Qi Xi’s head grew hot, her hands and feet went weak.

Though Qi Xi knew that when Gu Yan said this, he was probably speaking more from Gu Xuehan’s perspective — not wanting a promising new hire to leave — or perhaps from his own perspective as well, since he and Qi Xi really did work together seamlessly, and if a new team member came in, he’d inevitably have to break them in all over again, which wasn’t very efficient or cost-effective in comparison.

But when he told her not to leave, Qi Xi, hopelessly, still felt her heart flutter. Then came regret, sadness, and hesitation.

After Gu Yan left, as Qi Xi opened the bag of medicine he’d brought to sort it out, that sadness and hesitation only grew stronger.

On every single box, there was a note from Gu Yan — he’d bought sticky notes and, in clear, simple handwriting, written down the symptoms each medicine treated, its effects, and the dosage instructions and frequency.

His handwriting was quite beautiful, cold and sharp in its strokes, and yet written with obvious care, not the least bit sloppy, so much so that Qi Xi could practically picture him writing each stroke with such seriousness.

Gu Yan had brought nearly sixteen different kinds of medicine, and had written sixteen separate notes to match. Added up, the total word count could probably rival a simple legal complaint. Handwriting all of that truly must have taken a great deal of time, and it clearly showed just how seriously the person writing it had taken the task — there was no way this could have been the casual, incidental gesture Gu Yan had claimed it was.

Being cared for and thought of like this was, of course, a good thing. But Qi Xi wished this kind of care and attention would simply stop.

Gu Yan’s kindness, the gentleness woven into his very bones, was probably something he extended equally to everyone, and to keep people from feeling burdened by it, he’d probably lie and claim it was nothing, just something convenient he’d happened to do along the way. But Qi Xi was perhaps the weakest of everyone when it came to this — she always found herself unable to stop herself from sinking into it.

She slept poorly, and the next day went to work with a heavy heart, still torn over whether to resign once she got her bar license. It was then that the head of the administrative department came into the main office to make an announcement—

“This year, our firm’s revenue has hit another new high. To boost morale, this afternoon during lunch break, we’ll be holding a golden egg smashing event — with a hundred percent win rate. Consider it a benefit we’re giving to everyone at the firm, and it won’t waste anyone’s time either — no need to force people out for team-building trips, which fits perfectly with our firm’s principles. This event will be organized by team, with one representative from each team smashing an egg!”

Qi Xi blinked, then turned, a little dazed, to look at Gu Yan.

Gu Yan wore an expression that all but said “I told you so,” perfectly calm and composed, showing an uncharacteristic eagerness to participate in this kind of activity. “I’ll go smash it for our team in a bit.”

Having said that, he added, “It’s a hundred percent win rate anyway.” The man cleared his throat. “And besides, I’ve always had good luck.”

As if to prove his own good fortune, Gu Yan proceeded to list off every prize he’d ever won, from kindergarten all the way through college.

Qi Xi knew some people had an extraordinary passion for these kinds of drawings, since they offered a thrill of excitement and anticipation. She didn’t have any particular attachment to lucky draws herself, and since Gu Yan seemed so eager to go, she went along with the plan of having him represent the team.

Though the sudden appearance of these new benefits made it even harder for Qi Xi to bring up switching firms, she was still looking forward to the drawing itself.

“According to admin, the prizes this time are pretty generous — Apple and Huawei laptop-and-phone bundles, four-piece bedding sets, four-piece appliance sets, mostly practical stuff, and none of it cheap either.” Qi Xi looked at Gu Yan and clasped her hands together. “Your luck’s so good, win me a laptop!”

**

Only…

People have regrets precisely because their wishes so often go unfulfilled.

Watching what Gu Yan actually won — a couples’ movie-viewing package and a couples’ dining package — Qi Xi felt that while reality and expectation always fell somewhat short of each other, this was really taking it too far.

Especially when every lawyer around them from other teams had walked away with laptop bundles, speaker sets, VR sets…

Qi Xi stared at what Gu Yan had won, utterly dumbfounded. “Gu Yan, are you serious right now? You were even the first one to smash your egg, with all those prizes to choose from, and somehow you managed to land on the single worst one? Everyone else got all kinds of bundles, and somehow the entire firm’s worst prize — some couples’ movie-and-dining package — ends up with you? What kind of luck is that?”

According to what admin explained, though this was framed as a benefits-related drawing, it was still meant to carry a bit of team-building spirit, so whatever prize bundle you won would be split among the team. Things like laptops or phone bundles — one per person — were easy enough to divide, but when it came to Qi Xi and Gu Yan’s couples’ movie-and-dining package, well…

Gu Yan, though, seemed to have low expectations, because despite clearly winning what was arguably the worst prize in the whole firm, the man showed no envy whatsoever toward the colleagues who’d won iPhones and MacBooks. Though his expression stayed mostly neutral, Qi Xi’s sixth sense told her he was actually rather pleased about it.

Maybe he just had a good attitude and figured participation was what mattered? At least it was still a prize, after all.

And looking closer, Qi Xi noticed the couples’ movie package included a private viewing room, and the couples’ dinner was at a Michelin-starred restaurant. If you converted it to cash value, what Gu Yan had won wasn’t actually all that embarrassing.

Qi Xi’s mind worked quickly. “I saw this restaurant runs about a thousand per person — just give me five hundred for that, and I’ll count the movie tickets as a gift to you.” She tried her best to give Gu Yan a carefree smile. “That way you won’t be tied down to me, and you can go invite whoever you actually want to, for dinner and a movie.”

She shrugged, unbothered. “I’d rather just curl up at home anyway. Give me five hundred and I’ll consider that my prize too.”

Perhaps because he’d heard the words “give me money,” Gu Yan’s expression darkened slightly. “Why would I give you money?”

“Or I could pay you instead — give me five hundred, and you keep the movie tickets and the dining voucher.”

Unfortunately, Gu Yan rejected Qi Xi’s proposal almost instantly. “No.”

The man looked at her, explaining with perfect composure, “The redemption terms for this benefit require both team members to attend together. Jingge might not drag its lawyers out to some suburb for team-building, but the firm still hopes team members will interact more in person, to build up some team cohesion.”

Qi Xi’s eyes widened. “There’s a stipulation like that attached to it?”

“Mm.” Gu Yan nodded, clearing his throat. “Though I also think it’s a bit rigid, you know how it is — the final interpretation of these benefit redemption terms always rests with the firm.”

Qi Xi felt her vision go dark for a moment. “So you can’t just go to dinner and the movie alone? Or bring someone else instead?”

“Mm.”

Qi Xi felt a mixture of irritation, unease, and panic well up inside her. She’d been trying so hard to avoid being alone with Gu Yan outside of work, and now this benefit had put her in an impossible position.

She tried to talk him out of it. “Well, wool comes from the sheep’s own back — this money ultimately comes from the partners, including your sister. Why don’t we just skip it and focus on work instead, and effectively save your sister some money that way…”

“But I want to go.” Gu Yan pressed his lips together and looked away, clearly finding it hard to admit he actually wanted to eat somewhere nice. His voice sounded a bit unnatural, but in the end, his desire to go apparently outweighed his pride, and he admitted, with a resolute tone, “I want to try that restaurant.”

He looked at Qi Xi and added, “It’s team-building anyway. We really haven’t gotten together much recently.”

With him putting it that way, Qi Xi no longer had any grounds to refuse.

Right, she thought. Gu Yan had a point — it was team-building after all. She just had to keep her head clear and treat it like an ordinary outing with a coworker.

**

Only, plenty of things are easier said than done.

By the time Qi Xi sat down in the couples’ private viewing room, taking in the deliberately suggestive decor all around her, the faint, ambient mood lighting, and the so-called “couples’ viewing sofa” that was practically the size of a king bed, her regret had reached its absolute peak.

She thought about how, in the future, Gu Yan would go to movies and dinners and outings like this with his girlfriend, how all his future free time would belong entirely to her, and Qi Xi’s mood couldn’t help but sour completely.

She felt like a commoner who’d wandered into a royal palace — work had given her plenty of legitimate reasons to be around Gu Yan, and she’d never felt out of place in such luxurious surroundings before, but now, with her motives no longer so pure, walking into a palace like this made her feel like she had ulterior motives written all over her.

Perhaps because he’d won a free prize, Gu Yan seemed to be in a genuinely good mood, but Qi Xi’s thoughts inside were a chaotic mess. She had to work incredibly hard just to appear effortlessly natural in front of him.

Fortunately, the room’s decor soon distracted her. She glanced at the sofa and frowned slightly.

Once the movie actually started, this sofa was going to make it feel exactly like lying in bed with Gu Yan.

Clearly the cinema had gone to great lengths to cater to couples, but Qi Xi decided she wouldn’t be coming back next time.

“I heard there’s a documentary and a war film playing recently that are supposed to be pretty good!” Qi Xi decided to ignore the whole open-a-hotel-room-for-couples vibe of the place and started picking a film. The more suggestive the atmosphere, the more determined she was to pick something wholesome and upstanding — flood the place with righteous energy to suppress whatever wicked, ambiguous vibes lingered.

But after searching for a good while, she couldn’t find a single war film or documentary. The couples’ room’s film selection wasn’t romance either, and wasn’t even any of the recently trending films — just titles Qi Xi couldn’t even place, had never even heard of—

“Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, The Little Mushroom-Picking Girl, The Fox Who Lives Across the Way?” Qi Xi read down the list, frowning in confusion. “What even is this? Children’s films?”

Gu Yan looked equally baffled, but since they’d already come this far, the two of them eventually settled on The Fox Who Lives Across the Way from the pile of oddly named films.

“Sounds like some kind of fantasy story. Might have a bit of a heartwarming vibe to it.”

With that, Qi Xi hit play, then turned to Gu Yan. “When I came in, the staff at the front told me this is a 4D viewing room — said the effects are really something, really immersive, makes you feel like you’re right there in it. But they also said once you get into the mood, the atmosphere gets pretty intense, so they told us to keep our emotions in check.”

As she spoke, Qi Xi glanced around at the decor. “I mean, sure, it’s a newly opened couples’ viewing room, but it’s not like it’s some over-the-top marvel. The decor’s not exactly luxurious. Even with 4D, I’ve seen plenty in my time — it’s not like this place is going to get me so immersed I can’t control myself, right?”

The price tag on this couples’ viewing package wasn’t cheap at all, but Qi Xi found herself thoroughly disappointed once she got there, because it fell far short of her expectations. The decor wasn’t high-end or classy in the least — if anything, it had the vaguely suggestive feel of a cheap love motel where couples went to rent a room by the hour. There were even what looked like cosplay costumes from period dramas hanging on a rack, presumably meant to imitate the currently trendy murder-mystery role-play games, to give moviegoing couples some kind of “immersive experience”?

Given the environment, it was clear Gu Yan was also somewhat surprised and disappointed. He’d probably expected something classier too, and after walking around the small private room a couple of times, he still hadn’t found anything remotely special about the place. Though his expression stayed mostly flat, Qi Xi could sense he wasn’t particularly pleased about it.

“We paid this much money, and this is the setup we get?” The man finally couldn’t hold back. Once Qi Xi looked up at him, he cleared his throat, looking as though he felt genuinely wronged on behalf of the administrative department. “I mean, admin spent this much on procurement — doesn’t feel like it was worth the money.”

Since the funding for this benefits event ultimately came from the partners, and Gu Yan’s sister was one of the backers footing the bill, the man, as her younger brother, apparently felt a bit pained about the expense — his displeasure written all over his face, as if the money had come straight out of his own pocket.

But since they’d already come this far, Qi Xi took the opportunity, while the opening credits played, to open the mini fridge beside the sofa bed. The staff had said before they came in that all the food and drinks in the room were included.

Only, when she opened it eagerly, hoping to grab a can of Coke or Sprite, she came up empty.

Inside the mini fridge, there was nothing but alcohol — and not even the canned beer kind, but some unidentified drink in an ambiguous shade of pink.

Qi Xi glanced at the price tag on the bottle — quite expensive, actually — and immediately grabbed the bottle opener to crack it open.

Gu Yan blinked. “You’re going to drink?”

Qi Xi nodded. “Of course! They said earlier that everything to eat and drink in this room is included in the ticket price. But this room’s so ordinary, and the film playing isn’t even a recent release, some random Fox Who Lives Across the Way, who even knows what that is! Is this really all that’s worth the price we paid? At the very least, we owe it to Attorney Gu’s investment and good intentions to make sure we eat and drink everything in this room that we possibly can!”

With that, Qi Xi poured herself a glass and started drinking right away. Surprisingly, the drink was quite good — sweet, like some kind of fruit wine. Qi Xi had been a little thirsty to begin with, and couldn’t help having a couple more glasses, even warmly inviting Gu Yan to join her, though he declined.

The man’s expression wasn’t great, as if he was thoroughly displeased with this couples’ viewing package.

Gu Yan made his dissatisfaction quite clear on that front. “The quality’s terrible. I’m not coming back here again.”

Qi Xi didn’t want to dwell on it, but when Gu Yan said “next time” — did he mean next time with his girlfriend?

That thought stung a little, and Qi Xi had to console herself: at least this time, she’d made a contribution for Gu Yan and his girlfriend too — scouting the place out ahead of time and helping them avoid a bad pick. Next time, Gu Yan surely wouldn’t bring his girlfriend to such a mediocre couples’ room.

Fortunately, the sweetness of the fruit wine, along with its faint alcoholic warmth, soothed and numbed Qi Xi’s mood somewhat. Even though she hadn’t felt drunk while drinking it, perhaps partly due to the placebo effect, she now felt strangely light-headed and dizzy.

It was around this time that The Fox Who Lives Across the Way finally finished its opening credits and moved into the actual film — which turned out to be a period piece.

Only…

Only, as Qi Xi stared at the crude, shoddy visuals and set design, question marks piled up in her mind.

This didn’t look like any proper film at all. Could a legitimate movie really be produced this badly?

But soon enough, Qi Xi understood exactly what the problem was — especially the moment the scholar pushed open his door and saw the scantily dressed fox spirit living across the way. It became abundantly clear.

A fox really did live across the way.

Just — a fox spirit, that’s all!

This film really wasn’t any kind of legitimate movie at all, but rather… one of those films.

On screen, the scholar and the scantily dressed fox spirit had already begun kissing and canoodling, while Qi Xi sat on the sofa bed, her scalp prickling, feeling like she was sitting on pins and needles.

As for the sound system, this viewing suite truly was remarkably immersive, because the sounds of the two leads on screen kissing seemed to loop endlessly right beside Qi Xi’s ears, so close it felt as if it were happening right next to her — she could practically hear the sound of their tongues moving.

But calling it outright pornography wouldn’t be accurate either, since the plot never went further than suggestion, staying well within the bounds of what would pass censorship.

After the fox spirit and the scholar finished kissing, the two of them moved to an ornately carved bed, and once the curtains were drawn and the lights switched off, the bed on screen began to shake rhythmically. Though there was no visual, it clearly implied that something intense was happening on that bed.

Qi Xi had thought being forced to sit through a film like this on the same sofa bed as Gu Yan was already awkward enough — but she hadn’t expected the truly awkward part was still to come.

The moment the ornately carved bed on screen began to shake, the sofa bed beneath Qi Xi actually started shaking in exactly the same rhythm…

Qi Xi sat there, expressionless, her whole body occasionally rising and falling along with the vibrations.

Now she understood exactly what a fully immersive 4D experience meant. She understood it very clearly indeed.

Qi Xi glanced at Gu Yan. He, too, seemed to have reached peak levels of embarrassment, arming himself with the same expressionless mask, and shot her a look utterly devoid of the will to live before looking away.

In this suffocating atmosphere, the sofa bed persisted in shaking for a full fifteen minutes before it finally stopped.

Qi Xi thought that must surely be the limit — but not long after, the scholar and the fox spirit found themselves pursued by assassins and forced to flee by carriage, only for the two of them to start up their romance again inside the carriage…

To simulate the carriage jolting along a mountain road, the sofa bed dutifully launched into shaking the whole room again, this time with even greater intensity than before. Qi Xi felt like she’d boarded a freight train hurtling down a road of no return, and in the midst of this earth-shattering vibration, she slid clean off her spot and tumbled straight into Gu Yan’s arms.

No wonder they’d advertised this as the ultimate private, luxurious VIP couples’ viewing experience.

It really was private. It really was ultimate, too.

Amid the dutifully simulated “carriage jolting,” by the time Qi Xi came back to her senses, though she scrambled out of Gu Yan’s arms as fast as she could, before long she found herself pressed up against him once more.

This sofa bed was absolutely unbearable to sit on any longer!

Her head burning, her hands and legs weak, Qi Xi scrambled off the bed at top speed and struggled over to switch off the player.

The suggestive dialogue around them went silent, but the sofa bed apparently hadn’t gotten the memo, and gamely kept on shaking for another ten minutes or so before finally giving up.

Gu Yan looked genuinely, deeply exhausted, as though the shaking had left him somewhat dazed too. He glanced at Qi Xi, then looked away, his ears faintly reddening. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”

Amid the lingering, suggestive atmosphere, Qi Xi’s face burned and her heart raced too. The alcohol from earlier was slowly taking hold of her reason, her thoughts growing sluggish, but she still tried her best to reassure Gu Yan. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t buy this viewing package. Admin probably just wasn’t paying attention when they purchased it — too busy looking at the price, thinking a higher price must mean better quality…”