The President Comes Knocking -

What Qingyi mentioned was something Chu Qianqian hadn’t considered. Her body stiffened imperceptibly for a moment before she hesitated and said, “It shouldn’t be possible, right? This morning he said he had official business to handle. He probably doesn’t have time to come over.”

“Well, you never know. It’s not the same as being at the company. His schedule might be much more flexible here. After finishing his work, he could go anywhere. Of course, if he does have free time, he wouldn’t go anywhere else-he’d definitely come here. After all, there’s, uh…”

That suggestive “uh” made Chu Qianqian’s cheeks flush red, and even her ears felt warm. She glanced at the driver, Xiao Liu, who remained completely focused on the road, his expression neutral as if he hadn’t heard a thing. This observation made her let out a small sigh of relief, and the embarrassment in her heart subsided slightly.

Not wanting to let Qingyi tease her, Chu Qianqian straightened her expression, cast a sidelong glance at him, and said coolly, “What nonsense are you spouting all day?”

Before Qingyi could retort, she changed the subject first. “We’re about to get out. Call Ziyu and wake him up.”

“Alright…”

Even though she insisted it wasn’t possible, when the car stopped in front of the villa and she noticed that all the lights inside were off, Chu Qianqian quietly exhaled in relief. Qingyi’s speculation hadn’t come true-Mu Han seemed genuinely busy and hadn’t shown up.

This realization lightened Chu Qianqian’s mood considerably. Although she constantly reminded herself never to fall for Mu Han, it was an incredibly difficult thing to do, especially when he kept finding ways to charm her.

Since she couldn’t stop Mu Han from coming to see her, Chu Qianqian could only silently hope he stayed preoccupied. The busier, the better. Ideally, so busy that he wouldn’t have any time to visit Qingyi’s villa or to seek her out.

During dinner, Qingyi tried several times to steer the conversation toward Mu Han, but Chu Qianqian skillfully diverted each attempt. After a long sigh, Qingyi gave up his efforts and shifted the topic to Lingxuan instead.

“I’ve realized Lingxuan isn’t as standoffish as he seems. He’s actually fairly easy to get along with. Well… okay, he does come across as a bit aloof, but personality-wise, he’s surprisingly simple.”

Chu Qianqian exchanged a glance with Chu Ziyu, and both saw the surprise mirrored in each other’s eyes. To be described as “simple” by Qingyi-what kind of personality would that even be?

Qingyi’s eyes curved into a smile as he said, “Really, Lingxuan’s personality isn’t as difficult as he makes it seem. But there is one thing he’s sensitive about-he absolutely hates it when people talk about his appearance. I think part of the reason he keeps people at arm’s length is to avoid being constantly judged or commented on for how he looks.”

Recalling Lingxuan’s appearance, Chu Qianqian had to admit that Qingyi’s words made quite a bit of sense. Lingxuan truly had an exceptionally striking face. His features were sharply defined, highly recognizable, and undeniably photogenic-the kind of face that seemed made for the big screen.

It’s often said that the camera is a “truth-teller,” and that statement couldn’t be truer. Cameras have a way of amplifying flaws. Even people who are naturally slender often appear heavier on camera, and the camera tends to magnify facial features, making faces look wider or rounder. This is why so many attractive people look almost average when filmed.

In this regard, the demands of film outstrip those of TV by a significant margin. For the sake of achieving better visual effects and richer color saturation, movies tend to use subtler tones compared to the brighter lighting and color filters often seen in TV shows. Without the benefit of smoothing effects, close-ups in movies can reveal every pore, blemish, and even the shine of oil on an actor’s skin. This makes film a true test of an actor’s looks.

And here’s the kicker-because of the differing layouts and visual expectations of movies versus TV dramas, an actor’s appearance needs to meet far higher standards for film. A face suitable for TV doesn’t necessarily work for film, but a face that’s ideal for film will almost always excel in television.

On this front, Lingxuan’s looks stood out significantly, even more so than Qingyi’s or Chu Ziyu’s. His face carried a natural sophistication, an elegance that was almost otherworldly.

However, Lingxuan’s biggest challenge was his “androgynous beauty.” Despite having distinctly defined facial features, there was a certain softness about him that left a lasting impression. Except for his eyes, which carried a sharp intensity, the rest of his features were as delicate and polished as a woman’s.

“Well, at least that could be considered a unique trait,” Chu Ziyu’s voice interjected. He added thoughtfully, “Compared to domestically, his look-so classically Eastern and imbued with an almost timeless quality-might actually be better suited for a career abroad.”

There was a faint note of reassurance in his tone as he spoke, something that surprised and comforted Chu Qianqian. Although Lingxuan wasn’t present to hear the remark, it put her mind at ease. She had initially worried that Chu Ziyu might harbor lingering resentment toward Lingxuan, but it seemed those concerns were unfounded.

After dinner, Chu Qianqian returned to her room, took out her laptop, and prepared to log into the game.

Things had been relatively calm and unhurried lately. Whenever she returned home and it wasn’t too late, Chu Qianqian made a point to log into the game and complete her daily quests.

After logging into the game, the account that appeared on the screen was her secondary character, Ye Chu. Chu Qianqian instinctively glanced at her friend list. Mu Han’s Taoist Priest account, “Han Mu,” was showing as offline. This brought her a sense of relief-offline was good. At this point, she didn’t even want to interact with Mu Han in the game.

She switched back to her main account, which was also a Swordsman, named Ye Qian-consistent in style with her secondary character’s name.

Both accounts made clever use of her real name.

Her main account was, of course, far superior to the secondary one in every way-better gear, a more extensive friends list, and just a more developed setup overall.

“Beep beep-”

Before she could even complete her daily login tasks, a new message notification popped up. Chu Qianqian glanced at it. It was a message from her master. Apparently, he had set her account to special attention notifications, so he’d know the second she logged in.

The message itself was simple-a teleportation invite. Remembering that Mu Yunchen hadn’t been online for several days, Chu Qianqian didn’t hesitate and immediately clicked “Accept.”

With a step onto the Teleportation Array and a flash of white light, her character left its original location in Luoyang and arrived in Chang’an.

The in-game seasons remained perpetually spring-like unless a special event or map change occurred. The overall color palette of the game was much warmer and more inviting than the real world outside.

As the screen transitioned, Mu Yunchen’s character-a pink-haired little chibi girl-appeared before her.

Unlike the last time they had met in the game, Mu Yunchen’s character was now sporting a brand-new outfit-a white-and-pink set that was adorably cute and had just been added to the in-game store yesterday.

Upon seeing Chu Qianqian’s character, the chibi girl immediately did a playful twirl. The movement triggered a special effect from her cape, scattering cherry blossom petals across the screen. It was an explosion of dreamy pink, flooding the display with such an overload of girlish charm that it was almost impossible to imagine that the player behind the character was, in fact, male.