The first thing Qing Yun heard when she woke up was not birds or the hum of the city, but the rapid clacking of a keyboard.
She shuffled out of the guest room barefoot, rubbing her eyes. The kitchen light was still on, and when she reached for a glass of water, she spotted him—Gu Ze Yan—slouched in front of his sleek gaming setup, the glow of the screen washing his face pale.
His hair was a little messy, sleeves rolled up, eyes narrowed at the boss monster on screen. His entire aura screamed war veteran clinging to hope.
"...Don't tell me," Qing Yun's voice was hoarse with sleep, "you didn't sleep at all."
Ze Yan didn't even glance at her, fingers tapping furiously. "Nope."
Qing Yun leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the man she once thought was a flawless, put-together CEO. Now he looked like a teenager cramming for finals at 4 a.m.
"You're insane," she said flatly.
He exhaled, eyes glued to the screen. "This boss is insane. I was this close—this close, Qing Yun—and then it did that tail swipe thing. Totally unfair."
Qing Yun rolled her eyes so hard she almost saw her soul leave her body. "Gu Ze Yan, you own an AI company. Surely your AI can program mercy into this game."
"Mercy is for the weak," he muttered, clicking furiously.
She shook her head, filled her glass, and padded back to the guest room.
By noon, Ze Yan finally collapsed. He stumbled away from the PC, dragged his blanket from the chair, and flopped onto the sofa like a defeated general.
Qing Yun sighed. His pride was wounded, but his body was clearly begging for rest.
She busied herself in the kitchen, throwing together a simple lunch: tomato scrambled eggs, stir-fried greens, and rice. By the time the food was ready, she marched over to the sofa and shook his shoulder.
"Get up, or I'll eat it all myself."
Ze Yan groaned, rubbing his eyes like a child. "I should've cooked for you."
"Then you'd better practice cooking in your sleep," Qing Yun deadpanned.
His lips twitched into a grin, and he sat up obediently. "Touché."
After lunch, Ze Yan suddenly perked up again, mischief sparking in his eyes.
"Let's play."
Qing Yun looked at him suspiciously. "Play what?"
"Games." He gestured dramatically at his gaming corner. "I refuse to suffer alone. Come, fight me."
Thus began an afternoon of duels.
Fighting games. Racing games. Shooting games. Strategy board games. Every genre he threw at her, she devoured.
The first round of each game, she lost—fumbling with the controls, trying to understand the mechanics. But the second round onward?
Total massacre.
Qing Yun's calm focus was terrifying. Her timing was precise, her strategies neat, her moves sharp. After her third flawless victory, Ze Yan sat frozen, controller dangling in his hand.
She tilted her head, smiling sweetly. "I'm sorry. I'm just too good."
Ze Yan clutched his chest as if stabbed. "Sunny, you've destroyed my pride."
"Mm," she said cheerfully, "get used to it."
That was how Gu Ze Yan, CEO of Luminar System, found himself setting up karaoke equipment as punishment for losing.
He chose a romantic ballad, adjusting the mic with the gravitas of a superstar. Then he began to sing.
Qing Yun's jaw dropped.
His voice—deep, steady, emotional—wasn't just good. It was heartbreakingly good, like warm velvet wrapping around every word. His vibrato was clean, his pitch perfect, every riff effortless.
He didn't look like a man who lost to her twenty times in a row. He looked like a man born to stand on a stage.
Qing Yun, half-amused and half-enchanted, grabbed her phone, turned on the flashlight, and waved it like a fangirl at a concert. "Encore! Encore!"
Ze Yan grinned mid-song, eyes sparkling as he sang directly to her.
The next track was upbeat. Ze Yan started to dance—playful, rhythmic, surprisingly smooth for a man who spent most of his life in boardrooms.
Then, without warning, he seized her hand.
"Dance with me."
Qing Yun's eyes widened. "No way—"
But he had already looped an arm around her waist, pulling her into the rhythm.
"Gu Ze Yan!"
"Too late. You're caught."
They twirled around the living room. Qing Yun's laughter spilled out despite herself, mingling with his chuckles. The song carried them, step after step, until it ended with both of them breathless, leaning into each other.
Silence filled the space between their breaths.
Ze Yan's hand remained firm at her waist. His eyes softened, gaze locking on hers with a quiet intensity.
"Stay like this," he murmured, voice low, almost vulnerable. "Just a little longer."
Qing Yun's heartbeat stuttered.
He leaned in, lips drawing closer, warm breath brushing against her skin—
"I'm hungry," she blurted out, tilting her head away. "Let's… make dinner."
Ze Yan froze. Then, after a stunned beat, laughter burst out of him.
"You're cruel," he said, grinning, though his voice held a trace of exasperated fondness.
Qing Yun giggled awkwardly, cheeks warm. "You'll survive."
Dinner was spent at a cozy restaurant nearby. They ate simple home-style dishes, then wandered into the park under soft summer night air.
The pathways were quiet, lined with budding flowers. Streetlamps cast pale halos on the pavement. Their shoulders brushed occasionally, and neither moved away.
Sometimes, silence was closer than words.