HGG - 4

At Chongming Games, working overtime was like chewing gum—it never seemed to stop.

When Song Yi learned that she would need to stay at the company for a while, she was secretly relieved that this coincided with a time when it was inconvenient for her to go home. She quickly packed her things and headed over.

Chongming Games’ office was equipped with all the necessary living facilities.

Though the chairs weren’t comfortable for sleeping, according to Xia Fan: “The most essential skill for anyone in our line of work is being able to sleep anywhere. No matter where you are, you have to be able to rest.”

This wave of overtime had been triggered by a sudden whim of the Chongming Culture board members. The impromptu meeting they held could influence the financial evaluation of Chongming Games for the entire year.

Chi Zhao had hastily changed into a custom-tailored dark suit, his hair neatly combed—looking like an entirely different person from the one who usually played games in the office.

Carrying his cat with one arm as he passed through the lobby, Chi Zhao caused a ripple of excitement among the female employees in the office area as he made his way to the meeting room.

But he paid no attention, focusing instead on listening to Xia Fan’s report about today’s attendance of the board members.

The discussion was intense.

Chongming Culture was a long-established company, and there were more than a few stubborn senior executives. While the gaming industry was highly profitable, any instability could easily become a point of contention for higher-ups.

Additionally, Chi Zhao’s image among the elders wasn’t particularly favorable, so being lectured was a common occurrence.

Faced with a barrage of accusations and questions, he often showed little interest.

As Song Yi sat in the corner taking notes, she occasionally glanced up. Amidst the tense atmosphere, she noticed that the young president, dressed impeccably in his suit, was folding paper under the table.

Both his teacup and the cup of the director sitting next to him were nearly empty. After adjusting the voice recorder, Song Yi stood up to refill their tea.

That director, known for his fiery temper, rose involuntarily in the heat of his argument. Seeing Chi Zhao’s nonchalant demeanor, he picked up his teacup in agitation, his hand trembling slightly as he hurled it toward Chi Zhao.

Song Yi, who had just finished refilling the cups, reflexively raised her hand and intercepted the flying teacup. Tea splashed everywhere, and the cup rolled away.

Chi Zhao remained unscathed, lifting his head to look at her.

“My apologies,” Song Yi said without flinching, tucking her scalded hand behind her back. “I overstepped, but if Mr. Chi had been injured, it would’ve caused significant losses to the company. I urge everyone to remain calm.”

Her words were perfectly measured. Chi Zhao stood up, inserting the origami pigeon he had folded into the folder in Song Yi’s arms.

He said, “We should probably wrap this up for today.”

With that, he strode off. Pausing at the door, he turned sideways, waiting for Song Yi to catch up.

After leaving the meeting room, he asked, “Let me carry your things. Are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing serious,” Song Yi replied. “I’ll go to the infirmary.”

Chi Zhao nodded and parted ways with her at the intersection. Before the elevator doors closed, he smiled and said, “Thank you.”

When he was still, he resembled a lifeless plaster statue, but when he smiled, his eyes sparkled like glass.

Song Yi stood rooted in place, wanting to respond but ultimately turning away without a word.

Next to the infirmary was the pantry. As she passed by, she was called out to.

It was Zhou Shuhua. Since their encounter at the elevator on her first day, they hadn’t had a chance to speak again.

Zhou Shuhua had been assigned to the design department. It was rumored to have an alarmingly high turnover rate, but correspondingly, it also offered many opportunities.

Holding a cup of coffee, Zhou Shuhua asked, “Are you hurt?”

“Just a little,” Song Yi replied honestly. It was only a minor burn—cleaning it and applying some ointment would suffice.

Zhou Shuhua scrutinized her for a moment, leaning against the doorway. “You look really cute when you smile.”

Song Yi stiffened slightly. Raising her head, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the cabinet—she was indeed smiling.

When had she started smiling?

In her memory, her lips rarely curved upward, giving her a perpetually stern appearance. Coupled with the hardships of life, she had gradually stopped smiling altogether.

Realizing belatedly that she was indeed in a good mood, Song Yi thought of Chi Zhao’s smile before the elevator doors closed.

She believed the source of her happiness was intercepting that teacup. She had done what a secretary should do.

The realization of personal value brought joy—that much was normal.

Early in the morning, Chi Zhao called all the employees in the company to order takeout—breakfast, coffee, chocolates to replenish energy.

The company did have a lounge, but most Chongming Games employees, prioritizing efficiency, preferred to rest wherever they could find a spot.

As usual, Chi Zhao slept on his sofa piled high with stuffed animals and blankets. Sometimes he helped draw diagrams, other times poring over endless reports.

Whenever he needed something, he simply called out loudly: “Song Yi—”

Song Yi accompanied him as he reviewed those reports, helped organize files, prepared milk for him, and reminded him daily to take breaks.

Watching Chi Zhao adapt seamlessly to office life, Song Yi asked, “Boss, do you have a home?”

“What?” Chi Zhao was typing on the computer, not paying attention to what she was saying.

“Do you have a home?” she repeated.

“Oh, you’re talking about that,” Chi Zhao replied without looking up. “Yes, I do. This entire building of Chongming is registered under my name. And I own properties in the city center and several recent developments.”

Song Yi nodded but felt oddly as though he was avoiding certain questions.

She couldn’t quite figure out what Vice President Zhan was thinking either.

Walking into the smoking room, Song Yi asked, “Do you really think it’s appropriate for us to discuss work here? I don’t smoke—if we’re seen, it’ll only raise suspicions.”

Zhan Heqing didn’t smoke either. He sat slumped in a chair, lost in thought. Over the past few days, it was clear he was exhausted too.

“It’s fine. Everyone’s been busy preparing for the next meeting recently,” he said, patting the seat next to him to signal her to sit down.

Song Yi didn’t take the liberty to sit but instead leaned against the wall and asked, “I’ve already reported everything about President Chi over the past few days. Do you have any other questions for me?”

“This time, I’m not asking you to be a ‘spy,’” Zhan Heqing said as he pulled out his phone from his pocket. A photo of a woman was displayed on the screen. “Chi Zhao will soon arrange for you to pick her up at the airport. She’s my younger sister.”

The woman in the photo was proud and beautiful.

“I called you here to give you a heads-up in advance. It’s to help both you and me,” Zhan Heqing explained.

Song Yi stood and asked, “Do you want me to act as a nanny?”

Quick to understand, communicating with her was effortless.

Zhan Heqing spoke with a touch of weariness: “Back in the day, when the older generation tried to set her up on blind dates, she was rejected by Chi Zhao. Because Chi Zhao said his ideal type was Doraemi.”

“Doraemi?”

That was the fictional sister of the cartoon character Doraemon.

“Probably something he said offhandedly. Chi Zhao doesn’t like my sister, but my sister is utterly obsessed with him,” Zhan Heqing said helplessly. “Chi Zhao might have some sort of charisma. But I really don’t understand Zhan Xiaohong… that’s her real name; it’s best not to call her that. When we were kids, because we were teased with nicknames like ‘Willow Green and Willow Red,’ she dropped out of school altogether.”

Song Yi asked, “Do you want me to create opportunities between her and the boss?”

“No need to go that far,” Zhan Heqing replied. “It’s just that when she gets close to Chi Zhao, her mood improves. And when she’s in a good mood, everyone around her feels better too.”

Zhan Xiaohong preferred to be called Jenny. She was a true socialite—wealthy, having studied abroad at a young age, and had successfully taken the stage as an opera singer. Life had treated her kindly.

Aside from her Chinese name, there was only one thing that had ever caused her trouble.

Jenny removed her sunglasses, ignored the driver, and looked around before haughtily asking Song Yi, “Where’s Chi Zhao?”

“Mr. Chi is still busy with work, so he arranged for us to pick you up,” Song Yi replied politely.

“Why didn’t Secretary Xia come to pick me up?” Jenny demanded aggressively. “I specifically informed only Brother Chi Zhao. At the very least, shouldn’t Secretary Xia have come to pick me up?”

Right from the start, Song Yi understood why Zhan Heqing had gone out of his way to brief her beforehand.

True to her word, Jenny refused to leave. She sat down at a teahouse near the airport, acting as if she wouldn’t return unless Secretary Xia personally came to arrange a red-carpet welcome for her.

Just in case, Song Yi contacted Xia Fan to ask for advice.

Xia Fan didn’t say much. After a short while, Song Yi’s phone rang. To her surprise, it was Chi Zhao calling.

She answered immediately and heard Chi Zhao ask from the other end, “Where are you guys?”

Song Yi gave the location and stepped outside, even arranging parking in advance. However, just a few minutes later, she saw Chi Zhao arrive, wearing a casual T-shirt and jeans, riding a shared bike.

Though she hadn’t yet visited Chi Zhao’s residence since starting her job, through her work, she knew that he wasn’t short of vehicles. He owned several sports cars, and even a dream Yamaha motorcycle parked casually by the roadside.

In short, Song Yi couldn’t figure out why he would ride a shared bike now.

She walked over to steady the bike for him while he scanned the QR code. “You rode this all the way to the airport?” That must have been quite a distance.

“No, I drove here,” Chi Zhao replied, glancing toward Jenny through the restaurant’s floor-to-ceiling windows. “I parked nearby.”

“Then why…?” Song Yi asked tactfully.

Chi Zhao said, “Obviously, to avoid letting her ride in my car.”

After all, some women often deliberately left things behind when riding in a man’s car, like fishermen leaving hooks. Additionally, what Chi Zhao didn’t say aloud was that he was trying to make Jenny lose her infatuation with him.

As they entered, Song Yi held the door open for Chi Zhao, then followed him to the table and said, “Miss Zhan, Mr. Chi has arrived. Shall we head back? Mr. Chi didn’t drive today, so you’ll probably still need—”

“Brother Chi Zhao!” Jenny interrupted, standing up with tears welling in her eyes. “How have you been lately? Sit down and have something to eat before leaving.”

The relationship between the Chi and Zhan families was extraordinary, and Chi Zhao, too lazy to refuse again, simply sat down. As he reached out, Song Yi had already handed over the menu.

While they were ordering, Song Yi gestured for the drivers to find seats as well. Just as she was about to leave, Chi Zhao called her back.

“You sit here,” he said.

Jenny generously offered her seat next to herself to Song Yi, clearly not wanting another woman sitting beside Chi Zhao.

The food arrived quickly. Song Yi and Chi Zhao had ordered the same thing.

At this point, Jenny began to talk animatedly about her latest performance abroad, complained about her family arranging new blind dates, and finally inquired about Chi Zhao’s recent life.

Knowing she couldn’t interject, Song Yi focused on eating her cake. Normally, she didn’t indulge in desserts, but the colorful menu was appealing, so she had simply followed Chi Zhao’s order.

Whatever Chi Zhao chose was bound to be good.

Song Yi ate carefully, savoring each bite, until she gradually noticed the silence around her.

She looked up to find them no longer speaking. Jenny awkwardly gazed at Chi Zhao, while Chi Zhao rested his hand against his cheek, calmly staring at Song Yi.

Song Yi swallowed the cake. Feeling somewhat confused, she immediately checked whether she had done anything wrong.

Suddenly, something on the table was pushed toward her. She saw Chi Zhao pushing his portion over to her.

“Do you like it that much?” he said. “Mine is yours too.”