Chapter Six: Is That All?

Running—this was something Tang Zhichu had experience with. As long as your mind was occupied, half an hour would slip by before you knew it.

He heard some noises along the way, but didn’t let them distract him. After finishing his run and turning back, he noticed that at some point, a glass of water had appeared on the nearby table.

Tang Zhichu assumed it was Chen Siyang who had poured the water, but Zhou Yun was also in the living room.

He picked up the glass and signaled to Zhou Yun. Zhou Yun nodded and grinned, saying, “I’m an expert when it comes to exercise. You’re too tall, or maybe too thin—eat more and put on some muscle. You’ll have a different charm then.”

“Thank you.”

“Is your headache better?”

“Pretty much gone.”

The more they talked, the more Zhou Yun’s smile faded. This guy was just like yesterday—distant and hard to read.

Thinking it over, Zhou Yun understood. He knew some of the inside story. The seventh season of “Heartbeat” almost didn’t happen. With dating shows popping up on all platforms, audiences were growing weary.

Tang Zhichu’s appearance might be a breakthrough for the show—bringing in an ordinary person to see what kind of chemistry would unfold.

Yes, in Zhou Yun’s eyes, apart from his looks and temperament, Tang Zhichu was an ordinary guy in every other aspect.

But Zhou Yun also felt that Tang Zhichu wasn’t quite your average ordinary person. At the very least, he didn’t seem awkward here.

There was a sound from the entryway, and Zhou Yun got up to check.

Huang Zejun had returned, still in his suit as if just off work.

“Whoa, Brother Jun, you look ready for action,” Zhou Yun joked.

Besides his briefcase, Huang Zejun was carrying a guitar.

“Don’t worry, I brought this for you guys.”

Zhou Yun cast a meaningful glance at Huang Zejun. There were three female guests—Chen Siyang, of course, had debuted in a girl group and could sing well. But Huang Zejun said “you guys,” suggesting he counted himself in.

Zhou Yun had mentioned liking to sing, and Jiang Lan was mysterious—nobody knew much about her.

But just as Zhou Yun was waiting to play with the guitar, Huang Zejun took it upstairs.

Zhou Yun stared, then glanced at Tang Zhichu, who had just greeted Huang Zejun and was now wiping sweat and heading upstairs as well.

“These men are so practical…” Zhou Yun thought to himself.

Upstairs, Tang Zhichu took a shower and then sat at his computer, putting on his headphones.

Out of professional curiosity—and a desire to probe the depths of this world—he started scanning music charts, both domestic and international.

At eight in the evening, they called down for dinner.

Tang Zhichu went downstairs to find only five people in the dining room. Jiang Lan hadn’t arrived.

“Lan says she’s still busy with work, so we should eat first,” Chen Siyang, one of today’s chefs, called everyone to the table.

How to choose seats? The table was a long rectangle with eight places. Convenience-wise, the four seats facing each other in the middle were best for reaching dishes—but this was a dating show.

Yang Jiaxing tugged at a chair near the center. “Siyang, you sit here. I hardly did anything today; you handled it all.”

Chen Siyang hesitated. “You all sit first, I'll go grab a spoon.”

Tang Zhichu stepped back twice, took the seat opposite Yang Jiaxing, and sat at the edge—a seat, nothing more. He thought some people overthought it.

At that moment, Zhou Yun pointed at the mapo tofu on the table and declared, “I really love tofu dishes. I’ll sit here, then.”

With that, he went to sit next to Yang Jiaxing—where Yang Jiaxing had just offered Chen Siyang a seat.

Tang Zhichu glanced at Zhou Yun. A seat didn’t determine much, but it could reveal a lot.

Huang Zejun chuckled and sat opposite Yang Jiaxing.

Chen Siyang returned with a spoon, lingered at the table for a moment, then sat across from Zhou Yun—a subtle choice.

Opposite Zhou Yun, with Huang Zejun to her right and Tang Zhichu to her left.

Yang Jiaxing rubbed his temples, thinking, “That old Huang has a trick or two—not only did he get Chen Siyang’s text, he sat next to her at dinner…”

Huang Zejun’s smile grew wider, his heart lightening. So what if the guy opposite got Chen Siyang’s text? He hadn’t won her over yet. A girl like Chen Siyang wasn’t ordinary—of course she’d interact with others for comparison!

Tang Zhichu began serving himself.

Chen Siyang could cook, as the appearance of the dishes showed. The flavor, though, was rather mild overall.

“How is it?” Chen Siyang asked softly, head down as she ate.

Tang Zhichu hadn’t answered yet when Yang Jiaxing, opposite, spoke up: “Delicious. I got to help out, so I’ve tasted every dish. It’s great—really impressive!”

Huang Zejun frowned, thinking, What’s it got to do with you? She’s asking if you already tasted it? Clearly, she’s asking the people eating now.

Huang Zejun set down his chopsticks: “Excellent. You should open a restaurant.”

A smile appeared on Chen Siyang’s face, her head nodding in a small arc. Under the table, her feet in pink slippers gently nudged Tang Zhichu’s foot beside her.

Chen Siyang didn’t mention that Tang Zhichu had helped prepare the dishes today. In her eyes, Tang Zhichu wasn’t the type to boast.

He’d helped, and so professionally—she didn’t want to drop the ball.

And she hoped for some interaction with Tang Zhichu.

Tang Zhichu paused—was she really asking him?

So he answered, “It’s alright, just a bit mild. Sichuan cuisine relies on layered flavors; if the spice is too light, the chili can overpower everything.”

Tang Zhichu thought, You asked, so I told you.

The table fell silent for a few seconds. Yang Jiaxing wanted to laugh but held it in. He felt the reserved guy diagonally across from him would have a hard time finding a girlfriend—he didn’t even give the girl any face in this situation. Truly something.

Huang Zejun coughed twice and commented, “If you go by commercial taste, maybe Zhichu’s right. But for ourselves, a milder flavor is healthier.”

In his words, he defended Chen Siyang and subtly jabbed at Tang Zhichu, but in his heart, he found Tang Zhichu more likable—wasn’t this a godsend ally? With this personality, there was no need to guard against him.

Chen Siyang didn’t react much—just murmured, “Oh.”

But at that moment, Zhou Yun picked up the conversation: “I think the mapo tofu is great, the spicy and sour potato is good too, and I need to try the braised shrimp—I love shrimp…”

Tang Zhichu looked up at Zhou Yun, thinking, If you know how to talk, say more.

Huang Zejun had just said mild food was healthier, but you listed all the strong-flavored dishes.

Exactly—Yang Jiaxing burst out laughing this time.

With this table of Sichuan cuisine, you tell me milder is better?

Yang Jiaxing’s mood inexplicably improved. Even counting Tang Zhichu, there were only two competitors—one introverted and insecure, not talkative; the other, arrogant and aloof, didn’t seem all that clever.

Is that all?