It was the same airport, the same terminal—but everything felt different this time.
Lin Nian'an stepped out of the arrival gate, suitcase in one hand, the other holding a coffee she hadn't even taken a sip of. The aroma had long turned cold, much like the city she was returning to. Familiar and foreign. Home, and not quite.
Her return wasn't impulsive. It had been planned for months, approved by both families. Still, when her heels touched the polished floor of Sheng City International Airport, a strange mix of excitement and nervousness swept through her chest.
Behind her, footsteps caught up.
"Still walking too slowly, Lin Nian'an."
The voice hadn't changed.
Deep. Calm. Unapologetically cold.
She turned around.
There he was—Gu Chenyan. Jet black coat, tailored to perfection. Sharp jawline, emotionless gaze, and that familiar furrow between his brows.
"You're early," she said with a soft smile, half teasing.
"I don't like waiting."
Of course not.
He had always hated waiting, hated delays, hated inefficiency. And yet, he had waited for her.
"Then why come?" she asked, following him toward the exit.
"You asked me to."
She blinked. "Did I?"
He glanced sideways, eyes faintly narrowed. "You sent a message last night asking if someone could pick you up."
She remembered now. Barely a message. More like an afterthought. 'Landing at 8. Don't know how to get home lol.'
So he really showed up just because of that?
Lin Nian'an suppressed a smile. He was still the same. Cold on the surface. Awkwardly considerate underneath.
In the car, the silence stretched between them like a familiar blanket.
"Have you been back often?" she asked casually.
"Twice. Business."
"Right, CEO Gu now. Should I call you President Gu?"
He didn't answer. Just glanced at her with the barest hint of annoyance.
She laughed lightly. "Fine, fine. Still allergic to jokes, I see."
Her laugh made the corner of his mouth twitch—almost imperceptibly.
As they entered the city, Lin Nian'an watched the familiar skyline blur past. New buildings had risen, but the bones of the city remained the same.
"Your apartment still at South Bay?" she asked.
"Yes. But you'll stay at the Lin residence, won't you?"
"For now," she said, then added playfully, "Unless you're offering yours?"
This time, he didn't react at all.
"I don't mind the couch," she muttered to herself.
He dropped her off at the Lin family mansion just as the sun began to rise above the horizon.
Before she got out of the car, he spoke.
"Tomorrow, 10 a.m. Lin Group board meeting. Don't be late."
Her brows rose. "You're coming too?"
"I'm your family's partner now," he said simply.
She opened the car door, turned halfway back toward him. "You always make things sound like obligations."
He met her eyes. "Because you always treat them like favors."
Their gazes held for a moment. Long. Unspoken.
Then the car door shut.
And just like that, they were no longer childhood playmates. They were partners, heirs, adults—with history, feelings unspoken, and a whole lot of unresolved tension.