HGG - 52

She raised her head in a daze. Her usually frosty face now carried a faint hint of frustration as Song Yi said: “You have to call me ‘little girl’ before I can leave.”

Chi Zhao asked in a tone as if he had just heard about the collapse of the Egyptian pyramids: “What?”

Song Yi, drunk and disoriented, lowered her head, her legs giving way involuntarily. She slumped to the ground and declared: “Then I won’t go back.”

“Get up, don’t catch a cold.” Chi Zhao quickly reached out to support her shoulders, but Song Yi struggled and pushed him away.

Her dark eyes struggled to focus. She said: “You need to say it.”

Chi Zhao fell silent.

“…Little girl,” he finally said.

Song Yi stared at him blankly for a long moment, then lowered her head again, still showing no intention of standing up.

She fumbled in her pocket, pulling out her phone, but didn’t hold it steady enough, causing it to slip and fall to the ground. She began searching around for it.

“I want to record it,” she muttered to herself. “Then I can listen to it whenever I want…”

Chi Zhao stood before her, the dim yellow light falling over their shoulders like dust. After a pause, he suddenly crouched down again, his faintly glowing eyes fixed on her.

A smile tugged at Chi Zhao’s lips as his fingers brushed through her long hair.

“That would be too much trouble,” his voice was clear and cool, perfectly suited to the distant, dry night breeze. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

She grasped his hand. Chi Zhao’s body temperature was always lower than most people’s, while her cheeks burned from the alcohol. Instinctively, she pressed his hand against her face.

Chi Zhao didn’t resist, simply nudging her with the back of his hand: “Don’t drink in front of anyone else but me ever again—”

This was Song Yi’s last memory of being drunk.

Rather than calling it her “last” memory, it was more accurate to say that her recollections were too fragmented, and this was merely one piece of the puzzle.

When she woke up, she was lying in bed. Her grandmother came in upon hearing the noise and told her: “Your boss brought you home yesterday. You kept singing songs, so remember to thank him.”

Song Yi tried to recall more, but aside from Chi Zhao’s final smile directed at her, all she could piece together was this fragment of conversation—

She mumbled: “Why don’t you love me?”

Chi Zhao replied: “I don’t know how to love.”

Thus far, in her only romantic experience in life, Song Yi had been the one confessed to.

After the final exams of the first semester, Liu Jun confessed to her via text message. The exact wording, Song Yi couldn’t remember clearly anymore. However, she was certain it wasn’t something like “Why don’t you love me.”

Song Yi acknowledged that Chi Zhao was special to her. But purely from a professional standpoint, she absolutely dared not overstep any boundaries.

Why did I suddenly say such a thing?

With her other memories lost, Song Yi was utterly perplexed.

Most importantly, she had been rejected by Chi Zhao.

“Aren’t you going to work?” Her grandmother reminded her slowly as she passed by the door. “You’re usually out by now…”

Song Yi glanced at the time and immediately sprang up to change clothes and wash up. However, her hangover-stricken body couldn’t keep up with her thoughts, and her headache was unbearable. She stumbled to the floor as soon as she stepped down.

“…But the handsome young man who brought you back said to give you the day off today.” Her grandmother stood at the door, watching her disheveled state.

After a long moment, Song Yi pressed her sore ankle and looked up: “Grandma, next time can you tell me the important things first?”

She made herself a bowl of millet porridge, took a bath, and rested for a while. After her grandmother left, Song Yi leaned back against the sofa, realizing that her usual life had been completely filled with work. This sudden day off left her feeling strangely empty.

Perhaps it would be good to go out for a walk.

With that thought, Song Yi applied makeup, grabbed her bag, and headed out. As she opened the door, the opposite door happened to open as well.

The suit Chi Yu wore was expensive, but it looked oddly out of place on him.

Song Yi gave a slight bow and greeted him, her gaze unable to resist scanning him from head to toe. Chi Yu also looked down at himself, leaning on the door and sighing deeply: “I knew it felt strange…”

“Where are you headed?”

“Well…” Chi Yu hesitated, looking somewhat embarrassed. “It’s about what happened last time.”

Visiting his ex-wife and child.

On the way, Chi Yu voluntarily spoke a lot about this failed marriage.

In truth, Song Yi could understand why his wife repeatedly called him a “wimp,” a “coward,” or accused him of “not acting like a man.”

These words were certainly hurtful, but when it came to marital matters, outsiders shouldn’t pass judgment lightly.

Born into a family where everyone was undoubtedly elite and sharp-edged, Chi Yu seemed like an unintended error made by God. He was just an ordinary person, but in the Chi family, being ordinary made him an anomaly.

Over the years, Chi Yu had survived in the cracks, gradually becoming the indecisive person he was today.

Take Song Yi, for example—almost every interaction she had with Chi Yu involved helping him.

When Chi Yu went to see Chi Zhao, Chi Zhao’s first reaction would either be “He’s short on money” or assume Chi Yu had run into some trouble.

As they approached his ex-wife’s apartment, Chi Yu began hesitating again.

Song Yi watched him pace back and forth for several minutes before finally stepping forward and ringing the doorbell herself.

“Hello, I’m Mr. Chi Zhao’s secretary. I’ve visited before. Mr. Chi Yu wants to see the children—is it convenient?” After speaking, she braced herself to be turned away as she had been last time, but the door opened instead.

Huh?

Unexpectedly smooth.

But why was it allowed this time when it wasn’t before?

With this question lingering in her mind, Song Yi and Chi Yu entered the apartment. His ex-wife, a woman with her long hair tied up and appearing quite capable, was laughing and chatting with someone while holding her little daughter.

Taking a few more steps forward, they saw the back of another person.

Chi Zhao was sitting on the couch, controller in hand, playing a racing game with his elementary school-aged nephew. When they entered, his gaze never left the TV screen: “You’re here.”

Chi Yu froze for a few seconds, then sighed with an expression that said, “I should have known.”

At that moment, the race car belonging to the user named “unclechz” crossed the finish line first. Amidst the boy’s groans, Chi Zhao smirked, tossed the controller aside, and walked toward Song Yi in just two or three strides.

The memory of her drunkenness flooded back, and Song Yi’s face suddenly flushed. She bowed her head, ready to apologize for her behavior the previous day. There were explanations aplenty—she had indeed been drunk, and she hadn’t intended to confess to him.

But the words wouldn’t come out no matter how hard she tried. Anxiously, she looked down at her toes.

Chi Zhao said nothing, simply reaching out to ruffle her hair. Then, without acknowledging Chi Yu, he picked up his coat and left: “I’m heading out, Sister-in-law.”

“Alright, take care on the road, Xiao Zhao.” Chi Yu’s ex-wife smiled and saw him to the entrance. Her young son and daughter followed: “Uncle Chi Zhao is leaving too early today!”

The scene was harmonious—Uncle Chi Zhao, beloved by all, contrasted sharply with Father Chi Yu, who was unwelcome.

As usual, whenever Chi Yu was present, Chi Zhao would make his escape.

In the past, Song Yi would have comforted Chi Yu, but now, as she smoothed the hair Chi Zhao had ruffled, her feelings grew complicated.

Once the door closed, Chi Yu’s ex-wife immediately switched to a complaining tone: “What are you wearing? It’s worse than before. Our daughter has a bit of a cold—go put her to bed.”

After issuing her orders, the woman turned back, her demeanor instantly shifting to a warm smile when she looked at Song Yi: “You must be Secretary Song? I’m so sorry about last time—it was rude of me. Please, have a seat—I’ll go pour some tea…”

Thanks to the woman’s talkative nature, Song Yi’s still-dazed state didn’t cause any trouble. The woman shared many things with her, mostly trivial domestic matters, though occasionally there were more serious topics.

“Have you met Mrs. An?” Chi Yu’s ex-wife’s expression suddenly turned cold. “Ever since Chi Chong passed away, Mother-in-law hasn’t been well…”

Thinking of An Siyue’s perpetually haughty yet pale face, Song Yi’s heart sank.

Time was nearly up. Song Yi tiptoed into the inner bedroom. Chi Yu was softly telling a story to his daughter. The little girl in bed had already fallen asleep. Song Yi nodded gently at him.

They didn’t stay long. Taking advantage of the girl’s peaceful slumber, they quietly left the room and closed the door behind them.

After bidding farewell to his ex-wife, they were about to leave when the little boy unexpectedly chased after them unnoticed by the adults.

As his son rushed into his arms, tears welled up in Chi Yu’s eyes.

“Mom often talks about Dad too,” the boy clung tightly to his neck and said, “Dad, you have to come again next time.”

“Of course I will,” Chi Yu choked out like a child.

“I’ll go take care of my sister now!” The boy laughed and ran back inside.

Chi Yu waved in the direction his son had gone until he disappeared from sight. Turning back, he gave Song Yi an apologetic smile: “You talked about Mom, didn’t you?”

Song Yi didn’t deny it.

“Mom is a very strict person. I hardly ever saw her smile when I was a kid. It was the same for me and my older brother, but especially for Xiao Zhao. When Xiao Zhao went abroad in middle school, Mom flat-out said, ‘It has nothing to do with me,’” Chi Yu continued, walking alongside Song Yi. “Because of certain reasons, many people around us worried she might treat Xiao Zhao poorly.”

Though Chi Yu didn’t elaborate, Song Yi could roughly guess that the reason was likely because Chi Zhao wasn’t An Siyue’s biological child.

“I used to think that too, until one day, Xiao Zhao had a fever.” Chi Yu spoke calmly. “That was the first time I realized that Mom could act like an ordinary mother, telling fairy tales by her child’s bedside.”

The afternoon sunlight spilled like honey, and the gentle breeze passed between the two of them standing on the road.

Song Yi listened to this story in a daze. Slowly turning her head, she finally understood.

It wasn’t without reason.

Nor was it inexplicable.

Why, when she first started working, did Chi Zhao look so lonely reading Grimm’s Fairy Tales to her while he had a high fever?

He probably never said the word “love” to his mother.

To host the retired chairman’s birthday party, Dan Ji had rented a luxury yacht.

When Song Yi stood in front of the full-length mirror in her black lace dress, she realized that this outfit wasn’t as suitable for daily wear as she had imagined. After wearing it this once, it might not get much use again.

Since that day, Song Yi had avoided interacting with Chi Zhao outside of work as much as possible.

In truth, she didn’t understand the point of her actions. Besides, it wasn’t intentional.

Avoiding emotional issues was simply her instinct kicking in.

However, one could say it was a blessing in disguise. Earlier, she had regretted that Chi Zhao wouldn’t attend the birthday party, but now, it saved her from expending unnecessary energy.

Jenny had also received an invitation, but she had a performance and had returned to the U.S.

In the end, Zhan Heqing and Song Yi went together.

For some reason, when Song Yi linked arms with Zhan Heqing, she felt no emotional stirrings.

She asked Zhan Heqing, who responded similarly: “Maybe because we both subconsciously know the other isn’t our type. Like Little Swallow and Liu Qing teaming up to survive in the world—”

Before he finished, he noticed Song Yi glaring at him with icy eyes: “What? Is that description inaccurate?”

“It’s accurate,” Song Yi replied, “but it feels… odd.”

The management of guest entry for this birthday banquet was exceptionally strict. All attendees had to be pre-confirmed to receive an invitation, making it nearly impossible to sneak in and ensuring no uninvited guests appeared.

The polite, well-groomed waitstaff wore matching suits and provided service aboard the yacht.

Upon boarding the deck, Zhan Heqing, being a celebrity, was immediately swept into networking. Greeting one elder, negotiating with another elite—his champagne glass never seemed to empty.

“This is social skill, got it?!” Zhan Heqing boasted in front of his recently hungover subordinate. “Not only to stay sharp, but also to minimize bathroom trips.”

Song Yi nodded in agreement.

Though they were there to celebrate Chairman Dan’s birthday, the chairman himself was surrounded by a crowd, his presence so strong that they couldn’t even approach his wheelchair.

The man who approached them this time was in his forties, his smile refined. Before speaking to Zhan Heqing, he nodded courteously to Song Yi. She returned the smile and stood quietly to the side, waiting.

After listening to a few exchanges, Song Yi realized this was Dan Jingyi’s older brother.

Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen Dan Jingyi all day.

“In situations like this, you guys must have it the hardest, huh?” Zhan Heqing flashed a falsely sincere expression, speaking in a carefully measured tone: “Jingyi is also a friend of ours. If there’s anything we can do, just let us know. Both Chongming and Chongyou have always been grateful for your support. Chi Zhao heard about it yesterday and was upset for a while—he asked me to convey his regards to the elder—”

Had something happened to Dan Jingyi?

Speaking of which, it had been a while since she’d heard any news about him after Dan Ji’s game flopped spectacularly.

Song Yi knew Zhan Heqing’s words were mostly polite formalities. After all, Chi Zhao hadn’t been upset yesterday—he actually treated employees to lava cake after ACDF broke its online player record.

Once the man left, Song Yi finally asked: “What happened?”

Zhan Heqing sighed, pursing his lips: “He went to Las Vegas to unwind but got into a fight on the highway and ended up severely injured.”

Song Yi was slightly startled: “Is he okay?”

“How could he be okay? Concussion,” Zhan Heqing replied. “And he fought back too—both sides were at fault. He was released on bail. This isn’t good publicity for Dan Ji; it’s unclear if the media can suppress it.”

…

Song Yi asked: “So where is he now…?”

“He might not return to the country,” Zhan Heqing answered. “His father seems to plan on sending him to New Zealand.”

“Huh?”

“His father kept a mistress in Las Vegas for over a decade, and his mother despises the place, forbidding him from going there. Now, with this incident, he’s facing disciplinary action, and there’s no one in the family to speak up for him.”

Song Yi frowned: “Are they really exiling their own son just for that?”

“It’s easier this way. Give him some money and get rid of the trouble.” Zhan Heqing forced a bitter smile. “It varies from person to person, but among people like us, it’s not uncommon. As long as there’s someone to inherit the family business, the other kids are just there to divide the wealth.”

Song Yi was stunned.

Originally, Dan Jingyi, Chi Yu, and Chi Zhao were in similar situations. Later, Chi Zhao escaped by chance, Chi Yu remained stuck in place, and Dan Jingyi hit a snag, ending up in a terrible situation.

How cruel.

But then again, perhaps such exceptions were the norm for them.

Zhan Heqing noticed that fewer people were around Chairman Dan and seized the opportunity to approach. Someone like Song Yi, who didn’t need to worry about networking, decided to stay behind.

The champagne tasted good, but she didn’t dare drink too much. Leaning against the railing, she enjoyed the breeze. Beside her, an elderly gentleman wearing thin gold-rimmed glasses also seemed to be alone, gazing at the crowd inside.

Their eyes met, and he was the first to speak: “Time flies—it’s been ages since I’ve been to a place like this.”

Song Yi politely inquired: “May I ask who you are…?”

“My apologies—I forgot to introduce myself. Good evening, miss,” the elderly gentleman removed his hat. “My name is Gao Feng.”