"The day you were injured... was the exam day. Leng Fei's men arrived before I could even begin."
"Why wasn't I told?"
"It's done," she said, forcing lightness into her tone though the ache lingered. "I'm already looking elsewhere. No point dwelling."
Bai Yeqing watched her, expecting more. Silence stretched. "Is that all?" he pressed.
"Huh?" She glanced up just as he dipped his head. Their lips almost brushed.
Her breath caught, warmth flooding her cheeks. "I... uh... Thanks. My side's fine now." She stumbled back a step, putting distance between them, her lashes fluttering like trapped butterflies.
Xia Xingchen! Rationality! she screamed internally. Why does reason dissolve the moment he breathes your air?
Unaware of her inner turmoil, Bai Yeqing lowered himself cautiously onto the sofa armrest. "You could have asked me," he stated, his gaze steady. "For a position in the Foreign Ministry. You know it's within my power."
The suggestion jarred her. Ask the President for a favor? For her? The sheer presumption felt grotesque. "I don't like owing favors. And... I'm already job hunting."
Owing favors? The phrase grated. His eyes cooled slightly. "Considering your care for me, the request wouldn't be excessive. Especially as my situation cost you the exam."
She shook her head again, firm. Meeting his eyes, she weighed her words carefully. "The truth is, President Bai," she began, her voice consciously steady, "I served diligently because... you're the nation's most revered leader. Your well-being matters to everyone. Please, don't feel indebted."
He turned fully towards her, his gaze sharpening, probing. "Only that?"
"And... because you're Dabai's father," she added swiftly, turning her face away to avoid his scrutiny. "He'd be devastated if anything happened to you. I..." I couldn't bear his pain. She spoke the words as much for him as for herself. Yes. Only these reasons. National duty. Maternal concern. Nothing else.
"Finished?" His voice was low, dangerously perceptive, stripping away layers. "Are those truly the only reasons?"
Her heart skipped. What answer did he seek? Drawing a steadying breath, she summoned a bright, brittle smile. "Of course. What other reason could there possibly be?" She paused, the smile widening, feeling sharp enough to cut glass. "Unless..." Her gaze met his, deliberately challenging. "...you thought I might harbor some... undue thoughts about you? Rest assured, President Bai, I have absolutely no such... aspirations. I wouldn't want any misunderstanding."
The smile was blinding. Insulting.
Bai Yeqing's expression hardened, the warmth in his eyes freezing over. He regarded her for a long, silent moment, the air crackling with unspoken friction. Then, he pushed himself upright, towering over her.
"Good." The single word was as cold as shards of ice. "Miss Xia's... tranquility... saves me considerable inconvenience." Every syllable dripped with glacial distance.
The sting was sharper than she anticipated. See? her mind hissed. Your feelings, if they existed, would be nothing but a burden.
He continued, his tone clipped and impersonal. "However, I dislike owing debts to... acquaintances." The word hung heavy. "Your work situation will be addressed through other channels. Compensation for the days spent here will be arranged by Leng Fei upon my recovery."
He turned without another glance, his retreating figure radiating absolute indifference. Xingchen exhaled a trembling breath. The abrupt shift in his demeanor was bewildering. Or perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps she just didn't dare decipher it, fearing the crushing humiliation of misreading signals.
Seeing his step falter slightly, instinct propelled her forward, her hand reaching out to steady him.
He evaded her touch with deliberate subtlety.
Her hand froze mid-air. A sharp, unexpected pang tightened her chest. Words formed but dissolved before reaching her lips.
This... is better.
This is right.
Tranquil waters. Cold as stone.
She turned away, heading towards the kitchen. The dull ache in her side flared anew. She rubbed at it absently, but the pain, like the echo of his coldness, lingered long after.
...
A new, brittle rhythm settled between them. Interactions were minimal, functional, stripped of warmth.
He held video conferences in the study. She delivered water and medication silently, her previous stream of concerned inquiries extinguished. Gone were the hovering questions, the gentle reminders.
And he…
He maintained distance. No lingering touches, no searching gazes. The tender intimacy of days prior seemed now like a fever dream, vivid yet unreal.
That night, Xingchen tossed restlessly on the sofa, sleep elusive.
The next morning, Leng Fei arrived. The press corps awaited at White Feather Palace for the President to personally address the investigation into the square bombing.
Bai Yeqing needed to dress.
Xingchen brought the sterilized clothes into the bedroom. He stood by the bed, trousers fastened, his torso a patchwork of stark white bandages. Length Fei stepped back respectfully. "Miss Xia, if you could assist?"
Xingchen nodded, laying the crisp white shirt and tailored suit jacket on the bed. She picked up the shirt, approaching him. He looked down at her, an inscrutable distance in his eyes. "Leng Fei," he commanded. "You do it."
"Me, Sir?" Leng Fei blinked, startled.
"Problem?" Bai Yeqing's brow lifted, impatient.
"Of course not, Sir!" Leng Fei hurried forward, taking the shirt from Xingchen.
The process was painfully awkward. Leng Fei, all thumbs, fumbled repeatedly. Each tug, each misaligned sleeve, visibly jarred Bai Yeqing's injuries. Sweat beaded on both men's foreheads, the air thick with shared frustration and discomfort.
"Sir," Leng Fei finally gasped, admitting defeat. "This... is beyond my skillset. Assassination's more my style. Dressing a man while dodging wounds? Zero experience."
"Enough. Step aside." Bai Yeqing gritted his teeth, clearly unwilling to endure further torment from his security chief. He lifted his arm, attempting to manage the remaining sleeve himself.
At that precise moment, the stray cuff of the shirt was caught by slender, deft fingers.
"Just... lift slightly," Xingchen murmured, her eyes fixed on the fabric, avoiding his gaze entirely. She worked with swift familiarity, her movements gentle and precise despite her lowered head. "There... good. You can lower your arm now." Her fingers smoothed the sleeve into place, a silent testament to the care she couldn't quite extinguish. Her head dipped lower still.