Chapter 13: Don’t Be Nervous

They had set their meeting for noon.

Though Top Fan No. 2 had offered to pick up Ji Zhi by car, he turned them down with the excuse that it would be too flashy.

【Top Fan No. 2: Let’s meet at this restaurant.】

【Top Fan No. 2: It’s a members-only private spot with hardly any info online, but I think it’ll suit your tastes.】

Even so, Ji Zhi searched for the restaurant Top Fan No. 2 had sent him ahead of time. Online details were scarce, but it was indeed just as they described—a private members-only establishment.

Perfect. A legit place!

Ji Zhi let out a quiet sigh of relief in his mind.

The next day was the day of his official meeting with Top Fan No. 2.

Once Fu Huixu had left, Ji Zhi opened his eyes.

That morning, he had deliberately checked his phone. The weather was perfect for going out, and Top Fan No. 2 hadn’t sent any last-minute cancellations.

On top of that, they had anticipated his excuses perfectly. He was out of moves.

Resigned, Ji Zhi dragged himself out of bed to wash up and get ready for the meeting.

Ji Zhi’s outfits were usually flashy only during streams. Otherwise, he rotated through T-shirts, shorts, or jeans.

The clothes he wore for streaming—aside from the women’s skirts—were too extravagant to wear out in public, too eye-catching by half. So he opted for his everyday look.

He planned to take off his black-framed glasses downstairs, so he packed a backpack specifically to hold the case.

With nerves churning, Ji Zhi took a cab to the destination.

Upon arrival, he removed his black-framed glasses and stowed them in his backpack before heading toward the restaurant.

The place was tucked away in the suburbs, on the top floor of an unmarked building.

Without the photo Top Fan No. 2 had sent—which he’d shown the cab driver—Ji Zhi might never have found it.

At the time, he hadn’t understood why the restaurant was built so far out. But then he saw the sprawling building before him.

Several luxury cars were parked outside, making Ji Zhi—the guy who’d arrived by cab—feel like the odd one out.

Ji Zhi headed into the building.

He had barely reached the entrance when a sharply dressed waiter stepped forward to block his path. Only after Ji Zhi recited the private room number Top Fan No. 2 had given him did the waiter step aside and politely lead the way.

After swiping a keycard to open the inner doors, Ji Zhi froze in surprise.

The exterior was utterly ordinary, but inside lay a hidden world of splendor.

Dim golden light poured from the soaring dome ceiling onto floors of polished obsidian, casting deep, mysterious glows. The air carried faint scents of aged wood and cigars.

Ji Zhi could see waiters in bespoke suits gliding through, their footsteps swallowed by thick, handwoven Persian rugs.

Feeling a touch awkward, Ji Zhi trailed behind the waiter.

He had guessed the place would be upscale, but the reality exceeded his imagination.

Ji Zhi followed the waiter all the way to the top floor via elevator. The mirrored walls reflected his current appearance—

His short hair was neatly trimmed, strands gleaming like raven feathers in the sunlight. His plain white T-shirt and jeans looked almost elegant thanks to his strikingly refined features.

The delicate brow bones and nose bridge evoked fine ink painting; his thin lips held a subtle rose tint.

The waiter had stolen several glances at him in the elevator mirror, eyes wide with admiration. If not for professional restraint, he might have asked if Ji Zhi was some celebrity.

But Ji Zhi was oblivious. As the elevator rose smoothly, he realized he was drawing ever closer to Top Fan No. 2.

The doors slid open. They had reached the top floor.

There were only two private rooms up here, far apart from each other.

The waiter led Ji Zhi to one of them. “Mr. Duan is already here.”

Ji Zhi could hardly process the waiter’s words.

Standing before the intricately carved vermilion door, his nerves were on edge. This was his first time meeting someone he’d connected with online in person—and Top Fan No. 2, no less. It made him even more anxious.

From Top Fan No. 2’s manner of speaking, Ji Zhi guessed they were not young.

But he couldn’t judge their age from a hand; he’d heard rich people aged gracefully, their skin looking far younger than their years.

Calling them “brother” might imply they were peers. “Uncle” might be safer?

It could even remind them of the age gap, prompting a bit more restraint…

Though Ji Zhi desperately wanted to bolt, the waiter gave him no chance.

Seeing Ji Zhi hesitate, the waiter thoughtfully rapped lightly on the door.

Only when a voice called “Come in” from inside did the waiter open it for him.

Ji Zhi gritted his teeth and stepped through.

The room was spacious, with velvet-red curtains drawn tight to block any prying eyes from the windows. A dazzling crystal chandelier bathed the space in daylight brightness.

Ji Zhi’s gaze skipped over the central dining table—carved from a single slab of black walnut—and landed on the man seated behind it.

He lounged in a velvet armchair at the room’s far end, the chandelier gilding his silhouette in pale gold. His suit jacket was off, but the vest and white shirt hugged his waist with perfect precision. Gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose bridge, the narrow corners of his eyes radiating lazy nonchalance.

Light slanted across his jaw, the shadow concealing a faint, elusive smile.

Ji Zhi met his gaze for a few seconds, then stumbled back several steps, his expression apologetic. “Sorry, I must have the wrong room…”

He recognized the man at a glance: Duan Zhao.

Ji Zhi was convinced he’d entered the wrong room. How could Duan Zhao possibly be Top Fan No. 2?

He had clearly told the waiter the room number. How had he been led astray…?

The thought raced through Ji Zhi’s mind.

He flashed an apologetic smile and turned to leave, but after just a few steps backward, a leisurely voice drifted to his ears: “You haven’t gotten the wrong room.”

“Xiao Zhi.”

Ji Zhi’s pupils contracted.

The account he used for sleep-aid streams was JZ, but during their one-on-one video calls, he’d asked Duan Zhao to call him Xiao Zhi for simplicity.

That meant the Duan Zhao before him was…

Realizing this, Ji Zhi’s mind went blank.

On instinct, he raised a hand to block Duan Zhao’s face.

The body below the neck felt familiar.

Ji Zhi lowered his hand and blurted in shock, “You’re Top One…”

He caught himself before “Number Two” could escape. That was his private note for the donor; saying it aloud would tip off that there was a Top Fan Number One too. He slammed on the brakes just in time.

Duan Zhao naturally noticed the hesitation but chalked it up to sheer astonishment—Ji Zhi’s expression screamed as much.

Duan Zhao nodded.

Ji Zhi stammered, “This… you’re actually…”

Though Duan Zhao had admitted it, Ji Zhi still struggled to believe.

He had pictured Top Fan No. 2 as some suave middle-aged uncle. Duan Zhao was the last person he’d imagined.

Seeing Ji Zhi still lost in shock, with no sign of snapping out of it anytime soon, Duan Zhao spoke leisurely. “Xiao Zhi, have a seat first.”

Ji Zhi’s thoughts hadn’t caught up, but his body moved on autopilot, setting his backpack aside and sinking into the chair across from Duan Zhao.

After all, countless video sessions had conditioned his body to obey Top Fan No. 2’s cues.

This only reinforced that the man before him was indeed Top Fan No. 2.

Suddenly, yesterday’s events clicked.

No wonder Duan Zhao had shown up at school and met the principal…

At that moment, Duan Zhao spoke. “Xiao Zhi, don’t be nervous. I didn’t reveal my identity earlier for reasons beyond my control.”

“Now that we’re finally meeting, we can use the chance to get to know each other.”

His hands rested overlapped on the walnut table, long fingers with distinct knuckles slightly arched, casting crisscrossing shadows—as if gathering the entire room into his grasp.

Including the Ji Zhi before him.

Duan Zhao continued, “I’m Duan Zhao, twenty-eight years old. I run a company and am single with no kids.”

The distance between them, combined with Duan Zhao’s calm delivery, helped Ji Zhi regain some composure from his shock. He echoed on reflex, “I’m Ji Zhi, eighteen years old, currently a…”

He cut himself off abruptly, realizing his thoughts had unwittingly followed Duan Zhao’s lead—he’d given his real name.

Terrifying.

Fortunately, Duan Zhao already knew everything else.

To keep from being led along again, Ji Zhi quickly interjected, “Thank you for your support. And for treating me to lunch here. I wonder what they serve… Where’s the menu?”

He steered away from personal details, pretending interest in the restaurant.

Duan Zhao saw right through Ji Zhi’s little ploy.

But seeing how tense he was, Duan Zhao played along unhurriedly. “Based on the foods you shared before, I picked this place and ordered some dishes ahead. They should suit your tastes.”

“There’s a menu if you want to see if anything else catches your eye, or you can have the chef prepare something custom.”

“It’s on me.”

Ji Zhi glanced at the menu and snapped it shut upon seeing the prices.

Even the simplest steamed egg custard ran into four figures, making him wonder if they were using the same currency.

He didn’t have to pay, but his heart still ached at the sight.

Besides, he had no appetite for this meal.

But once the food arrived, his distress vanished in an instant.

The dishes Duan Zhao had ordered were spot-on for his tastes.

The matsutake clear soup gleamed like amber; one sip was so fresh it nearly melted the tongue. The Longjing-smoked squab had glassy-crisp skin infused with faint tea aroma…

After two days of zombie meat in the cafeteria, these flavors made Ji Zhi’s taste buds practically sing with bliss.

His earlier tension melted away by half. He thought wistfully how nice it would be to bring some back for Chen Xingwen.

A sidelong glance revealed Duan Zhao barely touching his food, just watching Ji Zhi with a smile.

Feeling sheepish, Ji Zhi said, “Mr. Duan, you should eat too…”

He had planned to call Top Fan No. 2 “uncle,” but now, faced with Duan Zhao’s appearance, he wasn’t sure what to use.

Duan Zhao’s eyes curved upward in a smile. “As long as you like it.”

“The first time I came here, I knew it would suit you.”

Ji Zhi recalled how Duan Zhao had deduced his tastes from the photos he had sent earlier. He couldn’t help but marvel inwardly at Duan Zhao’s keen deductive skills.

Duan Zhao said, “We’ve still got plenty of time today.”

“After we finish eating, let’s go somewhere.”