Chapter 7: I Want to See You

The situation became extremely awkward.

Ji Chenxuan’s expression gradually darkened, the subtle shift in his mood almost suffocated by the growing storm clouds. Zhou Tong hurriedly stood up, his face as white as a sheet, gritting his teeth and forcing a smile. “Uh, President Ji, your friend is here. I still have work to finish, so I won’t disturb you both.”

After saying that, the little assistant bolted for the door as if running for his life, as though a demon were chasing after him.

The lounge door shut with a soft click, and President Ji withdrew his gaze, his eyes scanning the coffee on the table, the ridiculous cartoon bear costume on Xiao Chi, before finally locking onto his face.

Ji Chenxuan raised an eyebrow slightly, his gaze dark and intense as he sat down on the sofa.

“Why did you run off again? And dressed like this—did you think it was fun to come here looking like that?”

You made me run around like an idiot, searching the streets for you!

His voice was low and deliberate, each word landing heavily, with an undeniable authority that could pierce through a person’s soul with just a glance.

Unfortunately, his usual tactics for scolding subordinates were useless with Xiao Chi.

Xiao Chi, with his thick bear paws wrapped around his belly, awkwardly shuffled over, wearing a serious expression. “I came to fulfill our agreement, to work for you.”

Ji Chenxuan remained silent for a full three breaths, then took in Xiao Chi’s ridiculous outfit again and asked in return, “Work for me? Are you here to be a mascot?”

“Oh, this…” Xiao Chi struggled to take off the cartoon bear costume. As the fresh air rushed over him, he stretched his arms and let out a long sigh of relief. “This thing was suffocating. The shop owner said it was really comfortable when he sold it to me.”

Ji Chenxuan sat across from him, his posture as always—elegant and poised. His tone also returned to its usual calm composure. “Answer my question.”

The two of them sat facing each other across the coffee table, as though engaged in a business negotiation.

Such a distance, such a posture—this was the rhythm Ji Chenxuan always controlled to maintain dominance in the conversation.

But Xiao Chi didn’t follow the usual rules. He bypassed the table, plopped down right next to Ji Chenxuan, leaning so close that the sofa sank slightly beneath him.

“I came to find you. It wasn’t easy to get here, but they told me I didn’t have an appointment and wouldn’t let me in,” Xiao Chi said, looking pitiful as he recounted his misfortune. “So I saw the cartoon mascot inside, and I bought one to sneak in.”

Too close!

Ji Chenxuan subtly shifted a little away, frowning. “Where did you get the money to buy a mascot?”

Xiao Chi, seeing the gap between them, naturally leaned in closer. “I won it in a raffle.”

Talk about good luck.

Ji Chenxuan shifted a little further away, his tone much gentler but still tinged with displeasure. “I’ve bought you the terminal and other things. Don’t wander off randomly in the future, or… Anyway, if you need anything, just send me a message.”

As he spoke, he took a long black velvet gift box from his pocket, untied the satin ribbon, and inside was a silver metallic necklace-like terminal with a pendant in the shape of a zodiac sign.

“It’s my zodiac sign.” Xiao Chi fondled the silver Gemini pendant, immediately hanging it around his neck. “Thank you, I really like it.”

So easily satisfied.

Ji Chenxuan looked at his profile, the reprimands he had been about to give caught in his throat, unable to be voiced.

Just as his mind wandered, Xiao Chi rummaged inside the cartoon bear costume and pulled out a beautifully packaged mango cake, stuffing it into Ji Chenxuan’s hand without a word. “This is for you. I tried it, it’s really good.”

“What’s this?” Ji Chenxuan frowned and looked down. The mango-shaped custard cake was a pale yellow, three pieces in a box, giving off a rounded, cute vibe. The gift box had a price tag on the edge: 180 yuan.

He glanced at Xiao Chi with a half-smile. “You’re giving me a box of cheap cakes you can find anywhere on the street as a return gift for the custom-made mobile terminal?”

Xiao Chi blinked, seemingly not quite understanding the concept of reciprocity in human society needing to be of equal value. He scratched his head and apologized. “I originally wanted to give you the lost realistic toy, but I couldn’t get it. How about I give you the cartoon bear instead?”

The cartoon bear’s head lay helplessly in the corner of the sofa, and Ji Chenxuan pursed his lips. “No need, you can keep that one.”

“But you said you didn’t want it,” Xiao Chi said, happily clutching the bear’s head, looking reluctant to let go, though his eyes were focused on the cake box. “Aren’t you going to eat it?”

Ji Chenxuan’s gaze swept over the thick layer of whipped cream, and he politely said, “I don’t like cream.”

“Should’ve said that earlier.” Xiao Chi immediately tossed the bear head aside.

With Ji Chenxuan’s palm suddenly empty, the cake box was quickly opened, and by the time he realized what was happening, Xiao Chi had already used a small knife to neatly scrape off the whipped cream, leaving only a plain sponge cake, which he then brought to Ji Chenxuan’s mouth.

“All done, no more cream.” Xiao Chi licked the remaining cream from his lips and smacked them, “Cream really is one of humanity’s great inventions. You don’t like it? Isn’t life lacking a major joy?”

Ji Chenxuan looked at the now bare cake base and then at Xiao Chi, whose face radiated “thoughtfulness.” He couldn’t help but laugh and open his mouth to take a bite. Hmm… This was probably the first sweet thing he’d had all year.

It was indeed quite sweet.

Ji Chenxuan expressionlessly thought to himself, then coldly offered his assessment. “Barely edible.”

Xiao Chi: “You’re really strict.”

Ji Chenxuan leisurely finished the cake, wiped away the small crumbs that were almost invisible, and spoke again. “Don’t think that just because of this I’ll forgive you for running off like that.”

“I didn’t run off, I came to find you,” Xiao Chi defended seriously.

“Find me for what?” Ji Chenxuan lowered his head and took a sip of coffee, using it to neutralize the overly sweet taste.

Xiao Chi opened his round, wide eyes. “I want to see you.”

“……”

“Did you choke?” Xiao Chi once again kindly offered a tissue to wipe away the coffee that had spilled from the cup.

Ji Chenxuan clenched his fist and coughed twice, a slight flush appearing at the back of his ears as if the coffee had caused him to blush. He took a deep breath, furrowing his brow in discomfort. “How much sugar did they put in this coffee? It’s sweet enough to be milk tea.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Xiao Chi said, puzzled, clearly feeling that there might be a difference in their taste buds.

As they spoke, Ji Chenxuan noticed that not only had the distance between them not increased, but it seemed to have gotten smaller. This small lounge was so stuffy. Taking advantage of setting his coffee cup down, he shifted a few inches away, until half of his body was almost hanging off the edge of the sofa.

“…Anyway, from now on, always tell me where you’re going.” Ji Chenxuan pointed to the zodiac pendant hanging around Xiao Chi’s neck. “You can contact me anytime with this.”

“Okay.” Xiao Chi fiddled with his new toy, and a blue three-dimensional light beam unfolded in front of him. The “Contacts” section showed Ji Chenxuan’s name in large letters, and as his finger swiped across, the semi-circle contact icon lit up one by one.

A familiar melody played from Ji Chenxuan’s wrist, it was the first song Xiao Chi released when he debuted as a virtual idol.

Ji Chenxuan ignored Xiao Chi’s surprised expression and casually ended the call. “Alright, you can study it slowly when you get back.”

“You’re leaving already? Don’t you have work?” Xiao Chi was still making a final effort to prove his value. “I’ll do whatever you want me to!”

“……”

Ji Chenxuan actually hadn’t decided what to do with him. After realizing that Xiao Chi had developed self-awareness, he understood that such a miracle was impossible to replicate.

Even the AI company couldn’t create another Xiao Chi exactly like him, or they wouldn’t be so eager to release new virtual idols.

“Do you still want to be an idol?” Ji Chenxuan looked up and regarded him with a discerning gaze.

Xiao Chi lowered his head, thinking for a moment, then met his gaze. “I want someone to remember me. I don’t want to be a mass-produced copy from an assembly line.”

Such an answer took Ji Chenxuan by surprise, but not entirely, as it seemed both like the words of a naive twelve- or thirteen-year-old who thought the world should revolve around him, and also like the final burst of unwillingness and passion from a mundane, indifferent life coming to an end.

He was an AI that had escaped the virtual world, like a newborn child beginning to search for himself in an unfamiliar world.

Ji Chenxuan pondered for a moment, then said, “Would you like to sign with Huanyi? My… company can provide you with resources, but whether you become a unique, big star depends on your own abilities.”

He paused briefly before adding a condition. “If you can’t get popular and bring profits to Huanyi, you’ll be working for me without pay.”

Indefinitely.

Ji Chenxuan revealed a capitalist’s sinister smile, but Xiao Chi didn’t seem to notice anything wrong.

Xiao Chi: “I participated in your company’s National Star Show Competition.”

Ji Chenxuan was taken aback. “You don’t even have a terminal, how did you participate?”

Xiao Chi looked at him curiously. “I just went in and recorded a song.”

Ji Chenxuan: “…Without inputting personal information, it doesn’t count.”

“Ah? So I sang for nothing?”

Ji Chenxuan pinched the space between his brows, repeatedly telling himself not to take AI too seriously. When he opened his eyes again, Xiao Chi’s face was right in front of him, his long eyelashes fluttering. “What’s wrong? You look really tired. Did you not sleep well last night?”

Ji Chenxuan instinctively leaned back, missed the support, and ended up falling off the edge of the sofa, landing on the floor in an extremely awkward position!

“Ji Chenxuan?” Xiao Chi quickly grabbed his arm, but was pulled down himself, and both of them ended up tumbling onto each other.

At that moment, the door unexpectedly opened at the most inconvenient time. Assistant Zhou Tong poked his head in. “President Ji, I’ve processed the new personal information you requested… uh, am I interrupting something?”

Ji Chenxuan stood up with a serious expression. “Do you need me to teach you how to knock?”

“Sorry for the interruption!” Zhou Tong quickly slammed the door shut and fled.

Holy crap, so the boss really has that kind of relationship with this little internet celebrity!

An awkward silence followed. Ji Chenxuan cleared his throat lightly and calmly returned to the sofa, taking a small sip of the now cold coffee to cover up the awkwardness. “I’ve had someone arrange new ID documents for you. If you plan to sign a contract in the future, you’d better not use the name Xiao Chi. Pick a stage name for yourself.”

Without hesitation, Xiao Chi said, “Xiao Xuan!”

“Too hard to pronounce.”

“Then how about Xiao Ji?”

Ji Chenxuan remained silent for a moment before politely saying, “The homophone is not very elegant.”

“Then how about Xiao Chen?” Xiao Chi said with a look that said, “You’re really hard to please.”

Ji Chenxuan: “……”

Meanwhile, the new song that shouldn’t have counted was now squeezed among countless data streams, entering the smart machine’s screening process.

The National Star Show Competition was initially an internal scouting event at Huanyi to discover potential newcomers. After gaining popularity, it gradually evolved into a mass stardom program, and due to its high level of attention, it was later dubbed by the outside world as the “Newcomer Debut Ladder.”

By eliminating the live performance segment, all contestants recorded their songs in temporary recording booths, making the process much more efficient than traditional auditions. The first round of auditions, lasting only a week, was completed in no time.

Each song recorded is uploaded to the cloud, with perfect sound quality and minimal interference from the equipment and background noise during live performances.

The system first filters out the off-key, poor singers, and those with excessively high overlap rates. The audio detection by the smart machine is more accurate than the human ear, making the selection process for the large number of initial entries highly efficient.

In the first step alone, more than half are eliminated. The remaining entries that are above average are then sent to the professional judges in each regional division.

After two rounds of filtering, the remaining entries are gathered at headquarters, where a panel of senior musicians, producers, vocalists, and media professionals selects the top 100 most promising candidates, who are then entered into the second round—the audience popularity voting stage.

As for Xiao Chi, he had already put the Star Show competition out of his mind.

During the past week, he had stayed home obediently, studying various social norms as Ji Chenxuan had instructed.

The largest areas of Ji Chenxuan’s villa, aside from the pool and garden, were the living room and study. The curved glass walls slid open on both sides, revealing a library that spanned two floors.

Xiao Chi spent the entire week there. With his photographic memory, he had managed to cover only the tip of the iceberg, reading books on social knowledge, modern technology, and topics related to the entertainment industry.

As dusk approached, light rain fell gently. A row of icicles hung from the narrow eaves, glowing faintly in the soft light of the evening sunset.

The smart home robot assistant, Anna, had finished weeding the garden and extended her mechanical arm to remove the icicles. The delicate ice crystals fell like pearls from a broken string.

Ji Chenxuan returned home with a damp body. Xiao Chi was clattering around in the kitchen.

Outside, the weather was cold and freezing, but inside the house, it was warm like spring. Ji Chenxuan took off his coat, shaking off the frost, and followed the sound into the kitchen. There, he saw the man wearing a cartoon bear apron, frying small ribs.

A cookbook was tucked under his elbow as he moved from step to step, glancing at it. The faint scent of sweet and sour sauce wafted from the pan. Ji Chenxuan’s nostrils twitched slightly—it was tangy and sweet.

Xiao Chi heard the movement and turned around with a smile. “You’re back.”

Ji Chenxuan was caught off guard by that bright smile.

For a moment, his expression was complicated, as if he had been transported to a dream, and he remained silent for a long time. Even in the sweetest dream he had ever had, he had never encountered such a scene.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Xiao Chi added a sprinkle of minced garlic, then looked back at him.

Ji Chenxuan’s lips moved, suppressing the surge of emotions inside, and said nonchalantly, “Are you giving up on being a star and switching careers to be a chef?”

“No, I just wanted to experience the fun of cooking.” Xiao Chi took the golden-brown ribs out of the pan, drizzled them with sauce, and sprinkled some green onions and sesame seeds on top.

The tender, crispy ribs paired with the tangy-sweet sauce made the dish smell so tempting that it made Ji Chenxuan’s mouth water. Xiao Chi blew on the hot food and eagerly took a small bite, burning his tongue and curling it up. “Human recipes are even more diverse than my musical scores. There’s no repetition, and life is just so happy!”

Ji Chenxuan scoffed. “You didn’t say that when you were brushing your teeth and taking a shower.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ji Chenxuan noticed the newly placed flower arrangement on the cabinet and the poorly executed wall art. He walked down the hallway, inspecting, as if hunting for treasure, finding various small items—building block creations, embroidered pieces, and even a strange circuit board.

“Did you make all of this?” Ji Chenxuan raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over these mismatched, fresh trinkets. He picked up a chibi-style cartoon bear made of clay and casually examined it. “Did you turn my house into an exhibition cabinet?”

“Ah, sorry, I thought it was interesting, so I made them to try it out,” Xiao Chi’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, eager to experience every new and exciting thing.

He placed the sweet and sour ribs on the table, then began tidying up the little items. “If you don’t like them, I’ll throw them away.”

Clearly, once he had experienced the fun, he had no attachment and was ready to discard them at will.

“Wait—” Ji Chenxuan still held the chibi bear in his hand, his tone casual. “Let’s eat first. Anna can clean up here.”

“Oh,” Xiao Chi responded nonchalantly, quickly sitting back at the dining table.

With his back to him, Ji Chenxuan nonchalantly slipped the clay bear into his pocket.