Chapter Text
Sunday afternoons were supposed to be peaceful. A quiet date, a bit of window shopping, maybe an argument over who gets the last bite of cake — that was all Jiang Xiaoshuai had in mind.
Guo Chengyu was content with that too. After a week of back-to-back meetings, this was his reward: Xiaoshuai walking beside him, fingers brushing his sleeve every few steps, the faint scent of coffee and fabric softener clinging to him.
“Love, I said I’d carry that,” Chengyu said, nodding at the shopping bag dangling from Xiaoshuai’s hand.
“You already look like a walking department store,” Xiaoshuai countered, eyes crinkling. “Besides, this one’s light.”
Chengyu smiled — the kind of fond, helpless one that made Xiaoshuai roll his eyes and secretly blush. They passed by a café on the second floor, the glass wall giving a clear view of the atrium below. Chengyu stopped first.
“Wait. Isn’t that Chi Cheng?”
Xiaoshuai followed his gaze — and nearly dropped his drink. Down by the café entrance on the ground floor, Chi Cheng was sitting with someone they’d never seen before.
The stranger looked relaxed, his elbows propped on the table, a grin tugging at his mouth as he spoke animatedly. Chi Cheng… was smiling. Actually smiling.
“Is that him?” Xiaoshuai hissed, half-whisper, half-gasp.
“Pretty sure,” Chengyu murmured, leaning on the railing. “But… who’s the guy with him?”
They watched as the stranger leaned closer to show something on his phone. Chi Cheng didn’t pull back — he tilted slightly forward. Voluntarily.
“That’s not normal,” Xiaoshuai whispered, scandalized. “Chi Cheng doesn’t tilt toward anyone.”
Chengyu bit back a laugh. “He acts different than when he was with his exes. Back then he was all cold silence and half-hearted replies. But now…” he paused, squinting, “look at that — he’s actually listening. And smiling like a normal human being.”
Xiaoshuai gasped dramatically. “Do you think it’s a date?”
“Definitely.”
A beat of silence passed before Xiaoshuai’s lips curved with quiet mischief.
“We should sit somewhere closer.”
Chengyu turned, half-amused, half-wary. “You mean—”
“Observation,” Xiaoshuai said solemnly, eyes bright. “For research.”
Chengyu blinked. “Research?”
“Yes. Research materials. To pay him back for all those times he roasted us.” He sipped his coffee like a villain planning revenge. “I’m gathering evidence.”
Chengyu chuckled under his breath. “So… you want us to spy on him.”
“Not spy. Observe. Scientifically.”
“Right.” Chengyu sighed, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him. “Fine, but you’re buying me another coffee. Bribery fee.”
“Deal,” Xiaoshuai grinned.
Five minutes later, they found themselves seated at a corner table of the same café, pretending to look at the menu while occasionally peeking toward Chi Cheng and the mysterious man.
Chengyu stirred his iced coffee lazily. “You realize if he catches us, he’s never letting you live this down.”
“He won’t notice. I’m subtle.”
“You just stared at them for thirty seconds straight.”
“I’m analyzing expressions, love.”
Chengyu’s laugh slipped out before he could stop it. “God help us when Chi Cheng finds out.”
“Please,” Xiaoshuai said airily, “if he can tease, he can be teased.”
Chengyu shook his head, affection flooding through him. This, he thought — this was the kind of quiet chaos he loved: Xiaoshuai plotting “scientific observation missions” with a straw in his mouth and a glint of mischief in his eyes.
Down below, Chi Cheng was still smiling — the kind of smile that softened even the sharpest lines of his face. And for the first time, Chengyu wondered what kind of person could make him look that gentle.
“Operation Observation” — that’s what Xiaoshuai decided to call it. He even whispered it like it was a top-secret mission.
Guo Chengyu, ever the enabler, just nodded and pretended to take notes on his phone.
They’d picked the perfect table — near the railing with just enough distance from Chi Cheng’s spot downstairs. Xiaoshuai was half-hidden behind the café’s hanging plants, his coffee straw hovering dangerously close to his nose as he leaned forward to observe.
“Okay,” he murmured, “the unknown subject just laughed at something Chi Cheng said. That’s the fourth laugh in… eight minutes. He must be funny.”
“Or maybe Chi Cheng’s actually interesting when he’s not roasting you,” Chengyu replied, resting his chin on his palm.
Xiaoshuai narrowed his eyes. “Don’t take his side.”
“I’m just saying, you’re kind of obsessed with this now.”
“I’m collecting behavioral data.”
“Right,” Chengyu said dryly. “Because that’s completely normal date behavior.”
“Exactly.”
He wanted to argue, but Xiaoshuai’s serious little expression — brows furrowed, lips pursed, eyes sparkling with that mix of mischief and concentration — made Chengyu smile instead. He reached out under the table and brushed his thumb against Xiaoshuai’s knuckles.
“You’re adorable when you’re pretending to be logical.”
“I am logical,” Xiaoshuai whispered without looking at him, still staring at the scene below. “Oh my god, Chengyu — did you see that? He just— he’s pouring the other guy’s drink! Chi Cheng, the man who used to act allergic to basic politeness, is pouring tea.”
Chengyu followed his gaze and raised his brows. “You’re right. That’s new. He used to hand me the teapot like it was radioactive.”
“Exactly! What kind of magic does that man have?”
“Maybe patience,” Chengyu said softly, his tone dipping from playful to thoughtful. “Or maybe… he just met someone who makes him want to be kind.”
Xiaoshuai blinked, caught off guard by the gentleness in his voice. Chengyu smiled a little and added, “You do that to people too, you know.”
For a brief moment, the teasing faded. Xiaoshuai looked down at their intertwined hands, warmth creeping into his chest.
Then, as if remembering their “mission,” he straightened and whispered, “Focus, love. They might move.”
Chengyu huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yes, Commander.”
They went back to “observing.” Xiaoshuai scribbled mock-notes on a napkin with his pen:
Subject: Chi Cheng.
Mood: suspiciously happy.
Smiles: 6 (record high).
Touches sleeve twice. Possible affection indicator.
Chengyu glanced at it and nearly choked on his drink. “You’re hopeless.”
“I’m thorough.”
“Uh-huh. Just admit you want to know who the guy is.”
“…Maybe.”
As if summoned by their curiosity, the mystery man suddenly leaned back, laughing again — and then looked up. Straight toward their direction.
Chengyu froze mid-sip.
The stranger’s gaze flicked from them to Chi Cheng, who turned, followed his line of sight — and locked eyes with them across the atrium.
For a second, no one moved.
Chi Cheng’s expression shifted: confusion → realization → slow, deliberate smirk.
“Oh no,” Xiaoshuai whispered.
“Oh yes,” Chengyu murmured, voice strangled with laughter.
Chi Cheng lifted his cup — in a silent, knowing toast — and mouthed something neither of them could fully read, but the smug tilt of his lips said enough: caught you.
Xiaoshuai immediately ducked behind the menu. “Abort mission, abort mission!”
“It’s a bit late for that,” Chengyu said, still chuckling. “You’ve been made, love.”
Xiaoshuai groaned into his hands. “We’re dead. He’s going to tell everyone.”
“Relax,” Chengyu said, sliding his coffee toward him. “Drink this before your panic attracts more attention.”
“I was supposed to get revenge, not humiliation!”
Chengyu reached out, gently tugging the menu down. “Hey,” he said softly, amusement still curling his lips, “on the bright side… we learned something important today.”
“What?”
“That Chi Cheng’s love life is alive and thriving — and our spy skills are terrible.”
Xiaoshuai tried to glare, failed halfway, and broke into laughter. Chengyu’s own chuckle followed, low and warm. For a while, they just sat there, laughter spilling between sips of coffee and the sound of the mall below.
Chi Cheng and his companion eventually left the café — and when they passed by, Chi Cheng glanced up again, giving a small, smug wave.
Xiaoshuai waved back weakly. “I hate him.”
“No, you don’t,” Chengyu said, brushing his thumb along Xiaoshuai’s wrist again. “You just hate getting caught.”