As the days passed, I got the hang of everything at YiFan Group and gradually boosted Hanhan’s affinity.
But I didn’t see the cub for several days the game said he was “on a business trip,” and the white rose bouquet vanished too.
Without Hanhan around, I felt a weird sense of loss. No other game had ever made me care this much.
Before he even returned, a special event dropped: a Valentine’s Day exclusive skin “Corporate Enforcer.”
The new gacha banner taunted me, reminding me Valentine’s was still weeks away.
The developer clearly wanted to torment us singles an exclusive skin, waving its price tag at me.
I swore up and down I wouldn’t spend more.
But then, I saw the skin.
The card art showed the grown-up Hanhan: icy, handsome, perfectly tailored suit, shining cufflinks. His shirt slightly unbuttoned, collarbones on display. In his hand, a heavy bat. A vivid streak of red across his face created a wild, magnetic energy no anime art ever captured this vibe.
I thought of Xu Yingqi’s beautiful, cold face and couldn’t help but imagine them as one.
Nope, that skin was mine now. Not even divine intervention could stop me.
Too bad Xu Yingqi had been out on business too at least if he were around, I could feast my eyes.
I’d been drawing from the skin banner for days, and still hadn’t pulled the exclusive skin card. It was honestly kind of frustrating, but what surprised me even more was how outrageously non-greedy this game was about money. After all those draws, I still hadn’t spent as much as I did on that bouquet of white roses.
Before I could try my luck again, HR messaged me to report to the boss’s office. Dread crept up my spine had my stealthy cub-raising habit at work finally been discovered?
But when I stepped inside, Xu Yingqi didn’t say much. He just looked me up and down with those frosty eyes and suddenly said, “Your name is Lin Qian, right? Good name.”
I was totally confused but murmured a careful “yes.” To my bigger shock, Xu Yingqi made me his personal secretary, with a direct line to him alone, plus a pay raise. I floated out of his office on a cloud of confusion. Why did he suddenly do this? Did he once have some lost love named Lin Qian?
Any initial excitement faded fast. Xu Yingqi turned out to have pickier quirks than even my virtual cub he was impossible to please and now I had to put in overtime with him every day, barely leaving me with any free time to dote on my game pet.
After another exhausting evening, I finally made it home and logged into the game. To my surprise, Hanhan, my chibi cub, had also returned "from a business trip," and he even seemed to be in a good mood. The “Mood Diary” had just updated:
“I don’t know why, but there’s something about a certain name that puts me in a good mood.”
“And the person with that name suddenly seems a lot less dumb.”
I read it several times, and a ridiculous realization hit me: Had my cub started falling for someone else in-game? I’d always thought this was a solo experience, but was there a multiplayer function? What if this adorable cub was out here charming some other player’s character?
But there was no time for overthinking thanks to Xu Yingqi’s competitive work ethic, time zipped by until suddenly, Valentine’s Day was upon me.
Miraculously, Xu’s “conscience” kicked in and he let me go early for once. I still couldn't feel happy, though the event skin was slipping away, and all my pulls had come up empty.
As I was spiraling, he messaged me unexpectedly:
“Three times the overtime pay, and I'll provide the dress. Join me at a gala?”
“Roger that, boss. I’m on my way," I shot back instantly. Anxiety over lost skins softened at the prospect of a fatter payday.
But when I showed up in the elegant gown he’d sent, Xu himself was nowhere to be seen. I shivered in the street for nearly two hours, tried calling him but got no answer, and watched the party empty out. Even though he could be pretty harsh and sharp-tongued, I started worrying about his absence.
Walking home resigned, I spotted him emerging from a side alley. His expensive suit was rumpled, his shirt half-unbuttoned, and a streak of blood marred his porcelain cheek a face-off, clearly.
He looked surprised to see me still there, waiting in the cold. Maybe out of some flicker of guilt, he let me into his car and started driving. I was too hesitant to say anything, but before long, we were forced to a stop by a flashy red sports car. Three tough guys stepped out, clearly looking for Xu.
Xu, to my amazement, didn’t even flinch he calmly reached under the seat, pulled out a hefty baseball bat, and told me, “Lock the doors. Stay inside. I’ll be right back.” He stepped out into the chilly night, and from inside the car I watched him my delicate, ice-cold boss absolutely mop the floor with all three of them. When it was over, he came back, called the cops.
At the station, as he gave his statement, I just sat there in shock. He drove me home in silence, eyes unreadable, but I could feel the pain lurking beneath that controlled surface.
“Xu Yingqi, who are you really?” For the first time, I had no idea.
I drifted into my apartment close to midnight and suddenly remembered I still hadn’t tried my last pull for the skin. Not expecting much, I drew from the banner and got the “Corporate Enforcer” skin on my very first try. A dazzling animation bloomed across the screen, and then there he was: blood-streaked, beautiful, and eerily hauntingly his face started to blur and overlay with my boss’s.
I shook myself, chills running down my spine.
Hanhan, my cub, was now sitting on the virtual bed, dressed up in the new skin tiny cheeks flushed, several little cuts on his face, quietly patching himself up. When he slipped off his jacket, I saw even more bruises along his arms and torso.
I grumbled at the developers did they really have to make this “skin synergy” so intense? Even on Valentine’s Day.
Days passed without a word from Hanhan, in-game, stopped "going to work," simply curling up at home and moping. The interface indicated he was sick with a fever, in need of rest and care. The game store, of course, didn’t stock any cold medicine. I was helpless, just watching, wishing I could do more.
Then, late one night, Xu Yingqi sent me a single message:
“Dr. Xue, could you bring me some fever medicine?”
Maybe it was a slip, because he quickly deleted the text.
I hesitated, then pulled on a coat and called a car for Xu's apartment. As his assistant, I knew the address but had never been inside. After all he’d done to help me, I couldn’t just ignore it.
On the way, I glanced at the game Hanhan sweating through digital sheets. Absurd suspicion gnawed at me again: were Xu and Hanhan somehow more connected than seemed possible?
I shook it off and rang the bell, nerves jangling. To my surprise, a supremely gorgeous woman opened the door, raising an eyebrow at me in a way that made me instantly self-conscious.
“Hi, um… I’m here to deliver some medicine to Mr. Xu,” I stammered.
She smirked, stroking her chin: “Funny, how did you know Xu Yingqi had a fever? Kind of risky for a young lady to drop by so late, don’t you think?”
Blushing, I babbled through an awkward explanation who knew if she believed me? I tried to leave after handing over the medicine, but she only signaled me farther in. “Naturally, you should deliver it to him yourself. Not every little beauty gets close to him, you know.”
Flustered, I trailed after her to Xu’s bedside, and before I knew it, the bedroom door clicked shut behind me. I looked up and locked eyes with Xu’s clear, sharp gaze.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice low.
“Bringing you medicine. You’re still my boss we need you alive so I can keep getting paychecks,” I joked, trying to break the tension.
I left the bottle on his nightstand. Normally I never would’ve talked to him this way, but something about these past few days made me want to check in, to care. Maybe it was the accidental vulnerability he showed, or maybe I’d just spent too long raising a virtual little guy to be immune to sad, beautiful people.
Xu didn’t say much, but I had a feeling he appreciated it though he’d never say it out loud. I started to make my exit, only for the mysterious woman to block my path.
In the next few minutes, everything turned surreal: she revealed herself as Dr. Xue the infamous “Xu’s doctor.” Fiercely beautiful, with a clinical sharpness. Suddenly she warned, “You’d better keep your distance from him.”
For a second, I imagined some melodramatic soap opera triangle did Dr. Xue like Xu too? Was that why there was an edge to her tone? Before I could respond, she followed with something that sent chills down my spine:
“You know, the mentally ill aren’t held criminally responsible if they hurt someone.”
I was frozen, alarmed by the sudden pivot from romance to thriller.
She winked, breaking into a sly smile. “Relax, I'm just messing with you. It’s not that bad.” Then, more serious, she explained: due to his childhood, Xu suffered from serious psychological issues and an obsessive need to control what he cared about. But recently, for reasons she couldn’t explain, his condition had actually improved. At least, she said, he didn’t lose control over outside triggers anymore.
Before I could process this, she pressed a key into my palm. “Xu Yingqi is intensely distrustful so if he actually made you his assistant, that means you’re special to him. He has no close friends, and is damn hard to deal with, so please take care of him for me. I’m swamped. Good luck, pretty. Xu’s in your hands now.” Just like that, she sashayed out, not even pausing to remember she’d just threatened and deputized me in the span of three minutes.
Didn’t expect to go from impromptu nurse to live-in caretaker, but Xu seemed unfazed accepted it, even. And thus began my new job: professional gopher.
First task? Water his flowers.
In his bedroom, I froze there was a pot of white roses on his nightstand, marked with the same unique logo as in my game. For a minute, I questioned everything I thought I knew about reality.
From that day on, I found myself sneaking around, suspicious of every sign. The more time I spent around Xu, the more I saw him in Hanhan. Every little quirk the food, the moods mirrored what I'd seen on my screen.
One evening, zoning out while cooking, Xu rapped on his plate. “You’re distracted again. The eggs have crispy edges.”
Of course some things never change.
Frustrated, I shot back, “Nothing, just realizing my precious cabbage has been snatched up by a pig.”
Xu blinked, baffled. After a long pause, he handed me Dr. Xue’s private contact, as if offering therapy.
Gee, thanks, boss. Pretty sure my mental state’s just fine.
Chapter 03
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