ICSTC CH3: Downpour Tomorrow

“…” What on earth is going on right now?

What happened to disliking me? What happened to staying far away? How come we can share an elevator today? Did his secondary personality just manifest?

Luo Ye’s CPU had completely overheated and fried itself. Standing in the corner of the elevator with his jacket hood pulled low over his head, he stole a glance at Chi Zhiyue beside him.

The man appeared to be in a pretty good mood, casually chatting with a few colleagues nearby about their plans for the coming year.

“Where are you planning to go then?”

“It’s alright, haven’t really thought about it…”

“Don’t you know how sought-after you are? People are practically lining up to poach you…”

Chi Zhiyue’s voice was remarkably distinct—always unhurried, layered with a faint, gentle smile. Even if Luo Ye closed his eyes, he could easily pick out his vocal frequency from a sea of chaotic background noise.

When the elevator reached the fifth floor, the colleagues stepped out one by one, leaving only the two of them in the cabin.

Luo Ye’s throat bobbed slightly. “Why?” he asked in a muffled voice.

Chi Zhiyue immediately turned his head to look at him. “Hmm?”

Luo Ye shifted his gaze away, his fingertips nervously rubbing the hem of his jacket. “…Helping me.”

Chi Zhiyue froze for a brief second before a quiet smile broke across his face. “It was nothing. Anyone would have reached out.”

“Oh.” Luo Ye fell silent.

He could accept that reason; after all, that was just the kind of person Chi Zhiyue was.

Setting aside the fact that he disliked Luo Ye, Chi Zhiyue maintained a stellar reputation among his colleagues. Anyone who had ever interacted with him spoke of him as refined, polite, and a complete gentleman. Even Lan Ju had mentioned that he treated his team members exceptionally well. Not that any of that had anything to do with Luo Ye, though.

“Have you been to the hospital?” Chi Zhiyue spoke up again.

“Just a minor cold. I’ll go after work,” Luo Ye replied offhandedly.

“Best to get it checked out early. Be careful it doesn’t turn into a fever,” Chi Zhiyue’s voice remained soft and gentle.

His tone was so naturally pleasant that Luo Ye couldn’t even find a reasonable excuse to keep his distance, forced to settle for a polite nod instead. “Thanks, I know.”

With a soft ding, the elevator arrived at the eighth floor. Luo Ye stepped out quickly, but when he reflexively glanced back, his eyes locked directly with Chi Zhiyue’s.

The other man flashed him a warm curve of his lips. Luo Ye stared at that faint, shallow dimple until the elevator doors slowly slid shut between them.

Luo Ye recalled that every single time they met, Chi Zhiyue had always worn that same mild, gentle smile, as if he had never pulled a dark face in his life.

Colleagues in sales always complained that smiling had become a piece of muscle memory for them. It seemed there was truth to it—who would have thought even a handsome guy like Chi Zhiyue couldn’t escape that fate?

“I wonder if they’ll end up with facial paralysis when they get old?”

Luo Ye pinched and pulled at his own cheeks with his fingers as he scanned his face at the clock-in terminal.

Stepping into his department, a few colleagues were eating breakfast while gossiping in the break room. Seeing him walk in, they immediately invited him to join their venting session about yesterday’s grueling overtime.

Fearing he might pass his cold onto them, Luo Ye deliberately stood near the doorway to listen.

“Master!”

Hearing the voice, Luo Ye turned his head. Bai Nan was walking over, holding out a steaming cup of hot water toward him.

With her round, chubby cheeks and bright almond eyes, Bai Nan was sharp and quick-witted, which made Luo Ye more than willing to mentor her. As the youngest female employee in the department, even though she was already in university, her crisp white down jacket and tailored trousers still made everyone treat her like a little kid.

Just as Luo Ye uttered a quiet thank you, a female colleague reached out to stroke Bai Nan’s head, asking, “Xiao Nan, are you okay? Weren’t you a fan of Bai Cheng?”

Swishing her ponytail back and forth, Bai Nan giggled cheerfully, “I’m completely fine! The second I saw him on the trending list, I immediately hopped off the fan train!”

Another girl gasped in surprise, “Gosh, your mindset is amazing! My little sister has been crying her eyes out for hours.”

“You should tell your sister to do what I did to vent. She’ll feel so much better once it’s all out,” Bai Nan offered casually.

The moment those words left her mouth, Luo Ye—holding his hot water cup—silently took a step backward.

Unaware of the impending danger, the girl continued asking, “What did you write to vent?”

Xiao Nan twirled a strand of her bangs around her finger, flashing a sweet, harmless smile: “Oh, nothing much! Just wrote a quick fanfic where he gets locked up by three and , then an old man s him, and when he finally escapes, his legs get , and then he gets picked up by a gang of , until he basically becomes a total dishcloth fic! Haha, I felt amazing right after writing it!”

Everyone: “…?”

By the time they realized what kind of uncensored horror they had just been exposed to, it was already far too late.

Every single beastfolk employee in the break room instantly popped their animal ears out. The room erupted into a chaos of dramatic, panicked shrieks, looking like a bar fight had just broken out.

“Bai Nan! Holy crap! My ears! My ears are contaminated, ahhh!”

“F-Frightening… What a terrifying fujoshi…”

“Bai Nan, are you insane?! What the hell did I just listen to, ahhhh?!”

…

Luo Ye had long seen this coming. Bai Nan followed idol groups and anime; whenever one of her favorites fell from grace, she would immediately drop a raunchy revenge fanfic alongside her unfollow statistics in her inner circle. She was the living embodiment of her profile bio: “Rule #1: Never cross a fanfiction girl.”

Luo Ye glanced at the countdown timer hovering outside the window, estimating that the chaotic ruckus had been going on for roughly four minutes.

Those sitting at their desks waiting for their computers to boot up turned to look over at the noise, though all they could see was Luo Ye leaning casually against the doorframe.

Luo Ye took a calm, unbothered sip of water, casting a sideways glance at the frantic crowd in the break room. “The boss clocks in in five minutes. Who wants an exclusive face-to-face meeting with her?”

The break room instantly fell dead silent. Who in their right mind wanted to face the department demon? Everyone scrambled to snatch up their belongings and sprinted back to their desks.

“Xiao Nan, a word.” Luo Ye called out to Bai Nan, who was the last one trying to slip away.

Bai Nan trotted obediently over to his side. Luo Ye bent down slightly, lowering his voice to break the news about his resignation.

Bai Nan slapped her hands over her mouth, staring at him in utter disbelief: “No way! What am I supposed to do if you leave?!”

“What?” Luo Ye chuckled, tugging lightly at his mask. “I’m usually so strict with you, yet you actually want me to stay?”

Bai Nan blurted out frantically, “Master, you might be strict, but you always buy us boba tea afterward!”

As the saying goes, it’s hard to adapt to frugal living after experiencing luxury. Having worked under a handsome, capable mentor who frequently treated the team to free food and drinks, who could ever go back to settling for less?

“Every time I pulled overtime, I only pushed through by looking at your face! What am I supposed to look at during overtime now?!” Feeling like her world was collapsing, Bai Nan covered her face in dramatic anguish, confessing, “Forget it, I’ll just go down to the second floor to stare at the model girls from now on. Worst case scenario, I’ll just fight the security guard!”

Luo Ye: …Is staring at handsome faces an absolute life requirement for you?

Listening to her, an idea suddenly popped into Luo Ye’s mind. “What about Chi Zhiyue? Isn’t he handsome too? And he’s right upstairs.” Purely in terms of looks, he doubted anyone could deny how ridiculously good-looking that face was.

“Umm…” Bai Nan rubbed her fingers together, looking a bit bashful. “He looks a little too much like the second male lead from a manga I read. Staring at him gives me a weird sense of cognitive dissonance.”

“No wonder I’ve never seen you talk to him.” Luo Ye recalled how every time Chi Zhiyue dropped by the post-production department, Bai Nan would immediately scurry over to his desk, pretending to ask him questions.

“Oh, so you were using me as a human shield,” Luo Ye realized with a sudden pop of clarity.

Feeling guilty, Bai Nan began whistling nervously. “Oh my, I just remembered I haven’t finished reviewing my video footage! I’m heading back!”

Taking a few quick strides away, she suddenly reversed her steps, grabbed Luo Ye’s right hand to give him a high-five, and offered a beaming smile: “Congrats on escaping this hellhole, Master!”

Luo Ye chuckled softly. “If someone asks, you can mention it. If nobody asks, keep it to yourself.”

“Got it, got it!” Bai Nan winked playfully before skipping happily off to her desk.

It wasn’t long before people started sending Luo Ye private WeChat messages regarding his resignation, while others simply walked straight up to his desk to inquire in person.

Luo Ye tried his best to answer them properly at first, but as his nasal congestion grew increasingly severe, he eventually typed out a block of text on his phone and set it on the desk, pointing to the screen whenever someone came over with questions.

The efficiency was surprisingly high—before the other party could even voice their query, the answer had already been provided.

When lunch hour arrived, Luo Ye put his mask back on, grabbed his phone, and headed down to the cafeteria. He grabbed a tray first to save a table. At 12:30 PM sharp, Lan Ju made his timely appearance in the cafeteria, carrying a tray heaped high with a mountain of rice as usual.

“Cough, cough, cough…” Luo Ye choked slightly while sipping his porridge.

Watching Luo Ye alternate between coughing and gulping down water, his eyelids flushed a faint shade of pink, Lan Ju asked with concern from behind his mountain of rice, “Shouldn’t you head over to the hospital?”

Luo Ye wiped his mouth. “I can hang in there.”

Recalling the previous night’s events, Lan Ju chuckled softly, “If that little genius scholar of yours finds out you were sick while he was throwing a tantrum at you, he’s going to be sick with guilt.”

Luo Ye offered a gentle smile, taking another loud slurp of his warm porridge.

“Who’s throwing a tantrum? You?”

They had barely taken a few bites when Wan Qing from the External Strategy Team sauntered over with a food tray.

Wan Qing’s cheekbones protruded slightly, making his face appear rather narrow. When he smiled, he looked remarkably like a relative of the security guard at the gate, or perhaps a small finch—a running joke Luo Ye and Lan Ju frequently teased him about.

Lan Ju was pleasantly surprised to run into Wan Qing: “Don’t you usually head out for business at this hour? What brings you to the cafeteria today?”

“As if I have the time!” Wan Qing rested a hand casually on Luo Ye’s shoulder. “Our department has been buried in handling that Bai Cheng scandal these past two days. No one’s allowed out to negotiate brand deals. We were stuck working overtime past seven yesterday—I’m completely drained!”

Luo Ye’s hand holding his chopsticks froze, a sudden flicker of confusion washing over him.

Past seven? Then why was he yesterday…

Sitting down naturally next to Lan Ju, Wan Qing cut off Luo Ye’s emerging train of thought: “Old Luo, I heard you’re quitting?”

Luo Ye chewed on a piece of celery, pointing his index finger toward his phone screen.

Wan Qing leaned over to read:

1. Got a cold.

2. Leaving next Wednesday. No farewell party.

3. In no rush to find a new job; focusing on traveling first.

4. Don’t eat snacks.

5. Don’t drink coffee.

6. White chocolate is acceptable.

7. Before leaving, help me push my chair back in, thanks.

Before Wan Qing could even finish reading, Luo Ye suddenly knitted his brows. Bending his head, he typed out a fresh line of text with rapid speed, holding the screen high in the air.

Seeing how urgent he looked, Wan Qing assumed it was something crucial and hurriedly leaned closer to inspect the text:

8. URGENT URGENT URGENT help me grab some vinegar

Wan Qing: “…??? Are you out of your mind?”

Lan Ju raised a hand while chewing his food: “He is, in fact, currently sick out of his mind.”

Rolling his eyes, Wan Qing snatched the vinegar bottle from the adjacent table and poured a generous splash straight into Luo Ye’s bowl of marinated wood ear mushrooms.

Luo Ye studied Wan Qing’s attire, finding his coat strangely familiar. He suddenly recalled that Chi Zhiyue had been wearing a remarkably similar coat earlier that morning.

In a raspy voice, he asked, “Is this style trending in your department or something? How come you’re all wearing the same coat?”

“Nah, Chi Zhiyue gave these to us,” Wan Qing spread his arms wide, smugly raising his eyebrows. “He holds VIP memberships with a bunch of top brands, so they’re always gifting him items. He usually doesn’t need them, so he just distributes them among us.”

Before Luo Ye could even digest that piece of information, Lan Ju had already seized Wan Qing’s hands, his eyes sparkling with eager desperation: “If I transfer to your department right now, can I still get free stuff?!”

Wan Qing responded with an aggressive roll of his eyes.

“If he’s a wealthy heir, why does he even bother working a day job?” Luo Ye asked.

Despite having his arm violently shaken by Lan Ju, Wan Qing didn’t forget to answer Luo Ye: “He’s not a wealthy heir. He mentioned his relative is a business owner, while his dad is just a regular employee and his mom is an ordinary professor.”

Luo Ye: “…Since when is being a professor considered ordinary?”

“Hey, those were his exact words, I’m just passing them along.” Wan Qing didn’t hold much interest in the topic. Instead, he leaned in to closely inspect Luo Ye’s face, finally noticing the deep flush around his ears. “Your ears are bright red. Is that cold getting worse?”

Luo Ye personally felt it was just a slight itch in his throat, but he still pulled his hoodie low over his face, letting the shadow completely engulf his features as he rasped out, “If you know it’s getting worse, why aren’t you stepping away from me?”

“Say what you want, but you’re secretly touched by my warm concern, aren’t you?” Teasing Luo Ye verbally, Wan Qing nevertheless followed his advice, shifting his seat slightly closer to Lan Ju.

Lan Ju chimed in with mischievous delight: “Say no more, or our Brother Ye is going to shed precious little pearls out of sheer gratitude!”

“I can handle a cold fine. I haven’t cried in years,” Luo Ye said quietly.

Come to think of it, the last time he cried had been many, many years ago. Ever since then, no matter how grueling or exhausting life became, he had never shed another tear, only comforting himself with the thought: “How wonderful my life must turn out in the future to warrant enduring all these hardships now.”

And yet here he was—just as life had finally settled into a quiet stability, he was running out of time.

The cafeteria lights burned brightly, appearing almost harsher than usual. As the light hit Luo Ye’s food, faint trails of steam rose slowly into the air, yet every bite carried a subtle, lingering tang of sour bitterness.

Must have poured too much vinegar, Luo Ye thought to himself.

When lunch concluded, Lan Ju and Wan Qing headed up to the sky garden to catch a breath of fresh air, while Luo Ye returned to the department early.

Stepping over to his workstation, he was just about to sit down when his eyes caught a box of cold medicine resting dead center on his desk.

“Hmm?” Luo Ye picked it up to inspect the box. It was completely unopened, appearing as though it had just been freshly purchased.

Holding the box high, he called out to the colleagues present in the room: “Who left this here?”

A few heads turned, but no one offered an answer. Luo Ye withdrew his hand, his fingers tracing over the printed labels on the packaging as his gaze settled on Bai Nan’s empty seat.

The truth was glaringly obvious.

A subtle, pleasant warmth surged through Luo Ye’s heart. He hadn’t expected Bai Nan to be so thoughtful and detail-oriented; he’d have to make sure to praise her properly once she returned.

Tearing open a packet of the cold medicine, he turned around and walked over to the break room to pour himself a cup of hot water.

Right at that moment, Bai Nan returned, her crisp, cheerful laughter echoing down the hallway. Luo Ye poked his head out from the doorway and waved at her: “Thanks a lot!”

Bai Nan’s smiling expression instantly melted into pure confusion. Pointing a finger at herself, she asked, “Huh? Thanks for what?”

Pretty impressive acting skills. Luo Ye chuckled inwardly, shaking the packet of cold medicine in his hand: “Thanks for buying the cold medicine.”

Bai Nan hastily waved her hands in denial: “I didn’t buy any cold medicine! I just went down to the convenience store to grab some oden!”

Luo Ye froze, dropping his gaze back down to the medicine box in his hand. “I thought you bought it.”

Bai Nan thought about it for a second, then offered a light laugh: “Maybe someone bought it for you but felt too shy to say anything! Either way, it’s brand new, so drink it while it’s hot!”

Luo Ye found that reasonable enough. When someone went out of their way to offer a kind gesture, it wouldn’t do to leave them hanging.

Slitting open the packet, he poured the powder into the paper cup. The long, slender stir stick whirled through the liquid, sending a deep brown vortex spinning through the cup.

Chi Zhiyue set his stir stick aside, leaning his back lightly against the cold break room wall as his gaze swept across the rows of workstations toward the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

The sky outside was a bleak, washed-out white, devoid of a single cloud. The adjacent office building reflected vague, swaying silhouettes of people—faint and fragile, like paper cutouts.

At this time of day, Chi Zhiyue would typically either be out for a meal or holding a quick meeting in a private room. Today, however, he happened to be in a good mood, dropping by the break room for a cup of coffee.

He raised his cup, lifting it to his lips to blow away the curling wisps of steam, when his colleague Wan Qing’s voice sounded beside him: “Taking medicine?”

Chi Zhiyue’s fingers paused slightly. Tilting the rim of his cup, he offered a polite, mild smile: “It’s coffee. I don’t have a cold.”

“Oh, oh!” Wan Qing’s earlobes instantly flushed red as he scratched his head in awkward embarrassment. “I just saw a box of cold medicine sitting on your desk this morning, so I assumed…”

“That was for someone else,” Chi Zhiyue replied smoothly, taking a small sip of his coffee.

Wan Qing rubbed his hands together awkwardly, stealing a quiet glance at Chi Zhiyue. He didn’t really know Chi Zhiyue well—or rather, not a single person in their department truly understood him.

Chi Zhiyue answered every question posed to him with flawless courtesy and an impeccable tone, yet there was always an intangible, cool distance surrounding him. He declined every invitation to hang out after work, and whenever someone offered him a ride on the road, he would politely refuse.

As his senior colleague, how could I possibly back down over a little awkwardness?!

Ignited by a sudden, inexplicable surge of motivation, Wan Qing drew in a deep breath and offered a friendly reminder: “Still, the flu has been going around pretty bad lately. You should keep an eye out. Luo Ye from downstairs just caught it.”

“I know,” Chi Zhiyue replied softly.

Wan Qing looked a little surprised: “He told you?”

“Ran into him today,” Chi Zhiyue offered a gentle, mild smile.

Wan Qing considered himself a long-time acquaintance of Luo Ye, having long developed an immunity toward insanely attractive people. Yet the moment Chi Zhiyue smiled, he still found himself momentarily dazed: Damn it, how is anyone supposed to compete with these maxed-out stat monsters?

Right at that moment, another colleague named Xiao Zhao chimed in from the side: “Are you talking about that handsome guy you mentioned who rides a motorcycle? I saw that bike today—it looks so cool!”

Crap. Got so distracted staring at his face that I almost forgot about the main news.

Wan Qing turned his head awkwardly to chat with Xiao Zhao: “You better admire it while you can. A few days from now, you won’t get to see it even if you want to.”

Xiao Zhao tilted her head in confusion: “Why?”

Wan Qing shrugged: “Because he’s quitting.”

Clatter—!

The sharp, crisp sound of ceramic clashing against the table shattered their conversation.

They whipped their heads around in unison, only to find the coffee cup overturned on the polished tea table. The deep brown liquid was sloshing down the edge of the glass surface in a dark stream.

Chi Zhiyue held his wrist loosely, a vivid flush of red blooming across the back of his hand. His brow was tightly knit, his face draped in an unusually dark shadow.

Within a couple of seconds, his expression smoothed back into its usual calm composure. Righting the fallen cup, he murmured softly:

“My apologies. My grip slipped.”