HGG - 51

When Chi Zhao rode his motorcycle out of the underground garage, he was unexpectedly startled by Gao Jie, who was waiting at the entrance.

Elegantly dressed in a white professional suit with a ceramic brooch pinned to her chest, the graceful woman smiled and blocked the doorway. After glancing around, she asked: “Mr. Chi, are you alone?”

Chi Zhao, dressed casually, removed his helmet and leaned over on his motorcycle as he appraised her. A slow smile crept onto his lips. She surely knew he would be leaving alone, yet she deliberately asked this question.

“I’m alone,” Chi Zhao replied with a maintained smile. “Is there something Miss Gao needs?”

“It’s like this.” As she spoke, Gao Jie pulled out a notebook and pen from her handbag. “I want to accompany you while you go out for a bit so I can learn more about your daily life outside of work. This is also for the interview.”

After a moment’s thought, Chi Zhao cheerfully turned his motorcycle around. When Gao Jie called out to him in confusion, he simply replied, “This won’t do.”

She froze, then promptly took out her car keys: “Let me drive you.”

Gao Jie hadn’t expected Chi Zhao to head to the community senior citizens’ social dance class.

Chi Zhao swiped his card with practiced ease, exchanged a few playful words with an extravagantly dressed elderly receptionist, and then entered, sitting down on one of the benches in the lounge. Once seated, Chi Zhao patted the chair next to him, and Gao Jie gracefully walked over and sat down beside him.

“Do you often come here?” Gao Jie asked. “It really is a great place to relax.”

Chi Zhao indifferently watched the seniors dancing in the hall and suddenly asked: “Anything else?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you following me around for your article? If you need anything else, I’d be happy to help.”

Gao Jie’s eyes flickered momentarily before she lowered her head.

She said nothing further, and neither did he. They quietly watched the elderly dance for several hours.

When it was time to leave, Chi Zhao exchanged a few more jokes with one of the elderly women. The woman turned her head, noticed Gao Jie, and her smile deepened—but she only spoke to Chi Zhao: “Young man, who is that?”

Chi Zhao gave her a gentle smile and answered succinctly: “Someone from work.”

Gao Jie stood silently in place, forcing a smile when others looked her way.

For a fleeting moment, her body filled with loneliness. Not just Song Yi—even a random elderly woman could make her feel the sadness of her situation.

But only for a moment.

Chi Zhao had long become a habit for her.

Walking along the street, Gao Jie said: “I ran into Ms. Nan a few days ago.”

“…” Chi Zhao glanced at her with an ambiguous smile.

Gao Jie’s lips curled into a perfectly polite smile. She said: “Sometimes I think she might want to know about your life too.”

This statement clearly struck a nerve. Chi Zhao cut her off: “Whether or not there’s a blood relationship, you seem very interested in other people’s mothers.”

Gao Jie didn’t falter under his sudden coldness; instead, she became visibly excited, as if discovering new land: “You’ve been aware that I’ve been concerned about you? So you do recognize me after all! I knew it. Little Zhao, you’ve been pretending not to know me—”

“Gao Jie.” Chi Zhao turned back, his tone subtly shifting. His focused gaze drifted off into the distance. “Do you know how to pick up repaired shoes?”

“Huh?” Caught off guard by this abrupt question during her emotional high, Gao Jie was stunned.

Chi Zhao stared at a storefront across the road, as if their previous conversation had already slipped his mind.

“Yesterday, Song Yi mentioned that the shoes she was having repaired were ready, but she forgot to come pick them up.” Chi Zhao continued speaking to himself. “I think it’s that shoe repair shop across the way.”

He smiled at her, just as he always did with people he wasn’t close to. The next second, he issued a warning: “Know when to stop. Don’t bother the people around me anymore, especially Nan Zheng.”

By the time the clock neared 6 PM, faint lights still twinkled in Chongming Games’ offices.

Song Yi finished her last task, contacted the driver, and stepped out. Chi Zhao had returned in the afternoon, and since no one in the company had the authority to inquire about his whereabouts, Song Yi never brought it up either.

Moreover, her boss’s absence was convenient for her. In the morning, Luo Jiaming had messaged her, saying he was in the lobby and wanted to apologize in person.

Song Yi knew that Luo Jiaming must have sensed the reluctance in her reply.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to forgive him—it was that, in her view, their relationship had already changed regardless of forgiveness.

Still, like a homeroom teacher dealing with a misbehaving student, she genuinely understood that his intentions weren’t malicious.

To prepare for the casual evening at Zhan Heqing’s house, Song Yi hadn’t worn a suit today. She wore a short-sleeved water-red top and white denim A-line skirt.

She led him to the café downstairs, just as Chongyou employees usually did for impromptu meetings.

Luo Jiaming had prepared many apologies. Since that day, even during training, he had been somewhat distracted, earning scoldings from his coach multiple times.

Facing Song Yi, Luo Jiaming bowed his head deeply: “I’m sorry.”

Song Yi rested her cheek on her hand, gazing at the transparent display case inside the shop. After a brief silence, she replied: “Don’t say anything. I wasn’t in a good mood that day either.”

They tacitly avoided discussing why he had tried to kiss her.

Song Yi glanced at her watch, preparing to get up and pay the bill, when Luo Jiaming suddenly said: “Um… I think I saw your dad at the supermarket near the base a few days ago. You don’t live together, right? Mr. Song… he’s lost a lot of weight. He doesn’t look like he’s doing well.”

Song Yi’s movements abruptly halted. She looked at Luo Jiaming, nodding faintly as if in a dream.

“Is that so?” she said, nonchalantly pointing to the counter. “I’ll go settle the bill.”

Luo Jiaming hurriedly stood up, reaching for his wallet, but Song Yi was faster.

With her back to the table, her mind was flooded with the information she had just heard. Step by step, she walked to the counter, desperately trying to push away the sad, troubling memories with other thoughts.

She took a deep breath and, looking calm, addressed the clerk: “Could you pack two unicorn donuts for me? They’re for President Chi, so add extra blueberry jam. Thank you.”

However, upon returning to the office, she remembered that Chi Zhao wasn’t there.

In the end, the donuts were used to treat herself and Xia Fan.

As she ate the donuts, Song Yi wondered: If it were Chi Zhao, would he feel sad about these things from the past that she had already decided to move on from?

Amidst her troubling thoughts, she suddenly realized something.

Because of Chi Zhao, she—the person who had always isolated herself, drawing boundaries around her heart and turning herself into dry ice—had begun to waver.

She had started to rely on him.

That evening, after work, Song Yi and Chi Zhao each carried a bottle of red wine, and Chi Zhao also brought a pot of aloe vera. Together, they went to Zhan Heqing’s home for dinner.

Since they planned to drink, Zhan Heqing had reminded them earlier not to drive.

Chi Zhao couldn’t be bothered to ask the driver to wait and had already told him to leave. Sitting in the backseat, both Chi Zhao and Song Yi gazed out their respective windows, silent, lost in their own dilemmas.

But such confined emotions quickly dissipated as they entered Zhan Heqing’s apartment.

This was Song Yi’s first visit to Zhan Heqing’s home.

“You’ve arrived just in time!” Zhan Heqing exclaimed, wearing a lace-trimmed apron and wielding a spatula as he rushed out. “Come help me with the preparations!”

Chi Zhao raised an eyebrow as he took off his shoes: “Aren’t we just here to eat?”

Meanwhile, Song Yi had already walked in, handing the aloe vera and red wine to Zhan Heqing: “Didn’t you invite Miss Wu?”

“This dinner is specially prepared for Zhan Xiaohong!” Zhan Heqing admitted frankly.

Chi Zhao stopped in his tracks: “Then Song Yi and I should find somewhere else—”

“Hey! Wait! You’re guests!” Zhan Heqing exclaimed. “Zhan Xiaohong is my enemy!”

The night he got drunk at Wu Qiuxiu’s place, Jenny had driven over in her pink Mini Cooper to pick him up.

A sister is a sister indeed. Upon returning home, Jenny captured all his embarrassing moments—hugging the toilet while vomiting, collapsing asleep by the door, and whistling like Peppa Pig—and sent them to Wu Qiuxiu.

Wu Qiuxiu then forwarded them to her family’s group chat.

“So humiliating,” Zhan Heqing clenched the spatula. “Tonight, I will have my revenge!”

He bought a box of rice wine that Jenny liked, along with lychee-flavored soda—strong in aftertaste and delicious when mixed.

Additionally, he prepared his DSLR camera, ready to take photos at any moment.

As Zhan Heqing made his bold declaration, Chi Zhao yawned and walked in, bypassing him to search for the TV remote by the coffee table. Meanwhile, Song Yi remarked, “Your dish is about to burn,” as she walked into the kitchen.

Zhan Heqing’s apartment had a long corridor in the yard, echoing loudly. Jenny, who had studied vocal music since childhood, had a habit of singing whenever she was in such a setting.

By the time she arrived, everyone was ready. All four of them were familiar with each other, young and unreserved.

Zhan Heqing was naturally talkative, and with Chi Zhao present, the conversation inevitably turned to work-related topics. He was enthusiastic and always had something to say.

Jenny occasionally interjected a few words. To those unfamiliar with her, she might come across as arrogant, but those who knew her well understood her free-spirited and cheerful nature. She laughed often, yet never in a way that felt disrespectful.

In such settings, compared to them, Chi Zhao spoke less. Most of the time, he listened, his gaze fixed on distant, unrelated objects, though he was indeed paying attention. When he did offer his thoughts, he never wasted words—his remarks were precise and concise.

The quietest one was Song Yi. Having only recently met them and being inherently cautious, especially since two of them were her superiors, she maintained a calm demeanor and remained mostly silent.

As Zhan Heqing had anticipated, Jenny indeed drank a lot of lychee-flavored rice wine.

As night seeped through the windows, the atmosphere inside had shifted drastically from the earlier harmonious warmth to complete chaos.

When drunk, Jenny became extremely lively—too lively, to the point of slipping out of Zhan Heqing’s control.

While Chi Zhao was playing an animated show on the TV, Jenny climbed onto the table, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a spoon in the other. Drunkenly, she declared: “My dream is to step onto this stage! Next up, I’ll perform ‘Wang Qing Shui’ for everyone!”

Zhan Heqing quickly pulled out his camera, about to press the shutter, but was immediately kicked over by his sister.

“It’s over now, the music of the night—” Jenny sang in standard American English, her drunken voice slurring, then waved the spoon and shouted, “Anyone else want to perform?!”

“This crazy woman,” Zhan Heqing groaned, rubbing the back of his head as he stood up. “Of course not!”

However, at that moment, someone across the table raised their hand.

Song Yi stood up, raising her left hand: “I’d like to sing ‘The Young Pioneers’ Song.’ “

All eyes turned toward her.

The only two still sober, Zhan Heqing and Chi Zhao, exchanged glances. Zhan Heqing raised his hand, waving it in front of Song Yi: “Miss Song?”

Song Yi’s expression remained blank, her demeanor proper, but her face was slightly redder than usual, and her eyes stared vacantly ahead.

“No way!” Zhan Heqing couldn’t help shouting. “You’re drunk too?!”

Song Yi hadn’t meant to drink so much.

At first, she only took a small sip. The fresh rice wine was sweet and fragrant, with the added flavor of lychee tempting her to take another sip.

One sip led to another. Since Song Yi wasn’t speaking much, she unconsciously drank more than half the bottle while listening to the others.

Gradually, the world around her began to feel dreamlike.

“Great!” Jenny exclaimed loudly, putting down the spoon and raising her glass toward Song Yi. “Let us accompany each other through this fleeting life, galloping freely and sharing the splendor of the world! Let us sing our joy with a toast! Let us seize the moment and—”

Zhan Heqing clamped his hand over her mouth: “Enough out of you!”

In the bachelor apartment of a young man, Zhan Heqing glanced at his friend watching cartoons. Chi Zhao sat cross-legged on the sofa as South Park played on the TV.

What to do?

Zhan Heqing sighed and said: “You take Song Yi home. Jenny has a room here; I’ll arrange for her to sleep.”

Chi Zhao lounged on the couch like a cat, stuffing popcorn into his mouth while looking at Zhan Heqing. He neither agreed nor refused.

Before waiting for a response, Zhan Heqing had already called a taxi and went to prepare hot water for Jenny.

The once lively living room immediately grew quiet, leaving only Chi Zhao and Song Yi sitting across from each other, separated by the dining table, glasses, plates, and various utensils.

When the episode ended, Chi Zhao finally stood up. He said: “Let’s go.”

The alcohol made Song Yi dizzy, but at least she wasn’t as uncontrollable as Jenny. Normally stern-faced, her cheeks were now flushed and soft, her bright eyes darting around.

She obediently followed Chi Zhao outside. In the yard, Chi Zhao crossed his arms and turned to see her timidly gazing at him.

Meeting her unwavering stare, he instinctively wanted to ruffle her hair but thought better of it midway and withdrew his hand. Chi Zhao asked: “What are you looking at?”

Song Yi shook her head, then buried it downward.

So obedient.

Chi Zhao couldn’t help but take off his coat and drape it over her.

Dazed, Song Yi looked up as he approached, her wide eyes staring at his face. Chi Zhao openly met her gaze, commanding her like a small animal: “Put on your clothes properly, don’t look around.”

The instruction worked better than expected. Upon hearing him, Song Yi actually tried to put on his coat. Though the temperature wasn’t low, Chi Zhao had only intended to let her borrow it briefly. Unexpectedly, Song Yi carefully slipped her arms into the sleeves and even zipped it all the way up.

Once done, she spread her arms, solemnly presenting herself like a kindergarten child showing off their work: “I’m done!”

“Very impressive,” Chi Zhao couldn’t help but laugh. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and affectionately tousled her hair. “A reward for you.”

The usually meticulous and flawless secretary, Song Yi, now stood there with messy hair, wearing an oversized coat paired awkwardly with a midi skirt and high heels, beaming innocently at her employer.

Chi Zhao pinched himself.

Not a dream.

Once in the taxi, Song Yi began to sing.

At first, Chi Zhao was puzzled, thinking she was reciting something. When he recognized “The joy of labor is endless” from the children’s song “Labor is Glorious,” he realized she was singing.

For the first time, he discovered that Song Yi was tone-deaf.

And a tone-deaf person who, after finishing, earnestly asked those around her, “Did it sound good?”

As Chi Zhao clapped his hands and sincerely answered, “Superb!” the taxi driver burst out laughing.

“Young man, you’ve got quite the patience,” the driver chuckled. “Is your girlfriend drunk? Just make sure she doesn’t throw up in the car.”

That comment triggered something. Suddenly, Song Yi grabbed the door handle and started retching.

The taxi screeched to a halt. Fortunately, they were already near the alley leading to the dormitory, so they decided to get out.

The nighttime road was deserted. To ease her nausea and help her sober up faster, Chi Zhao went to buy ice cream from a convenience store.

As he opened his own portion, he noticed Song Yi standing motionless. He handed her his ice cream and tore open a new package for himself.

After taking a spoonful, Song Yi immediately furrowed her brows, making the same face she usually reserved for overtime notices.

“Too cold for your teeth?” Chi Zhao leaned in to examine her face. “Or does it not taste good?”

Song Yi nodded.

Chi Zhao took back her portion and gave her the newly opened one he had just unwrapped. Despite being the same flavor, he didn’t hesitate to use the spoon she had already touched. Song Yi ate the ice cream, staring at him with a numb expression.

Chi Zhao asked coldly: “What’s wrong?”

They continued walking. At first, Song Yi managed to stumble along. But when they reached under a streetlamp, she suddenly crouched down.

Chi Zhao stopped and waited for a few minutes before turning back. “Let’s go,” he said.

Song Yi buried her face in her arms and looked up when she heard his voice. Through blurred double vision, she felt herself transported back to age twelve. She murmured: “Dad…”

…

“Wrong answer.” Chi Zhao crouched down, patiently replying, “I’m not your dad.”

She didn’t fully grasp his words. Alcohol fizzled in her mind like delicate fireworks, scattering smoke and sparks. Song Yi propped her face with her hands, her body burning hot yet cold. She asked: “Why don’t you love me?”

The warm father from her memories had been replaced by the man who had knocked her to the ground, rummaged through drawers for money, and stormed out the door.

Chi Zhao rested his hand on his knee, his black hair tinged with fine gray under the dim yellow light. Lowering his dark eyes, he suddenly smiled.

“I don’t know,” Chi Zhao muttered, as if stating a scientific law. “How to love.”

His smile was like a crescent moon made of metal—sharp, thin, devoid of warmth, yet strikingly bright.

Song Yi lowered her head, exhaling a fiery breath soaked in alcohol. She continued: “I can’t draw anymore. I don’t play games either. I’ll work hard, always work hard. Dad, I—”

Emotions that pierced her heart compelled her to lift her head, but in that instant, she suddenly recognized the person before her: “Mr. Chi.”

Chi Zhao thought she had finally sobered up, so he stood up and extended his hand: “Can we go now?”

Song Yi shook her head.

She whispered something so softly that Chi Zhao had to bend down to hear.

Looking up, her intense gaze still clouded with intoxication, Song Yi said: “You have to call me ‘little girl’ before I can go.”