FSGOR Ch11

New York, on a rainy day. Raindrops struck the glass window like a broken melody playing on loop.

Chu Xuyu had been buried in work for days, but today, he finally had a half-day to rest. He returned to his hotel from the branch office, took a long bath, and changed into comfortable loungewear.

He hadn’t even dried his hair yet—his black fringe was slicked behind his ear, giving him a lazy, relaxed air.

As he stepped out of the bathroom, he glanced at his phone.

Still no new message from the little liar.

The young CEO’s patience was, after all, limited. He tapped the profile icon in their chat:

‘You patted KIRA’s avatar.’

Clingy and maybe a little childish—but he didn’t even notice it himself.

He suddenly felt an unexplainable dryness in his throat, as if the silence was parching him. He grabbed a glass of water and gulped several mouthfuls, barely calming the restless heat inside him.

***

Meanwhile, Jiang Tian had settled into the guest room at Lu Qiao’s place. The entire floor was empty and quiet, so even if he did make a call, no one would overhear.

But even with all that preparation, when he saw the message, his scalp tingled.

Afternoon Tea: Still busy?

Afternoon Tea: I’ve been waiting a long time.

Jiang Tian sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his phone, unsure how to respond.

He had just finished his shower, too. His skin gave off a clean lemony scent—subtle and pleasant.

A soft night breeze drifted through the window and ruffled his damp hair. It helped ease the tension coiled inside him.

It was the kind of night perfect for whispery late-night calls with someone… intimate.

But that “someone” was the jerk who had scammed his sister.

Jiang Tian knew full well the guy was a 996 corporate drone. He couldn’t possibly be busier than that. But if he kept stalling, the guy might start to suspect something. His whole cover as an online lover could crumble.

Though conflicted, he had no more excuses. So he compromised:

KIRA: I’m done with everything.

KIRA: What about you?

It was a stalling tactic. He was hoping the jerk hadn’t showered yet—just enough to buy time and delay the “suffering.”

Afternoon Tea: Just got out of the shower.

KIRA: Okay.

KIRA: Then should I call you?

Before he could brace himself, the call invitation popped up.

The phone vibrated in his palm, the glowing screen in the dark felt like a molten iron brick in his hands.

Jiang Tian inhaled deeply, like preparing for execution, then swiped to accept the call.

The villa’s guest room was silent. Outside, faint bird chirps echoed in the night.

On the other end of the line, there was no speech—only the faint sound of a man’s breathing, clear and steady.

Neither of them said anything at first.

Their breaths, overlapping through the speaker, slowly grew heavier—like two vines winding around each other in the dark.

Jiang Tian’s brain whirred with paranoia: Was this guy suspicious? Was this call a test to expose his identity?

He swallowed hard and forced himself to remain calm.

With a nervous edge, he finally spoke:

“Can you hear me?”

His voice was bright, magnetic, with a warm resonance. Classmates had once teased that he was perfect for voice acting—his voice alone could stir the imagination.

Too nervous, he’d forgotten to “act.”
Just as he was wondering why the guy wasn’t replying, a low, husky voice came through:

“I can hear you.”

“……!”

Jiang Tian froze, gripping the phone tighter as a flash of astonishment crossed his face.

The man’s voice was low, rich, and alluring—like aged wine, slightly raspy and deeply sensual.

It was a voice that completely shattered Jiang Tian’s previous image of this man as a scumbag.

Now, all he could picture was a suave, ambitious, well-dressed young CEO.

No wonder his sister had fallen for him. No wonder she was almost ruined.

Overwhelmed, Jiang Tian had no idea what to say next. The silence returned.

****

Chu Xuyu, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazed down at the rain-drenched street below. His expression darkened slightly as he licked his lips, like a hunter who had just discovered fresh prey.

Truth be told, he had never heard a voice so perfectly attuned to his preferences.

All the bottled-up tension from these days had begun to reach a boiling point.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” he broke the silence.

“I…” Jiang Tian fumbled, unable to form a response.

He didn’t know how to continue—and honestly, neither did Chu Xuyu. He’d never been in an online romance before. But now, everything inside him was burning.

“Are you in your room?”

“Mm.” Jiang Tian nodded, then subconsciously followed with, “And you?”

“Hotel,” Chu Xuyu replied.

Jiang Tian’s fingers tensed around the phone.

To him, a hotel could only mean one thing: the jerk was probably out hooking up with someone.

He felt inexplicably angry.

But Chu Xuyu had said it intentionally, to test the reaction—and seeing it, he narrowed his eyes and asked,

“What are you thinking?”

Before Jiang Tian could answer, Chu Xuyu smirked and changed the subject:

“Business trip.”

“I don’t mess around like that.”

Jiang Tian fell silent again. His sister had never mentioned business trips, but that could mean the guy was lying—playing it off because he was out of town. If he brought it up, it might spook him.

He turned to the window to get some fresh air and calm down:

“What do you want to talk about?”

Chu Xuyu chuckled softly:

“What do you think people in online relationships talk about?”

Jiang Tian was speechless.

That question laid their weird relationship completely bare.

Calling it an “online romance” suddenly made it feel too real, and Jiang Tian lost all footing.

His gaze darted away in panic.

 He’d never dated online before.

 He didn’t even do research.

 And worst of all—this whole thing was a trap from the start.

He only vaguely understood, by instinct, that online dating meant making the other person happy—offering what people called “emotional value.”

“I’m not really good at this…”

Jiang Tian’s voice sounded incredibly innocent—and honestly, he wasn’t even pretending.

“You’re probably better at this than me.”

Chu Xuyu replied with a practiced ease:

“A little better.”

Jiang Tian silently agreed.

Of course he would be—he was a scumbag with experience. Jiang Tian, by comparison, was a complete blank slate when it came to romance.

“Then… teach me.”

He said it through gritted teeth. Otherwise, the two of them were just going to keep sitting there awkwardly, listening to each other breathe. That was too unbearable.

He just wanted to get through this call as quickly as possible—and never do something this ridiculous again.

But the man’s next words completely collapsed his mental defenses:

“Your voice is really nice.”

Jiang Tian inhaled sharply.

“……Thanks.”

He didn’t even know why he was reacting like this.

Maybe it was because the man’s voice wasn’t like anyone his age—it was deep, rich, magnetic… almost too good to resist.

Chu Xuyu noticed the subtle shift in his tone.

That boy who had once flirted boldly through messages now sounded shy and reserved—an irresistible contrast that only stirred Chu Xuyu’s darker impulses.

“Sweetheart.”

The man’s seductive voice suddenly dropped this ridiculously intimate nickname.

Jiang Tian was instantly thrown off.

Sure, he had jokingly suggested it… but to actually hear it aloud?

“Sweetheart,” Chu Xuyu repeated again.

His face was hidden in the dim light, but even without alcohol, his breath was noticeably heated.

“Why do you like it when I call you that?”

Jiang Tian’s heart pounded in his chest:

“I… just typed it randomly.”

“Really?”

There was a dangerous edge in Chu Xuyu’s voice now.

“Then why are you blushing now?”

Jiang Tian swallowed. He couldn’t answer.

The atmosphere was getting too strange—like he was being lured in, bit by bit.

He quickly unscrewed a bottle of mineral water and took several gulps, but didn’t realize this small action revealed how nervous he was.

Chu Xuyu let out a low chuckle.

Hearing the sound, Jiang Tian choked mid-sip—completely caught off guard. He froze, still holding the bottle, embarrassed to death.

 But it only made Chu Xuyu want to tease him more.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured again, voice husky.

“Wanna play a game?”

Jiang Tian felt like he was going to lose it. He leaned his forehead against the wall, breath hot and erratic.

“What kind of game…”

Chu Xuyu said playfully:

“Give me a special nickname too.”

Jiang Tian’s brain short-circuited.

It was all Lu Qiao’s fault—he’d said, “Just pretend the guy isn’t a scumbag. Imagine he’s someone else. It’ll make things easier.”

And now, somehow, Jiang Tian was really imagining it—overlaying this man with the image of his sister’s boss.

 A young, ambitious CEO.

 The voices… the temperament… it matched too well. It was messing with his head.

“Sweetheart,”

Chu Xuyu cooed, voice thick and sticky.

“Give me one.”

Jiang Tian, a full-grown adult, was blushing like crazy from that ridiculous nickname. His brain slowed to a crawl.

“……Mm?”

Chu Xuyu offered a deal:

“Give me three nicknames, and I’ll let you hang up.”

“……”

Jiang Tian wrestled with himself for five full seconds, then finally squeezed out one that felt manageable—his voice low and soft:

“Ge.” 

Chu Xuyu’s breath noticeably quickened.

“Second one?”

Jiang Tian’s brain scrambled. He thought of a few intimate nicknames… but they were all too cringey to say out loud.

So he decided to cheat a little.

“Sweetheart.”

Chu Xuyu’s breath hitched.

He didn’t press for the third right away—and Jiang Tian, completely out of steam, softened his voice, sounding almost like a little pup begging:

“I can’t think of any more right now.”

 “Next time… I’ll come prepared, okay?”

Chu Xuyu chuckled, voice rich:

“Alright.”

“Goodnight.”

Jiang Tian was clearly not thinking straight anymore.

“Goodnight,” he muttered, then hurriedly hung up the phone.

He sat there, frozen for who knows how long.

‘Did I really schedule a next time with him?’

“……”

‘My brain must be broken.’