I'm Just Getting Your Luck - Chapter 5

I Don’t Want to Fall in Love with a Human

Yingyu had been sneezing all morning.

She wasn’t sick, but just in case, she wore a hat—half for warmth, half as armor against Jincheng’s unpredictable winds.

The moment she stepped into Million’s headquarters, warm air mixed with that sterile scent of high-end tech washed over her. She pulled off her wool hat. Still, instead of heading for the elevator, she turned toward the stairs—ever since that incident getting stuck last time, she didn’t want to risk becoming the center of attention again.

But…why was everyone looking at her?

The stares weren’t subtle. People eyed her in pairs or groups, whispering, then pretending to chat about something else.

Seriously? You’re not even trying to be discreet.

She spotted Trishti in line for the elevator and called her over.

Trishti rushed to her side, immediately bundling Yingyu back up with a scarf and hat, practically mummifying her.

“Sese, it’s hot—I’m overheating,” Yingyu muttered, already sweating.

“You have to wear it,” Trishti insisted, fussing until only Yingyu’s eyes were visible. “Didn’t you check Weibo? I thought you weren’t coming in today. I messaged you last night and never heard back.”

Yingyu shook her head. “My sister came over last night. We were on her phone all evening.”

Long Qiuqiu had stopped by after her surgery to bask in compliments on her favorite collection of saved videos. She also taught Yingyu how to game. Not exactly a breaking news evening.

But it turned out she’d been trending all night.

Although the initial buzz had faded, the Weibo hot search still featured a photo of a blond employee at a dinner party—clearly Yingyu.

But what really caught her attention was that the ab video was still pinned on the homepage.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Yingyu panicked. “Zhou Chenyi didn’t watch that—I did! It has nothing to do with him!”

“Too late,” Trishti said flatly. “Whether it matters or not, it does now. Think your little mouth can outtalk ten thousand netizens?”

What had started as a harmless mistake had spiraled into a full-blown PR disaster, one that now had people speculating about Zhou Chenyi’s orientation.

Trishti looked like she hadn’t slept all night.

Up ahead, the elevator lobby suddenly fell silent. People parted like the Red Sea, straightening up. Even Yingyu could sense the shift in pressure. The only thing still moving were the decorative plants, swaying gently in the warm air.

Custom-made leather shoes stepped into her peripheral vision.

Then circled back—and stopped right in front of her.

Please don’t notice me. Please don’t notice me. I’m just a bundle of scarves. Keep walking.

“Yingyu.”

Busted.

She looked up—barely reaching his chest.

“Mr. Zhou…”

He glanced down. All he could see was the top of her fuzzy hat and a bit of messy hair poking out.

“You’ve got three minutes before check-in.”

Around them, ears perked and elevator buttons lit up in a frenzy.

“I need to speak with you. Come with me.”

Yingyu shuffled toward Zhou Chenyi’s private elevator, then hesitated at the door. “Wait—you sure you want me in the elevator with you?”

He thought she was stalling out of guilt, so he just grabbed her sleeve and pulled her in.

“You walked up 26 floors? Hoping the news cycle wasn’t spicy enough?”

“Actually, I was just worried about your safety,” Yingyu muttered, bracing herself in a corner, gripping the railings and squatting slightly.

“Relax. The elevator’s been maintained. Right now, you’re the only safety risk in here,” Zhou Chenyi said, already on a call with He Xini.

“They’re waiting upstairs. PR and comms are all in the boardroom.”

He Xini’s voice came through: “We’ve blocked the trending tag, but people are still talking about it.”

“And what do you want me to do?” Zhou Chenyi snapped. “Just because I don’t want a girlfriend doesn’t mean I want a boyfriend either! Letting Qing Wenyue stir up rumors with me was your best plan? I don’t want to fall in love with a human, okay?”

Yingyu’s ears perked up.

Not humans? That’s great! I’m not human—I’m a fox!

She excitedly jabbed his arm. “Zhou Chenyi! Hey—Zhou—”

“I’ll deal with you later.” He turned back to the phone. “Right now, priority one is—”

Clunk.

The lights went out. The elevator lurched. Metal scraped against metal in a sound that made your teeth hurt.

Without missing a beat, Yingyu grabbed Zhou Chenyi and pressed him firmly against the wall.

“Lean back. Don’t move.”

Clearly, Zhou had never been stuck like this before. He instinctively tried to keep talking to Xini—but the signal was gone.

Yingyu crept toward the control panel and pressed every single floor button. She held down the emergency call switch.

Zhou Chenyi, stunned, watched her calmly relay their situation:

“Two people trapped. Million Company. Elevator E… We were last seen on the 17th floor, but not sure where we are now. Elevator dropped briefly. One of us is panicking. Please hurry.”

“One of us?” Zhou muttered. “I’m not panicking.”

“You sure?” Yingyu leaned closer, sniffed. “Sweaty palms. You smell like fear.”

Only then did he realize—she was holding his hand the whole time.

“What does fear even smell like?” he snapped, pulling away.

Yingyu didn’t answer. Instead, she lightly squeezed his hand again—not tightly, just enough to ground him.

“When someone’s nervous, they smell like fire. Like smoldering wood and suffocation.”

She sat down calmly. That smoky, damp scent still lingered on him—one she’d picked up before.

They’d met once before. He was a kid then, wearing a pristine school uniform, crouched down beside a weak little fox he’d rescued. He’d brought her to a vet. Bought her treats.

Said he’d take her home.

But the next day, he changed. Came back with a red handprint on his face, and that same scent—like something heavy had sunk inside him and wouldn’t let him float back up. That smell had never left.

“You got no trauma paste or something?” he said gruffly, gripping the railing, watching her finally relax.

He realized something: humans may be pack animals, but being trapped is a little easier when someone’s by your side.

Twenty minutes later, the elevator was fixed.

As they stepped out, Zhou glanced at her. “You’ve done this before?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Emergency stuff like this is nothing. I should’ve taken the stairs. I caused trouble for you.”

“You always take the stairs?”

“Yep. Our building’s construction is pretty solid. Never once had a piece of ceiling fall on me.”

“…You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, remembering the time he caught her climbing over the department’s doorframe like it was nothing.

Of course. She wasn’t exactly average.

But instead of pointing that out, he said: “This elevator incident wasn’t your fault. Don’t shoulder that. And if it makes you feel better, the company can cover your future elevator maintenance fees.”

“…Really?”

Most people just blamed her when things went wrong.

It was rare—so rare—to have someone say otherwise.

Her eyes went red. “Thanks, Zhou Chenyi.”

“Don’t read into it,” he said quickly. “It’s just efficient. If you use the stairs, that’s less time working.”

Then he pivoted before things got too emotional. “Still—hot search drama was your fault. You logged into my account, watched those trashy videos, commented on them, even!”

He showed her the PR team’s report. “Seriously, this is assembly-line level stuff. No taste at all. Book an eye exam on your next day off.”

The elevator jolted again. This time, he lost his footing and fell.

Yingyu offered him a hand, smiling. “Told you I’ve got your back.”

He looked up and saw himself reflected in her wide, amused eyes. Then he looked away.

Definitely the drawbridge effect.

—

Back upstairs, Zhou reviewed the surveillance footage. Turned out the login was accidental—Yingyu had startled herself, tapped his screen by mistake, and the auto-login did the rest.

Still, PR advised they do damage control.

They suggested a standard denial: an employee mistake, no connection to the company. Meanwhile, Zhou Chenyi was to appear in an interview—just enough to stir the public’s attention elsewhere.

“So—are you going to be the tragic CEO who never got over his ex, or the brooding executive hiding a ten-year unrequited love?”

“I’m going to be the CEO who cancels your quarterly bonus,” Zhou Chenyi deadpanned.

Guan Ping, the head of PR and Zhou’s old college roommate, just laughed.

“Don’t worry—I’ve already got a bigger scandal ready to bury yours. Next week, we’ll do a livestream. All you need to do is ‘accidentally’ show the girl’s back in the background. Boom—instant secret love story.”

Zhou didn’t love the idea, but it was practical. He glanced at the photo—two people, backs turned to the camera.

“Tell Wanxing Entertainment to push the hot search. Since they like starting trouble, let’s see if they can finish it.”

Zhou Chenyi and Zhu Yinghan’s long-running rivalry was infamous. No one remembered how it began. They weren’t even in the same industry, but still couldn’t let each other go.

While he plotted, Yingyu was taking a call in the corridor.

Zhu Yinghan.

After some small talk, he said, “Things going smoothly with Chenyi? I saw the photo. Congrats.”

“That’s all fake. We’re not engaged. It’s causing him trouble. Don’t believe the gossip.”

Zhu Yinghan chuckled but didn’t reply. He was the one who planted those rumors—of course he knew.

Yingyu lowered her voice. “Why are you helping me?”

After a pause, he said, “You look a lot like my sister.”

His voice sounded…broken.

Yingyu felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. You need help, you ask me. I’m your big brother in Jincheng.”

“Actually… I do need something,” she said shyly. “Do you know how to turn golden hair black?”

“Easy. I’ll send you an address. Come over Saturday morning—I’ll fix it.”

Just as he hung up, his assistant Chen Nan overheard a loud wail from his office.

“Sister!! Who told you to eat my Van Cleef & Arpels! That was limited edition from Japan!”

A massive golden retriever ran through the halls, chased by its heartbroken owner.