Chapter 6: Perfunctory

Xu Zhiqiao stood frozen, as if struck by lightning.

She never could’ve imagined that dog from the Zhou Family would be so shamelessly brazen.

Xu Zhiqiao didn’t really know Zhou Cong, but somehow, deep down, she trusted what Ji Huailuo had said: if she didn’t accept Zhou Cong’s friend request, he would absolutely show up at her door in person.

She’d lost her appetite for breakfast. Collapsing into the sofa, she mumbled irritably, not even sure who she was angry at.

Sister Li chuckled. “What’s wrong? You’re mad just from watching TV by yourself?”

Xu Zhiqiao kicked her legs against the sofa, sitting up with a pout and a straight back. “I don’t want to accept it!”

“…” Sister Li was baffled. “You miss home? Jindong? That’s pretty far. Once Madam has time…”

No one understood her. Xu Zhiqiao twisted her body and buried herself back into the cushions, grumbling like a sulking child.

Sister Li started to worry. This child was missing home so much she might just make herself sick.

Should she call Sir and Madam?

“Are you just bored?” Sister Li asked gently. “Give it a bit, you’ll make some friends soon.”

Hearing that, Xu Zhiqiao raised her head, her hair a wild mess. “What if I don’t like this friend?”

“…” Once again, Sister Li was thrown. “If you don’t like them, then don’t be friends.”

Xu Zhiqiao frowned, choosing her words carefully. “It’s just… I don’t like them. Don’t want to be friends. But I have to.”

“Ah,” Sister Li suddenly understood. “Isn’t that just like business? Sir doesn’t always like his clients either, but he still has to entertain them. It’s all about appearances, you know?”

“…”

Sister Li coaxed her, “Just be perfunctory. Polite and courteous, right?”

Xu Zhiqiao paused, thoughtful.

Right.

Yu the Great controlled the floods by diversion, not obstruction.

She didn’t know what exactly Zhou Cong saw in her, but she was sure the more she resisted, the more interested he’d become.

Someone like Young Master Zhou—he probably rarely experienced rejection.

Especially from women.

Having thought it through, Xu Zhiqiao stopped resisting and accepted the friend request.

Then she feigned innocence as she typed: [Sorry, Big Brother Zhou Cong, just saw your message.]

Zhou Cong replied with a smiling emoji.

Xu Zhiqiao: “…”

Did he not know that smiley face usually meant sarcasm?

Wait—

Maybe he was being sarcastic.

Xu Zhiqiao rested her head in her hands, staring at the screen. The more she looked, the more it seemed like it.

As if he were saying: Keep pretending. I see you. You dare to ghost this Young Master, and still expect me to react?

“…”

After a moment of silence, Xu Zhiqiao exited the chat, shoved her phone deep into the crevice of the leather sofa, and decided to pretend it didn’t exist.

“Sister Li,” she jumped up cheerfully, “I’ll help you pick vegetables in the Backyard.”

“Alright, alright—don’t run! Madam doesn’t allow running!”

Haunted by thoughts of that military dog, Ji Huailuo barely managed to sleep until dusk. When he finally sat at the dining table, the dark circles under his eyes made it clear—he hadn’t rested at all.

In the living room, Xu Zhiqiao sat biting into a bagged yogurt, watching Bear Blizzard in the Snowy Mountains on TV.

Ji Huailuo scoffed at the movie’s childishness. “Can you turn the volume down?”

“…” Xu Zhiqiao silently turned the TV off.

That only made Ji Huailuo angrier. “I said turn it down, not off. Who are you trying to guilt-trip with that victim act?”

Even the yogurt lost its sweetness in her mouth.

Getting scolded no matter what, she reached into the sofa and fished out her phone, preparing to head upstairs.

“Are you part rodent or what?” Ji Huailuo looked incredulous. “A few days ago, I pulled candy and nuts out of that sofa crevice. Are you right in the head?”

“…”

“Xu Zhiqiao!” The feeling was like punching into cotton—infuriatingly useless. Ji Huailuo shot to his feet. “You mute or something?”

Xu Zhiqiao glanced down at her phone.

No new messages.

She pressed her lips together, then calmly walked over to the other side of the dining table, facing her irritable Big Brother. “Big Brother, I want to apologize.”

“…” Ji Huailuo narrowed his eyes. “What did you and your Mother do this time?”

“It was me. Had nothing to do with my Mother.” Xu Zhiqiao swallowed the sting in her throat and said evenly, “Yesterday, I said I’d rather have Big Brother Zhou Cong as my father than you…”

The moment she said it, Ji Huailuo remembered—and the fire in his chest flared. “If you hadn’t brought it up, I’d have forgotten!”

Xu Zhiqiao looked straight at him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have compared you to him.”

“…”

Ji Huailuo had grown up in the shadow of Zhou Cong, always being measured against him, always being crushed in the comparison.

Xu Zhiqiao hadn’t realized that before.

Yesterday’s comment had slipped out without thought.

It wasn’t until Sister Li shared some anecdotes about Zhou Cong last night that Xu Zhiqiao understood.

But Ji Huailuo misunderstood her again. His face darkened. “You mean to say I’m not even qualified to be compared to him?”

“Big Brother,” Xu Zhiqiao’s gaze dropped to the weary shadows beneath his eyes, “you don’t need to compare yourself to him. I stand by you—no conditions.”

“…”

After the apology, Xu Zhiqiao clutched her phone and headed upstairs.

The first floor fell into an oppressive silence, one that prickled Ji Huailuo’s nerves. He thought maybe that ridiculous bear movie was better than this emptiness.

At least watching her cry and laugh over those two bears was more entertaining than the film itself.

Xu Zhiqiao had just reached her bedroom door when a sudden roar came from downstairs.

“XU ZHIQIAO!!!”

She flinched violently.

What now?

Was her apology not sincere enough?

Like a startled bird, Xu Zhiqiao cautiously peeked her head over the stair rail from the second floor.

From below, Ji Huailuo looked up, a mocking sneer on his lips. “You call me Big Brother. You call Big Brother Zhou Cong. You think I’m an idiot, huh? Easy to please, right??”

“…”

Let the world burn.

Why were all these Young Masters so impossible to deal with?

What was she even supposed to call them?

—

At that crucial moment, salvation arrived in the form of a phone call from Xu Shu.

Xu Zhiqiao fled into her bedroom like she was escaping a battlefield. Once she caught her breath, she picked up.

Xu Shu’s voice came gently: “Baobao, what are you doing?”

Xu Zhiqiao was used to her Mother’s coaxing, childlike tone. “Watching a movie. Big Brother said I’ve been watching too long and made me come upstairs to rest.”

Xu Shu sounded delighted. “Really? Didn’t I tell you? Your Big Brother’s not so bad.”

Xu Zhiqiao lied with a perfectly straight face.

Xu Shu mentioned she’d be back tomorrow and reminded her to eat and sleep on time.

After a few more words, the call ended.

She returned to find two new messages in her chat app.

Both from Zhou Cong.

Xu Zhiqiao had honestly thought he’d forgotten about her. He hadn’t messaged all day.

But the gods had not granted her mercy.

The first was a screenshot—an old post from her social feed dated two years ago.

Suddenly, Xu Zhiqiao understood the meaning of the “visible for three days only” setting.

The second was a voice message.

Zhou Cong’s tone was lazy, as if he’d just woken up, his words dragging:
“You post ten times a day—how far do you expect me to scroll?”

So he’d been scrolling through her entire feed all day.

Xu Zhiqiao bit her lip. A wave of inexplicable shame surged through her, flushing her brain. Without thinking, she blocked and deleted him.

Having dealt with that shameless man, Xu Zhiqiao immediately changed her feed visibility to three days only.

Thank goodness—she hadn’t posted anything during that time.