I'm Just Getting Your Luck - Chapter 9

【Z Requests To Add You As A Friend. 】

In the end, Yingyu and Zhou Chenyi didn’t stay for food — they were politely kicked out by Jiang Jiuji.

From the moment they stepped out of his house, Yingyu hadn’t heard Zhou Chenyi stop talking — like a walking public service announcement blaring in her ear.

Yingyu, empty-handed now, was nibbling on a free cookie from the bakery.

“Seriously, what’s so great about a guy who won’t even let you eat dinner at his place? And you still went all out to bring him bread — now you’ve lost both time and food. Are you stupid?” Zhou Chenyi was still annoyed. He’d stuffed himself with bread at lunch, but Yingyu had gone and bought a fresh batch anyway.

Was he losing his mind too?

A pink card fell to the ground. Zhou Chenyi picked it up — it was from the bakery. A QR code promo — scan and enter your number for a chance to win a prize.

He handed it to her. “Why don’t you give it a try?”

“My luck’s bad. I won’t win anything anyway.”

“Luck changes. Don’t be so sure.”

She was hungry and in no mood to argue. Yingyu shoved the card into her bag, not wanting to continue this conversation. She changed the subject: “Isn’t Dr. Jiang your good friend? Why are you badmouthing him?”

Zhou Chenyi choked for a second — but just then, the loudspeaker from a nearby roadside stall cut in:

“Birds of a feather flock together! Trash attracts trash! Ladies, stay far away from scumbags and their friends!”

Yingyu gave Zhou Chenyi — who had just been passionately slandering someone — a knowing look.

Zhou Chenyi: “…”

Next to Jiang Jiuji’s neighborhood ran a river. At night, the water shimmered — it was a peaceful spot. The weather was warming up, and the riverbank was buzzing with life, including students setting up stalls to sell stuff. It had turned into a small commercial street.

A big, vibrant bouquet of red roses caught Yingyu’s eye. She found herself drawn over. The speaker that had been blaring earlier was hanging on this very stall.

Several college students had set up a phone and seemed to be filming something. When they saw her, one of the girls greeted her enthusiastically.

“Hi pretty sister! Are you interested in our survey?”

“What survey?”

“We’re researching how exploitative intimate relationships reshape young adults’ self-concept. It’s for our sociology class — this is part of our final paper.” The girl smiled and held out a QR code. “We’re collecting data right now.”

Yingyu didn’t really get it, but still pulled out her phone and scanned the code.

As she started answering questions, Zhou Chenyi walked up next to her and glanced at her screen.

“‘Anger’ and ‘rage’? Aren’t those the same thing? The options overlap — no mutual exclusivity,” he said, gently moving her hand to adjust the screen. “Also, three-point scales aren’t reliable enough for emotional data. Between ‘neutral’ and ‘agree’ there’s a gray area. Five-point scales are better for this kind of subject.”

The students — who had been playing cards nearby — all looked up at him, some with crestfallen expressions.

Zhou Chenyi knew that look. It was the same one his younger cousin had when he found a typo in his self-reflection essay: Crap. I have to start all over!

Ah well, it was just a final paper.

Zhou Chenyi leaned closer to Yingyu. “Stop picking ‘neutral’ for everything. Their data won’t be statistically valid. Pick at least one ‘disagree.’”

His warm breath brushed her ear. He was standing way too close, and the clean grassy scent on him seemed to seep into her pores. Yingyu let her hair fall to hide the redness of her ears, eyes fixed on the survey.

“You have a scent on you too,” Zhou Chenyi said, hands in his pockets, looking serious.

“What scent?” Her voice was barely audible.

“Bathroom smell. You marinated in it.”

“…!” Yingyu exploded. “That was air freshener!”

She stomped off, ignoring him. Zhou Chenyi just laughed.

One of the students stopped him. “Hey, this is the thank-you gift for your girlfriend for filling out the survey. Give it to her!” She pulled out the biggest rose and handed it to him. “Wishing you two happiness!”

“We’re not dating,” Zhou Chenyi said, but still took the flower. He looked it over, unimpressed. “Who gives just one rose to a girlfriend? What, you think she’s easy to please?”

Student: “…”

No wonder she’s not your girlfriend.

—

At the top floor of Million Corp’s office building.

Zhou Chenyi’s desk used to have a crystal flower vase. It had a sleek geometric design and looked high-end — but he didn’t keep flowers and didn’t want spilled water damaging documents, so he had the vase cut in half and used it as a pen holder.

He Xini (his assistant) thought that was such a waste.

This morning, for the first time ever, he noticed the pen holder had no pens in it — just a single, slightly wilting rose.

Zhou Chenyi had even changed the water in it. Twice.

He Xini was dying to ask where it came from, but lately Zhou Chenyi’s moods had been swinging like a hormonal teenager — cheerful one second, irritable the next. Better to keep quiet.

“President Zhou, PR just dropped off the interview questions.”

“Let them in.”

Zhou Chenyi straightened his clothes.

“The interview is all arranged, should take about an hour. It’s more of a soft promo piece. The reporter is Editor Zheng from Economic Observer, you’ve worked with him before. They’re testing equipment on the rooftop now, and makeup will be here shortly,” Cui Se rattled off.

She noticed that Zhou Chenyi was craning his neck to look behind her.

“Did I forget something, President Zhou?”

“No, you’re good. Off you go.”

Cui Se gave He Xini a puzzled look. As she turned to leave, Zhou Chenyi added, “Is the user feedback report for the app trials ready?”

Cui Se: …That’s not due for another two weeks! You taskmaster!

“I’ll check with the team lead.”

“No need. Just have your public sentiment analyst report to me.”

She paused. “…That would be me.”

Zhou Chenyi: “…Then send someone else.”

In a tech-centric company, the PR department didn’t have much to do. Their job was mostly collecting dirt on people who bad-mouthed Zhou Chenyi online, sending cease-and-desist letters, and drinking tea while scrolling social media.

Normally, Zhou Chenyi didn’t care about PR. But today he’d suddenly demanded a bunch of reports — some of which weren’t even written yet.

During his rooftop interview, the PR director bought He Xini a coffee to beg for insight.

After the interview, the director came up with glowing cheeks, armed with crisis management plans — and just casually brought up:

“President Zhou, the wind’s been strong lately. Be sure to dress warm. Little Yingyu from our department caught a chill and got a fever. She’s resting at home today.”

Not a leaf was stirring outside under the blazing sun.

“I think she lives at 303, Unit 1, Building 17, Garden Residence on Feihai Road.” The director rambled on while leaving. “Maybe the company should send someone to visit?”

Zhou Chenyi: “…”

Who said I wanted to see her?!

It had to be He Xini’s doing. Zhou Chenyi angrily opened the employee system, ready to dump more work on him — but somehow ended up clicking into Yingyu’s profile.

One visit was fine, but if this kept up, PR might file a complaint.

While Zhou Chenyi tapped away on his phone, He Xini suggested, “President Zhou, if you’re concerned about her, just call her. Or at least send her a message.”

“I don’t have her WeChat.”

“You what? After all this time?!”

“You have it?”

“Of course. We added each other at the hospital. Small world, huh? I’ll share her contact with you.”

“You’re my assistant or my matchmaker?” Zhou Chenyi slipped on his black coat, looking sharp and cold. “Order some afternoon tea for PR. If they don’t want it, give them red envelopes. And next time something like this happens — remind me. Delayed care for employees is my fault.”

“Huh?” He Xini was stunned by the money transfer he just received — and a bit moved.

“It’s really not a big deal, sir. Everyone has feelings. We’re not machines programmed to run on schedule every day.”

It’s nice to have someone on your mind.

He didn’t say the last part out loud.

Zhou Chenyi had skipped grades through high school and college — every hour of his life accounted for. He never had time for relationships. While others his age were still excited about scholarships, he was out pitching to investors and managing payroll.

He Xini had been with him from the company’s early days — he’d been to the hospital with him more than he had with his own parents.

Only in the last half year had things slowed down.

He knew a bit about Zhou Chenyi’s family — understood what drove him so hard.

But he couldn’t live like that forever. It would break him eventually.

Even if Yingyu was a little weird, it was honestly great that she managed to get close to him. He Xini was truly happy for them.

Zhou Chenyi stared at him. For a moment, it looked like He Xini was about to cry.

“President Zhou!” He Xini cried dramatically.

Before he could throw himself into a hug, Zhou Chenyi pushed his face away with one palm. “…Go get your brain checked. Take a day off.”

He Xini: “Okay.”

“I’m leaving. You cry all you want.”

Zhou Chenyi left, staring at his phone — and for the first time ever, clocked out on time.

—

“What? Dr. Jiang had to rush back to the hospital for emergency surgery again?”

Yingyu was curled up in bed, phone in hand, talking to Long Qiuqiu. Her voice was still a little hoarse.

“Yup. Which works out great. The bread you bought him last time is still in the fridge — I’ll sneak some while he’s out. I seriously can’t stand another can of cat food,” Qiuqiu said. She was in human form, wearing one of Jiang Jiuji’s oversized shirts that just barely covered her thighs. Her silky black hair was tied loosely with a face mask to keep it out of her mouth.

“Don’t eat too much, or he’ll notice,” Yingyu warned. “The bread’s cold now — just pop it in the oven at 150°C for two minutes. Tastes fresh-baked again.”

Qiuqiu rustled around, presumably fiddling with the oven.

Yingyu continued, “The other day, when Dr. Jiang was cleaning up the broken glass, he stayed in the bathroom for a long time. You don’t think he got suspicious, do you?”

“Nah. And even if he did — so what? I’m a cat. He’d never suspect me.” Qiuqiu was chill. She even had time to gossip. “How’s the plan to win over Zhou Chenyi going? Did he let you touch him yet?”

“It’s… in progress. But it feels like we’re going backward. Lately he’s just been teasing me.”

“And you still want to go after him?”

“I think… I do.” Yingyu said, bundled in her blanket like a cocoon. She didn’t know why. On impulse, she got out of bed, pulled out the pink card from her bag, and scanned the QR code.

“Alright, I’ll take you somewhere soon. Once you’ve been there, then you can decide.”

Yingyu mumbled her agreement, chatted a bit more, then dozed off.

Later, she was jolted awake by persistent knocking at the door.

A delivery guy stood outside.

“I didn’t order anything,” she said, confused.

“You’re Ms. Ying, right? Can you confirm this phone number and address?”

Her phone buzzed twice in a row.

One message was a text from half an hour ago:
[Congratulations! You’ve won! Fever meds and sweet treats are on their way to your home. Please keep an eye out for the delivery call. Get well soon and enjoy!]

The other was a WeChat notification:
[Z has sent you a friend request.]