Chapter 8: Dinner Together

The round ceiling of the dining room featured a spherical pendant light shaped like a bird’s nest.

The round mahogany dining table was adorned with a freshly cut bundle of bright red wintersweet flowers in the center.

As Xiao Chi, still wearing his apron, busily set the table, Ji Chenxuan’s eyes glimmered with a faint smile. He thought back to the scene in the kitchen, and his heart felt as if it were being heated by boiling oil, growing restless.

Soon, he flattened his lips, sitting down at the table with a calm expression. He wiped his hands with a damp cloth, waiting for a warm family dinner.

But by the end, there were only two sets of chopsticks, surrounding a solitary plate of sweet and sour ribs, with no conversation to be had.

“Don’t you think something’s missing?” Ji Chenxuan finally couldn’t hold back any longer as Xiao Chi chomped down on his third rib.

“What?” Xiao Chi asked, chewing vaguely.

“This is all you’re having for dinner?” There’s no rice!

“Yeah,” Xiao Chi blinked, suddenly realizing, “Oh, you want some too? No problem, I’ll give you a piece!”

Still wearing his apron, the idol generously picked the biggest rib and placed it in Ji Chenxuan’s empty bowl, offering another caring smile. “Don’t be shy.”

“…”

Ji Chenxuan’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Xiao Chi’s face. “So, you were just planning on making this for yourself?”

He had been fantasizing just a moment ago about his ‘idol wife’ cooking dinner for him after work, and now it all felt like a lie!

Xiao Chi, with a mouth full of ribs, puffed out one cheek, spat out the bone, and looked at him with confusion. “Didn’t you say you didn’t like other people’s cooking and wanted to cook for yourself? So you actually want to eat what I made? You should’ve said so earlier.”

Ji Chenxuan, without missing a beat, denied it. “I didn’t say that.”

“Oh,” Xiao Chi nodded knowingly, then, with a firm grip on the edge of the plate, he pulled the entire dish of sweet and sour ribs closer to himself.

Seeing the only dish being pushed farther away from him, Ji Chenxuan quickly jabbed his chopsticks into the plate, holding it in place, and said slowly, “But since you made it, I might as well try it.”

Xiao Chi silently watched him grab a rib and eat it. He chewed slowly, then furrowed his brows. “You put too much vinegar, it’s a bit too sour…”

“The ribs aren’t crispy enough…”

“Well, I guess it’s edible…”

Xiao Chi pouted, clearly displeased. “If you don’t like it, I’ll just eat it myself.”

He was about to pick up his chopsticks when the plate, which was almost empty, only had a few sad ribs left on the edge.

Xiao Chi stared in shock. “Why do you say one thing but do the opposite?”

Ji Chenxuan elegantly wiped the small stain at the corner of his mouth, stood up slowly, and said, “Eating just meat is too greasy. I’ll have Anna make some fruit and vegetable salad. You enjoy your meal.”

Xiao Chi: “…”

By the time it was past eight o’clock, the moonlight had quietly spread across the eaves, with accumulated raindrops tapping softly on the windowsill, splashing a series of silver star-like reflections.

Ji Chenxuan returned to his study, placing his coffee beside him. The transparent desk revealed a pale blue keyboard, and the tilted projection screen automatically pulled up his frequently used folders, marked with a string of mysterious numbers and symbols.

His finger touched the screen to open the folder, entered the password, and inside were several subfolders named by date. Ji Chenxuan created a new text file with today’s date:

“X Month X Day: After the mango cake, my little darling cooked for me today. For the first time, it was so delicious. Truly a gifted cook! Although the portion wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough to fill me up. Hopefully next time it’ll be better.

My little darling actually wanted to throw away his handmade items. Doesn’t he understand how to cherish them? Fortunately , I had Anna tidy them up and store them. There’s also a cartoon bear figurine, which I secretly placed in my desk drawer. He won’t find it.”

Ji Chenxuan saved, locked, and hid the diary entry without showing any emotion on his face.

He silently took a sip of his coffee, then began browsing through discussions about Xiao Chi on social media.

He logged into his personal fan account under a pseudonym, a small account for entertainment circle black fans, and liked several posts mocking the AI company and shifting the blame onto Huanyi.

He also shared a clickbait article titled, “The first-tier virtual idol’s fan group is completely falling apart—Xiao Chi leaves, and in less than two weeks, the fan club leader has jumped ship. What will the AI company do now?”

Then, he quickly switched to his official Huanyi CEO account and liked the official Weibo post for the National Star Show competition.

After finishing these tasks, Ji Chenxuan finally began reviewing the company’s confidential documents, dealing with each item in an orderly manner.

From a secretive fanatic to a rival company black fan, and then to the helm of a major entertainment company, the transition was seamless, almost effortless.

—

The next day, the clouds cleared after the rain.

At the Beidu branch of the National Star Show audition committee.

Outside the window, the weather was beautiful, but the office was dim. The thick curtains were drawn tight, and the only light came from a small desk lamp beside a mountain of piled-up paperwork.

After an unknown amount of time, the audition cabin door opened, and a short, chubby hand extended from within, shakily gripping the door for support.

The man crawled out, rubbing his slightly protruding belly, his eyes dark with exhaustion, his expression dazed. He reached for a box of chocolates on the desk in the dim yellow light, hastily grabbed a handful, and stuffed them into his mouth.

“Oh my god, I’m finally alive. I’m exhausted. This job is not fit for humans.”

The man collapsed into the sofa chair, closing his eyes in exhaustion and stretching out a lazy yawn.

“Director! Director! Director Li!”

Perhaps hearing the movement from the audition cabin, someone rushed in, a tall, thin man wearing a blue and white striped shirt, shaking a mini USB drive in his hand, his face flushed as if he had been drinking too much.

“What’s all the shouting about? I’m not dead yet.” Li Mingxin rolled his eyes with irritation. “Wan, if you’re here to bring me food, I’ll thank you. If you’re here to play me songs, then goodbye! I’m about to die here!”

Wan Baoluo, a producer in the music department of Huanyi Company, was often paired with Li Mingxin, the music director, as a dynamic duo—“Double Wicked Combination” or “Fat and Thin Monks.”

“Ah, Director Fat, you’re so clever,” Wan Baoluo threw a flirtatious glance at him and raised the encrypted USB drive in his hand. “I’ve got a few new songs recommended by the regional judges. They’re heavenly, I guarantee you’ll feel revitalized after hearing them!”

Li Mingxin sneered, covering his ears. “I don’t want to hear it! Every time those people recommend songs, they hype them up as heavenly. To hell with that! If these aren’t karaoke-level songs, I’ll let you use my stomach as a soccer ball!”

“You’re just too picky,” Wan Baoluo complained, moving the plug-in speakers from the shelf and connecting the encrypted USB drive. “There are still a lot of good potential artists in this year’s Star Show auditions.”

“You think all good talent is just ^[1]“like spring onions” (韭菜, jiǔcài) refers to something or someone that is easy to replace or doesn’t have much value. In Chinese culture, spring onions (or chives) are often … Continue readinglike spring onions? These days, with so many talent shows, where are the hidden gems?” Li Mingxin crossed his arms and lazily leaned back in the sofa, munching on chocolate beans. He mumbled, “Last year’s National Star Show ratings were mediocre. If there’s no breakthrough this year, the ratings will decline even more, and they might even cancel the project next year.”

Wan Baoluo fiddled with the speakers, winking at him mysteriously. “Don’t be so pessimistic. What if this year it blows up?”

Li Mingxin shook his head and sighed. “Virtual idols are taking over the market. With advanced technology, they can fix any sound. They can turn a pig’s voice into a swan’s. There’s no limit to vocal range or lung capacity—how can real human singers compete?”

“Don’t say it like that. I just don’t like hearing virtual idols sing. No matter how good it sounds, it always feels fake.” Wan Baoluo finished setting up the speakers and pressed play. “Let’s not argue about this, let the big shots worry about it. Let’s just listen to some music.”

Although Li Mingxin had said he didn’t want to listen, the moment the music began, he instantly quieted down, stopped eating his chocolate, closed his eyes, and entered a listening state.

The first song was a lyrical blend of pop and folk music, with an excellent melody and lyrics. The flowing tune gradually built from a small stream into a rushing river, and the climax poured down like a waterfall, stirring emotions.

Li Mingxin tapped his toes in rhythm, and as the first song was nearing its end, he opened his eyes and gestured to skip to the next one. “The lyrics and melody are fine, but the singing is still at karaoke level. The tone is average, and the high notes are barely passable. If someone else sang this, it might score higher, but too bad.”

Wan Baoluo, seeing him shake his head, pouted in disagreement. “It’s a newcomer, talent is more important. Singing skills can be practiced. Come on, listen to the next one.”

The second song was a slow retro tune, and the repetitive melody made Li Mingxin yawn. After listening to half of it, he stopped it. “It’s not exactly pleasant, but it’s not terrible either. From the melody to the arrangement to the lyrics and performance, it’s all mediocre. Nothing memorable, just forgettable. Don’t waste time, skip it.”

The tall, thin man grumbled, “This is a popular online song.”

“So what? Don’t talk back, or I won’t listen.”

The next few songs were all ruthlessly criticized by Li Mingxin, none of them being played to the end.

“Li Fat, you’re too picky,” Wan Baoluo sulked, counting on his fingers. “You want unique tone, catchy melodies, creative arrangements, deep lyrics, and powerful vocal performances. Are you judging newcomers, or are you trying to get them into the Grammys? If there were such talented newcomers, would they need you as a talent scout?”

Li Mingxin was momentarily speechless, realizing he had no good retort. He stubbornly defended himself, “I’m not saying all these songs should be disqualified. Someone has to stand out, right? I can’t set the bar too low. Besides, the judging panel isn’t just me making the decisions, you’re here too.”

Wan Baoluo muttered irritably, “There’s one last song, like it or not, I’m playing it. Don’t complain if you don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m not listening, I’m not listening anymore. I’m tired, sleepy, and hungry—please spare my ears,” Li Mingxin waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing away a fly. “You guys can sort through it yourselves. I’m too lazy to listen. Anyway, they’re all just karaoke-level songs.”

Wan Baoluo’s anger shot up to the top of his head. He had wanted to argue in favor of the final song, which was his favorite, but stopped himself. With a cold smirk, he yanked the USB drive out and slammed it onto the desk. “You’re missing out on a gem, don’t regret it!”

“Yeah, a gem. I’d be an idiot to believe you.” Li Mingxin watched Wan Baoluo storm out, still holding the chocolate jar and mumbling, “I’ll regret it when pigs fly.”

Exhaustion from overwork made his eyelids heavy, and he collapsed into the sofa, still holding the chocolate jar. He quickly fell into a deep sleep, snoring loudly…

—

In the winter afternoon, warm sunlight cast a pale golden glow on the bedside.

Xiao Chi, who had been napping, was dragged out of bed by Ji Chenxuan. Sleepily, he climbed into the flying car. The moment it took off, all traces of sleep were instantly gone.

He pressed his face against the window, watching the streetlights and trees below fade into the distance. The road twisted like a black python, endlessly stretching forward.

“We’re flying,” Xiao Chi said with enthusiasm.

“I don’t want to become a birdman,” Ji Chenxuan said as he activated the autopilot and glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “The pipes at home are broken, so I called a repairman to fix them. We’ll eat dinner out.”

“Isn’t it a bit early to eat dinner at this time?” Xiao Chi asked, puzzled.

“I make the decisions,” Ji Chenxuan said calmly.

Xiao Chi leaned in, rubbing his chin and staring at the back of Ji Chenxuan’s head, his expression full of suspicion. “This is a bit suspicious. You’re not planning to kidnap me, are you? Take advantage of my lack of education and beauty, sell me off to some remote mountain village to be imprisoned?”

“…” Ji Chenxuan almost choked on his own saliva and pressed his lips together helplessly. “Where do you get all these weird ideas from?”

“Read it in tomorrow’s headline.”

Ji Chenxuan sneered. “Well, at least you’re self-aware.”

“What?”

“Uneducated, after all, you’re the one who didn’t even complete compulsory education.” Ji Chenxuan mercilessly mocked him.

“No, you’re wrong,” Xiao Chi said, scratching his head sheepishly. “I didn’t even go to kindergarten.”

“…”

The black flying car parked in the lot, twenty minutes barely passed.

The car door opened automatically. Xiao Chi looked up at the golden and luxurious commercial building in front of him, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “Why are we here?”

Ji Chenxuan casually adjusted the button on his sleeve and replied slowly, “There’s a private club upstairs, run by a friend of mine. There’s a party tonight, and some influential figures from the industry are invited. I’m bringing you to broaden your horizons. If you can make a good impression, it’ll help you when you debut.”

Xiao Chi looked as though he half-understood. “But I haven’t even signed a contract yet.”

“Don’t rush. Have you finished reading all the books I asked you to? Once you become a public figure, if you make any silly mistakes, it’ll look bad on you,” Ji Chenxuan said meaningfully, casting a glance at Xiao Chi as he led him into the building.

The lower four floors were all shopping areas. Ji Chenxuan guided Xiao Chi directly to the men’s luxury clothing section. This floor had very few customers, giving it a rather quiet, cold atmosphere. The floor tiles were polished to a mirror-like sheen, and the sound of two pairs of leather shoes echoed crisply as they walked.

A female shop assistant spotted them and was immediately struck by their unique aura. She hurried over with a professional smile, “Are you looking for a custom-made suit or off-the-rack? What kind of occasion are you shopping for?”

Ji Chenxuan scanned the area, one hand in his pocket, and casually said, “Pick out a formal suit you like.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his wristband rang with an incoming call. He glanced down, made a gesture, and said, “You try on the clothes. I’ll step outside to take this call.”

Xiao Chi watched Ji Chenxuan’s back as he left, feeling uncertain as he looked at the array of clothes.

Pick a formal suit he likes? But they all looked the same!

Having no sense of aesthetics, Xiao Chi found himself suffering from some sort of decision-making paralysis.

The female shop assistant, standing behind the counter, surreptitiously eyed his profile. She tried to recall the faces of recent popular celebrities, but none seemed to match his.

Seeing that he was indecisive, the shop assistant immediately walked over and stood in front of him, openly staring at his face. “Sir, this black one here would really suit you. Or this deep blue one is nice as well. It accentuates your waist and shows off your figure. Would you like to try it on?”

“Uh…” Xiao Chi nonchalantly nodded, taking the hanger and heading to the fitting room to try on the clothes.

When he came out of the fitting room, he almost bumped into a man dressed in a formal suit. Fortunately, he managed to stop just in time, avoiding an awkward collision.

Even so, the man was still startled.

The man was dressed up elaborately, with his hair longer than his ears, and a seven-part fringe across his forehead. Though he wore large, brown-tinted sunglasses that hid the allure in his gaze, his delicate features were still noticeable.

Xiao Chi was taller by quite a bit, and after the man saw Xiao Chi’s face, his gaze lingered for a moment. His eyes then shifted down to the perfectly tailored single-breasted jacquard suit, the deep blue vest, and the white inner lining that seemed custom-made, hugging the man’s body perfectly—wide shoulders, narrow waist, tall and elegant. If anything, it was just a little too muscular, but not enough to be overly bulky.

The man furrowed his brow, not because Xiao Chi’s outfit was wrong. On the contrary, it was just too good—exactly like the one he was wearing himself. But now, in comparison, his own suit looked ill-fitting and inferior.

It’s not embarrassing to wear the same outfit, it’s embarrassing if one looks worse.

Wen Anran was now facing a very awkward moment.

However, Xiao Chi’s gaze just briefly flickered over him before he walked past without giving him any extra attention.

It was this lack of attention that instantly triggered a sense of anger in Wen Anran. His own endorsement poster was hanging at the entrance, and this brat, seeing him, didn’t even show the slightest surprise—did he not recognize him at all? Was he blind?

Behind him, the shop assistant’s admiring voice rang out, “Oh my gosh, sir, you look amazing in that outfit, just like a movie star!”

Wen Anran’s expression darkened even further. He quickened his pace, heading to the fitting room to change out of the suit. When he came out, Xiao Chi was standing in front of the full-length mirror, frowning at the price tag of 50,000 yuan. “It’s just one suit, and it’s this expensive? It’s even more than a replica doll…”

Wen Anran’s furrowed brows relaxed, and he gave an odd expression. He walked over to Xiao Chi’s side and leaned slightly toward him. “Sir, do you know what kind of brand this is? It’s not something just anyone can afford. You might have walked into the wrong place.”

Coincidentally, the female shop assistant walked past holding a tie that Xiao Chi had casually picked out. Wen Anran caught a glimpse and sneered. “A tacky pink with polka dots.”

He curled the corner of his lips in disdain. “Country bumpkin.”

Wen Anran no longer paid attention to Xiao Chi and turned to the female shop assistant, instructing, “This size is too small for me. Bring me one size up.”

The shop assistant hesitated, looking at him. “Mr. Wen, this particular item is in limited stock, and we only have the size this gentleman is wearing. I’ll call to check if we can get another one.”

“Don’t bother,” Wen Anran replied lazily, leaning back with his elbow on the counter. He gestured toward Xiao Chi with a subtle nod. “Just take the one he’s wearing. After all… this gentleman probably can’t afford it, so let’s not waste our time. Oh, and make sure to iron it properly. I don’t like it when it has any weird smells on it.”