Chapter 1

A tall man ran on a treadmill with sweat pouring down his face. The space around him was vast and empty, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked lush greenery. It was early summer, the scenery bursting with vivid colors.

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a glow on the man’s body. His skin was so pale it seemed almost translucent, refracting the light into a soft golden halo. Within this halo, each bead of sweat transformed into rainbow colors. In this spacious room, against the vibrant summer backdrop, he looked like a figure frozen in a beautiful painting.

But the conversation he was having was anything but beautiful.

For some reason, he had connected his phone to the gym’s expensive sound system. The speakers faithfully broadcast the voice of a woman who didn’t sound particularly pleased. Her intonation rose and fell sharply, the lower tones even triggering mechanical vibrations throughout the empty gym.

“Are you even listening?” Qi Ning’s mouth was dry from talking, yet she hadn’t received a single word in response, which only frustrated her more.

“I’m listening,” Qi Cheng finally replied. The treadmill wasn’t moving fast, so his voice remained steady. “I don’t understand business matters, so I don’t know how to respond.”

His obedient tone, which even carried a hint of grievance, seemed jarring when paired with his deep voice.

Qi Ning sighed, knowing this daily persuasion attempt had failed yet again. She changed the subject. “By the way, I found the information about that private chef you asked me to look for.”

She paused, but when she got no response, she resigned herself to continuing the one-sided conversation. “She’s a local from S City, has been a private chef for two years, mainly operates through pre-ordered takeout. She currently runs a food video blog with over 8 million followers. She loves money but is professional, with a good industry reputation. She’s under Lin Jingwu’s management—we’ve worked with him twice. Though he’s greedy, his contracts are proper, and he maintains strict confidentiality.”

Qi Cheng slowed the treadmill, his brows slightly furrowed. He knew his cousin well—she never praised people unless there was a major twist coming.

“However, Chi Zhihan is a female chef who’s twenty-four years old. She dropped out of college in her sophomore year due to family circumstances. She’s one-sixty cm in height, single, and her appearance…” Qi Ning paused, hearing the treadmill’s shutdown sound on the other end, and inwardly sighed, “She’s exactly the type you fear most.”

Sweet and charming, with round eyes and a round face, smiling eyes, and dimples—Chi Zhihan perfectly met all four conditions.

Qi Cheng stood motionless on the now-stopped treadmill.

“We’ve already tried all the chefs in S City willing to work as private chefs. At your rate of changing chefs monthly, we’ve basically gone through everyone who meets your criteria. Chi Zhihan is the only one who meets your requirements in the past two weeks,” Qi Ning deliberately ignored the eerie atmosphere on the other end where even breathing was barely audible. “If you don’t submit your manga outline soon, you won’t need my daily persuasion—you’ll have to return to the Qi family anyway. From a business perspective, Chi Zhihan is currently the only option available.”

“From a personal perspective…” Qi Ning sighed, softening her tone, “It’s been a long time since you visited Dr. Zhao.”

“He said I’m already better,” Qi Cheng stepped off the treadmill, turned off the speakers and picked up his phone, his brow still furrowed.

“You forced him to say you were better,” Qi Ning corrected him. “You know Big Brother is coming back next month, right?”

“…Mm.” Qi Cheng made a soft nasal sound, his face, already flushed from running, was now covered in fine beads of sweat.

“Grandfather has arranged a month of blind dates for him. The only excuse that could let him avoid them would be coming to supervise your treatment—you know this too, right?” Qi Ning spoke slowly, her words making Qi Cheng shiver despite the sweat trickling down his back.

“Sis,” Qi Cheng grabbed a huge white towel and covered himself with it, his voice sounding exceptionally pitiful from beneath the towel, “Why do you always force me like this?”

“…Because I’m the only one in the family who can steel their heart to push you,” Qi Ning smiled bitterly. “Dr. Zhao said your condition isn’t caused by irreversible deep trauma. Trying to face it directly won’t hurt you.”

Silence.

Qi Cheng was tall, his physique toned from regular gym workouts. Wrapped in the huge towel, he looked somewhat comical, but he remained completely still.

Silent stillness was Qi Cheng’s most instinctive form of resistance, but it never worked on Qi Ning. She clearly had no intention of hanging up or compromising.

They remained in this strange silent standoff until finally, Qi Cheng’s towel-wrapped body shifted slightly, and he very reluctantly asked, “That person… why did she drop out in sophomore year?”

“Chi Zhihan,” Qi Ning corrected him precisely. “Family reasons. Her father died suddenly, their family business was taken by partners, and they were left with some debts. She’s been working as a private chef since dropping out.”

“Because her family was well-off before, that’s why her home cooking could meet your standards,” Qi Ning added after explaining.

This comment successfully made Qi Cheng retreat into silence under the towel again for a long while.

“How much debt?” Qi Cheng shifted uneasily. Such confrontational atmospheres made him nervous; even with Qi Ning being family, he couldn’t help but break into a cold sweat.

Social anxiety disorder actually needed this kind of moderate pressure, but most family members just went along with him. Among them, only his cousin could steel her heart at crucial moments.

“By your standards, not much. In terms of basic living expenses, at her current earnings, it would take about five or six years to repay if she didn’t eat or drink,” Qi Ning answered in detail. The family had taken psychology lessons for him—applying pressure required precision. It had to be firm but not so overwhelming that he shut down completely.

So they needed to be as detailed as possible while maintaining their position.

“Don’t worry about the debt situation. Although Lin Jingwu is greedy, he’s proper in business. I’ve thoroughly investigated Chi Zhihan’s reputation, and our finance department has checked her accounts. Though there are some bad debts, there’s no high-interest lending. Besides, being the Qi family’s private chef will increase her future market value. This arrangement is win-win, and Chi Zhihan’s personal financial issues won’t cause any problems for this employment,” knowing Qi Cheng needed time to object, Qi Ning decided to say everything at once.

Sure enough, the other end fell into absolute silence again.

“So my only choices now are either hire Chi Zhihan as a substitute for Dr. Zhao’s treatment, or give up on manga and return to work for the Qi family?” Qi Cheng said listlessly. Under such pressure, his conclusions usually led to compromise. He remained standing in place, wrapped in the towel, but as the topic was nearing its end, Qi Ning’s pressure on him had lessened.

He extended one long, pale, knuckled hand from within the towel, grabbing its edge and slowly pulling it down.

Like a warrior removing armor, bit by bit, with reluctance and solemn ceremony.

“There’s a third option—wait for Big Brother to come back, drag you to treatment, and then to work at the company,” Qi Ning joked lightly while carefully listening to the rustling sounds of fabric from Qi Cheng’s end.

Every time she had to pressure Qi Cheng, her heart would race with anxiety.

They all knew too well the consequences of pushing too hard, and knew they couldn’t bear such consequences.

It was like walking on thin ice.

Sometimes she thought it might be fine to just let him continue like this.

Never leaving home—in this information age where everything could be delivered, he could live without going out or interacting with others.

The Qi family had plenty of money; supporting Qi Cheng for life wasn’t an issue at all.

At such times, they would think it would be better if he just had autism.

But instead, it was social anxiety disorder—yearning for social interaction yet fearing it.

Even responding to a stranger’s Weibo post online required four or five days of careful consideration, scrutinizing every word, character, and punctuation mark, only to finally post four words: “Thank you for liking.”

After posting, he would be continuously anxious, worried the other person might think him aloof, worried they wouldn’t understand the weight of his gratitude.

Over these years, using Dr. Zhao’s suggested daily pressure therapy, Qi Cheng had improved somewhat, but his condition still had relapses. Recently, after winning an award for his manga, he showed signs of deterioration again.

The Qi family had held a meeting about hiring Chi Zhihan, and she was among those who insisted on hiring her.

Qi Cheng would turn thirty after the New Year. He had found suitable work, and his pen name Cheng Yi had become famous through his manga, even being inducted into the Will Eisner Hall of Fame as the youngest member.

But if his condition kept worsening, the pressure of being the S City’s wealthy Qi family’s heir and the nationally acclaimed manga artist Cheng Yi would only crush him further. Pressure might be motivation for ordinary people, but for those with psychological illness, it was like a boulder crushing them into the abyss.

So she insisted, and steeled herself to have another pressure conversation with Qi Cheng, choosing his most relaxed time—when he exercised at noon after waking up.

Yet despite this, Qi Cheng’s condition still didn’t sound good. She could almost imagine without seeing that he must have wrapped himself up again, his voice muffled in an enclosed space, the phone picking up the rustling of fabric.

“If we must hire…” Qi Cheng’s silence lasted even longer this time, so long that Qi Ning almost surrendered, “Then let her interview one more time.”

“Have her bring materials directly to the kitchen opposite, I’ll interview through video camera,” Finally pulling down the towel covering his head, Qi Cheng squinted at the sunlight from the window and let out a long sigh.

He knew his family meant well.

He wanted to repay them too, but most times he was willing but unable.

Qi Ning’s probe this time was almost at his limit, so he also understood that the Qi family must have noticed his condition worsening recently.

So let’s try again, like a drowning person in the sea faintly seeing the distant shore.

He didn’t want to drown..

“Let’s set the interview test as Spring Noodles—Spring Noodles that don’t taste like Spring Noodles,” Facing the sunlight, Qi Cheng’s eyes were clear like amber, his lips slightly pressed together.

Sweet and charming girls—just thinking about them made him hear those fragmentary whispers.

After hanging up, Qi Cheng locked himself in his studio and drew all day, sheet after sheet of black background with girls’ silhouettes, each one turning around with a grotesque smile.