We Are Not Dating! - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Blade’s Edge

Beijing, China World Trade Center.

Super Grade-A office buildings flanked Chang’an Avenue, occupying the city’s prime commercial real estate, brightly lit at 8:00 PM.

It was the transition between spring and summer, and a drizzling rain was falling. As a taxi pulled to the curb, Jiang Zhiyu reached out to open the back door.

“Director Jiang, are you here? It’s a dire emergency!” a colleague’s voice hissed through his earpiece, leaking intel.

“CEO Zhou has been pacing in an anxious frenzy all day; he’s nearly plucked the cactus bald!”

Jiang Zhiyu briskly unfurled a long-handled umbrella. “I’m downstairs. Be there in a second.”

Simultaneously, the taxi driver pulled his luggage from the trunk. Jiang Zhiyu specifically lowered the call volume and said a polite “Thank you.”

Navigating the lobby with practiced ease, Jiang Zhiyu pressed the elevator button. Watching the floor numbers skip down from 65, he pulled a business card out of his pocket out of boredom.

He had just returned on an international flight. Someone had struck up a conversation on the way and handed him this thing.

He scanned it haphazardly, saw the person worked for some securities firm, and tossed it into the trash can.

That circle looked glamorous on the outside but was notoriously messy in reality. While one shouldn’t label people with stereotypes, he had zero interest in investigating for himself.

In short, Jiang Zhiyu was allergic to “Finance Guys.”

However, his boss, Zhou Ke, was obsessed with doing business with them. After all, those who played with money valued “face,” so their budgets were naturally generous.

Jiang Zhiyu arrived on the 28th floor. The building was a multi-office complex; his multinational language firm, Pùyīn (Glimmering Voice), occupied an entire floor.

The company ranked among the top in the translation industry with high hiring standards. The domestic office had been established for less than five years and followed a lean, high-efficiency model, so the staff was small and the environment was relaxed and comfortable.

The decor was high-end and airy throughout. The name on the signage was prominent: PUYIN.

As he swiped his access card and walked in, the staff saw Jiang Zhiyu and greeted him with smiles.

Someone teased, “I was wondering why the air suddenly turned fresh. Turns out a handsome guy appeared within a three-kilometer radius.”

“It might also be the souvenirs I brought—they smell quite nice,” Jiang Zhiyu replied smoothly.

He pulled gifts from his bag: “A few boxes of hazelnut chocolates. You’ve all worked hard on overtime; share these to tide you over.”

After a business trip lasting over half a month, he had been summoned to the office the moment he landed. He had spent over ten hours on a plane, but no one could spot a trace of exhaustion on him. To look at him was to feel one’s eyes brighten.

Jiang Zhiyu was beautiful—undeniably so. His skin was fair and delicate, appearing almost translucent under the lights.

His “peach blossom” eyes were elegantly contoured, upturned slightly at the corners to give a vivid, sharp edge. A small, faint brown mole sat on his right side, perfectly softening his natural intensity. Such an image easily made him the center of attention.

“CEO Zhou is waiting in his office,” the assistant stepped forward to ask. “Would you like something to drink? Juice or coffee?”

Jiang Zhiyu smiled at her. “An iced latte, please.”

The assistant happily went to make the drink. The breakroom had recently switched to new beans with a flavor profile more acidic than usual. The bitterness made Jiang Zhiyu pause for a moment.

His expression went blank for a split second; then, he quietly bit his lip and set the cup on the table, not daring to touch it again.

Across from him, Zhou Ke began his rambling.

“I thought about your jet lag and figured it would be a hassle to make you come in later, so I thought you might as well swing by today. There’s a big project we need to touch base on early.”

Jiang Zhiyu nodded, listening as Zhou Ke talked about a top-tier investment bank they had recently been in contact with.

The firm was preparing to host an event, and Puyin had secured the cooperation to handle the consecutive interpretation on-site.

Consecutive interpretation, as the name suggests, involves speaking and translating in turns. When multiple languages are communicating in person, the translator sits in the middle to relay the message at the appropriate intervals. In the industry, this is considered a high-end, elite service.

“The platform and scale are top-notch, and the pay is right. Of course, their standards are incredibly high. The preliminary negotiations alone cost me half my life. We just signed the contract today.”

As Zhou Ke spoke, he interlaced his fingers and looked at Jiang Zhiyu.

“We haven’t finalized the team selection yet. Are you willing to compete for it?”

The investment bank he mentioned was called Sòngshèng. It frequently appeared in financial news; its events were high-spec, and the participants were heavyweights.

A partner like this was a rare find. If they luckily established a connection, they might develop them into a long-term, major client.

Jiang Zhiyu paused. “My seniority is still quite shallow.”

“If you don’t have enough experience, that’s exactly why you need to seize the opportunity,” Zhou Ke encouraged. “Xiao Zhi, staying behind the scenes looking at IPO materials all the time is a waste for someone like you.”

Aside from being boss and subordinate, the two had been good friends for years. Jiang Zhiyu hadn’t originally come from a translation background, but because of Zhou Ke’s appreciation and invitation, he joined the firm after graduation.

Over the years, he hadn’t let that support go to waste. He had earned the relevant certifications and built a solid track record. Now, he could try to move to the next level.

However, Jiang Zhiyu twirled a fountain pen on the desk, looking hesitant. “What kind of expectations did Songsheng mention?”

At this, Zhou Ke looked speechless. He rubbed his temples and described it with a dry laugh.

“On the surface, they say it’s a ‘comprehensive assessment.’ But based on the people they’ve hired before… first, you need a good image and temperament. Interpreters have to accompany them for social engagements; you can’t have a bumpy face. If you took them to a film studio, they’d be cast in Wall Street Turmoil. I looked at the photos—everyone’s legs are longer than the next.”

Jiang Zhiyu felt a bit dizzy hearing this and felt like plucking a cactus himself. He signaled for Zhou Ke to stop.

He tried to organize his thoughts: “Excuse me, are they selecting a concubine?”

Zhou Ke was indignant: “I also think they’re too picky. It’s not like the translators are sleeping with them, so why does the skin have to be good too?!”

Jiang Zhiyu mused: “Sounds difficult to please. Like a bunch of bachelors who have been repressed so long they’ve developed vivid fantasies.”

Sensing trouble intuitively, he took the chance to say, “Maybe I should just avoid this type of person.”

Unfortunately, the moment he finished, Zhou Ke’s expression flipped.

“Where is your professional attitude? They’re offering millions. Forget weight loss and beauty treatments—if they paid enough, I’d perform a striptease the moment the funds hit the account!”

Then he wondered—Jiang Zhiyu had never been in a relationship either, so why was there a “hierarchy of contempt” between single dogs?

Furthermore, the “evil winds” in the finance industry were strong. They might look clean and solitary during the day, but they certainly weren’t repressing themselves in private.

Their private lives were surely more colorful than Jiang Zhiyu’s; they wouldn’t resort to venting their fantasies on innocent translators.

Jiang Zhiyu failed to decline and instead received a lecture. He shifted his gaze surreptitiously.

He muttered, “Oh, so they’re just pretentious and high-maintenance.”

Internally, he added: Pretentious kings are such a hassle.

After the debriefing, Zhou Ke was also ready to get off work. Seeing the rain hadn’t stopped, he drove his SUV to drop Jiang Zhiyu off on the way.

Jiang Zhiyu rented a high-end serviced apartment nearby. As a senior translator, his income was substantial, allowing him to lead a comfortable life.

Even though he had been stationed abroad recently, a cleaner came regularly. The apartment remained neat and tidy, ready to welcome its master home at any time.

After soaking in a hot bath, Jiang Zhiyu crawled into bed. Having slept on the business class flight, he wasn’t very sleepy yet.

He opened his WeChat list and found an undergraduate classmate who currently worked in the M&A (Mergers and Acquisitions) department at Songsheng.

After a few pleasantries, Jiang Zhiyu got straight to the point, asking who held the decision-making power for this cooperation.

The classmate was cheerful and talkative. This wasn’t exactly a secret, so he said directly that their group would discuss and screen candidates before handing them to the M&A group’s boss for final review.

“We have a lot of requirements,” the classmate admitted. “It’s not just about being a ‘face-con’ (valuing looks). Simply put, we aren’t short of people, so the internal competition is fierce.”

He added, “The boss himself is extremely picky with work. When we submit the list, we naturally hope he’ll pass it in one go, so we set the threshold high.”

Jiang Zhiyu was curious: “What’s your boss’s temper like? I might have to deal with him; I’m learning how to tame a Tyrannosaurus Rex.”

The classmate replied, “I rarely have the status to even speak to him. I’m afraid I can’t help much there.”

There was a hint of helplessness in his words, but his tone was respectful. Jiang Zhiyu caught the scent of admiration and worship.

“You can tell at a glance that he is proud to his bones. His personality isn’t exactly ‘nice’; he’s not the approachable type of leader. Of course, everyone respects him. He’s the practical type who can shoulder responsibility…” the classmate tried to describe him.

The M&A group handled complex transactions with funds reaching into the trillions, holding a very high status in the company. To be the head of this business meant the person’s professional level was exceptionally high.

Generally speaking, such workaholics all had personality flaws. Jiang Zhiyu wasn’t surprised and lowered his eyelashes thoughtfully.

His classmate rambled on: “I’ve always been a bit afraid of him. During a guidance meeting last month, some guy actually pestered him for his WeChat. It scared me so much I almost had a heart attack; I rushed up to play bodyguard.”

Jiang Zhiyu chimed in: “Is he gay?”

“More like asexual. He’s never had any rumors or scandals. When that guy hit on him, his expression turned as foul as a mutual fund hitting its daily limit down.”

The classmate sighed, then changed the subject: “He’s the type that’s bound to attract attention. If you meet him, you’ll understand.”

In the arena of fame and fortune, who had the appetite to admire a client? As a gay man himself, Jiang Zhiyu was unmoved.

He dismissively toyed with his pillow with his fingertip and chatted with his classmate about daily trifles.

After saying thanks, Jiang Zhiyu hung up. The classmate sent the boss’s name in the chat box.

“Qi Shu.”

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at it and thought silently: This name has such an “elite” ring to it, it makes you instinctively want to take a detour.

Fortunately, from his classmate’s tone, Qi Shu’s level was extremely high. Even Songsheng employees rarely saw him.

He figured he wouldn’t have much interaction with him anyway; he’d just try his best not to touch any “reverse scales” (sore spots).

The next day, Jiang Zhiyu slept until noon. His work attendance was flexible; after a business trip, there was a rest period where he could move freely if no shifts were scheduled.

He had planned to go to Suzhou to visit his grandmother, but unexpectedly, she had joined a tour group and gone to Wuhan to see the blossoms—far more joyful than a “corporate slave.”

Since he had things to do the moment he returned, Jiang Zhiyu didn’t linger in bed for more than five minutes before wobbling off to wash up.

He had developed a habit over the years: the first thing he did upon waking was listen to the news to sharpen his ears. While the sound of toothbrushing filled the room, fluent RP (Received Pronunciation) English echoed through the air.

He ate a salad with milk, then opened his laptop. His lean body curled up on the sofa as he began to gather information on Qi Shu.

Qi Shu had a very strong sense of privacy. For a Chief Economist, there were surprisingly no photos of him online.

Jiang Zhiyu scanned his resume: an undergraduate degree from a Top 2 domestic university, a Master’s from a prestigious overseas school, experience in private equity and securities… every line proved his excellence. He was essentially at the height of his career.

Beyond his academic background, Qi Shu’s investments had been very successful—the kind of life trajectory people in the industry aspired to.

Now promoted to a high position, Jiang Zhiyu calculated his age. He was barely two years older than himself, turning twenty-eight this year.

Investment banking was a realistic battlefield. For Qi Shu to rise so quickly, he must have pulled countless all-nighters.

Jiang Zhiyu thought for a moment and suddenly had an epiphany.

No wonder he’s asexual.

He thought pityingly: How could someone so young be so over-exploited by work that after a shift, nothing is left to squeeze out?

However, Puyin would be hosting a reception later. Even if Qi Shu was “willing but unable,” their side would still have to go through the motions and call in some attractive men and women to liven up the atmosphere.

Considering every detail, Jiang Zhiyu reminded Zhou Ke to start making arrangements early, preferably figuring out what the other side’s tastes were.

“I have the intention, but Qi Shu keeps things very tight. No one knows what ‘flavor’ he likes,” Zhou Ke said mournfully.

Jiang Zhiyu propped up his chin. “If there’s no standard answer, would it be safer to find whatever is currently trendy?”

“What type is trendy lately? Pure or hot? Do we need someone with a ‘bottle-voice’ (cutesy voice)?” Zhou Ke consulted him.

Jiang Zhiyu, choked by the question, cleverly countered: “I don’t have a hobby of keeping ‘pretty boys,’ how would I know?”

The conversation hit a stalemate. Zhou Ke had been busy lately, so he ordered Jiang Zhiyu to scout the scene.

“Figure out where Qi Shu usually goes, then stake it out and observe what kind of companions those people bring,” Zhou Ke assigned the task.

Jiang Zhiyu was bewildered. Where did “investment bank dogs” usually go to enjoy themselves?

It was impossible that they worked themselves to death during the day only to go to a fencing hall at night to exercise, right? Still acting pretentious after hours?

He thought in the direction of “unleashing one’s nature” and looked up popular entertainment clubs.

Around 9:00 PM, when the clubs should be open, Jiang Zhiyu put on his trench coat and headed out.

Qi Shu came out of the fencing club’s locker room and received a call. A partner at the firm was drunk at a club.

“He drank three bottles of Ace of Spades and has been face-down on the table since. No one can pull him up; he’s just there muttering to himself…” the voice on the other end said, suddenly taking a breath.

From the sound of it, the person was probably trying not to laugh. After two or three seconds, they suppressed their emotions and continued describing the objective facts.

“He seems to be saying that the A-shares (stock market) are finished. These days, if you expect to make money from the stock market, you’d be better off selling your ass on the street.”

Qi Shu had just finished showering. The tips of his hair weren’t fully dry. Unlike his suited-up appearance during the day, he was wearing a simple, clean T-shirt.

His pupils were dark, and he carried a sharp handsome look and aura.

“Is he causing trouble?” he asked succinctly.

The other person politely said no and gave the specific address. Qi Shu got into his McLaren to go retrieve that pathetic soul.

He arrived exactly at 9:00 PM. The partner was still in a stupor. With teary eyes, he saw Qi Shu arrive and grabbed him, sobbing about the Shanghai Composite Index.

Qi Shu dodged his hand and reminded him to look in the mirror more often in the future.

“Indeed, I need to look at it more. I’ll be relying on it to eat later,” the partner said, rubbing his stubbly cheek.

Qi Shu said cruelly, “I’m reminding you to be more self-aware. If you really change careers to sell meat, only the wet market will appreciate it.”

The drunkard was incoherent and lacked logic entirely. He turned to examine his innocent colleague.

“Bro, why are you so handsome?” he said enviously. “Did you also lose money on new energy stocks and come here to be a ‘duck’ (male escort)?”

This man had a report to give tomorrow. Qi Shu planned to dump him at the office; the personal secretary would take care of him.

With that in mind, Qi Shu disdained to argue with him. He slowly and steadily hauled the man up, heading toward the stairs.

A man over 180cm was heavy, and simply supporting him wasn’t easy, yet Qi Shu’s posture was very natural, his steps showing no sign of staggering.

Daily exercise had given him fluid muscles; they weren’t just for show. Qi Shu’s arms were powerful, his lines lean and tight.

As they passed the bar, the partner chuckled and said someone nearby was really “pretty.”

Qi Shu looked down on him for having no backbone—his heart swayed by a mere physical shell, possessing zero willpower.

He loosened his grip slightly, and the partner nearly knelt on the spot, causing his head to spin and stopping his wandering eyes.

On the other side, Jiang Zhiyu yawned in front of the bar.

This place was invitation-only. He had used Zhou Ke’s name just now to get in smoothly.

Fortunately, the high threshold meant the environment wasn’t noisy or chaotic.

The entire club was elegantly styled. The upstairs was filled with private rooms, mainly for business receptions, while the first floor featured the bar and lounge seats for guests to chat freely.

A few hosts were mingling at the lounge seats—some shy, some lively—keeping the guests in the middle happy.

Jiang Zhiyu watched for a while. Everyone was just putting on a show; there was nothing new worth noting.

He made a move to retract his gaze when he was suddenly attracted by a scene in his peripheral vision.

About ten meters away, a man was preparing to leave with a drunkard. Jiang Zhiyu turned his face to look at them, his eyes narrowing slightly.

The lights in the club were dim, but it was clear that the man was very striking—the kind of look you’d remember after a mere glimpse.

While everyone else was meticulously dressed, he was dressed in a low-key, clean way, which instead made him seem even more cold and sharp, like a bright blade of a knife.

This made him seem out of place in his surroundings. Jiang Zhiyu was certain that he wasn’t the only one; several gazes were surreptitiously sizing the man up.

Who cared what Qi Shu actually liked? Jiang Zhiyu tossed aside his boss’s instructions. His attention had already drifted away.

This one right in front of him was much more to his taste.

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