Lian sat cross-legged on the sofa in Yifan's office, the quiet hum of the city outside muted by the thick glass windows. The room smelled faintly of paper, leather, and his cologne, but was overpowered by the aroma of fried chicken spread out on the low coffee table. She picked up another piece, biting into it with a soft crunch, savoring the warmth.
The heavy click of the door unlocking made her freeze mid-chew. A second later, Yifan stepped inside, his tall frame outlined against the dim corridor light before it shut behind him. His eyes swept immediately to her and the food in front of her, a trace of amusement flickering across his otherwise composed expression.
"Do you like it?" His voice was low, calm, but with that subtle edge of possessiveness that always slipped through when he addressed her.
She blinked, swallowed quickly, then nodded. "…Mm, yeah."
Yifan loosened his tie, the faintest curve tugging at the corner of his mouth. Without another word, he crossed the room with the slow, unhurried grace of a man who owned every space he entered. Instead of settling into his leather chair, he sat beside her on the sofa, his presence instantly swallowing up the space.
Before she could retreat, he slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. Lian stiffened at first, startled by the sudden closeness, but his warmth seeped into her before she could protest. Her pulse stumbled, her chopsticks slipping back onto the plate.
Then, to her surprise, he lowered his head, pressing his face into the curve of her shoulder. His sigh was quiet, almost imperceptible.
She hesitated, the silence stretching. His hair brushed against her jaw, his presence so overwhelming she could hardly think.
"Exhausted?" she asked finally, her voice softer than she intended.
Yifan didn't answer immediately, and for a moment she wondered if he'd even heard her. But then his grip on her shoulder tightened just slightly, grounding himself in her warmth.
She gently raised her hand and threaded her fingers gently through his dark hair, stroking it in slow, soothing motions.
The hardened, untouchable President Zhao leaning into her touch like a man who'd been carrying the weight of the world alone.
She murmured"…you shouldn't push yourself so hard."
His voice, muffled against her shoulder, came out low and rough. "its not that bad if I get this kind of peaceful atmosphere after work."
Her hand stilled for a heartbeat, her breath catching at the unexpected confession, before she forced herself to continue petting his hair, more tenderly this time.
Neither of them spoke after that. The office settled into a silence that seemed to cocoon them, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the wall, the cooling aroma of fried chicken left untouched on the table, and the steady rhythm of Yifan's breathing. His head rested heavily against her shoulder, as though for the first time in the day he allowed himself to let go, to lean on someone else.
Lian sat frozen at first, uncertain of what to do with the weight of his closeness, but soon her hand found its way back into his hair, brushing softly through the strands. it felt natural, as though her body had decided before her mind could.
The moment stretched, quiet but thick with unspoken words. She could feel his warmth seeping through the layers of his shirt, his steady breath ghosting against her neck, his presence overwhelming her senses.
His voice came low, rumbling against her skin.
"Will you be free from Thursday through the weekend?"
The sudden question startled her; she blinked, fingers pausing in his hair.
"... I'm not," she admitted softly, her tone hesitant. "But… I can clear my schedule. Maybe take a formal leave from work." Her brows furrowed, curiosity edging into her voice. "Why do you ask?"
Yifan finally lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto hers. There was no hesitation in his gaze, only an unwavering certainty that made her chest tighten. His arm remained firm around her shoulders, keeping her close as though he feared she might slip away.
"I'm going to South Korea on Thursday for business," he said evenly, though his thumb brushed almost absently against her arm. "We'd stay there until Sunday. If you go with me."
His words weren't a question. They were more of a decision placed in her lap, an invitation wrapped in command.
Her lips parted, caught between surprise and an inexplicable rush of warmth in her chest. Traveling with Zhao Yifan meant more than just a trip, it meant stepping into his world fully.
She exhaled, her voice almost a whisper. "... You want me to go with you?"
A shadow of a smile curved Yifan's lips, fleeting but enough to soften the cold edges of his face. He leaned closer, lowering his forehead until it brushed lightly against hers. His voice was low, certain. "Yes."
Li Lian's heart fluttered at the simple word, a surge of excitement bubbling in her chest. She wanted to say yes, but the memory of that morning pulled her back. The image of her brother's disapproving eyes, the tension that had followed… it weighed down the eagerness on her tongue.
Her lips parted, but hesitation caught her words. "… Yifan, I need to tell you something."
The subtle shift in her tone didn't escape him. Slowly, he straightened, his gaze sharpening as he searched her face. "I'm listening."
She drew in a breath, clutching his coat tighter around herself as though it would shield her from what she had to say. "My brother… he saw you drop me off yesterday. And this morning, the aftermath wasn't… good. He doesn't want us together."
For a moment, Yifan said nothing. His eyes closed, long lashes casting shadows against his skin as he absorbed her words in silence. The stillness around him was heavy, but not cold. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, deliberate, each syllable carrying the weight of his conviction.
"I know the mistakes I've made in the past," he murmured. "And I'll correct them, one by one, no matter how long it takes. If I have to go on my knees for your father to accept me, I will. If I have to face your brother's hatred, I'll do that too."
His hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, and he pressed a gentle kiss against her temple. "I've dragged you into so much already… you're bearing more than you should. I'm sorry."
The tenderness in his words unraveled something deep inside her chest, and before she could speak, his tone shifted, firmer, steady, resolute.
"So it's decided," he whispered against her hair. "You're coming with me. To South Korea. We'll face the world when we come back. Whatever problems stand in our way, we'll solve them, together."