Chapter 59 After the New Year holidays, life returned to normal...
After the holidays, life returned to normal. Zhao Zhinian returned to Beijing to resume her work. Seeing that his daughter was settled, her father didn't linger and set off for the country. Before leaving, he handed his daughter another cloud-patterned pendant, which could be seen as a tacit approval of Zhou Zekai. He repeatedly told her to take good care of herself and revealed that he was considering expediting his overseas affairs so that he could return to China to settle down as soon as possible.
Although the offline events of the Glory Challenge haven't started yet, Zhao Zhinian's schedule is already packed. The company, probably finally reaping the rewards of its initial investment, is taking advantage of her rising popularity and is accepting almost any offer for her to host various commercial events and competitions. The schedule is so tight it's almost suffocating; sometimes she has to rush to several events a day, only able to quickly touch up her makeup and familiarize herself with and memorize her script in the car.
However, when she was hosting both Yizhan and Tiny Herb's home games, she could manage if the schedules didn't overlap. But if the two teams' home games clashed, the company would generally require her to prioritize Tiny Herb's home games, given the principle of prioritizing viewership. Seeing her hesitation every time, the director even said that the company would coordinate with both teams to relieve her of any psychological pressure.
"Chinen, you need to understand the company's considerations." The director sent the schedule and work arrangements to her email, and also specifically reminded her to check them on WeChat: "The competition is basically halfway through. The level of the Glory League teams is now basically stable. Tiny Herb's home games not only have a higher attendance rate, but also several times more online viewers than Yizhan. Moreover, Tiny Herb is more likely to win the games, so the post-game interviews will naturally receive more attention. This is crucial for your personal exposure."
She opened the attachment and looked at the densely packed schedule. Tiny Herb's matches were mostly highlighted. In several overlapping dates, Yizhan's matches were mostly marked "pending coordination".
Lou Guanning was quite open-minded about this, often comforting her: "Zhinian, go for it, personal development is the most important thing. In the beginning, we also talked about how we could coordinate if there were conflicts. Right now, Yizhan is struggling against strong teams and it's basically hard to win, while playing against weak teams doesn't get enough attention. You should first go to a higher platform to build up your reputation and popularity, and then come back to Yizhan to host events in the future. For example, Lin Shuang is planning a new project. Once it's planned, she will definitely invite you to host it. This is a win-win situation for you and Yizhan Club. Don't feel burdened."
However, this understanding only deepened her sense of guilt. Her feelings towards Yizhan were ultimately different: Yizhan was where she started her career, and the bonds she formed with the members of Yizhan were different from those in other teams. Moreover, although she was currently working every day, she was still comfortably living in the dormitory provided by Yizhan. This emotional attachment made each of her choices feel exceptionally heavy.
She knew perfectly well that she had secured these opportunities primarily due to her continuously improving professional skills and growing popularity. The director's approval and the audience's positive reviews were proof of this. However, she couldn't deny that some of the job offers were indeed closely related to the buzz generated by her "well-known secret" with Zhou Zekai. Naturally, there were also some sharp comments online, such as that she only got these opportunities because of Zhou Zekai, or that she was purely using their relationship to gain attention and hype.
This realization made her feel somewhat conflicted while enjoying her career advancement.
But having chosen to stand shoulder to shoulder with Zhou Zekai, she decided to accept all the attention and comments that came with it.
She began to carefully discern negative comments: she tried to ignore those comments that were purely related to her relationship and worked hard to adjust her mindset; as for those comments that seriously discussed her professional abilities and objectively pointed out her shortcomings, no matter how harsh the wording, she listened attentively and took careful notes.
She knew perfectly well that while the attention this relationship brought might be a powerful boost that could propel her into the spotlight faster, the steering wheel of her career development remained firmly in her own hands.
She firmly believes that even without Zhou Zekai, she would still steadfastly continue on her path as a host. Of course, her pace would likely be slower, and her life trajectory might be different: she probably wouldn't dedicate so much energy and passion, so focused, to the world of e-sports.
Just two days ago, an unexpected invitation arrived for Zhao Zhinian: to be a guest on a variety show officially produced by a certain game. This show mainly invites professional players to team up with internet celebrities for competitions, which is not within her familiar work scope, especially since she knows almost nothing about that game. In addition, her recent schedule is already tight, and the recording would require a special trip to Suzhou, so she initially planned to decline.
However, the game operator had a close relationship with her company. The director called her personally, implying that her presence was a "crucial element" in maintaining their cooperation, and even suggesting that "they're only interested in your current popularity, and it's difficult for the company to refuse some collaborations." After much deliberation, weighing the company's expectations against practical considerations, she ultimately had no choice but to accept the job.
As she had predicted, the recording of the show proceeded exactly as scheduled. The experienced host had clearly received explicit "instructions," focusing precisely on the most talked-about topics in each guest's conversations, while relegating the promotion of his own game to a secondary position.
This topsy-turvy approach will inevitably draw criticism after airing, but the producers probably thought that if they unearthed any exclusive gossip, it would genuinely boost the game and variety show's popularity—even negative publicity is still publicity.
When it was Zhao Zhinian's turn, the questions were even more pointed: "Zhinian is so outstanding now, you must have a lot of suitors, right?", "I heard that you have a good personal relationship with several professional players in the Glory circle? I often see you interacting.", "I've also seen a lot of news about Zhinian online recently.", "Zhinian is from Shanghai, right? Did you go home for the Chinese New Year? I saw some photos taken by fans"... Although she didn't name names, the questions were full of indirect inquiries, and the intention was obvious. Throughout the interview, the host was particularly "concerned" about her love life.
Faced with such relentless probing, Zhao Zhinian had no choice but to be on high alert, feigning ignorance throughout. With a professional smile and tactful ambiguity, she skillfully defused the sensitive topics one by one, managing to complete the task without any major incidents.
As the recording ended, the indicator light came on, and Zhao Zhinian's professional smile remained unchanged, but a deep sense of exhaustion welled up from the bottom of her heart.
She knew better than anyone that every frame and every word from just now had become material waiting to be edited, and could be taken out of context, amplified, and interpreted at any time, becoming fodder for gossip.
Her professional skills are the foundation of her livelihood, which has earned her a place in the spotlight; but the higher she stands, the more she is seen, and the less satisfied people are with just seeing her brilliance on stage. Instead, they want to lift the curtain and peek into her life offstage.
Back in the temporary lounge, she removed her elaborate makeup and changed into comfortable casual clothes, finally feeling her tense nerves relax a little. She picked up her phone, intending to simply tell Zhou Zekai that work was over, but her fingertip paused for a moment on his WeChat profile picture.
It was a low-resolution, candid photo circulating online. She was used to the simple default profile picture, so she still felt a little uncomfortable with the new one.
This photo has been circulating online for some time. The whistleblower, whose IP address is based in Shanghai, confidently claims to have captured "solid evidence" of their Spring Festival date.
However, due to the long-distance candid shooting, the image quality was poor, and Zhou Zekai was wearing a black baseball cap and a mask, which almost covered all his features, so it could only be judged from his figure that "he looks like him"; on the contrary, Zhao Zhinian's face could still be barely recognized in the blurry pixels.
Although acquaintances could immediately tell that the person next to her was Zhou Zekai, some netizens stubbornly refused to believe it.
This is why the photo has become a Rashomon-like situation in public opinion.
CP fans hailed it as a "divine picture," searching for evidence of sweetness in the blurred details;
Those who refused to believe it insisted that the man in the picture was not Zhou Zekai, or questioned the authenticity of the photo, since both parties involved had chosen to remain silent.
People have always been like this; they only want to see the truth they want to see.
The photo was taken on a winter evening on the sixth day of the Lunar New Year. They had just finished watching a movie, and since the restaurants in the mall were packed and most required waiting in line, they decided to take a taxi to a restaurant further away. In the photo, the two stand side by side on the street, each looking down at their phones. Zhou Zekai is focused on using a ride-hailing app, while Zhao Zhinian is checking in advance whether the restaurant can reserve a table.
Zhou Zekai wore a short black down jacket over a gray sweatshirt, and black trousers that accentuated his tall and slender figure. His hat was pulled low and his mask was on, revealing only a pair of downcast eyes. He held a phone in his right hand, while his left hand, which hung naturally, clearly carried a small women's handbag. This incongruity with his personal style was particularly eye-catching.
Zhao Zhinian didn't try to hide anything. Her long, flowing hair cascaded over her shoulders, and a grey knit sweater peeked out from under her black coat, paired with sleek white wide-leg trousers. She held her phone in both hands, her expression focused, standing slightly to the side, her shoulder unconsciously leaning towards him.
They didn't look at each other, nor did they speak. Yet, on this winter evening street, a silent companionship flowed naturally. From the handbag in his hand to her slightly leaning posture, every detail silently spoke of intimacy in the blurred pixels, weaving together a tacit understanding and warmth that needed no words.
It is precisely these blurred pixels that lend the entire photo a hazy, poetic quality, adding an indescribable atmosphere. Many fans of the couple happily set it as their profile picture, and what surprised Zhao Zhinian even more was that Zhou Zekai had also quietly changed his WeChat profile picture to this photo.
It is said that he originally wanted to change his Weibo profile picture at the same time, but was stopped by the manager of Samsara through earnest persuasion.
Zhao Zhinian was initially puzzled. They had taken many photos together at the recent Tiny Herb All-Star Weekend, and those photos were clear and formal. When she asked, Zhou Zekai answered seriously: in his heart, the sixth day of the Lunar New Year was their first date in the strictest sense. This photo, captured by a passerby, though blurry, was the only "photo" documenting their private time together, making it exceptionally meaningful.
This reason softened Zhao Zhinian's heart, and she silently made a mental note: next time they met, she would definitely take more photos together, just like she and Lin An'an always took many photos whenever they got together. She actually quite liked taking photos to record her life. She had originally thought that Zhou Zekai, with his introverted personality, might not like taking photos, so she hadn't thought of it that day. Now that she thought about it, perhaps he was just not used to posing in front of the camera, but he actually cared about recording important moments between them.
At this moment, looking at the profile picture he particularly liked, the annoyance he felt from being repeatedly spied on and having his privacy questioned during the recording seemed to have been somewhat eased.
She opened the chat window and sent a message: "Work is done." After thinking for a moment, she added: "Your profile picture is actually quite nice once you get used to it."
Zhou Zekai has also been busy lately.
Besides regular matches and training, after the Glory Level is increased, all teams are racing against time to upgrade their characters' Silver Weapon Level, and the rare materials dropped by wild map BOSSes have become a battleground for all sides.
Team Happy, compared to other clubs with formal training systems and the need to balance competitions, clearly had more time and energy to "stir up trouble" in the online game. They appeared and disappeared unpredictably, employing tricky tactics that often caught other guilds off guard, creating chaos and fierce battles within the game. The other guilds, naturally unable to resist, could only frequently "cry for help" from the team, forcing professional players to take time out of their competitions to "put out fires" in the online game.
Zhao Zhinian's feelings were somewhat complicated, especially since she had recently advanced to the God Realm and had also witnessed several battles for wild bosses.
On one hand, Yi Zhan and Happy have a good relationship and are considered allies. Yi Zhan goes without saying, and she has also met Happy's boss, Chen Guo, and they have a good impression of each other. On the other hand, her account card is registered with Samsara Guild, and with the connection to Zhou Zekai... Every time the guild members indignantly complain about Happy being "unethical" and "too cunning" in the guild channel, or when Yi Zhan's base discusses joining forces with Happy to compete with Samsara for the BOSS, she can only watch silently, her feelings complicated.
It feels like watching a chaotic battle between relatives and friends; it's not right to be biased towards either side, so you can only remain neutral.
Once, after watching a failed attempt to steal a boss in an online game, she jokingly said to Zhou Zekai, "Do you need me to give you some 'insider information'?"
She spoke in a lighthearted tone, with a hint of playfulness, thinking he would definitely hear the joke in her voice.
Unexpectedly, Zhou Zekai looked at her seriously and asked, "Is it okay?"
Zhao Zhinian immediately straightened her face and refused righteously: "Of course not!"
"I thought... I was more important." Zhou Zekai lowered his eyes, his tone carrying just the right amount of disappointment. His deliberate use of the situation to his advantage was clearly an act he was playing along with.
"Of course, my career is more important! Kai-ge! You need to be sensible. See, I won't ask you 'Which is more important, me or the championship?' It's a matter of professional ethics. After all, I still live in Yizhan's dormitory, host Yizhan's matches, and occasionally host Tiny Herb... So, I can't show favoritism; I can only stand by and watch." Zhao Zhinian explained earnestly.
Zhou Zekai listened and didn't press the matter, but simply said softly, "Okay, then keep an eye on me."
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