Chapter 51 – Pushing the Line

Qin Shi’s sudden challenge freezes the room.

“Why compare yourself to my college senior?” Li Huan‑huan splutters into the dark.

“Just answer: if I win Worlds next year, won’t that make me better than him?” he insists.

She weighs her words—no clue how that long‑lost senior has turned out, while Qin Shi’s future shines before her eyes. Smooth diplomacy wins:

“Of course. A world champion is on a whole different level.”

A pleased hum drifts from the bed—then he adds, “Take back what you said: ‘You shouldn’t meet someone too outstanding at the start.’ It’s wrong.”

“Eh?”

“Because he wasn’t the most outstanding. You met me afterward.”

Her breath hitches. Those words draw a line too intimate, too ambiguous. She rolls over, back to him. “Don’t say that again. People will misunderstand.”

“I don’t care about ‘people.’ Do you feel uneasy?”

“…Yes.”

“Anything besides uneasy?”

Silence. He chuckles, calling her a slow‑reacting ostrich; she mutters a protest, lulled by his low humming until sleep claims her.

Morning chaos: she wakes to his face inches away, shrieks, tumbles off the sofa, and storms at him for the jump‑scare. Qin Shi’s “separation anxiety” then manifests in nonstop calls and texts while she tries to work across the hall. To stave off a crutch‑powered invasion of her apartment, she hauls her laptop back to his place.

In the study the afternoon drifts peacefully—until he sighs over his phone.

“What’s wrong?” she finally asks.

“Barbecue’s favorite cat‑streamer just announced an indefinite hiatus. Bummed me out.” He looks up, genuinely puzzled. “Any idea why a white‑cat channel would stop out of the blue, jie?”

Her fingers stiffen over the keyboard; the hiatus notice she posted as Your Highness the Cat suddenly feels like a trap she laid for herself—and Qin Shi is standing right over it.