The weeks passed like drifting smoke—slow, without shape, and heavy with things unsaid.
Shu Yao's ankle had begun to heal. The swelling had faded, the bruises now pale echoes of what once throbbed with fire. He no longer needed the crutches to reach his desk, no longer winced with each cautious step.
But if his body had mended…
His heart had not.
The ache remained. A quiet tenant within his chest. The kind of pain that doesn't scream but hums beneath the surface—persistent, patient, merciless.
Each morning he awoke with the sunlight, dressed in silence, and moved through his day as if rehearsing the role of someone who was fine.
And no one knew.
Not even Qing Yue.
Especially not Bai Qi.
His hair had grown during those weeks. Longer now, trailing past his shoulders and brushing against the curve of his spine like a silk curtain drawn over secrets. The strands shimmered in the light—brown with gold undertones, soft as moonlight and just as lonely.
He was… beautiful.
Undeniably so.
But what is beauty, when it is only admired from afar?
What is elegance, when no one reaches for it?
From the outside, he looked like poetry—an angel left behind by a distracted god.
But inside?
He was hollowing out quietly. Bit by bit. Like candle wax melting beneath a flame no one could see.
This evening, the sky outside was bruised blue, clouds painted with long strokes of rose and lilac. Shu Yao stood by his window, fingers lightly curled around the sill, and stared up at the endless dome above him.
His lips were parted slightly.
His eyes half-lidded, red-rimmed.
And he looked at the sky the way the wounded look at gods:
With wonder.
With betrayal.
With a question that had no answer.
"Why…"
The thought echoed inside him.
"Why does love hurt the most?"
He didn't speak it aloud. But it poured from his expression—his trembling lashes, the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders rose and fell with breath that wasn't quite steady.
He wanted to ask the sky if it had ever ached for the earth.
If the sun had ever loved the moon.
If stars ever burned for someone who would never even look their way.
The breeze stirred the sheer curtains behind him, brushing over his hair like invisible fingers, and the strands danced gently across his back. Even the wind, it seemed, reached for him more than the one he loved ever had.
And still…
He stood there.
Alive, but not quite living.
Glowing, but not seen.
And loving—quietly, ferociously—with every bruised beat of a heart that had never been asked to.
His reflection in the glass merged with the clouds above, his silhouette etched in twilight—like a prayer caught between heaven and earth.
Somewhere in the distance, laughter echoed. Not his.
And Shu Yao closed his eyes.
Just for a moment.
To imagine what it would feel like
To be loved the way he loved.
Not in secret.
Not in silence.
But openly. Fiercely. Without fear.
But the sky didn't answer.
And neither did the one in his heart.
The evening draped itself lazily across the horizon, dipping the rooftops in amber and spilling golden light into the corners of quiet houses. Crickets had begun their nightly hymns, and the breeze carried the scent of cooling earth and jasmine petals barely clinging to their stems.
Inside the house, Qing Yue sat at the edge of the sofa, legs curled beneath her, scrolling absently through her phone. Her cheeks were still faintly pink from washing up, her hair tucked back in a loose ribbon. The house was calm, the kind of calm that usually arrived with warm dinners and stories shared softly between siblings.
Then—
Ping.
A message blinked onto her screen.
Bai Qi: I have a surprise for you.
Her heart fluttered, just a little.
She blinked, reread the message, then chuckled softly—a sound like wind chimes caught in a slow breeze. Her fingers flew across the screen, typing a reply, teasing and light.
But before she could hit send—
Her phone buzzed again.
This time, a call.
She stared at the name, her breath hitching with a kind of girlish thrill. "Bai Qi," she murmured under her breath, and quickly stood.
Not wanting to be overheard, she padded quietly to the door, slipping into her slippers and stepping out onto the porch where the evening air kissed her skin gently.
The garden lay still, and the sky above had turned to velvet. She answered the call, voice hushed with a smile.
"Hello?"
"Hey," came Bai Qi's voice, low and a little tired—but warmer than firelight. "Did I disturb you?"
"No," she said, walking a few steps into the garden path. "I was just thinking of replying to your message."
"About the surprise?" he teased.
"Yes," she replied, laughter in her tone. "You really like keeping me on edge, don't you?"
"Only if it means hearing you laugh like that."
His voice dropped a note, casual but affectionate. "It's been a long day. I needed that."
They talked for minutes. Then longer. Conversations that began with mundane things—his meetings, the way the cat knocked over the sugar jar—and melted into quiet pauses where the sound of crickets and the occasional breath were all that passed between them.
Bai Qi sounded different now.
Less like the playful boy who once grinned at her across school corridors, and more like a man—one slowly becoming a piece of the world he was shaping with his own hands.
Qing Yue smiled softly, pacing slowly along the stone garden path, with her slippers brushing against the cool edges. "You're really becoming a proper businessman, aren't you?"
He laughed low on the other end. "Only because I want to build something stable. For the future. For…"
He paused.
Then: "Well, for the people I care about."
Qing Yue stopped walking, the weight of his words sinking into her skin like dew. Her heart thudded quietly, and she lowered her gaze, not sure how to respond without her voice giving her away.
Upstairs—
Behind the sheer curtain of the open window—
Shu Yao sat completely still.
He hadn't meant to eavesdrop.
He'd simply gone to close the window…
But then he heard her voice.
And then his.
And now—
His heart was pounding in his ears.
Drumming like a trapped bird inside a cage.
Every word between them pressed into him like a bruise, slow and deep.
The laughter. The pauses.
The softness he'd never heard Bai Qi use for anyone else.
He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to quiet the noise within himself, but it was no use.
The boy he loved…
Was offering pieces of his future to someone else.
And that someone else was the only person Shu Yao could never be angry at.
He closed his eyes tightly, as if that could block the sound.
But love…
It has a voice that echoes even through silence.
And from the open window, he could still hear Qing Yue laugh—
Soft, hopeful, and completely unaware
Of the heart breaking just one floor above her.
The echo of Qing Yue's voice vanished into the wind, swallowed by the hush that follows laughter and love—just a second too late for someone else to bear it.
Shu Yao blinked slowly, gaze drifting from the open window to the now-empty porch below. She was gone. Only the faint imprint of her footsteps remained on the path like petals pressed into dust.
The garden stood quiet again. But something inside him wasn't.
He exhaled—slow, long, like releasing something that refused to leave. His hands curled over the sill of the window, pale knuckles tense, and his brown eyes shimmered beneath the soft veil of night.
So that was it…
She had someone waiting.
And Bai Qi—he was no longer waiting at all.
He turned from the window, the light inside his room casting long, lonely shadows behind him.
---
Meanwhile—just a few rooms below—Qing Yue sat on the edge of her bed, barefoot and radiant with anticipation. The curtains fluttered gently behind her as she stared down at her phone, her thumb hovering over the message thread.
Her heart thumped gently in her chest.
Not urgently. Not nervously.
But hopefully.
What could the surprise be?
She thought of flowers, maybe.
Or a small gathering.
Or maybe—just maybe—a promise.
Something more than a kiss.
Something that might last forever.
She tucked her knees beneath her chin and smiled into her sleeves, her mind blooming with delicate dreams. And somewhere in that quiet, she whispered to herself:
"Please… let it be what I think it is."
But far from the house, in a place wrapped in the hush of sleek glass walls and quiet luxury, Bai Qi's thoughts were already taking flight.
Last night had been… perfect.
Every task had been executed with clinical precision—meetings completed, files reviewed, decisions made with a cool elegance that impressed even the most senior executives. The empire his father had built had momentarily rested in his hands.
And he had carried it like it was always meant to be his.
The office still smelled of ink and polished mahogany, and the city lights below twinkled like stars bowing to skyscrapers. His father, seated behind his usual obsidian desk, had barely looked up from his laptop—until Bai Qi set down the final file.
Only then did he lift his gaze.
Those piercing blue eyes—sharp as ocean glass—locked on his son. Hair of gold, swept back with effortless grace, glinting under the overhead light. Though only thirty three, "Niklas von Rothenberg" looked almost sculpted by time, rather than aged by it. German by blood, aristocratic by manner, and terrifyingly composed.
He stared for a moment. Then nodded, once.
"You did a good job," his voice smooth, cool. "Everything was… magnificent."
Bai Qi's heart stuttered in his chest.
And then—like opening the gates to a kingdom—his father added:
"Until now, I had my doubts. But starting tomorrow… we begin arrangements for your brand new engagement."
Silence stretched.
For a moment, Bai Qi thought he misheard.
But then he saw the certainty in his father's eyes.
The room exploded with light inside him.
His lips parted in disbelief. "You… You mean it? You're really—"
"Yes," "Niklas" said. "You've earned it."
It was as if Bai Qi's heart had sprouted wings. His pulse raced like a boy chasing stars. His chest swelled with a joy too big to contain.
Qing Yue.
His goddess.
His future.
It was real now. It wasn't just a dream he tucked under his pillow. It was happening. Finally, finally, he would have her forever.
Before he could speak again, the door creaked open behind them.
His mother stepped inside—still stunning, with her dark black silky hair swept into a low chignon, pearls nestled at her throat like promises passed down through bloodlines. Her eyes twinkled as she took in the scene.
"Well now," she said, lips curved. "Why is our son glowing like he's been kissed by fortune herself?"
Bai Qi turned, grinning, and without hesitation crossed the room to embrace her.
"I made it," he whispered into her shoulder. "Mother—I made it."
She patted his back gently, her voice low with knowing affection. "I know, darling. I know. And now…"
She pulled away, looking into his eyes.
"Now, you can do whatever you want."
And he believed her.
Because everything was finally falling into place.
What he didn't know…
Was that sometimes, in the very moment your dreams are being built—
Someone else's world is quietly falling apart.