Chapter 5

Chi Zhihan’s current state of mind was indescribable.

Before Qi Ning left, she handed Chi Zhihan a piece of paper—a simple half-sheet of A4 paper with handwritten text. The penmanship was strikingly beautiful, bold and powerful, pressing through the paper with strength and character. It was clear at a glance that it was written by a man, and judging by the stability of the strokes, he was likely not young.

So, was the person across the hall a middle-aged man?

No wonder they used such an old-fashioned method of communication.

Chi Zhihan forced herself to ignore the fact that she would be living across from a strange middle-aged man for a month and focused on the menu instead. Then, the corner of her mouth began to twitch.

Lunch was fairly normal: garlic enoki mushrooms, pan-fried shrimp cakes paired with clam and mushroom soup. Chi Zhihan estimated it would take about an hour to prepare. Dinner wasn’t difficult either: pork liver and vegetable soup, fish-flavored tofu, and teriyaki chicken thighs. What nearly made her lose her composure was the midnight snack, which boldly stated: “Spring Noodles that don’t taste like Spring Noodles.”

…

Even if there were no cameras in the kitchen, she wouldn’t dare to reuse the leftover ingredients from today for tomorrow’s meal. The Qi family certainly didn’t hire her to serve them leftovers.

So, after finishing dinner tomorrow, she would have to spend another four hours making a bowl of Spring Noodles…

This was just…

Although the one paying was the boss, employee Chi Zhihan couldn’t help but mentally curse a string of inappropriate words and instinctively glare at the camera.

Qi Cheng, on the other side of the screen, flinched at her glare and quickly looked away, no longer daring to study her expression as she read the menu.

Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, he recalled Chi Zhihan’s glare—her clear, bright eyes and slightly pursed lips, looking utterly wronged.

Somehow, he understood. She was complaining that he hadn’t eaten the noodles she had painstakingly prepared today, forcing her to go through the ordeal again late tomorrow night.

He felt a pang of guilt, worried that such demands might upset the new chef.

But then he tried to convince himself that the person across the hall was someone he had hired at great expense. Cooking was her job.

He couldn’t keep worrying about what everyone thought of him, especially someone who was essentially a stranger.

Just as this internal battle began to unfold in his mind, the sound of Chi Zhihan’s voice suddenly came through the monitor.

“I passed the interview, and now I’m stuck here and can’t leave,” her voice was crisp and clear, tinged with frustration. “I’ll be here for a month. I’ll call Xi Qing later and ask her to pack some clothes and daily necessities for me. You can bring them over tonight and leave them at the entrance. The security will take care of it.”

Qi Cheng’s home was silent 24 hours a day, except for the occasional phone calls from his family checking in on him. The previous chefs had all been men who spoke little, and if they needed to make calls, they would retreat to their bedrooms or bathrooms to avoid the cameras.

So, this sudden burst of unfamiliar chatter caught Qi Cheng off guard, momentarily pulling him out of his social anxiety-induced spiral.

He was stunned.

He watched as Chi Zhihan, after saying this, held her phone away from her ear, her expression one of disgust.

She maintained this pose for a while before finally bringing the phone back to her ear. “Also, when I was signing the contract with Qi Ning earlier, I hesitated for a moment, and they raised my monthly salary by 15%.”

After saying this, she quickly moved the phone away again.

Her face was radiant, her dimples deep, and even through the screen, her joy was palpable.

Joy…

Qi Cheng didn’t realize how hungrily he was staring at the screen, separated by glass, two doors, and a hallway. The person on the other side was laughing so carelessly, all because of a slight increase in her salary.

Shouldn’t she be pitiful?

Burdened with debt, her father gone, and her mother missing.

Why could she laugh like that, so joyfully that it made him… envious.

…

Chi Zhihan had no idea her phone call was being eavesdropped on.

As a private chef, she had occasionally worked for employers who required the cooking process to be monitored. She had even experienced being watched by cameras throughout the entire process, but most of those cameras didn’t have audio. So, she naturally assumed that cameras generally didn’t record sound.

At the moment, she was caught up in Lin Jingwu’s excitement, and the slight discomfort she had felt earlier because of Qi Ning was quickly forgotten.

Thinking about it calmly, it really was a good deal.

In a month, her market value would double. The debts incurred from her father’s illness and the collapse of their family business could be paid off sooner, giving her more time and energy to search for her mother.

Those who have truly hit rock bottom in life find that every day after surviving it is better than the last.

Happiness is actually quite simple—just face the sun and smile.

After hanging up on Lin Jingwu, who was about to open a bottle of Maotai to celebrate, Chi Zhihan called Xi Qing.

Xi Qing was her college classmate and best friend. After her family’s downfall, Xi Qing was the only one whose attitude toward her hadn’t changed at all.

And Xi Qing’s idol was none other than Qi Ning, the “Wu Zetian” of the Qi family, whose scrutinizing gaze always made Chi Zhihan uncomfortable.

So, naturally, the news that Chi Zhihan had become the Qi family’s private chef for a month sent Xi Qing into a screaming fit that could be heard clearly even through the monitor.

Qi Cheng was overwhelmed by this sudden burst of liveliness. He began drinking water frequently and sweating profusely, but he didn’t turn off the sound.

He had a morbid craving for such liveliness, yet he was also terrified of the noise.

Chi Zhihan’s phone conversation was very mundane. Suddenly being away from home for a month, she rambled on about what clothes to bring, how many sets of underwear, and even gave each set of underwear ridiculous names. The two girls burst into laughter at the slightest provocation, their expressions turning mischievous. Chi Zhihan would then guiltily glance at the camera and try to compose herself.

Her vivacity only made his side of the house feel even more lifeless.

Qi Cheng suddenly felt a sense of shame for eavesdropping. He was now peeking into the private life of someone completely unrelated to him, something that had nothing to do with the material he needed for his comic. It was a complete invasion of privacy.

He had always known he had psychological issues, but this was the first time he realized he might be turning into a voyeur^[1]a person who watches other people’s private lives.

Finally, he turned off the sound, restoring silence to the room. He squinted at the screen, watching the woman laugh so hard she was pounding the table.

Why did she have so many things to laugh about? Even talking about the cactus at home that she was about to kill made her laugh like a pig.

Squinting again, he found himself inexplicably wanting to turn the sound back on.

Gritting his teeth, he stood up and picked up his phone. He dialed Dr. Zhao’s number. For the first time in over half a year, he actively sought out Dr. Zhao.

His current symptoms were strange. They had nothing to do with social anxiety or his usual hallucinations. He just couldn’t control his desire to spy on his new female chef’s life.

Had being locked up at home for so long really caused him to develop new symptoms?

…

Dr. Zhao was surprised by the call.

Qi Cheng wasn’t an easy patient. He was uncooperative, resistant to counseling, and would stop taking his medication as soon as side effects appeared.

Dr. Zhao had a personal relationship with the Qi family, which technically made him unsuitable as Qi Cheng’s primary doctor. But Qi Cheng refused to see anyone else.

In all these years, whenever Qi Cheng had an episode, he would never reach out on his own. This was the first time.

And the content of his consultation was bizarre.

He was cautiously trying to confirm whether he had become a voyeur…

“Do you remember when I suggested that you keep the TV on at home, playing comedy shows?” Dr. Zhao’s voice was low and soothing, adopting a non-threatening tone when he was in work mode.

“I remember,” Qi Cheng replied, already regretting making the call.

Qi Cheng had seen Dr. Zhao in his private life—loud, fond of drinking, and after a few rounds, he would slap the table and sing Peking opera.

Nothing like the calm, trustworthy voice he used now to gently coax patients into sharing their stories.

He had never told Dr. Zhao that he found this work-mode voice of his deeply off-putting.

“Your current state of mind is exactly what I hoped to achieve through comedy shows,” Dr. Zhao continued in the same tone. “You live alone, and your family is always tiptoeing around your condition. You rarely hear such relaxed laughter, and this kind of stress relief is actually beneficial for your treatment.”

As a seasoned psychologist, Dr. Zhao naturally knew why Qi Cheng resisted him. But unless Qi Cheng brought it up, addressing it directly would be counterproductive, making Qi Cheng feel even more manipulated.

Qi Cheng’s emotional knots, deliberately hidden by himself, had become so tangled that even he couldn’t see them clearly.

This phone call might be the first breakthrough in years.

And it was all because of a chef.

“However…” Dr. Zhao hesitated but decided to speak up. “Qi Cheng, you need to make sure the other party consents to this.”

…

The other party…

This new chef with the complicated name seemed unaware that the cameras had audio.

“If it’s difficult for you to bring it up, I can inform Qi Ning,” Dr. Zhao said, sensing the meaning behind Qi Cheng’s silence. It was no wonder he felt guilty about eavesdropping.

It would be appropriate for Qi Ning to handle this. He hadn’t expected a chef to have such a therapeutic effect. If possible, he could also suggest that Qi Ning increase her salary.

And he needed to remind her not to show negative emotions in front of the cameras.

“I’ll do it,” Qi Cheng said, looking at his hand, which kept wanting to turn the sound back on. He frowned, as if unsure why he had suddenly said that.

Even Dr. Zhao was momentarily at a loss for words.

“I’ll just add a line to the menu. No need to trouble Qi Ning,” Qi Cheng explained, his tone hurried, as if trying to convince both Dr. Zhao and himself.

This was the first time Qi Cheng had taken the initiative to communicate.

After hanging up, Dr. Zhao quickly contacted Qi Ning. He felt it was necessary to include Qi Cheng’s new chef in the treatment plan.

This kind of spontaneous improvement due to environmental changes wasn’t entirely a good thing. It could also lead to setbacks if the patient’s newfound initiative was met with rejection, pushing them back into deeper darkness.

But still, it was hope.