ICSTC CH6: Downpour Tomorrow

The two bid farewell to Manager Fang before the car rolled out of the company premises.

Contrary to what Luo Ye had expected, Chi Zhiyue’s car was remarkably clean. All potential safety hazards had been carefully avoided—the windshield was completely pristine and clutter-free, and the interior breathed a remarkably fresh scent, free from any hint of cheap perfume.

Luo Ye couldn’t even hail a ride-share car with a standard this high.

If it weren’t for a few everyday utility tools stored in the front compartment, he would have assumed Chi Zhiyue had just driven this car off the dealership lot today.

Soothing, melodious piano music floated from the car’s sound system. For some strange reason, Luo Ye’s lightheadedness felt significantly better. He casually sent a WeChat message to Wan Qing.

[Luo Ye]: Got in the car.

[Wan Qing]: OK, need me to pick you up on the way back?

[Luo Ye]: I’ll head straight home after my appointment.

[Wan Qing]: OK.

After sending the text, Luo Ye picked boredly at the hem of his jacket, casting a sideways glance at Chi Zhiyue, who was focusing on driving.

When Chi Zhiyue was focused, the usual faint, upward curve was absent from the corners of his lips. With his eyebrows slightly knitted, he actually carried quite a striking presence. As Luo Ye’s gaze dropped lower, he noticed a patch of deep red across the back of the other man’s hand. Instinctively, he asked, “What happened to your hand?”

Chi Zhiyue answered right away, his tone perfectly composed: “Scalded by coffee.”

“Huh?” Luo Ye immediately followed up, “Did you run it under cold water?”

“I did,” Chi Zhiyue let out a quiet, soft chuckle. “Are you worried about me, or just curious?”

Luo Ye felt the question was completely redundant; even if it had been the security guard at the front gate who got burned with such a noticeable mark, he would have asked how it happened all the same.

Not quite knowing how to answer, he settled on: “A bit of both, I guess.”

“I didn’t expect you’d actually agree to take a ride with me,” Chi Zhiyue stole a quick glance at him. “I thought you’d just ignore me.”

Luo Ye almost thought he had misheard. Turning his head back like a clockwork doll winding up, he stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes.

…Hold on, bro? Who was the one ignoring whom in the first place?

How can someone turn around and pin the blame on the victim like this?

Chi Zhiyue evidently failed to notice his intense glare. Fearing he might actually snap back at him, Luo Ye steered the conversation away: “Your department has been pretty busy these past few days.”

“Compared to your team, we’re practically daydreaming,” Chi Zhiyue noted.

“Wan Qing said you guys were stuck doing overtime until seven or eight,” Luo Ye said.

“That was only for the past two days. Your team has pulled overtime more than ten times already, right?”

“…” Luo Ye fell dead silent.

In comparison, why on earth was his department having it so miserable?

Feeling his mental defense crumble, Luo Ye yanked his jacket zipper all the way to the very top, sealing his neck up tight: “End of conversation. Say any more and I’m jumping out of this car.”

“Hahaha.” Chi Zhiyue burst into a lighthearted, cheerful laugh. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

His voice was so soft that it made Luo Ye’s ears itch slightly. He was hit with a strange realization—a few months ago, he never would have dared to imagine the two of them chatting like this.

Luo Ye held no personal grudge against Chi Zhiyue. If their relationship could soften a bit before he left, it would count as a good gesture and a positive ending—a good thing overall.

The heat blowing inside the car felt a bit stuffy, so Luo Ye lowered it a notch. Sinking his entire frame into the soft leather seat, he rested his elbow on the armrest, lazily propping his forehead with his hand.

Gazing at the scenery rapidly receding outside the window, he muttered under his breath in a low voice: “Once I get better, I’ll buy you boba tea.”

He deliberately spoke softly, but just loudly enough for the driver to hear.

And the driver certainly heard it, responding with a smooth: “Deal.”

Fortunately, it wasn’t peak rush hour, so traffic flowed smoothly along the road. The tail lights along the street stretched into a fine, fragmented red stream, while the countdown timer ticked away second by second, reflecting in the depths of Luo Ye’s eyes, dimming his light green irises just a fraction.

As the car drew to a stop before a red light, Chi Zhiyue took a sip of bottled water before suddenly opening his mouth: “Are you quitting?”

Luo Ye froze for a second, thinking news really did travel fast—it had already reached Chi Zhiyue’s ears.

“Which company are you planning to head to?” Chi Zhiyue turned toward him.

Luo Ye pulled his beanie up slightly, lowering his eyes as he answered: “Don’t know yet. I’ll take a break for a while first.”

Just then, the music track changed, and a familiar backing track started playing—first the guitar intro typical of a band, followed by the distinct, signature vocal style of Wild Grass Band.

Luo Ye’s interest was piqued in an instant. Leaning forward slightly to check the track title on the dashboard screen, he asked: “You listen to them too?”

Chi Zhiyue glanced at the display and murmured, “You could say there’s a bit of fate involved.”

“What do you mean?” Luo Ye looked up at him.

“Stumbled upon them out of nowhere one day,” Chi Zhiyue said.

“Then that definitely counts as fate,” Luo Ye nodded in satisfaction. “I was introduced to them through a home feed recommendation, too.”

Tapping his fingers gently against the steering wheel, Chi Zhiyue inquired, “You like them a lot?”

“I’ve been a fan since middle school.” The moment the topic came up, Luo Ye perked up completely, the cat ears hidden beneath his beanie twitching uncontrollably.

“They’re not super popular, and whenever I ask other people, nobody seems to know them. But I think their music is fantastic, and I always incorporate some of their tracks when I do video editing.”

If his tail were exposed right now, it would undoubtedly be held up high, curling into an upside-down hook.

People in obscure, niche fandoms were just that easily satisfied. Luo Ye stopped himself from going on—dwelling too much on it only brought back bitter memories.

“It seems they’re holding a standalone concert next month,” Chi Zhiyue added casually.

Luo Ye gasped in surprise: “You even know about that? Are you a fan too?”

“You could say that.” Chi Zhiyue tapped the screen, revealing a playlist saved with over twenty songs by Wild Grass Band.

Luo Ye stared blankly, sniffing his nose.

What the… This guy actually has pretty great taste.

Luo Ye had a distinct trait: he possessed an extraordinarily high level of patience for fellow fans with shared interests. Even if the other party was a complete idiot, he would still consider them a kind-hearted idiot. Not to mention Chi Zhiyue wasn’t an idiot at all—he was far smarter than most.

So, while Luo Ye shifted his gaze back toward the window, a bit of genuine emotion slipped from his lips: “Too bad I won’t be able to go after the date was rescheduled. I’ll just catch them another time if I get the chance.”

“You’ll have plenty of free time soon. You can go whenever you want.”

Chi Zhiyue finished speaking just as the signal turned green, leaving Luo Ye no window to voice his internal declaration of “This might be my very last chance.”

After another ten minutes of driving, they pulled up across the street from the Second Municipal Hospital. Being a Friday, the crowd was sizable, with taxis queued in long lines as traffic crawled forward at a snail’s pace.

Fearing that staying too long might spread his cold to Chi Zhiyue, Luo Ye unbuckled his seatbelt, preparing to step out.

“Hold on a second.” Chi Zhiyue called him back, leaning his body toward Luo Ye’s side.

The next second, a packet of sanitizing wipes was pressed into Luo Ye’s hand.

The corner of Luo Ye’s mouth twitched beneath his mask, unsure whether to feel shocked or flattered: “Th-Thanks?”

“No need to thank me,” Chi Zhiyue drew his hand back, his tone smooth and calm. “I still haven’t returned that umbrella to you from last time.”

“Last time? Ah…” Clutching the wet wipes, Luo Ye recalled the incident.

The two of them had crossed paths on a rainy day a month ago. Chi Zhiyue had been standing near the main entrance without an umbrella, so Luo Ye handed him his spare one.

Afterward, work got so hectic that the matter completely slipped his mind.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luo Ye pulled open the car door with crisp efficiency. “You can keep it.” Not like I’ll be needing it in the future anyway.

Chi Zhiyue said nothing more, offering a subtle nod and a faint, gentle smile: “See you next week.”

Luo Ye let out a soft “Mhm.” The Mercedes merged smoothly into the main lane, blending into the surging sea of traffic, as he turned around and walked toward the hospital entrance.

He ended up spending nearly two hours inside.

It wasn’t because his condition was severe, but rather due to the long wait time. The Beastfolk Department in every hospital only accounted for one-twentieth of the entire facility, making resources extremely tight. When Luo Ye arrived, there were twelve beastfolk patients waiting ahead of him in line.

Sitting in the waiting area, Luo Ye felt his head, which had just started to clear up, growing dizzy all over again. He closed his eyes to rest for a bit until his number was finally called.

The doctor noted that he had a mild fever, but it didn’t require an IV drip. He prescribed two sets of medications alongside a dose of suppressants.

“Also, your heat cycle is approaching soon, which means your immune system is currently lower than usual, making you prone to falling sick.”

The doctor typed away rapidly on the keyboard, casting a quick glance at Luo Ye.

Luo Ye had already pulled off his beanie, revealing a pair of healthy, strikingly beautiful leopard-cat ears. Whether a beastfolk possessed a strong constitution was readily visible through their ears and tail.

Luo Ye’s fur was smooth and sleek. As the warm air from the heater blew past, his ears twitched subtly in response, looking exceptionally sharp and lively.

Encountering such a fine pair of animal ears, the doctor nodded in satisfaction: “Very nice. You can put your hat back on now.”

Luo Ye adjusted his hair, retracted his ears, and pulled the beanie back over his head while listening to the doctor continue: “Your physical health is naturally quite robust, which is why your sensitivity to pain isn’t overly pronounced. Anyone else facing a cold on top of an impending heat cycle would have passed out from the fever long ago.”

Luo Ye nodded: “I usually don’t feel much before my heat cycle kicks in.”

“Looks like you maintain a pretty good diet with balanced nutrition in your daily life.”

“My younger brother usually does all the cooking at home.”

“Then your brother might want to consider becoming a nutritionist,” the doctor waited for the prescription slip to print, handing it over to Luo Ye. “Once your heat cycle begins, taking two pills a day will do the trick. Just make absolute sure not to mix them with your cold medicine. Though, of course, spending it with your mate is always the primary recommendation.”

My mate is probably still tucked away in some unknown corner of the world.

Luo Ye grumbled inwardly, taking the slip as he stood up: “Thank you, Doctor.”

Stepping out of the hospital, Luo Ye downed two of the prescribed pills right away. When he arrived back home, it wasn’t even 3:00 PM yet. He went downstairs to buy the seaweed crackers Luo Peng loved most, placing them right where his brother would spot them the moment he walked through the door.

Carrying a bag of fresh vegetables, Luo Peng returned home to find his favorite snack, a rare trace of a smile finally breaking across his usually composed face: “Brother, did you take a taxi there?”

“A colleague drove me over earlier, but I took a ride back on my own,” Luo Ye said.

Luo Peng nodded, tying on an apron to prepare dinner. Tonight’s meal was a mild, easy-to-digest “sick-bay menu.” Luo Ye took the opportunity to pass along the doctor’s glowing compliments to Luo Peng.

Luo Peng didn’t offer much of a verbal reaction, but the tip of his tail hooked upward in delight. Luo Ye found his little brother’s subtle reaction utterly adorable, his own tail curling up into the shape of a question mark alongside it.

After dinner, Luo Ye took his medicine and crashed straight into bed, sleeping soundly until 10:00 PM.

That long nap successfully swept away his dizziness and blurred vision, leaving his body feeling significantly lighter. He scrambled out of bed to cook himself a bowl of shredded pork and vegetable noodles, watching the latest episode of White Wave Island—a show he had personally helped edit—as he ate.

“Accompanied by this joyful melody, that wraps up today’s episode!”

The host, clad in a pale blue floor-length dress, held her cue cards while waving cheerfully at the camera: “I’m your host, Miao Miao. See you all next episode!”

Countless colorful ribbons fell across the stage like a shower of white snow. The host reached up her hands, happily welcoming the cascading confetti.

The next second, a vertical black line appeared on the right side of the screen. As the various brand sponsors concluded their broadcasts, the staff credits slowly rolled up the screen.

When the credits reached “Post-Production Editors,” the bullet comments suddenly spiked in volume:

[Produced by Team A, top-tier quality as expected!]

[Today’s episode was insanely good, guys!!]

[As expected of Team A, I spotted the name “Qing Qing”!]

[That familiar editing style, ahhh, the production crew is finally acting like decent human beings!]

Slurping down his very last strand of noodle, Luo Ye calmly dropped a few likes on several of those comments.

The “Team A” mentioned in the bullet commentary referred to the exact team Luo Ye belonged to, while “Qing Qing” was Luo Ye’s personal handle.

When he first joined the company, his supervisor asked everyone to submit a display name for the end credits. They were allowed to use online handles—for instance, Zhou Weitian went by the name “Big Auntie Zhou.”

Unable to come up with anything creative, Luo Ye simply used his childhood nickname.

Two months ago, the station director had a sudden lapse in judgment and forcibly handed off the successful show built by Team A to an outsourced team. As a result, the viewership ratings for those few episodes tanked drastically. The entire internet erupted in outrage, complaining that every new episode was cringier than the last.

At the executive meeting, the leadership couldn’t hold face any longer and awkwardly slammed the table, ordering Team A to take back control. Only then did the show’s reputation gradually recover piece by piece.

Luo Ye remained strictly fair and objective: whenever he saw comments in the discussion section praising his team, he dropped a like; whenever he saw unfair criticisms, he dropped a dislike.

After finishing a round of liking, Luo Ye received a string of exclamation marks sent by Wan Qing on WeChat.

[Luo Ye]: You’re not asleep yet?

[Wan Qing]: That new leader is losing his mind in the group chat again.

Wan Qing had complained about that new leader numerous times already. The man’s surname was Mei, and he carried a classic, old-school habit of relying on authority to bully others—flattering superiors while looking down on subordinates, and aggressively pushing toxic drinking culture. Every time there was a team-building event or a client meeting, he would force everyone to drink.

Everyone avoided him whenever possible, which was why he rarely showed his face in the office.

Wan Qing mentioned that Chi Zhiyue was the absolute toughest among them—even when he was in the office, he refused to attend those drinking sessions every single time. Later on, everyone else drew courage from him and stood their ground too, causing that toxic drinking culture to gradually fade away.

[Wan Qing]: Isn’t it because of that past incident that he’s been holding a grudge against Chi Zhiyue for the longest time?

[Luo Ye]: Yeah, I know.

[Wan Qing]: This afternoon he saw Chi driving to pick you up, so he brought it up in the main group chat, dropping passive-aggressive hints and singling him out! [Screenshot]

The moment the screenshot lit up the screen…

Luo Ye’s previously relaxed tail went instantly taut, the fur at the tip puffing up completely in an angry bristling motion.

“Holy crap! Is this guy out of his mind?!”