Chapter 31: Dancing Together

In the quiet living room, a black wooden box, resembling a coffin, was placed on the camel-colored patterned carpet, its polished surface illuminated by the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Ji Chenxuan quickly and decisively brushed off the white petals on the box, turned to look at Xiao Chi, who, with an innocent expression, scratched his head. He seemed rather aggrieved by yet another comment about his aesthetic taste.

Ji Chenxuan sighed helplessly, unable to keep a smile from his face. “Why on earth did you choose a box like this to pack the gift? Why make it look like a coffin? The satin, the white flowers… you really are an aesthetic genius.”

“A genius?” Xiao Chi blinked, a little embarrassed, then smiled awkwardly. “Are you complimenting me?”

“…Forget it.”

Ji Chenxuan gave up on arguing about aesthetics and directly opened the box—well, not a coffin—wooden box, holding his breath for a moment.

Inside lay the lifelike virtual idol Xiao Chi, resting on a soft snow-white velvet blanket. Dressed in a gorgeous medieval European noble court outfit, with luxurious and exquisite hand-embroidered details, the collar and cuffs adorned with ruffled lace trim, it looked like a sleeping prince from a fairy tale.

Ji Chenxuan stared at the familiar yet unfamiliar face, then glanced at Xiao Chi, who was lying next to the edge of the box. A surreal, almost absurd feeling surged through him, bringing with it a strange sense of laughter and tears.

Having lived with the real Xiao Chi for so long, he had almost forgotten what the virtual idol version of him looked like.

“Do you remember you owe me a doll?” Ji Chenxuan looked at him and spoke softly.

Xiao Chi immediately nodded, apologizing, “I replaced your doll when I moved into your house. I had planned to buy you a new one a long time ago, but the shopkeeper was out of stock. Only recently did I finally manage to get one! So, how is it? Do you like it?”

Ji Chenxuan gave a meaningful smile, replying evasively, “A blessing in disguise.”

“What does that mean?” Xiao Chi asked, puzzled.

“It means…” Ji Chenxuan said with a stern face, his tone leaving no room for argument, “From tomorrow, you’re to spend one hour every day reading books on social customs in the study.”

“…Okay.”

After taking the doll out, Ji Chenxuan ordered the house’s smart assistant, Anna, to dispose of the ominous wooden box.

Xiao Chi watched sadly as his carefully selected “gift box” was dragged away, pitifully waving a small handkerchief at it, muttering to himself by the window:

“Humans are so fickle. They always wear black and white clothes, and use black and white furniture. But when they lie in a box, they suddenly don’t like it? Really, sigh…”

Ji Chenxuan was momentarily at a loss for words. He shoved a lollipop into Xiao Chi’s mouth to silence him, assuming the role of the house’s authority figure with a stern face, “I’m in charge here.”

Xiao Chi puffed up one cheek, shrugged helplessly, and mumbled around the lollipop, “Alright, alright.”

The crystal grand piano that Ji Chenxuan gifted him was placed in a corner of the duplex living room, its champagne-colored spiral crystal chandelier hanging from the second floor ceiling, casting light that danced on the translucent piano stand below.

Eagerly, Xiao Chi lifted the piano lid. The matte-textured keys, like a row of finely polished jewels, produced a crisp and melodious sound as he tested a few notes, the music sweet and clear like angels singing.

Ji Chenxuan placed the doll in the room and, holding a coffee cup, descended the spiral staircase from the second floor. Xiao Chi was playing an old nursery rhyme.

The music box of memory was abruptly opened at one corner. Ji Chenxuan’s steps paused at the side of the stairs, his fingers tightening slightly on the handrail. His gaze seemed to fall on Xiao Chi’s back, but it was as if his focus had blurred, drifting through the piano and landing somewhere far off.

“Why did you suddenly decide to play this song?” Ji Chenxuan’s low voice came from behind him, like a xylophone that had been mellowed by years of time, its bow drawn once more.

Through the crystal piano, Xiao Chi saw him and smiled. “Didn’t you like it? You used to summon me in the middle of the night to play this song for you, on the piano. It feels a little different now, though.”

“…Actually, I didn’t really like it.” Ji Chenxuan stepped out of the beam of light, walking slowly toward the floor-to-ceiling window. He gazed at the bright moon outside, lost in thought. “I just got used to hearing it.”

“Oh?” Xiao Chi finished the last measure of the song, the lingering sound of his fingers vibrating across the piano strings slowly fading.

“When I was a child, my mother would always sing this lullaby to me when she tried to get me to sleep. Later, the one who sang it to me became her sister, my stepmother.” Ji Chenxuan shook his head and smiled. “Isn’t it strange why I’ve always lived alone?”

The last two words were spoken with such lightness that Xiao Chi, gazing at his profile, saw the stark contrast of light and shadow split his face, making it hard to read his expression.

“Because I have no family left,” Ji Chenxuan suddenly turned his head, his smile now soaked in the cold moonlight, carrying an indescribable chill. “After my father passed away, I sent my stepmother to prison to fight over his inheritance, and personally kicked my half-brother out. Just like the rumors circulating in the company.”

Xiao Chi tilted his head, confused. “Why did you do that?”

Ji Chenxuan did not answer the question. He paced slowly, stepping back into the light and gently cupping Xiao Chi’s face in his hands.

It was a face one could never tire of looking at—pure, flawless, with eyes black and white, as though reflecting the brilliance of the stars.

“This is good enough, like this. I wish you could forever remain this way, never knowing, never worrying.”

At this moment, Xiao Chi did not understand the coldness in Ji Chenxuan’s eyes. The night, slightly tinged with a chill, seeped through the floor-to-ceiling window and silently crept onto the piano stand, spreading to their feet, making Xiao Chi feel an inexplicable shiver.

“Does being human bring a lot of worries?” Ji Chenxuan asked.

“Yes, more than the stars in the sky,” Xiao Chi replied.

“Then why doesn’t a person just turn into AI? That way, they could stay young forever, never age.”

Hearing Xiao Chi’s sudden idea, Ji Chenxuan was momentarily taken aback before laughing. He thought for a moment and replied, “If that happened, life would lose its fun, become meaningless. Even immortality would be pointless.”

“I get it!” Xiao Chi’s mind suddenly lit up like a lightbulb. He quickly stood up, rushing toward the upstairs bedroom, only to return moments later, like a bullet, and ran to the smart speaker on the cabinet.

Ji Chenxuan watched, surprised, as Xiao Chi fiddled with the speaker and plugged in a small USB drive.

A soft and melodic cello piece filled the room. The opening notes were somewhat subdued, but as the melody rose, the lively, graceful rhythm soared like a spring morning light dispersing the darkness, casting its glow on the branches, or like crossing a rugged mountain path to suddenly arrive at an open plain.

Xiao Chi, keeping time with the beat, walked toward him. Ji Chenxuan was still lost in the music, not quite snapped back to reality when suddenly his waist tightened. Xiao Chi’s long, strong arm had wrapped around him.

“Give me your hand, step with your right foot first… You’re so stiff, don’t you know how to dance?” Xiao Chi complained softly into his ear. The warmth of his breath sent a flush to Ji Chenxuan’s ears.

“Of course I do! It’s just…”

“Then don’t step on my feet.”

“Dance slower!”

“You hit my head…”

“You shouldn’t talk.”

The two were close, their chests nearly touching as they moved in sync with the piano’s melody, spinning under the crystal chandelier. The light above them cascaded down, casting a dreamy glow and shadow.

“What’s this song?”

Ji Chenxuan’s question went unanswered for a while.

Xiao Chi rested his chin on Ji Chenxuan’s shoulder, and Ji Chenxuan, feeling uncomfortable with the silence, slightly turned his head. “Why aren’t you speaking?”

Xiao Chi, sounding a little aggrieved, muttered, “You told me not to speak!”

“…Fine, you can talk.” Ji Chenxuan sighed helplessly.

Immediately, Xiao Chi lifted his face, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s a new song I composed. Do you like it?”

“Like it. What’s it called?”

Without hesitation, Xiao Chi replied, “It’s called Interesting Ji Chenxuan!”

“……”

“Ai, you stepped on me again! I wrote a song for you with all my heart, and this is your attitude?”

Ji Chenxuan pursed his lips and weakly said, “Change the name.”

“Alright, alright, you really don’t appreciate it. Boring Ji Chenxuan.”

“……”

The long night stretched on. The distant, lingering cello melody floated into the garden, and a dewdrop fell from the tip of a blade of grass, like a tear swept away by the spring breeze, silently dissolving into the moist soil.

The clock on the wall slowly moved toward midnight.

Ji Chenxuan went upstairs to wash up in the bathroom. As usual, Xiao Chi hugged his carrot-shaped pillow and snuggled on the sofa in the living room, holding the music draft in his hand and editing it with a pen.

When the clock struck twelve, Xiao Chi lazily yawned, and at the title of the song, wrote a few large characters—The Many Pleasures of My Life.

He took the music score back to the second-floor bedroom and saw that the door to Ji Chenxuan’s room wasn’t fully closed. A faint light leaked through the small gap, casting a warm yellow diagonal line on the elm wood floor.

“You’re not asleep yet? Ji—” He knocked on the door, and as soon as he did, the gap widened, revealing part of the room.

Ji Chenxuan was sitting up in bed, reading a book. Hearing the noise, he instinctively pulled the blanket closer and then turned to look at the door. “Why aren’t you sleeping so late?”

Xiao Chi squinted at him, focusing on the half of his head visible from the corner. Slowly, he said, “Actually, even if you sleep holding my doll, I wouldn’t mind…”

Ji Chenxuan, like a thief caught in the act of mischief, immediately turned off the bedside lamp, curled up into the blanket, and muttered, “I’m going to rest now!”

“Alright, I won’t disturb you anymore.” Xiao Chi slightly pouted and closed the door behind him.

Hearing the sound of the door clicking shut, Ji Chenxuan poked his head out from under the blanket. Next to him, his doll, now dressed in pajamas, lay quietly on the bed. In the dim, silent room, they stared at each other, wide-eyed.

Suddenly, Xiao Chi’s voice came from outside the door: “Don’t do anything strange to my doll!”

“…Go to sleep!”

“Oh.”

—

Spring was in full bloom. Another busy workday.

At the headquarters of Huanyi Entertainment Group, in the president’s office.

Zhou Tong stood across the large desk and reported to Ji Chenxuan about the post-Star Show competition profit summary:

“…Compared to the same period last year, all the data has seen significant improvement, especially the number of participants, which has increased by more than ten percentage points.”

Zhou Tong closed the folder and glanced at Ji Chenxuan’s face, clearing his throat lightly. “As per your instructions, that matter has been handed over to Liu Bing to handle. The contestant named Fang Zichang has completely dropped out, and there hasn’t been any news about him since. As for Shang Quan from Fashion Magazine…”

“The Star Show competition must remain clean,” Ji Chenxuan said without raising his eyes, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk. “Keep the evidence, but don’t make it public yet. Cancel all cooperation with Fashion Magazine. We’ll have plenty of opportunities to deal with him later.”

“I understand.” Zhou Tong paused, seeming hesitant to speak, then continued, “But I find it a little strange—why is it that Fang Zichang didn’t target anyone, yet he specifically went after Xiao Chen?”

Ji Chenxuan frowned slightly. “Tell Liu Bing to keep a closer eye on things.”

“Oh, right, there’s one more thing. The hit variety show Star CEO has approached you again this year. You’ve ignored them in the past, but this year…”

“Not accepting.” Ji Chenxuan didn’t look up from the papers, cutting Zhou Tong off firmly.

Zhou Tong shrugged, picking up a stack of files to leave. “Alright then, I’ll let them know. But I heard that they’ve also invited Xiao Chen this year, and Liu Bing is already discussing the details with them…”

“…Wait, come back.” Ji Chenxuan finally raised his gaze from the files, narrowing his eyes. “I remember that next month’s schedule seems relatively free…”

“Huh? No, next month there are still several projects to—”

“Shut up. I make the decisions.”

“…Alright, boss!”