is that so? Thank you,” Song Yi politely responded. As they continued walking, she kicked a pebble on the road and suddenly realized something.

“Wait,” Song Yi turned her head and asked, “How did you…”

Song Yi had never told Chi Zhao about that national primary and secondary school art competition.

Her humility, her unfulfilled hopes, and her long-forgotten tears were things she had long considered irrelevant and unworthy of mention.

Yet, Chi Zhao had effortlessly brought it up.

He said: “That time I went to your house, I accidentally knocked over the photo album on your desk. There was a certificate tucked inside.”

Song Yi couldn’t help but stop in her tracks.

Chi Zhao walked a few more steps before turning around. He said: “Actually, there was also a group photo of the winners, but it cost fifteen yuan to print. I thought it wasn’t meaningful, so I didn’t pay for it. Looks like you didn’t either.”

Indeed, for Song Yi back then, fifteen yuan wasn’t a small amount.

“At the time, I thought it wasn’t meaningful, but now I think it would have been nice if I had printed it,” Chi Zhao said. “The deadline hasn’t passed yet—there’s still room to withdraw your resignation letter.”

Her throat was blocked by a swirl of complex emotions. Song Yi couldn’t speak, watching Chi Zhao walk ahead.

She stared at his back, her heart swinging violently with unease.

Song Yi teetered, the tightrope beneath her feet snapping the moment she was treated gently. The night breeze, the scent of the fields, Chi Zhao’s soon-to-disappear figure—she finally fell.

She called out to him: “Mr. Chi, I’m sorry.”

Like a game of cat and mouse, the anxiety of baring her soul filled the void left by honesty, only for guilt toward Zhan Heqing to rush in and take its place. She could only speak as vaguely as possible.

“Since I started working,” Song Yi said, “I’ve been monitoring you and providing intelligence to others.”

She saw Chi Zhao’s figure pause slightly.

He turned around, his face expressionless as he looked at her.

Chi Zhao gazed at her from afar, his eyes cool and dry, like the silent tide of early morning quietly surging forward.

Song Yi gritted her teeth, bracing herself for insults and disdain. Just as she lowered her head and closed her eyes, a snicker drifted through the wind.

She looked up to see Chi Zhao suddenly curve his lips into a smirk.

When he laughed, he tilted his head downward, crossed his arms, and took a small step back before quickly stepping forward again.

Song Yi was startled, instinctively raising her arms in defense, taking a few steps back, then remembering her position. She opened her mouth to apologize again but heard Chi Zhao’s response instead.

“Is that all?” Chi Zhao asked with a smile.

Is that all?

Through the gap between her two raised arms, Song Yi’s suspicious gaze lingered on him, moving back and forth.