The stairwell still smelled faintly of rain when Qing Yun pushed open her apartment door, her hand still holding onto Ze Yan's wrist as if afraid he might dissolve with the storm.
Inside, the lights glowed soft and yellow against the dampness clinging to them both. Water trailed from his hair, dripping down the collar of his shirt, and his shoulders—always so sharp and composed—looked strangely fragile under the weight of the rain.
"You'll catch a cold like this." Her voice carried more urgency than she intended. "Change your clothes, quickly."
Ze Yan glanced around the tidy little room. "And change into what?" His smile was faint but teasing. "I didn't know I should bring a suitcase for being caught in the rain."
Qing Yun froze. Right—there wasn't a single article of men's clothing in this apartment. After a moment of hesitation, she pressed her lips together, grabbed her umbrella again, and marched to the door.
Auntie Wu answered almost at once, already in her night robe, her face bright with curiosity. "Oh, Sunny, back so late and with your—ah, so this is the young man!" Her sharp eyes swept over Ze Yan once before twinkling. "What do you need?"
Qing Yun's cheeks flamed. "Do you… perhaps… have any clothes my friend can borrow? He's all wet from the rain."
Auntie Wu disappeared into her apartment with an "Aiyo, wait a moment," and returned with a folded set: a loose cotton shirt with a loud floral print and pants clearly too short for Ze Yan's height. She shoved them into Qing Yun's arms with a wink. "These were my old man's favorites before he got fat. Your friend should fit. Take good care of him, eh?"
Qing Yun almost choked. "Thank you, Auntie Wu."
Back inside, she handed the bundle over with as much composure as she could manage. "It's all I could find. Just… make do."
Ze Yan raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. A moment later he stepped out of the bathroom, and Qing Yun lost all control—her laughter spilled out helplessly.
The floral shirt was a size too wide, sleeves rolled several times, and the trousers ended scandalously above his ankles. The usually imposing CEO now looked like someone's scholarly uncle heading to a neighborhood tai chi session.
Ze Yan leaned casually against the doorframe, unbothered. "Laugh all you want. I'll admit I never modeled this particular style before." He even turned a little, posing like he was on a runway.
Qing Yun pressed a hand to her lips, still giggling. "You've gone from 'business elite' to 'retired calligraphy teacher.'"
His eyes softened as he stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough for her to hear. "As long as it makes you smile like that… I'll wear anything."
Her laughter faltered, replaced by a warmth that spread quietly through her chest. She turned away quickly, hiding in the kitchen under the excuse of boiling water.
A few minutes later, she placed a steaming cup of ginger tea in front of him. "Drink this. It'll warm you up."
Their fingers brushed when he reached for it. Ze Yan didn't pull back immediately; instead, he let his hand linger over hers, his eyes steady.
"Why did you run out into the rain without an umbrella?" he asked quietly.
She lowered her gaze. "I couldn't let you stand there and get sick."
He was silent for a long moment, then murmured, almost to himself, "So… you'd protect me too."
Qing Yun only smiled faintly, not giving a direct answer. But in the curve of her lips and the softness of her eyes, the answer was already clear.
The rest of the evening passed in the hush of drizzle against the windows. She tidied the little room, moving with her usual neatness, while he sat by the window, long legs awkward in the short trousers, watching her with unreadable tenderness.
When it was time to rest, she handed him a fresh blanket. "The sofa's not that bad. Better than catching a cold."
He gave her a helpless look. "You're really making me sleep here in Auntie Wu's husband's clothes?"
Her lips curved. "You look very dignified. Like an esteemed uncle."
He let out a low chuckle, pulling the blanket over himself, but his gaze lingered on her retreating back as she slipped into her bedroom.
At the door, she paused and turned, catching him stretched awkwardly on the sofa. For a heartbeat she just looked—at his tall figure forced into a space too small, at the quiet patience in his eyes—and something in her softened.
Her smile bloomed, faint but genuine. Then she whispered, almost to herself: Don't be greedy, Lin Qing Yun.
Behind her, Ze Yan lay in the dim light, eyes half closed, whispering words only the night could hear.
"One day, you'll be mine for real."
Outside, the rain faded into silence, leaving only the sound of two hearts learning how to beat closer together.