Qin Zhiyan shot a sharp glance at Cong Qiao, who gulped before replying,
"President Qin, I truly didn't hear anything..."
"Never mind. It must be fatigue."
Zhiyan rubbed his temples.
"Just auditory hallucinations."
[Don’t see me, don’t see me...]
From across the room, Tang Keyi’s gaze kept flickering toward Zhiyan,
his internal monologue a frantic prayer.
Han Qiuqiu patted his shoulder reassuringly.
"Relax, Keyi. Qin Zhiyan’s seated with my grandpa’s table. There are hundreds of guests—he won’t even notice you."
"But we’re at the next table! He’s like 6’3"—if he decides to throw hands, I’m dead!"
"You’re overthinking this. If he cared, he’d have come after you a year ago."
Keyi considered this.
True—Zhiyan was famously married to his work.
Zero romantic scandals.
Why would he care about some random wastrel’s drunken declaration?
"Stay here. I see that bastard Qin Yulin trying to pick up guys at my grandpa’s banquet!"
Qiuqiu rolled up his sleeves, but Keyi yanked him back.
"You broke up! Why do you care? Don’t abandon me!"
"There’s a time and place! Today’s my grandpa’s birthday!"
Spotting Yulin surrounded by pretty boys,
Qiuqiu shook Keyi off and stormed over.
"Han Qiuqiu!"
Keyi hissed, not daring to draw attention.
"Traitor! Some friend you are!"
"Honored guests, please proceed to the dining hall for the banquet!"
Elder Han favored tradition, so the feast was arranged in round tables for communal warmth.
Keyi waited until Zhiyan was seated before sneaking in.
As expected, Zhiyan occupied the seat of honor beside the birthday patriarch.
Keyi tiptoed toward his table—only for an arm to sling over his shoulders, startling him.
"Qiuqiu, are you trying to—"
He turned and froze.
Oh god.
Another Qin.
Qin Yulin smirked.
"If it isn’t the Tang heir who vowed to marry our Zhiyan. Hiding in the shadows? Scared?"
Keyi’s pride flared.
"Me? Scared? Don’t make me laugh!"
Qiuqiu dragged Keyi away.
"Ignore this flirtatious butterfly."
"Still jealous, Qiuqiu?"
Yulin winked.
"Miss me?"
With a scoff, Qiuqiu hauled Keyi to their table—where only three seats remained.
Keyi’s stomach dropped.
One seat faced away from the head table. The other two had direct eye contact with Zhiyan.
He lunged for the safe seat—but Yulin, grinning, stole it first.
"Waiting for an invitation, Young Master Tang?"
Qiuqiu shot Keyi a sympathetic look and took another seat.
Trapped, Keyi sat stiffly, chanting internally:
[Don’t see me, don’t see me, please don’t see me...]
The whisper resurfaced in Zhiyan’s ears, now with a tune.
His gaze snapped up—and locked onto a pair of wide, deer-like eyes.
The mental chant shattered into panic:
[OH SHIT HE SAW ME!]
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