“Your Highness, Prince Shavri has sent a message asking if you would like to visit the Harbor Base tomorrow,” the intelligent housekeeper’s voice informed Chen Ci as he looked up from his journal. “Harbor Base?”

“The Harbor Base is located 30 meters from Chensha, composed of over a hundred platforms. It offers the best view near the sea surface,” explained the housekeeper. Knowing that Chen Nian had enjoyed outings with Shavri, the invitation was likely motivated by those experiences.

While Chen Ci liked exploring, unlike Chen Nian, he wasn’t comfortable with others around, preferring to travel alone even within the Underground City. He lowered his eyes, deciding to continue with his current task. “No, I won’t go.”

The housekeeper relayed his response to Prince Shavri. Upon seeing the refusal on his screen, Shavri was taken aback. …Not going? Assuming it was due to Chen Ci still recovering, he texted, “Are you still not feeling well? Why don’t we rest another day and go the day after?”

Two minutes later, the reply came: “No, go enjoy yourself.”

Shavri frowned at this response. Antonio, noticing Shavri’s expression, inquired, “What happened?”

“He’s not going,” Shavri sighed, ending the brief conversation with a “Take care then, rest well.”

Antonio was puzzled. “Isn’t he interested? Didn’t he ask about the platforms below the other day?”

Shavri was slightly distressed, “Yes, and I don’t know what’s wrong now.” Chen Ci had been dispirited since their visit to the clock tower two days ago, appeared visibly unwell during his medical checkup at the base yesterday, and now had flatly rejected his invitation. Had something unpleasant happened?

Antonio suggested, “Why don’t we visit the White Tower before we leave tomorrow morning? A personal invitation might seem more sincere.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Shavri, troubled by Chen Ci’s unusual behavior.

By the next morning, however, Shavri realized this was not about being more sincere with the invitation. Chen Ci looked much better, his lips regained their color, and he seemed to have recovered from yesterday’s checkup.

His expression was indifferent, his eyes calm even as he faced the two Alphas, “No need, I’m not really in the mood to go out today.”

“But you said you wanted to visit the botanical gardens that day,” Shavri reminded him.

Chen Ci knew from the journal that Chen Nian had enjoyed the trip to the coast. He figured it would be better to leave such opportunities to Chen Nian. “I’ve not been feeling well these past few days. Maybe next week.”

Antonio raised an eyebrow, surprised by the young man’s completely indifferent demeanor, a stark contrast to his shy behavior at the banquet. Was the intimacy between Chen Ci and Shavri at the banquet all an act?

Antonio’s gaze became inquisitive. Rumors of discord between Shavri and the Chen family’s only son were rampant, especially about Chen Ci’s supposed pheromone insensitivity—a popular topic among gossips. And with countless suitable Omegas around Shavri at that banquet, Chen Ci must have seen it.

If their relationship was indeed strained, then perhaps…

Antonio offered a gentlemanly smile, “That’s alright, let’s plan some other time. If you feel like going out anytime, just let us know.”

Chen Ci glanced at Antonio. He didn’t know this man, but according to the descriptions in Chen Nian’s journal, this Alpha with blue eyes and brown hair must be Antonio Green, the Minister of Education’s son and Shavri’s friend. Chen Nian had sensed some subtle interest from Antonio towards him.

Chen Ci had no interest in the complex dynamics and didn’t judge Chen Nian’s style. As long as his brother was happy, that was enough. He responded noncommittally with a hum, choosing to remain silent.

Unbeknownst to him, Antonio was captivated by Chen Ci’s aloof and serene aura, even more so today. He vividly remembered how adeptly Chen Ci had navigated challenges at the banquet and his whispered conversations with Shavri in the corner.

If it was all a facade, it was indeed impressive.

If initially, Antonio was merely curious, now he was determined to learn more about Chen Ci and discover which side of him was genuine: the lively and cunning, or the noble and reserved?

As the trio’s silence stretched, Shavri gently said, “Alright, let’s wait until next week then. Take good care of yourself, and don’t catch a cold.”

“By the way, I brought the thing you asked for,” Shavri added, reaching into his pocket and holding his fist out, suspended in the air.

Chen Ci reached out to accept whatever Shavri was handing him, his palm open, the skin soft and pale pink.

Shavri opened his hand, and a bronze bullet casing fell into Chen Ci’s palm. As Shavri retracted his hand, his knuckles accidentally brushed against Chen Ci’s palm, causing a slight furrow in Chen Ci’s brow—a detail not missed by Shavri.

“Sorry,” Shavri quickly apologized, tapping Antonio on the shoulder, “Let’s go.”

Chen Ci watched them leave before returning to the White Tower, indifferent to the ordinary-looking bullet casing he held. He assumed it was something Chen Nian had requested from Shavri but forgot to log.

Chen Ci wiped his hand on his clothing to erase the touch and placed the casing in his pocket. Meanwhile, Shavri and Antonio drove towards the central elevator, Antonio’s interest thoroughly piqued by the unexpected insights from their visit, despite not having Chen Ci accompany them.

Shavri was much quieter, his thoughts lingering on the brief touch, the fine and delicate hand so fitting for someone raised with care in the White Tower. Yet he vividly remembered the slightly rough feel of Chen Ci’s hand when he had enthusiastically invited the vibrant young man from the car that day.

Back in his room, Chen Ci placed the bullet casing in a drawer and noted in the journal that Shavri had delivered the item Chen Nian had requested, to ensure he didn’t forget later.

Just then, Agnes, the maid, knocked and softly said, “Your Highness, a Mr. Ji Yifeng has sent a gift, something you like.”

Another gift? Chen Ci raised his head, searching his memory for information about Ji Yifeng.

Was he the illustrator they met in the botanical garden?

“What is it?”

Agnes stepped aside to let another servant in, who carried a potted plant into the room. It was a blooming green tea rose, its delicate petals edged with a soft green-yellow, dotted with clear dewdrops, the lush leaves setting off the budding flowers.

Having studied flower arranging from a young age, Chen Ci was no stranger to plants and recognized this one as no ordinary specimen. “Put it over there,” he directed, barely looking up as he returned to the journal entry from Chen Nian’s visit to the botanical garden.

He found the line, “Saw a particularly beautiful flower called a green tea rose,” highlighted it with a different color, and wrote:

“Ji Yifeng gave you one, it’s on the desk in your room. Don’t worry about taking care of it; Agnes will handle everything.”

With that settled, Chen Ci stood up. His schedule originally had a vocal music class, now cancelled, freeing him up for other activities.

Chen Ci had no hobbies, at least none that he had discovered yet. After a moment’s thought, he decided to play the piano, a practice not so much a passion but a habit maintained over many years.

The piano room was on the seventh floor. The notes flowed into a classical melody that echoed through the door, Agnes standing by the wall with her eyes closed, enjoying the music she hadn’t heard in a while.

The prince’s piano playing was as beautiful as ever, seemingly improving his mood considerably.

Just then, another maid approached Agnes and whispered something. Agnes nodded and waited for the music to pause before she knocked and entered the room to inform him, “Miss Gui Zhiqi has come to visit.”

Chen Ci was composing at the piano, the experiences in the Underground City inspiring a new melody that he was quickly transcribing into musical notation.

Gui Zhiqi. Chen Ci recognized the name from the journal. Chen Nian had emphasized that she was a very nice girl and had specifically introduced her as a friend for him.

Should he meet her?

Chen Ci hesitated. Although Gui Zhiqi was a friend chosen by Chen Nian, he didn’t know her at all. Moreover, his personality was vastly different from his brother’s, and prolonged close interaction could easily give them away.

Chen Ci had no friends, not because he was socially inept but simply because he had never had the chance to initiate interactions before.

Taking a deep breath, Chen Ci decided to give it a try, out of respect for his brother’s intentions. “Please, bring her up.”

Gui Zhiqi was led by the servant to the seventh floor of the White Tower. As she entered the corridor, she heard the sound of the piano, the notes crisp and delicate, cascading like pearls on silk. Gui Zhiqi, who had also studied music, couldn’t recognize the piece.

It wasn’t until the music stopped at a climactic moment that she realized he was composing. She gently pushed open the door to the piano room.

The young man sat at the piano bench, a pencil in one hand moving swiftly over paper, the tip scratching softly against it.

The room was warm, and Chen Ci was dressed only in a shirt and trousers, leaning forward so that the thin white shirt stretched taut, outlining the lines of his back. His right hand held the pencil, the muscles in his arm taut from the effort, surprisingly more robust than expected.