The silence stretched too long—so long I could hear the faint ticking of the ornate clock in the corner, every second scratching against my nerves.
Ye Chén finally turned, muttering under his breath, and walked deeper into the house. He didn't dismiss me, though. That was enough invitation for me to follow, even if my stomach flipped with every hesitant step.
The living room was neat to the point of sterility—dark wood floors polished to a shine, shelves lined with carefully arranged books, curtains pulled just enough to let in a muted glow. It was beautiful, but too precise. Too… lonely.
Ye Chén sank onto the sofa like a king forced into his throne, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His hair fell slightly into his face, shadows pooling along his sharp jawline. "Sit," he said, clipped, annoyed, like the word itself was an inconvenience.
I obeyed, slipping into the chair opposite him, though every fiber of me wanted to fidget. My bag rested on my knees, fingers clutching the strap as if it could anchor me.
For a while, neither of us spoke. I stared at the bookshelves, the polished floor, the faint reflection of light in the window—anywhere but his eyes. But the silence between us wasn't empty. It was heavy, hot, alive, like sparks waiting to leap.
Finally, I blurted, too fast, too eager: "…You don't read these, do you?"
His gaze flicked briefly to the shelves, then back to me. "…No. They're Father's."
I blinked, caught off guard, then laughed—nervous, but real. "Ah… I should've known. Too orderly, too dustless. If it were mine, half the spines would be broken, stacked sideways, probably with food crumbs hiding between the pages."
Ye Chén's brow twitched, unimpressed. "…Charming."
I leaned forward, lowering my voice, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. "But if they were mine—it would be only normal han— whatever.. just sit here silently " My throat tightened . What he wanted to say ? Is he hiding something ? but I smiled anyway."They're like living in another life. One where pain and love are… worth it."
His eyes sharpened, flickering—annoyed, yes, but also caught. Just a fraction.
"…You really talk too much," he muttered, but his fingers tightened imperceptibly against his sleeve.
Before I could respond, Chén Sè appeared, carrying a delicate tray of tea and snacks. His presence filled the room like velvet and steel at once, and when he set the tray down, his eyes lingered on me with that dangerous amusement.
"Ah, so the little lamb is a dreamer," he said, voice smooth. "Pouring out xianxia epics in my son's living room. No wonder you ran all the way here—your world is too small for you alone."
Heat rushed to my cheeks..why sue knows everything so well ?! "I—I wasn't—"
"Father." Ye Chén's voice dropped, sharp as a blade. His fingers tapped against his armrest, controlled but tense. "Enough."
But Chén Sè only chuckled, sipping from his own cup, gaze never leaving me. "Mm. Enough? But it's only just beginning..besides..those dialogs usually dads uses..but here , you're being my dad . "
The silence that followed pressed heavy on my chest. I grabbed my cup, more to keep my hands busy than anything else, and sipped. The tea was warm, fragrant, but it couldn't steady the restless beat of my heart.
Ye Chén's eyes flicked toward me, then away, then back again, too quick for me to catch fully—but enough to make my stomach twist. His lips parted slightly, as though to speak, but no words came.
"…Why do you always…" His voice trailed off, faint, rough, almost too soft to hear.
"…Always what?" I asked gently, tilting my head.
He didn't answer. Just stared at the steam curling from his cup, lashes lowered, profile sharp in the dim light. But something in that silence—the way his jaw clenched, the faint tremor at his fingertips—spoke louder than words.
I swallowed, my chest aching. I wanted to reach across the table, to brush that stubborn strand of his beautiful long hair from his forehead, to tell him that even in his silence, I could hear him. But I didn't. I couldn't.
Instead, I smiled, faint but steady. "…It's fine. You don't have to say it."
He stiffened, his eyes snapping to mine. For a moment, something raw flickered there—anger, confusion… fear.
And for just a second, the ice cracked.
The air between us pulsed, heavy, alive. Silent sparks.
Chén Sè chuckled low, sipping his tea with deliberate ease, and I knew—he saw everything.
But for once, I didn't care.