The days at Luminar flowed by in a rhythm both steady and quick. Winter had softened into that in-between chill, when the wind wasn't harsh enough to bite but still sneaked into your sleeves if you weren't careful. Inside the office, however, the mood was bright.
The new year was approaching.
The staff decorated their desks with little red knots, paper lanterns hung from the pantry, and everyone spoke of train tickets, homebound buses, and the comfort of hometown meals. The air smelled faintly of pine-scented cleaning spray mixed with instant coffee—ordinary, but warmed by anticipation.
Lin Qing Yun watched her colleagues with a smile. She didn't speak much, only listened, but her eyes carried that same steady brightness as always. She typed carefully at her desk, finished her tasks, and tucked her hair back as Shen Qiao clapped her hands from the front.
"Everyone! Don't forget tonight's hotpot dinner. If anyone dares skip, I'll deduct their meat quota tomorrow."
Laughter rippled through the room.
Qing Yun blinked up. "Even me?"
"Especially you," Shen Qiao teased. "You're new. You have to learn our company rule—guarding dipping sauce is part of your probation period."
The team cheered. Qing Yun laughed lightly, covering her lips. Somehow, she felt less like an outsider here than she'd expected.
--
The hotpot restaurant was already noisy by the time Luminar arrived. Steam fogged the glass windows, silhouettes shifting inside like brushstrokes blurred by mist.
Everyone squeezed around a long table, arguing cheerfully about broth choices. Spicy red or soothing mushroom? In the end, both pots boiled in harmony, split down the middle like yin and yang.
Qing Yun rolled up her sleeves and took the ladle, carefully portioning vegetables and meats for those around her. Her movements were neat, practiced—like she had been feeding people all her life.
The bell above the restaurant door jingled.
Heads turned.
Gu Ze Yan stepped inside.
He wasn't dressed like a CEO tonight, not in a suit, but in a dark coat and knit sweater, hair brushed lightly back. Even so, the restaurant seemed to pause half a beat.
"Boss!" Chen Rui leapt up with exaggerated betrayal. "You never come to hotpot! Why tonight?"
"Because I was invited," Ze Yan replied simply, his voice low and smooth.
"Invited? By who?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out the chair beside Lin Qing Yun and sat down without hesitation.
The silence that followed lasted only three seconds before the table exploded into knowing whistles.
--
Hotpot steam rose, wrapping them in warmth. Sunny, flustered, reached for mushrooms and dropped them into his bowl naturally, without thinking.
In return, he lifted a perfect slice of beef from the boiling broth and placed it into hers.
Their chopsticks nearly brushed.
The table roared.
"Miss Lin! The boss is feeding you beef?!"
"Ah, ah, ah, it's official—hotpot is now matchmaking!"
"Boss, can I get beef too?" Chen Rui begged shamelessly.
Ze Yan didn't even glance at him. "No."
The laughter doubled. Qing Yun covered her face with one hand, but the tips of her ears glowed pink.
Between dishes, Sister Fang leaned forward with a teasing smile. "Miss Lin, is it true the CEO personally recruited you?"
Qing Yun shook her head quickly. "It was Shen-jie who let me join. I just got lucky."
Chen Rui smirked, chopsticks waving. "Boss doesn't smile at luck this much."
The table howled again.
Qing Yun tried to glare at him, but her laugh betrayed her.
Ze Yan, meanwhile, sipped his tea calmly, as if this entire storm had nothing to do with him—except for the faint curl at his lips he couldn't quite hide.
--
By the time the soup bubbled down and plates emptied, the staff staggered out, holding their stomachs.
"We're too full to walk," Chen Rui groaned.
"Then roll home!" Shen Qiao barked.
Amid laughter and complaints, the group dispersed into the night.
Qing Yun adjusted her coat, ready to head toward the bus stop, but a quiet voice at her side stopped her.
"Come," Ze Yan said simply.
She blinked. "Where?"
"Walk. We're too full to sit in a car."
--
The streets had quieted with the late hour. They wandered without destination until the city opened into a small park. Lanterns strung along the paths cast warm halos, and the pond in the middle reflected them like scattered coins.
There were hardly any people—just the rustle of leaves, the crunch of gravel beneath their steps, and the sound of their breaths, visible in faint white wisps.
Lin Qing Yun folded her arms lightly, laughing. "I swear, if I see beef rolls again, I'll faint."
"Until next week," he replied smoothly.
She shot him a playful look. "You're not supposed to encourage gluttony."
"Who said anything about encouraging? I'm warning you."
Her laughter drifted soft in the quiet.
They walked slowly, their shoulders brushing now and then, neither pulling away. The silence wasn't empty—it felt like a shared blanket, stretched between them without words.
A wooden bench waited beneath a lantern. They sat, side by side. Steam from the hotpot still lingered faintly on their coats.
Qing Yun pulled her knees in slightly, chin resting on her palm. "This feels strange."
"What does?"
"Just…" She gestured vaguely at the empty park, the lantern light, the soft night. "Sitting here after hotpot. Like something out of a story."
His lips curved faintly. "Maybe it is."
Her heart skipped, though she looked away quickly, pretending to study the pond.
Time stretched, unhurried. Somewhere, a dog barked in the distance.
Then, softly, she asked:
"What about you, Mr. Gu? Are you going back to your family for the New Year?"
It was an innocent question—ordinary, expected.
But his expression shifted.
For the first time that night, the easy confidence left his face. What replaced it was quieter, almost fragile. He looked at her with a calm, sad smile.
"I don't have a family to go to."
The words fell gently, like snow, but the silence that followed was heavier than winter itself.
Qing Yun turned to him, eyes widening slightly, but the chapter ends here—suspended in that lantern-lit pause, the steam of hotpot long gone, leaving only warmth between them and the cold truth he had just laid bare.