HGG - 43

Later, Chi Zhao pulled the car over to the side of the road. Song Yi knew she had no right to ask what he was doing. He got out of the car and, upon returning, casually tossed a paper bag into her lap.

Inside were some trinkets.

Hair clips, brooches, and earrings, among other things.

Chi Zhao munched on gummies as he resumed driving. After that, they didn’t speak again.

Later, while having lunch with her colleagues and listening to their discussions about fashion, Song Yi realized that just the hair clip alone cost over ten thousand yuan. He had thrown it to her as if it were a random item bought from a roadside boutique.

When Jenny came to Chongyou to visit Zhan Heqing and ran into Song Yi, she asked, “Eh? Is this this year’s new model? Did you buy a knockoff online?”

Jenny, true to her upbringing as a pampered young lady from a prominent family, had an innate sharpness to her words.

If one didn’t know her well, they might think her arrogant and rude. But most misunderstandings stemmed from differences.

From her perspective, it was reasonable to assume someone who usually spent nothing beyond necessities suddenly dressing up—especially buying luxury goods—would likely settle for a counterfeit.

Song Yi didn’t get upset; she simply provided a brief explanation.

“No wonder Brother Chi Zhao has always had great taste,” Jenny remarked. “And this brand is prestigious enough to make a statement. Since you’ve started dressing up, I’ll have to give you something next time.”

After pondering for a moment, Song Yi suddenly corrected her: “That’s not the reason.”

“Huh?”

“Because it was a gift from Chi Zhao,” Song Yi said, “that’s why I’m wearing it.”

Jenny stared at Song Yi’s expressionless face. She struggled for a while before swallowing the question, “Why aren’t you two married yet?”

Chi Zhao himself was completely unaware of any of this.

After ACDF stabilized and he completed the tasks his father assigned him, he disappeared from the office.

According to Xia Fan, there was no need to be surprised. This was just how Chi Zhao was—during his free time, he became even more carefree and spontaneous. On a whim, he might go skydiving the next day. Not knowing where he was wasn’t unusual, as long as it didn’t affect his work.

“Even if he calls you in the middle of the night saying he wants to install a skylight on the roof of Chongyou,” Xia Fan said while scooping up a bite of stone pot bibimbap with an air of experience, “don’t call him a bastard.”

Song Yi took the advice to heart. Suddenly, an employee arrived with a delivery. Such occurrences were rare since they usually went downstairs to collect their packages themselves.

Song Yi opened the package to find a smartphone inside.

It was a gift for her.

Back in the countryside, Chi Zhao had mentioned wanting to get her a new phone.

Upon turning it on, she found a stored voice message. She played it aloud so Xia Fan could hear as well.

“I have a suggestion,” Chi Zhao’s voice announced without hesitation in the audio file. “I want Xia Fan to take Treefrog to Iceland for the Global Pet Beauty Pageant—”

Xia Fan couldn’t take it anymore and slammed the table. “Chi Zhao, you bastard!”

Meanwhile, Chi Zhao was somewhere no one could have guessed.

He was in a social dance class for middle-aged and elderly people.

Chi Zhao sat by the window, lost in thought. When he suddenly heard someone calling his name, he raised his eyes and responded to the elderly man in sportswear with a smile: “Do you want some water?”

Song Yi’s grandmother extricated herself from a group of enthusiastic grandpas. As she approached, she kindly asked, “You look bored sitting here all alone.”

Chi Zhao shook his head. His handsome face stood out starkly among the elders, whose features bore the marks of age.

But he sat there as if oblivious, and no one dared to ask him to leave. In fact, several young girls who were usually forced by their parents to accompany their grandparents to class changed their attitudes entirely—they stopped complaining about how smelly the older generation was and now eagerly came every day, staying longer just to talk to Chi Zhao and ask for his contact information.

These young girls sent him friend requests enthusiastically, determined to flirt with him. However, they couldn’t help but feel a bit puzzled—why was his ID called “Youth Digest”?

Song Yi’s grandmother noticed but chose not to say anything.

Grandma was already popular in the dance class, and with Chi Zhao accompanying her, she became even more so.

Occasionally, they would sit together and chat.

Grandma said, “Young man, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“I’ve been told I’m strange ever since I was little,” Chi Zhao replied with a chuckle.

“And is that such a bad thing?” Grandma’s smile held no trace of consolation as she said, “When Song Yi was little, other children often thought she was strange too.”

In truth, Chi Zhao didn’t know why he had come here either. Out of boredom, he happened to remember Song Yi mentioning the social dance class. Plus, he hadn’t seen Grandma in a long time.

Naturally, Grandma shared stories from her past.

Grandpa had been a stern and rigid man, demanding perfection from his son.

Even during the rebellious phase that everyone goes through, Song Wei did not slack off. But this wasn’t necessarily a good thing—the mounting pressure eventually erupted one day after he grew up.

The conflict flooded like an uncontrollable torrent, irreparably damaging their parent-child relationship.

Determined to oppose his family, Song Wei married a woman who lived only for the present but was extremely beautiful, beginning a difficult life.

Perhaps Song Yi’s aloofness was inherited from her grandfather.

“She’s far too mature for her age,” Grandma said, gazing at the chandelier in the distance. “She didn’t receive the care she deserved, but she still grew up just fine. Song Yi doesn’t have a nickname… Though we say it’s because the character ‘Yi’ makes it hard to come up with one, this seems to encapsulate her twenty years of life.”

In the distance, many sexagenarian elders were stretching their bodies under the warm sunlight, creating a picture that felt oddly harmonious despite its incongruity.

Chi Zhao fell silent.

On the other hand, Song Yi held the new smartphone Chi Zhao had given her.

Feeling cheerful, she sent a message to Grandma, asking if she should pick her up after dance class ended. The reply came back: “I’m with friends.”

Wherever Grandma went, she never lacked companionship.

After returning home, Song Yi took out the kitchen trash, and just then, she coincidentally bumped into Chi Yu, who was about to leave.

Previously, Grandma had referred to Chi Yu as “the handsome young man’s older brother,” which left Chi Yu feeling defeated. From then on, he instinctively avoided neighbors whenever he went out.

Seeing her, Chi Yu suddenly spoke up: “Miss Song, could you do me a favor?”

They then headed to the upscale residential area of the city together.

At first, Song Yi didn’t know what he intended to do until they reached the door of a certain apartment. Only then did Chi Yu confess: “My ex-wife won’t let me see my son or daughter.”

“Do they live here?” Song Yi asked. “But how will my presence change anything?”

“For a while…” Chi Yu hesitated for a long time, his voice growing quieter and quieter until it was almost inaudible. “…Every time Chi Zhao came, she’d let me see them…”

In this situation, shouldn’t you reflect on yourself?

Though she wanted to say this, Song Yi felt it would be cruel to keep hitting him where it hurt.

Chi Yu’s ex-wife was clearly no pushover. As soon as the doorbell rang, she mocked them: “What? Found a new girlfriend to show off to me?!”

Chi Yu quickly explained: “No, she’s Xiao Zhao’s secretary…”

There was silence on the other end, probably assessing the truth of that statement.

“Well,” Song Yi felt it best to clarify herself, “I really am Mr. Chi’s secretary.”

Despite this, they were still refused entry.

They waited for a while longer but eventually had to return the way they came. On the bus back, Song Yi couldn’t help but ask: “Have you spoken to Mr. Chi about this before?”

She now knew what Chi Zhao had been hiding from Chi Yu, but as an outsider, she couldn’t bring herself to intervene.

Chi Yu was resting his chin against his hand, staring out the window. In a daze, he turned back and said, “No, I’ve figured it out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve thought it over carefully,” Chi Yu said. “Chi Zhao hasn’t done anything harmful to me. Moreover, Dad came to see me.”

Song Yi paused slightly. Indeed, they had recently seen Chi Shuren.

“Song Yi,” Chi Yu suddenly said, “do you know? A few years ago, there was an earthquake in the country.”

Song Yi remained silent, listening quietly.

At the time, Chi Zhao was studying in Paris. The city where Chi Shuren lived had been affected by the earthquake.

Chi Zhao rushed back on the nearest flight.

Chi Shuren was unharmed and had returned home in time.

Chi Zhao entered resolutely, still slightly out of breath from running. After catching his breath, he finally spoke.

“The éclairs from Avenue des Champs-Élysées,” Chi Zhao said. “I thought they were delicious.”

Chi Shuren looked up at him. Even Chi Yu, who had just finished bathing, held his breath, while Chi Chong burst out laughing.

As everyone instinctively turned to look, Chi Chong waved his hand. “Sorry, carry on, carry on.”

Chi Zhao turned back and looked at Chi Shuren. “Try it.”

“Thank you,” Chi Shuren replied succinctly. “Where’s the éclair?”

Chi Zhao held nothing in his hands. “Go buy it yourself.”

By this point, Chi Chong could no longer contain himself and laughed heartily.

After recounting this incident from a few years ago, Chi Yu leaned against the bus window and said faintly, “Actually, Chi Zhao is quite clumsy. He doesn’t know how to express his feelings, and his way of showing concern is strange.”

Song Yi adjusted her balance with the movement of the bus, speaking slowly and calmly: “Mm.”

The bus passed the station near Chongyou. Song Yi could have gone back with Chi Yu, but when they reached the building, she inexplicably wanted to go upstairs again.

After bidding farewell to Chi Yu, Song Yi asked the security guard at the entrance, only to learn that “President Chi hasn’t left yet.”

She went upstairs and nearly jumped in surprise when she pushed open the office door.

The lights were off, but the refrigerator door was open. Chi Zhao was struggling to stuff something inside.

Song Yi flipped the light switch and asked, “May I ask what you’re doing?”

Seeing her, Chi Zhao stopped what he was doing. He straightened up, holding a cardboard box in his hands. “I was thinking about you.”

Song Yi was taking off her coat when she heard this and couldn’t help but freeze momentarily.

Suddenly, he had said something so impressive so nonchalantly.

But when she turned her head, she saw that Chi Zhao seemed completely unaware of it. He continued, “I happened to be thinking about you. This thing doesn’t fit the fridge’s dimensions, and I was wondering what to do…”

Chi Zhao placed the box on the table and opened the lid.

Song Yi naturally walked closer and saw a cake.

Written on it in chocolate sauce was “Happy Birthday, Song Yi.”

“I know it’s not your birthday, but this shop’s cakes are really good,” Chi Zhao said. “Song Yi, let me tell you…

“Most people wouldn’t use ‘Zhao’ as a name, right?” Chi Zhao unwrapped the packaging and picked up the cake knife, holding it in his palm. “Unlike ‘worship’ or ‘encounter,’ when my mom named me, she meant ‘summoned to come, dismissed to go.’”

Song Yi quietly gazed at him, and at that moment, Chi Zhao handed her the cake knife. Looking into her eyes, he said, “The name itself doesn’t matter. What matters is who uses it.”

Song Yi’s gaze shifted between his eyes, and she suddenly recalled the words she had heard earlier on the bus.

Mr. Chi truly wasn’t good at comforting people.

She accepted the cake knife and replied, “Thank you.”

Just as Song Yi began cutting the cake, Chi Zhao stood beside her, leaning on the table and thinking deeply.

Did Song Yi really not have any usable nicknames?

“Song Yi,” he couldn’t help but blurt out, contemplating as he spoke, “Song Song, Song Yi Yi, Lady Song Yi, Miss Song Yi, Baby, My Little Girl… My Song Yi.”

Song Yi’s hand slipped while cutting the cake. She looked up to see Chi Zhao’s contemplative expression, dark yet tinged with a faint smile.