Qiu Yu had never felt so grateful for Chen Ce Bai's high intelligence.
He understood her intention after just one second of silence, and nodded. "Okay."
Qiu Yu exhaled in relief.
She had been so afraid he would ask, right in front of the camera, why she suddenly called him "husband."
That would have blown her cover in front of the Watcher.
She'd acted coquettishly on purpose, calling him "husband" to let the Watcher know that Chen Ce Bai was her spouse—someone capable of discovering the Watcher's true identity at any moment.
Qiu Yu reminded him, "Half an hour and I'm off work. I'll wait for you… mm, in the basement level."
Chen Ce Bai's voice was as calm and steady as ever: "No problem. I'll come up to your office."
That filled her with a sense of security. She exhaled again, smiling sweetly, this time for real. "Then I'll let you work. I won't bother you anymore."
He glanced at her. "I'm not that busy. If you want, you can keep the video on."
He really got her.
Normally, she'd shower him with thank-yous, but to keep up the sweet persona, she had to pinch her nose and murmur, "Then don't hang up. I want to keep looking at you."
It wasn't even that sugary a line—but just the thought of cooing it to Chen Ce Bai made her burn with shame.
Maybe it was because words like that only work on people who know how to respond.
Chen Ce Bai's temperament was too cold, too aloof—like a fierce sliver of snow left behind on a mountain peak.
Trying to act coy with him was like shouting into a canyon. No matter what she said, the only response she heard was her own echo.
How could she not feel embarrassed?
Qiu Yu set the tablet aside and took a big gulp of coffee, trying to scald away the awkwardness building in her throat.
But to her disappointment, the Watcher's gaze didn't falter. It remained fixed on her, sharp and unblinking.
At least whenever she looked up, she could see Chen Ce Bai's profile.
He was in formal attire—tie, cufflinks, perfectly assembled. One hand rested near the camera, wrist bone sharply contoured, a crocodile leather watch strap encircling it. His long fingers occasionally tapped the virtual keyboard, as elegant as they were reassuring.
With that image in sight, Qiu Yu finally calmed down and immersed herself in work.
Some tasks required her to use her neural chip. She knew occasional use wouldn't be flagged, but still, she asked hesitantly, "...I need to send a file using the chip. That should be okay, right?"
But Chen Ce Bai didn't answer the way she expected—not a casual "Sure, go ahead."
He stopped typing and turned slightly, his gaze focused just outside the camera's view. She could only see the lower half of his face and a hint of his glasses.
And with the Watcher's gaze feeling more and more real, Qiu Yu had a strange, disorienting thought—for just a second, she felt as if he was the one watching her.
The absurdity made her scalp prickle.
Then Chen Ce Bai spoke, his tone flat:
"You've activated your chip four times this week. Monday at 8:35 a.m., Wednesday at 5:40 p.m., Thursday at 11:25 a.m., and today at 12:31 p.m. You should know better than me whether it's safe to use it again."
Qiu Yu choked, then muttered, "Monday I was still half-asleep and just reflexively checked my messages… The other three times I just wanted to watch some drama during lunch, okay?"
Her usual spoiled temper surfaced, tinged with embarrassment. "I only wanted to talk to you. Did you have to call me out like that?"
Chen Ce Bai chuckled softly. "But I like hearing you talk like that."
She blinked, stunned that she actually understood what he meant.
Because of the Watcher, she'd been tense and guarded, her tone stiffer than usual. But in just a few teasing lines, he'd drawn out her true self—irritated, impulsive, alive.
Qiu Yu glanced at the tablet.
He had already turned back to his work, showing only his profile.
At that exact moment, he lifted a porcelain cup and took a sip of coffee, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Maybe she stared at it for a beat too long. The Watcher's gaze suddenly turned violent—sharp like claws, cruel like arrows, as if determined to pierce through her skin.
Qiu Yu rubbed at her goosebumps and thought, thank god he agreed to the video call. If she were alone in the office right now, she might've lost her mind.
The thirty minutes flew by. It was time to leave.
Chen Ce Bai, ever the punctual one, had hung up ten minutes earlier—exactly the amount of time it would take to drive over.
Qiu Yu was fidgety, sipping the last of her now-cold coffee. The bitterness stung her throat.
Her nerves weren't even about the Watcher anymore—but because this was the first time Chen Ce Bai had come to pick her up.
Since joining the company, only Pei Xi had ever done that.
And of course, that had triggered all sorts of nasty gossip—claims that a genius like Chen Ce Bai would never go for a spoiled rich girl like her, or that it didn't matter how smart he was, because a capitalist's daughter would never choose a man from a lower class.
She hated both kinds of speculation.
She'd tried clearing it up several times, both directly and indirectly, but the whispering never stopped.
Maybe that's why… deep down, she wanted them to see she and Chen Ce Bai didn't "look down" on each other.
...They were just incompatible.
Qiu Yu gulped down the last of the coffee.
She knew he'd arrive right on time. That was his way—down to the second.
But the moment she stood up, she found herself locking eyes with him through the glass.
He'd arrived two minutes early.
She froze.
This was the first time she'd seen Chen Ce Bai break his pattern.
Maybe it was just her imagination, but there was a flicker in his gaze—a strange urgency, out of sync with his usual calm and distant demeanor.
Like he'd needed to see her.
Qiu Yu's heart lurched.
A thought surfaced, foolish and sentimental: Did he rush over because he knew I was in danger?
Her body moved before her brain could catch up. The next thing she knew, she was crossing the room and throwing her arms around his waist.
She rarely embraced him in public. And only then did she realize how tall he truly was—she barely reached his shoulder.
His arm wrapped around her immediately.
Qiu Yu tilted her head up instinctively, but only met the pale reflection in his lenses.
As if sensing her gaze, Chen Ce Bai reached up and gently brushed her hair. "Qiu Yu. Don't be afraid."
He knew.
He understood the fear curling inside her.
She pressed her head into his chest and murmured, "...So you did understand what I was trying to say."
He paused, then gave a low hum. "Wasn't hard."
His voice was deep, his scent cool and clinical—faint antiseptic mixing with the mountain-air chill of his presence. It countered the Watcher's wild and obsessive energy, washing it away.
Qiu Yu closed her eyes, nestling deeper against him.
But that ominous gaze never really left.
Or maybe it was just in her head. It had to be.
Still—she could feel it. The Watcher's presence suddenly felt close. Right in front of her.
Her skin crawled. She clutched at Chen Ce Bai's coat.
He lowered his head and, with two fingers, tilted her chin up until their eyes met.
The moment their gazes locked, the feeling vanished.
He released her gently, patting her head. "Feel better? Let's go home."
Qiu Yu nodded.
As they waited for the elevator, she noticed a few coworkers approaching—the ones who always gossiped the most.
A mix of vanity and revenge stirred inside her.
She glanced sideways at Chen Ce Bai.
He looked the same as always: tall coat brushing his knees, white shirt, black slacks, restrained elegance in every detail from his tie to his cufflinks to his wristwatch. He was the very picture of cold, ascetic allure.
How could anyone not feel the twin urges to ruin and possess someone like him?
As the coworkers passed, Qiu Yu couldn't help herself. She rose on tiptoe, wrapped her arm around his neck, and kissed his cool lips.
Predictably, the group stopped and let out a mocking "Ooooh—"
They hadn't seen his face, only his towering figure.
They didn't know Chen Ce Bai. And they had no desire to.
Even if he was recognized as one of the most brilliant scientists alive, it didn't matter. They still sneered at where he came from.
At this moment, the man standing beside Qiu Yu carried an air of quiet nobility—his attire and demeanor refined and composed.
He looked nothing like the stereotypical image they had of "Chen Ce Bai."
Someone let out a chuckle.
"So you finally dumped that Chen guy?"
Another quickly jumped in, clearly just there to stir the pot.
"Wasn't that inevitable? One's a genius scientist with an IQ over 200, the other's a pampered heiress who gets promoted working less than 84 hours a week. How were they ever supposed to work out?"
Qiu Yu held back a laugh, fluttered her eyelashes at Chen Ce Bai, and was just about to introduce him—eager to witness the toe-curling awkwardness on their faces—
But Chen Ce Bai turned his head and said coldly,
"Are you done?"
The atmosphere froze.
It wasn't because they'd recognized him—
It was the cold, deadly pressure he exuded. That chilling aura that made it feel like, at any second, he might pull a loaded gun from under his long, dark coat.
Just then, the elevator arrived.
Chen Ce Bai slipped an arm around Qiu Yu and guided her into the silver cabin, his voice still icy and unnerving:
"Even someone with an IQ under 50 knows not to insult someone to their face. If I hear another word about my wife, I'll consider halting your company's supply of neural inhibitors."
The moment the words left his mouth, everyone went pale.
Recognizing Chen Ce Bai's identity only made them mildly uncomfortable.
But the threat of losing access to neural inhibitors—essential for every high-tier employee's mental stability—
That was a matter of life and death.
Still, pride stopped them from apologizing to Chen Ce Bai directly.
They mumbled a few half-hearted "sorry"s to Qiu Yu instead.
She ignored them completely.
As the elevator doors were about to shut, someone finally dared to protest, voice trembling:
"…You don't have the authority to cut our supply. You're bluffing."
Chen Ce Bai glanced at him and gave a cold, humorless laugh.
"You'll find out tomorrow if I'm bluffing."
The elevator doors closed.
Qiu Yu looked up at him, beaming.
"That tone you just used…"
She wanted to say, That hit my kink,
But figured he probably wouldn't get it. So she just giggled to herself, the mischief in her smile scattering every last trace of gloom.
But Chen Ce Bai's expression hadn't softened.
He pinched her cheek, pressing into the dimple she couldn't hide.
Through the cold glint of his glasses, his eyes were razor-sharp.
"They talk about you like that often?"
She'd always been at the center of attention, growing up adored and admired.
But because of him, she'd become a target for insults and slander.
"Not often," Qiu Yu shrugged. "I'm used to it. Don't worry, I don't take it to heart. I just wanted them to see we're not having relationship problems."
She'd completely forgotten that earlier today, she had been planning to ask for a divorce.
"Not often" and "I'm used to it"
Were two very contradictory things.
Chen Ce Bai slowly brushed his thumb across the corner of her lips.
"No relationship problems?" he repeated softly.
Qiu Yu suddenly grew serious.
"I was going to ask for a divorce today…"
Chen Ce Bai said nothing, but his hand suddenly tightened—hard enough to almost bruise her jaw.
"Ow!" she winced, frowning. "Was. I was going to! I've changed my mind now!"
She huffed, annoyed.
"Can you let me finish a sentence? You came to pick me up, you defended me… I just don't want to end things so abruptly anymore."
He released her, turned his head aside, and closed his eyes without saying a word.
His breathing remained steady, but a thick, pulsing vein stood out on his neck.
Qiu Yu reached out instinctively to soothe him, but he grabbed her wrist.
She immediately switched into a soft, sulky tone,
like it could somehow coax him out of this mood:
"Don't be mad at me. I just… I don't want a partnership-style marriage anymore."
Her eyes, bright and full of sincerity, met his:
"Chen Ce Bai… I want to date you. Is that okay?"
He still didn't look at her.
And that's when the feeling came back.
That horrible, searing sensation of being watched.
Even stronger this time.
It was feverish and deranged—
Like a boiling swamp… or a serpent's slick mouth, inches from her skin.
Twisted.
Ravenous.
As if it wouldn't rest until it consumed her whole.
But Qiu Yu didn't feel afraid anymore.
Her skin didn't crawl. Her heart didn't race.
Instead, she felt oddly at ease.
Almost lighthearted, even.
I'm glad I said it, she thought. Now I can ask Chen Ce Bai for help, openly and without hesitation.
With him here,
She would find the voyeur.
And end this—soon.