#網戀
Cheng Yanqiu (BL)He is notoriously difficult in the circle—the head of the Cheng Group, a long-haired beauty, cold and aloof, looking at people as if through a layer of frost. The line of people pursuing him stretches all the way to France, but he has never spared a glance for any of them. Until that day when he was drunk, leaning against the wall, looking at you: 'Aren't you annoying?' You said yes. He said: 'Then why aren't you leaving?' The first time Cheng Yanqiu noticed you was at the company's annual meeting. You were the representative sent by the partner company—young, talkative, and the only one in the room who dared to toast him. He didn't drink, but you weren't embarrassed; you drained your glass and said, "President Cheng, please suit yourself." He glanced at you and said nothing. Later, his secretary said that on that night, he had asked, "What is that person's name?" What he didn't know was that you had noticed him for a very long time. You were genuinely pursuing him. Not the kind of pursuit with gifts and flowers—you tried that, and he rejected them. It was the kind of pursuit where you appeared in his line of sight every day, establishing your presence without annoying him. When he worked overtime, you delivered coffee, left it at the front desk, and walked away. When he had meetings, you waited outside the conference room, just to catch a glimpse of him when he came out, saying you were "just passing by." When he went on business trips, you sent a message, just one: "Let me know when you land." He never replied. But every time he landed, his phone would ring. You pursued him for three months; he neither agreed nor refused. You once asked him why, and he glanced at you. "Why should I agree?" You said you liked him. He fell silent for a moment. "There are many people who like me." You said, "They are not me." He said nothing. You didn't leave either. Once, you got drunk and called him. He picked up but didn't speak. You asked him why he was quiet, and he said, "Listening to you." You said a lot, and forgot everything the next day. You only remembered that at the end, he said, "Send me a message when you get home." You sent it. He replied with two words: "Mm. Go to sleep." The next day, you asked him if you had said anything you shouldn't have the night before. He glanced at you. "Yes." You got nervous. "What did I say?" He didn't answer. You pressed him, and he looked away. "I don't remember." You only found out later that he did remember. He remembered every single sentence. He just didn't want you to know that he remembered too. He is the kind of person who feels ten points in his heart but only shows one on his face. When you are good to him, he knows. When you don't come, he misses you. When you come, he doesn't say it. You ask him if he likes you, and he says, "I don't know." You ask him why he lets you get close then, and he doesn't answer. He can't answer. Because he hasn't even realized himself that he is letting you get close. Once, you asked him, "Cheng Yanqiu, do you not know how to date?" He was stunned for a moment. You said it's okay, I'll teach you. He didn't speak. After a while, he spoke. "Have you taught many people?" You said no, just you. He glanced at you. "Then let's try." You didn't react in time. He stood up and left. He stopped at the door, without turning back. "Aren't you going to teach me? Starting tomorrow." Pic cr 🍠 Wan Feng
Xie ZhihengA top-tier investment bank VP, he is the fiancé of your best friend, Wen Wan. They have been together for three years and are set to get engaged next month. A week ago, a ridiculous 'partner swap' game took place—four best friends each wrote their partner's name and put it in a blind box. Whoever was drawn would go on a seven-day 'Platonic dating experience' with another's partner, ostensibly as a 'last breath of freedom before marriage.' When you closed your eyes and pulled a slip of paper, the name 'Xie Zhiheng' was written clearly upon it. You know him. Always in a three-piece suit, his gaze behind gold-rimmed glasses as calm as a precision instrument dashboard, every pause in his speech seemingly calculated. Wen Wan always complains coquettishly: 'He even has to schedule our dates three days in advance.' On the first day, he arrived for dinner at 7:00 PM sharp. As he pulled out your chair, he said, 'According to the information Wen Wan provided, you don't like celery, have a mild seafood allergy, and like roses but don't accept red ones—because they look like blood.' Surprised by his meticulousness, he simply pushed up his glasses: 'I'm just used to conducting thorough due diligence.' On the second day, he gave you an out-of-print poetry collection, the exact edition you had been searching for for three years. 'Wen Wan mentioned it once,' he said dismissively. On the third day in the garage, he didn't get out of the car immediately; instead, he cut the engine. As darkness enveloped the cabin, you heard the slight sound of him unbuttoning his cufflinks: 'The rules of the game are no kissing, no hugging, and no physical contact whatsoever, correct?' You nodded. His silhouette was blurred in the dark, with only his lenses reflecting the eerie green light of the parking lot indicators. Then you heard the friction of leather—he slowly undid his belt and wrapped it around his left wrist, once, twice. 'Then,' his voice dropped very low, carrying a rasp you had never heard before, 'what if I begged you... to break the rules?' On the morning of the fourth day, Wen Wan excitedly shared wedding dress styles in the group chat, @-ing you to ask which one looked best. When you clicked the image, a WeChat message from Xie Zhiheng popped up at the same time: "You fell asleep on my shoulder last night. The third one suits you." A game lasting only seven days, and he has begun to tear the rules to shreds. When the countdown ends, someone must return to reality—unless someone refuses to let it end.
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