Spring came quietly to Liangcheng.
The winter dampness peeled back little by little, until the streets softened into a haze of budding plane trees and faint green along the riverbanks. On the bookstore café windowsill, pots of geraniums pushed out tentative blossoms. And on the sidewalks, bicycles clattered past girls carrying iced drinks again, even though the season wasn't quite warm enough yet.
It was the kind of spring that seemed to breathe hope into everything—even people.
For Lin Qing Yun, the shift came with new choices.
She no longer rose at dawn to stack boxes in the grocery warehouse. No longer tied her apron at Xianghe Noodle House until midnight. When her old coworkers teased her about "finally becoming rich," she laughed and said, "I'm just becoming less clumsy with noodles."
But the truth was quieter: since agreeing to be Gu Ze Yan's "contract girlfriend," she could finally let go of some jobs.
Her days now looked like this:
Morning to afternoon: Luminar System, tucked behind a desk under Shen Qiao's wing, quietly translating, filing, keeping things smooth.
Evenings: the bookstore café, still her favorite shift—books, tea, and the aunties from the alley dropping by.
Weekends: tutoring English at a private institute, her students still calling her "Sunny-jie" with affection.
Nights: freelance translation, until she nodded off against her laptop.
Her schedule was still full, but not suffocating. For the first time in years, she had empty hours on Saturday and Sunday evenings—hours she didn't quite know how to spend.
Ze Yan seemed to know exactly what to do with them.
The montage of March was full of small, ridiculous moments:
Qing Yun standing in Ze Yan's spacious living room, sleeves rolled up, muttering about how many pans he could possibly dirty for a single stir-fry. He lounged against the counter, smirking. "You wash them better than the maid."
She scowled, hair falling into her face. "You fired your maid just to make me do this, didn't you?"
"Efficiency," he said smoothly.
Qing Yun typing away at her translation files on his sofa, earbuds in. When she looked up, he was suddenly sitting beside her, chin propped on his hand, staring like he was trying to memorize her face. She threw a cushion at him. He caught it without flinching.
"Don't you have company things to do?" she snapped.
"I delegated," he replied cheerfully.
Qing Yun peering down into his fish tank. "You feed them too much. Look at their bellies."
"Then you do it," he said, handing her the packet of food with mock solemnity.
She sprinkled the flakes, and the fish darted up. His smile was ridiculous.
On Sunday afternoons, she would take care of his plants. He followed her like a tall, silent shadow.
"You could water these yourself," she complained.
"I don't know the right amount," he said, pretending seriousness. "I need professional help."
The "professional" nearly whacked him with the watering can.
--
Luminar Gossip
Of course, the people at Luminar had their own interpretations.
"Did you see CEO Gu dropping Sunny off again? Every day, without fail."
"He even waits in the lobby when she finishes."
"That's not an employee, that's… a girlfriend!"
Qing Yun only smiled when she overheard. She never corrected them. For her, it was just "work." For him… well, she never asked.
--
The only dim spot was Si Yao.
In mid-March, Si Yao called, voice full of pride and nerves. "Jiejie, I've been chosen for the Math Olympiad training team. I can't come home for a while—maybe months."
Qing Yun's heart dipped. "So long?"
"It's good, right? If I do well, it'll help for university applications. Maybe even scholarships."
Qing Yun smiled into the phone, though her chest hurt. "Of course it's good. My Si Yao is the best."
After the call, she sat at her little desk, staring at the family photo propped beside the lamp. The apartment felt a little too quiet without Si Yao's chatter.
--
One rainy afternoon, Ze Yan was finishing a call when his phone lit again. Seeing the name, his posture softened instantly.
"Ma."
On the other end, Song Mei Lian's voice was warm, but lined with urgency. "Ze Yan, your dad insists on you coming to the Zhao Corporation's anniversary banquet. It will be in Haiyun City next week. He hopes you'll bring Qing Yun as well."
Ze Yan leaned back, frowning slightly. "I don't want to stir tension. The board doesn't need me there to ignite more rumors."
"Your father doesn't care about the board," Mei Lian said firmly. "He wants family to stand by him. Don't refuse."
There was a pause, then her voice softened. "I'll prepare a room for you in the mansion."
"No," Ze Yan said immediately. "That's not a good idea."
"Then at least let Xin Yue book you a hotel. Don't tell me you'll stay in some anonymous corner when you're my son."
Her tone carried the familiar guilt-laden warmth that always left him powerless. After a long silence, he sighed. "…Alright. But only because you insist."
"That's all I ask," Mei Lian said, relief audible. "And bring Qing Yun. I want to see her again."
When the call ended, Ze Yan stared at his reflection in the dark window for a moment, then smiled faintly.
--
That Saturday evening, when Qing Yun arrived at his apartment after tutoring, she found the dining table covered in steaming dishes.
She froze at the sight of at least six different plates, ranging from stir-fried shrimp to double-cooked pork.
"You cooked all this?" she asked suspiciously.
Ze Yan, wearing an apron over a sweater, leaned against the counter with self-satisfaction. "Of course. For you."
Qing Yun crossed her arms. "Which means I'm the one who'll have to wash all of it later."
"Exactly," he said without shame.
She almost threw a dumpling at him.
Over dinner, he told her about the banquet. "My stepfather asked me to bring you. It's in Haiyun City."
Qing Yun blinked. "Haiyun City? I've never left Liangcheng before." Her eyes lit up with genuine excitement, then softened. "That's… a bit far."
Ze Yan watched her, feeling a strange twist of pity and determination. He wanted to show her the world, not just piece by piece, but all at once.
"You'll like it," he promised quietly.
--
The morning of departure, Chen Rui drove them to the airport, fussing over the luggage like an overgrown brother.
When first-class boarding was announced, Qing Yun's eyes widened as they were called ahead of the line. "Me? First class?"
Ze Yan smirked. "What did you expect? I can't let my girlfriend suffer."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her grin as the stewardess welcomed her. Settling into the wide leather seat, she touched every button curiously, marveling at the warm towel and sparkling water.
Ze Yan leaned back, watching her amusement like it was his own private entertainment. For a man who had flown countless times, this was the first flight that felt worth remembering.
--
Arrival in Haiyun City
Haiyun City was a gleaming sprawl of towers and spring haze, its avenues lined with magnolias just beginning to bloom.
At the VIP exit, a Zhao Corporation representative waited with a placard. He greeted Ze Yan with both respect and warmth.
"President Gu, Miss Lin. We'll handle your luggage. Please, this way."
Lin Qing Yun followed in quiet amazement as their suitcases vanished into capable hands. Onlookers whispered, recognizing the Zhao Corporation emblem on the man's badge.
They were led to a sleek black sedan waiting at the curb, the kind of car Qing Yun only saw in magazines. The driver opened the door, bowing slightly.
She sat down gingerly, hands folded in her lap. Ze Yan slid in beside her, expression calm, though his eyes softened at her nervousness.
The Hotel
The car swept them through the financial district, where glass skyscrapers caught the last blush of the afternoon sun. Finally, it pulled up to the front of an elite five-star hotel.
Inside, the marble-floored lobby gleamed. Guests turned their heads as the Zhao Corporation man escorted them directly to the private elevator.
When the elevator opened, it revealed the presidential suite: an expanse of white and gold, with a living room twice the size of Qing Yun's apartment, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river, and a dining area already laid with fresh flowers.
Qing Yun gasped softly, walking toward the glass wall to see the view.
The Zhao staff set down their keys and bowed. "Miss Lin, President Gu, this suite has been arranged by Miss Xin Yue. Please enjoy your stay."
Qing Yun blinked. "…Our suite?"
The man hesitated, confused. "Yes. Yours."
Qing Yun turned slowly toward Ze Yan, stunned. "Wait—there's only one bedroom?"
Ze Yan's smile was faint, almost amused, but his eyes flickered with something deeper.
The door clicked shut behind the staff. Silence stretched, carrying with it the sound of Qing Yun's racing heartbeat.