“I’m here to confirm the contract,” Yan Chuan said, lowering his head and staring at the polished floor. “Someone just asked me to come to this office.”
He simply stated his purpose.
That “someone” undoubtedly referred to Qi Yan’s assistant.
It was inexplicable how he was brought into this office, with the assurance that someone was waiting for him inside, but without revealing who.
It must be Qi Yan’s intention.
Or perhaps his agent sent him here, under the guise of confirming the contract, all at Qi Yan’s behest.
In any case, it definitely had something to do with the man before him.
Upon entering, he noticed this man playing with his own thin socks, which felt a bit deliberate to Yan Chuan.
He felt as though this display was meant for his eyes.
Thinking this way, Yan Chuan realized how strange Qi Yan seemed.
What kind of person would like someone else’s worn socks, and also touch them in front of their owner?
Was it such a severe exhibitionist tendency?
As Yan Chuan considered this, he couldn’t help but feel a bit unhappy.
His expression remained calm, but his lips were pressed together, his small face tense. He averted his gaze to the floor, occasionally glancing at the thin socks stuffed in Qi Yan’s pocket, clearly showing signs of discontent.
He ignored the man in front of him, devoid of any surprise upon entering.
Clearly, he was angry, with an undeniable hint of flustered annoyance.
“I know,” Qi Yan replied, his expression unchanged as he approached the sulking beauty. “We were just discussing you in the meeting. Your agent mentioned changes to the contract.”
As he stood up, Qi Yan’s tall, broad-shouldered frame became more prominent, exuding a sense of strength. Even his arms, tightly wrapped in fabric, appeared robust.
When he stood before Yan Chuan, it felt almost like facing a wall.
Of course, that wall was merely a figment of Yan Chuan’s imagination.
“What meeting?” Yan Chuan asked, still unclear. Did they need to dedicate an entire meeting just to alter the contract terms?
Were they discussing how he, as a cross-dressing anchor, attracted fans to his livestream?
Qi Yan explained, “It’s a discussion about the commercial value of anchors and future developments.”
Yan Chuan responded with a dry “oh.”
Qi Yan moved closer, the distance shrinking beyond what felt acceptable. Yan Chuan instinctively stepped back, his tone a bit more aggressive. “What are you doing?”
Qi Yan immediately halted, spreading his hands to indicate he meant no harm.
He smiled faintly, a hint of helplessness in his expression. “I just wanted to pour you a glass of water. You can sit down and talk with me.”
Yan Chuan shook his head emphatically. “I don’t want any. You can sit back down.”
From his experience with the previous script, he knew he shouldn’t accept water offered by another man.
Although in the “Apartment No. 13” script, Tang Zhen was a contestant and hadn’t drugged the water, Yan Chuan only found out later that the other player had used a card that fell from an escape variety show. Still, caution was key.
This script was a solo adventure; there couldn’t be another contestant, and Qi Yan was merely an NPC.
But NPCs… could still vary between being perverted and non-perverted.
Yan Chuan suspected Qi Yan belonged to the latter category, so he couldn’t let his guard down.
Hearing Yan Chuan refuse the water, Qi Yan gave up on the idea.
However, he didn’t sit back down. Instead, he maintained a distance that made Yan Chuan feel safe while explaining from afar.
“Your agent said you were here to wait for the contract signing,” he spoke in a deep tone, oddly pleasant to hear. “So I wanted to meet you.”
Qi Yan spoke unhurriedly, his serious gaze fixed on Yan Chuan, exuding a sense of genuine focus.
“If it weren’t for the contract signing,” he added with a kinder tone and a slight self-deprecating smile, “I wouldn’t even know how to approach you. I always feel asking for a meeting is too forward.”
Yan Chuan pondered… Did Qi Yan know he was just a small streamer?
No, he then remembered they were in Qi Yan’s office, so it was natural for someone in charge of a livestream platform to be aware of him.
However, Yan Chuan still had no idea who Qi Yan really was and struggled with how to propose a meeting.
He unconsciously bit his lower lip.
What Qi Yan said aligned quite well with his earlier thoughts.
He had professed affection, claiming it was love at first sight, yet he feared appearing forward.
Yan Chuan suddenly felt uncertain… but his hesitation didn’t delay Qi Yan’s interest in his socks.
Yet, Yan Chuan kept these thoughts to himself.
In the script, he was still a small streamer, pitifully subject to the platform’s decisions regarding his contract. And since Qi Yan was some sort of official in charge of the platform, he had all his documents at a standstill.
Considering how to survive in this script before completing the task, Yan Chuan didn’t dare ask, “Then why did you take my used socks?”
It was likely a pointless question anyway.
“What do you want to meet me for?” Yan Chuan posed another question, driven by curiosity.
He wanted to meet Qi Yan due to the script tasks compelling his top fan to continue showering him with gifts. But why did Qi Yan want to see him?
Surely it couldn’t just be for small talk or to reiterate whether he was liked or not?
“I just wanted to see you,” Qi Yan smiled, his voice smooth like a love confession. “I wanted to see for myself what ‘Sweetheart’ looks like.”
His voice resonated in the empty office, causing Yan Chuan to instinctively retreat a step.
Sweetheart… It took him a moment to realize that Qi Yan was referring to his username in the livestream.
Yan Chuan hadn’t changed his original name and still went by “Little Bunny Sweetheart.”
Initially, it didn’t seem like a big deal, but now hearing Qi Yan call him “Sweetheart,” it felt somewhat inappropriate.
But calling him “Little Bunny” also felt strange.
However, Qi Yan appeared completely unfazed, finding nothing odd about it.
His gaze lingered on the pretty small anchor, examining him from top to bottom with an attentive yet comfortable demeanor.
Yan Chuan was slender and petite, his waist small enough to be held by a single hand. He wore a white dress—pure and flawless—revealing his snowy calves and charming ankles.