After the photo session, Han Congzhou gave Song Cheng a thumbs-up. The previously motionless crowd quickly dispersed. Song Cheng waved cheerfully to the others, who returned his smiles before trickling away.
Han Congzhou handed Song Cheng’s phone back, watching him confidently click to send the photos. He paused, then asked, “Aren’t you worried Qin Wunian will get jealous?”
Song Cheng, looking down while typing and sending photos, replied casually, “You underestimate Teacher Qin. He never gets jealous.”
Han Congzhou raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
Song Cheng continued, “Getting jealous is childish. My Qin Wunian doesn’t do that. He goes straight into berserk mode.”
Looking up at Han Congzhou, he added, “Have you seen human evolution documentaries? Early humans, with underdeveloped brains, would display all kinds of primal behaviors when faced with competitors—jumping and screaming while holding stones, showing off chest and glute muscles to intimidate rivals. That… that’s what Teacher Qin would do.”
Han Congzhou: “…………”
He stood there blankly for a long moment. “I thought you liked him.”
Song Cheng glanced at him, puzzled. “I do like him a lot.”
Han Congzhou: “…”
After a long silence, he dropped the topic, walking alongside Song Cheng. “Now that you’ve toured the whole company, what do you think?”
Song Cheng praised enthusiastically, “Very impressive, with limitless potential.”
Han Congzhou smiled faintly. “Would you be interested in helping out here?”
Song Cheng was surprised. He paused. “What could I help with?”
Before Han Congzhou could answer, he rattled off: “I don’t remember much, even if I did, I’ve only studied law for a year, and I don’t even have my bachelor’s yet. I can’t manage a company, nor do I have professional skills. Maybe I could be a bodyguard here—but only if your employer doesn’t mind a paparazzo following me around.”
Han Congzhou was momentarily stunned by the long list, then after a few seconds, he realized, “Starting a business always begins at zero. When I started my company, even my father thought I couldn’t do it. Look at me now—just half a year, and I’m already profitable.”
Song Cheng: “……”
So you were operating at a loss before?
Han Congzhou, noticing Song Cheng’s indifferent expression, asked, “You’re not seriously thinking of going into showbiz, are you?”
This time, Song Cheng replied quickly: “No. Compared to shining on stage, I prefer watching the person I like shine, or working behind the scenes…”
At that moment, a faint thought crossed his mind, but before he could grasp it, Han Congzhou relaxed. “Good, I thought when you said you wanted a job, you meant becoming a celebrity. Sure, it pays well, but the exposure is extreme. Without a diamond-hard heart, it’s best not to touch it.”
Song Cheng picked up on a detail in Han Congzhou’s words. “I told you before that I wanted to find a job?”
Han Congzhou nodded. “You mentioned before that you’d stay at my place for a while, both to look for an apartment and a job. Since you just got back, finding a place isn’t easy, but work can be checked online. Interviews can even be done remotely—just a phone is enough.”
Sighing, he added regretfully, “I was planning to bring you to my company once you arrived. Being here would be better than anywhere else. I’m probably the most considerate boss you’ll ever have.”
Song Cheng smiled. “I believe that.”
But now, talking about it felt pointless. Back then, Han Congzhou thought he could win Song Cheng over because Song Cheng was alone, with nothing but his veteran benefits. Options were limited, making Han Congzhou the obvious solution. Now, Song Cheng had a boyfriend and didn’t need a self-supporting job urgently. He could take his time choosing.
Twenty minutes later, Qin Wunian’s video call came through—right after Song Cheng saw that photo. Song Cheng was sitting in the small cafeteria at Han Congzhou’s company. It wasn’t lunchtime, so he was alone. Han Congzhou had been called away for business matters.
Fixing his hair, Song Cheng answered, feeling in a good mood. On the screen, Qin Wunian’s expression appeared, dark as the bottom of a pot.
He paused briefly upon seeing Song Cheng, then his eyes swept to the background behind him.
No shirtless muscular men, no workout equipment—just two windows showing steaming hot dishes:
Large fried chicken, big duck legs, giant pork knuckles.
Braised pork, sweet-and-sour pork, stewed beef.
The kind of spread that would spike cholesterol at a glance.
Cholesterol spiked, yes, but adrenaline did not. Qin Wunian’s face should have looked better, yet it didn’t. And when he opened his mouth, he wanted to demand answers. Before he could speak, he glanced at Xiao Zhao behind his phone.
Xiao Zhao flailed his arms like a balloon figure at a festival, signaling him not to act impulsively.
Qin Wunian paused, then softened his tone as much as he could, though it still sounded like collecting a debt. “Are you eating?”
Unexpectedly, he didn’t ask about the photo. Song Cheng blinked. “Almost. The chefs are cooking. Han Congzhou went to handle some business. I’ll eat once he gets back.”
Qin Wunian scoffed. “Hungry? Eat. Wait for what?”
Song Cheng: “How about you? Finished your morning scenes? Can you rest?”
Running a hand through the hair at his forehead, revealing a rarely seen widow’s peak, Qin Wunian said irritably, “Not yet. One or two more hours to go.”
One or two hours later would be one o’clock. Song Cheng thought it was a bit late but, given it was work, didn’t push. He just reminded Qin Wunian, “Make sure you eat, no matter what.”
Sitting in his car, Qin Wunian looked at Song Cheng and gave a short “Hmm.”
“No slacking with me.”
Qin Wunian chuckled, then noticed the slight downturn at the corner of Song Cheng’s mouth. His smile vanished. He faced the screen and gave a proper, serious “Hmm” again.
Seeing him so obedient softened Song Cheng’s heart. Taking that photo had been a small act of mischief—both in retaliation for Qin Wunian’s teasing yesterday and for not being by his side.
People are funny. Even knowing Qin Wunian would be gone for a long time, even refusing to go with him, once he was really absent, eating, drinking, and sleeping without that warm presence beside him, Song Cheng couldn’t help but feel a twinge of resentment.
Of course, he wouldn’t voice it. Perhaps he wasn’t even fully aware he was feeling it. But instinctively, he played little tricks, like a child wanting to steal Qin Wunian’s attention, making him think of only Song Cheng even from afar.
Now, that tiny frustration was soothed. Childlike impulses retired; adult reason took over. Song Cheng spoke to Qin Wunian gently:
“The people here are all very kind. Most are retired soldiers, so they’re friendly toward me. We just talked a little, and then everyone went back to training. After I eat, I’ll head home. Should I continue your ten-minute check-in policy once I’m back?”
Qin Wunian’s irritation melted bit by bit under Song Cheng’s soft tone. He hesitated a few seconds before replying, “Alright, no need once you’re home. By the way, how are you getting back?”
He had arrived with another of Qin Wunian’s assistants, but once there, Song Cheng let the assistant leave. “Han Congzhou is giving me a ride.”
Qin Wunian: “……”
Another surge of anger tempted him, but looking at Song Cheng’s unblinking gaze on the screen, his fire cooled. He exhaled softly. “Fine, let him take you, but he isn’t allowed inside the house.”
Song Cheng: “That would be rude.”
Qin Wunian: “Then he can’t stay more than three minutes inside.”
Song Cheng: “Thirty minutes.”
Qin Wunian: “Five minutes.”
Song Cheng: “Twenty-nine.”
Qin Wunian: “Ten minutes!”
Song Cheng: “Twenty-eight.”
Qin Wunian: “……”
Silence fell. After a while, he said, “Fifteen minutes. And he’s not going upstairs.”
This felt like Qin Wunian’s final boundary. Song Cheng nodded, conceding. “Deal.”
Xiao Zhao: “……”
Though they sat in the car, unseen and unheard by anyone, Xiao Zhao still felt utterly mortified.
Truly, completely embarrassing.
In the afternoon, Han Congzhou drove Song Cheng home as promised.
Han Congzhou clearly had the skills of a seasoned driver, steering the car with the precision and authority of commanding an aircraft carrier. Even if Song Cheng didn’t feel anything beyond admiration for him, he couldn’t deny that a man who could handle a car like this was undeniably attractive.
At another red light, Song Cheng watched the countdown numbers and suddenly said, “I want to learn to drive.”
Han Congzhou, already knowing that Song Cheng couldn’t drive, chuckled. “You should have learned a long time ago. Want me to teach you?”
He added, half-promoting himself, “I could drive at twelve, though only on training grounds. My father taught me. By eighteen, I got my license on the first try. I’ve been driving for nine years since, every day, never stopped. I guarantee I’m more skilled than any instructor at a driving school.”
The light turned green, and Han Congzhou smoothly pressed the accelerator and continued forward effortlessly.
Song Cheng’s hands tensed and relaxed repeatedly. After almost three minutes, he made up his mind. Turning to Han Congzhou, he said, “Then I’ll rely on you. I’ll work hard to learn.”
Once he learned to drive, he wouldn’t need anyone to pick him up anymore. He wouldn’t have to report his whereabouts every time he went out, and he could go wherever he wanted.
He could even appear suddenly in front of Qin Wunian and give him a surprise.