Yuhan threw himself into Chen Zixuan's world with quiet persistence. At the basketball court, he snuck in little treats, clapping and cheering from the sidelines whenever Zixuan scored. At the gym, he lingered nearby, striking up conversations that sometimes landed, sometimes fizzled, but he never gave up. And at the orphanage, he volunteered alongside him, always finding excuses to help out whenever Zixuan was around.
But when night fell, the mask slipped. Alone in his room after long hours of studying, Yuhan would break down quietly, clutching a worn photograph of him and Ying Yue. The tears came freely, grief mixing with determination, the memory of what he lost fueling his stubborn will to move forward.
During his first "week of disappearance," Wednesday marked the official opening for the assistant position at Zixuan's company, Chen fashion. Yuhan had been studying so relentlessly that even Li Hao, who never took him seriously before, was stunned.
Li Hao, despite his constant teasing, pitched in. Together they forged Yuhan's portfolio. Yuhan's hands shook with nerves, but Li Hao reassured him again that he had nothing to lose.
"You want to tweak your age a bit?" Li Hao asked, raising a brow.
Yuhan shook his head firmly. "No. I'm using my real age."
"That might put you at a disadvantage," Li Hao warned. "Most of the applicants will be younger, fresher."
Yuhan only smirked faintly. "I'll take my chances. If I fail, at least it'll be on my terms."
"Since when do you care about...." Li Hao was cut short as yuhan smacked his behind "just do what you are told to," yuhan said smiling.
When the submission window opened, Yuhan made his choice. He refused to submit his application online. Technology made him uneasy; he didn't trust it. Physical submission felt more certain,more real.
So he dressed neatly, portfolio in hand, and made his way to the company.
When he finally arrived, Yuhan craned his neck back, mesmerized by the sheer height of the building. Chen Fashion—the headquarters standing tall and sleek in the middle of their small county—felt more like a city landmark than just a workplace.
At the front desk, he slipped easily into his natural charm. With quick jokes and an infectious smile, he had both the male and female receptionists laughing in no time enticing them with his pheromone. By the moment he handed over his portfolio, they were grinning like old friends.
"Don't worry," one of them said warmly. "We'll be extra careful with this."
"Promise?" Yuhan teased, half serious as he squinted his eyes.
"Promise," they both replied, nodding with playful solemnity.
Yuhan walked away with a spring in his step, the sound of their laughter still following him.
After submitting his portfolio, Yuhan made his way to the temple. He bowed low, his palms pressed together, whispering desperate prayers into the still air. It was the kind of prayer that carried his hope and fear, his lips moving until they ached.
By nightfall, he was back in the market. Tonight's wares were second-hand phone charms, each laid out neatly as he called out to passing customers. He sold what he could, pocketed his modest earnings, and finally trudged back to Li Hao's pharmacy, where he was staying. The moment he touched his bed, exhaustion claimed him. He fell asleep immediately, not even sparing a glance at food.
When the week ended, Yuhan slipped back into his routine, orbiting around Chen Zixuan's life like he had before. He showed up at the basketball court, at the gym, and at the orphanage, waiting for some sign of acknowledgment. Part of him expected Zixuan to at least notice his absence, to question where he had been, but all he got was nothing.
Zixuan treated him with the same distant indifference as always.
Yuhan forced himself to smile, to believe it was too soon. It's only the first week, he told himself. A little too early to expect results.
Still, a quiet ache sat heavy in his chest.