Why is he here?
The thought struck me like a sudden draft of cold air. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying to appear calm—but the truth was far messier. Lè Lan had come to my house. To my house. And he had that infuriatingly innocent, mischievous look that made every muscle in my body want to stiffen—or melt.
"Why did you… chase me here?" I asked again, voice colder than intended, sharp enough to cut paper. But inside, my heart was racing like a frantic drum, and the blood in my ears thrummed so loudly I could barely think.
He blinked up at me, hands nervously tugging at his bag strap. "…I… I wanted to see if you're okay," he stammered.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Okay? Okay. What part of being sick required him to play detective and track me down? My father had already made a fuss; Xuè had spilled the secret without realizing it; and now… now Lè Lan was standing here like some persistent shadow.
And yet…
Even as annoyance bubbled in my chest, a softer, unbidden feeling tugged at me. Relief? Maybe. Or… care? No. I didn't allow myself that. My face remained impassive, but I could feel it—something warm and absurdly wrong—curling in my chest.
My father, of course, couldn't resist commenting. Chén Se stepped from behind me, eyes gleaming with his usual playful menace. "…Ah, young curiosity. Always wandering where it shouldn't. How… brave of you, Lè Lan."
I groaned, not at all subtle, pressing a hand to my face. "…Father, please."
He chuckled softly, that smile sharp and dangerous. "…Curiosity walks a fine line between bravery and… trouble. Take care, Ye Chan..I'm not wanting you do something crule to my favorite worker here.."
I glanced at Lè Lan. His nervous, awkward smile made my chest tighten in a way I refused to analyze. Why does he always—?
"Why do you always appear at the worst time?" I muttered, turning my head slightly, unwilling to meet his eyes too directly. I needed to hide the sudden flutter of my chest, the irrational relief at seeing him.
He shrugged, cheeks pink. "…Because curiosity won."
Curiosity won. That simple statement lodged itself somewhere uncomfortable in my chest. Like a splinter I didn't want to pull out, but couldn't stop thinking about.
"Curiosity… or concern?" My father's voice cut through the tension, teasing, as if he already knew more than I did—and I hated that he could read everyone like an open book. "Which one is it, Lè Lan?"
I felt my shoulders stiffen instinctively. Lè Lan hesitated, biting his lip. "…Concern?" he whispered finally. "…I just wanted to make sure you're… alright."
Alright.
I couldn't answer. Not honestly. Not about the allergy issue I was trying desperately to hide. My illness wasn't some small inconvenience—it was… serious. But revealing it would only make everything worse, complicate everything… and put him in a position I didn't want him in.
So I nodded once, stiffly. "…I'm fine."
He tilted his head, brow furrowed, not fully accepting my words. "…If your mother's not here, why did Sir Chén Se have to cancel the meeting for you?" His voice was gentle, curious, but it hit me like a jolt.
He doesn't know. He shouldn't know.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. "…It's nothing," I said finally, too fast, too clipped. "…Just… a personal matter."
Lè Lan frowned. "…But shouldn't your mom be the one—"
I cut him off with a low, sharp inhale. "…Do not speak of it."
He paused, unsure, cheeks heating slightly. I saw it—his confusion, his concern, the way he refused to back down. Part of me… wanted to let him in. To tell him the truth. But another part—cold, trained, and stubborn—kept me from it.
My father stepped closer, smoothing his shirt , clearing his throat. "…It seems the two of you are enjoying… a complicated conversation. Very good. Very… amusing. But Ye Chan, make sure he isn't trouble.."
I sighed, exasperated, trying to maintain my composure. "…Father, it's fine."
And somehow… despite my annoyance, despite the ache in my chest from hiding the truth, I found myself watching Lè Lan closely. His small quirks—the way he fiddled with his bag strap, the tilt of his head when confused, the earnest look in his eyes—made the world tilt slightly.
"…Sir Ye Chan…" Lè Lan finally said, softer this time, eyes wide. "…Are you sure you're alright? You… seem tired."
Tired. Exhausted. Fragile.
I stiffened. "…I am fine." My voice lacked conviction, but I forced it to stay sharp, cold. "…Please, don't worry."
He hesitated, lips parting as if to argue, then closed his mouth with a soft sigh. "…Alright… but…" He paused, frowning. "…It's really strange, seeing you like this. I… I just wanted to help."
I looked away. I could feel the warmth creeping up my neck, the pull in my chest that made me want to say everything and nothing at once.
"…You always appear at inconvenient times," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. "…But…" I swallowed. "…I… don't hate it."
He blinked, confused. "…Don't… hate it?"
Don't hate it.
I forced my jaw tight, stepping back. "…I said nothing."
My father chuckled again, darkly playful. "…Ah, the tension between you two is… deliciously chaotic. Very good. I'll leave you to… discover each other."
I groaned, muttering under my breath, "…Father…"
Lè Lan tilted his head, still watching me with that ridiculous mix of concern and mischief. "…I guess I'll stay for a little while," he said softly. "…I want to make sure you're okay."
I wanted to tell him to leave. I wanted to glare. I wanted to scream. But all I could do was stand there, frozen in the hallway, heart hammering, chest tight.
And for the first time in days, maybe weeks… I allowed myself to feel something I hadn't allowed before. Something confusing, dangerous… and tender.
Even if I couldn't say it. Even if I had to hide it. Even if my father was lurking behind us with that ever-present, dangerous smile…
I wanted him here.
And I hated it.