Was this something he could even talk about?
Lu Tu blinked, feeling a little surprised.
For him, surprises were just a fleeting thing—barely leaving a trace on his face. Less than two seconds after hearing Ji Chenxi speak, a smile bloomed across his face. “Confession? Seriously? That’s surprising. The Third Prince is so young and already taken… what a shame.”
“I’m not exactly taken yet.” Ji Chenxi said this with precise seriousness.
The relationship between him and Chi Zhuo was, if anything, an unspoken sort of dating. To put it strictly, it hadn’t reached the level of being boyfriends.
Lu Tu found this fascinating, his smile flared even brighter than his red hair. “I wonder… is Your Highness the one confessing, or the one being confessed to?”
Ji Chenxi closed the one-way chat he had been staring at just moments ago, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Actually, I was just joking. The reason I kept looking at it was because it was a message from a friend.”
“So there was no confession at all?” Lu Tu asked, half believing, half doubtful, instinctively glancing at Gu Hechuan for confirmation.
Gu Hechuan’s face remained warm, smiling gently as he looked at the two of them. “Alright, don’t be so curious about everything.”
It was clear he was speaking to the red-haired youth. Lu Tu looked completely crushed, his brows furrowed into tiny mountains. “Sweetheart… you don’t love me anymore, and you just say that to me? I was only a little bit curious!”
“Then rein in that little bit of curiosity,” Gu Hechuan said, his smile growing even warmer.
His smile was like a spring breeze, so gentle it almost made Lu Tu’s goosebumps laugh. “Oh, don’t look at me like that… I can’t handle it.”
Gu Hechuan knew the other image he had left on Lu Tu ran deep, so he didn’t press further. Instead, he turned to Ji Chenxi and said, “I heard on the star network that you were getting close to the Miss of the Lu family, but she’s already back in the Twelfth Fairy Star. I was wondering who our little rose was planning to confess to… turns out it was just a misunderstanding.”
Whether Lu Tu believed this or not, Su Yu didn’t know—but he certainly didn’t.
With how ambiguous Ji Chenxi and the Chi family guy had been before, even if there was going to be a confession, Su Yu felt like it would have been Chi Zhuo who finally couldn’t hold back.
Su Yu tried to read something from Ji Chenxi’s eyes, but the truth was—he couldn’t see a thing.
Ji Chenxi’s expression was far too calm. If Chi Zhuo were going to confess, the other person shouldn’t be this composed. Just a few extra glances at the chat, nothing more—no big deal, no big deal.
Su Yu comforted himself with that thought and even teased Gu Hechuan a little, “Hechuan, what did your friend just call you again?”
Gu Hechuan’s face didn’t change. “He… he says things like that casually, tossing out ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’ without a second thought.”
Lu Tu protested, “That’s not true! Am I really that casual?”
“Yeah, you are.”
Su Yu laughed. “Bro, once you’re more familiar with us, don’t call us that! I just can’t handle an alpha calling me like that. But wait… you call Hechuan that—he doesn’t hit you?”
“He does! Before, he really got upset every time I called him that. But now, I guess he’s used to it. And I don’t mean any harm!”
To dare act so freely in front of Gu Hechuan, Lu Tu was definitely the first. Su Yu gradually felt himself warming up to the red-haired youth.
Still, during their outing, Lu Tu’s gaze would now and then drift back to Ji Chenxi. That look—half assessing, half probing—would make most people uncomfortable. Ji Chenxi felt it too, but since the other was a friend he’d known online for years, and they got along well, he simply pretended not to notice the subtle, lingering gaze.
Every time the redhead glanced at Ji Chenxi, Su Yu couldn’t help feeling… complicated. Nervous, even. His friend was already a bit indecisive, and now there was this handsome alpha subtly tempting him? Not a good combination.
Finally, after noticing yet another look Lu Tu shot at Ji Chenxi, Su Yu couldn’t hold back. While dragging him along to buy ice cream, he said, “Stop thinking about it. Ji Chenxi’s not interested in you.”
Lu Tu raised an eyebrow. “I was just glancing at the Third Prince a few times—why do you think I have any funny ideas about him? Was there some alpha before me who openly made a move on the Third Prince?”
Su Yu: “…”
This guy had been dragged along so easily to do all the heavy lifting. Surely he wasn’t trying to fish for information, right?
“Don’t worry about that. You just need to remember one thing: stop thinking nonsense.” Su Yu’s gaze toward the redhead had grown sharp with caution.
“Brother Su, I think you’re misunderstanding. The reason I was looking at the Third Prince is just… he reminds me a lot of a friend I met online.”
Su Yu was half convinced, half skeptical, but Lu Tu went ahead and reassured him, “Relax, I’m not interested in alphas. If I were going to look for one, I’d go for someone I know better—like Brother Gu.”
Su Yu reluctantly believed him. After all, Ji Chenxi’s beauty was undeniable, but personality-wise, he really didn’t have the charm that Gu Hechuan did.
After that, the redhead didn’t pay much attention to Ji Chenxi at all, and Su Yu happily went back to bustling around, keeping everyone entertained.
It was now 7:50.
Ji Chenxi casually glanced at the time, also keeping an eye out for any new messages. There were none. At this hour, Chi Zhuo still hadn’t messaged about when or where to meet at Galaxy Park. That meant Chi Zhuo was completely confident—no matter where he was in the park, he could see him.
Ji Chenxi’s brief sense of anticipation cooled down, logic taking over. If this was going to be a grand, “I can see you no matter where you are in the park” kind of confession, shouldn’t he remind Chi Zhuo to keep it low-key?
Originally, Ji Chenxi just wanted to tell Chi Zhuo that they owed each other a proper confession. If Chi Zhuo wanted to confess, fine; if he didn’t, that was fine too.
At 7:53, Su Yu suggested going on the carousel. The luxurious little horses were always a favorite with kids and couples alike, but Gu Hechuan refused without hesitation.
At 7:55, Ji Chenxi pointed to the nearby Ferris wheel. “How about this one instead?”
Compared to the carousel, the Ferris wheel was more popular with couples. Su Yu wasn’t too interested, but since it was Ji Chenxi’s first suggestion for the evening, he agreed without complaint.
At 7:58, following Ji Chenxi’s request, he got into a private cabin of the Ferris wheel.
At 7:59:32, Chi Zhuo, silent for hours, finally sent a message:
【Look up at the sky】
Even though they had guessed it might be fireworks, the real thing still hit with awe.
After the ten-second countdown, the fireworks exploded.
The spectacular fireworks kept blooming in the night sky, one cluster after another, like roses opening in the darkness—brilliant and dazzling.
What kind of confession could truly be called grand?
At the very least, it had to be romantic and thoughtful. After the burst of flowers, it was like a huge book flipping through its pages, filled with small symbolic items representing moments since they first met.
Anyone could admire this confession from the outside, but only someone who truly understood would grasp its deeper meaning.
The massive Ferris wheel climbed slowly. With still ten or so meters to the top, Ji Chenxi finally replied to Chi Zhuo:
【I’m almost at the top of the Ferris wheel】
Ji Chenxi counted the seconds. Yet in the very first second after sending the message, Chi Zhuo’s reply came back, as if he had been watching Ji Chenxi’s messages the whole time.
Whether out of caution or some other reason, the reply came as a video with audio.
“Can I confess at the very top?”
Ji Chenxi paused deliberately, not agreeing immediately.
“This confession isn’t perfect. I’ve thought about how to make it grand but low-key at the same time, and I couldn’t figure it out. Grand can’t be low-key—this is probably the best compromise.”
Ji Chenxi dragged his tone a little. “I see…”
“So… will Your Highness agree?”
“I’m almost at the top.”
Chi Zhuo was caught off guard by that and quickly said, “Be my boyfriend!”
As always, a statement rather than a question—more like a notice than a request.
Ji Chenxi chuckled lightly.
Finally, the cabin he was in reached the Ferris wheel’s highest point. Looking out the glass at the fireworks, countless bursts of light reflected on his face, painting it in different shades.
Amid that dazzling color, he said with pleasure, “If you don’t mind me disrupting your rhythm, I’ll reluctantly agree… alright?
Boyfriend.”
Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters. (๑>ᴗ<๑)
