The curtains in Gu Ze Yan's apartment were drawn shut, but the faint morning light still found its way in, filtering through the fabric and painting the room with a muted golden glow. The storm from last night had passed, leaving the air heavy and clean. Silence filled the room—except for the slow, steady breathing of the girl in his arms.
Lin Qing Yun was curled up close to him, her long hair spilling like ink across the pillow. Her expression was so peaceful that it was almost unreal—no trace of her usual smiles, no hint of the weariness she carried in the daylight hours. Just calm, as though the world could not touch her here.
Gu Ze Yan opened his eyes and did not move. For once, he did not want to rush off to meetings, to plans, to responsibilities. He simply lay there, watching her, his heart aching with a sweetness that felt almost unbearable.
If only every morning could begin like this, he thought.
He lowered his head. First, a soft kiss to her forehead. Then, another on her cheek. And then another. Her skin was warm beneath his lips, faintly fragrant, like spring after rain.
"Mmm…" Qing Yun stirred, her brows knitting faintly as her lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes slowly, hazy with sleep, only to find his face hovering close. The faint roughness of his morning stubble brushed against her cheek.
"Gu Ze Yan…" Her voice was soft, amused yet exasperated. "It's itchy."
Ze Yan only grinned, refusing to move away. "Is it? Then I'll give you one more."
Before she could protest, he leaned in again, brushing his cheek deliberately against hers, kissing her temple.
She groaned, half laughing, half annoyed, and pushed at his chest. "Enough—your stubble feels like sandpaper."
He caught her hand easily, his smile widening at the sound of her laughter. The sound filled the room like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He realized he wanted to wake her this way every morning—even if it meant she scolded him for it.
Later, Qing Yun stood at the kitchen counter, slicing fruit with practiced motions. She wore one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing against her thighs, the sleeves rolled clumsily up her arms.
Ze Yan leaned against the counter lazily, watching her as though she were the most captivating scene he had ever seen.
"You're supposed to be resting," he drawled, walking over to stand behind her.
"I am resting," she said without turning, her knife sliding through the apple with clean precision. "Cutting fruit doesn't count as work."
"Then I'll help." He slipped his arms around her waist from behind, chin resting lightly on her shoulder.
The knife paused. She tilted her head slightly, amused by how clingy he suddenly seemed. "You're just waiting to be fed, aren't you?"
His lips curved. "You know me too well."
With a sigh, she picked up a slice of apple and turned slightly, raising it toward his mouth. He opened obediently, catching her fingers in the process.
"Gu Ze Yan!" she gasped, pulling her hand back.
He only chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. "What? You fed me. I just… added interest."
Her face flushed faintly, but she shook her head with a smile, pretending to be stern. "You're impossible."
The day turned grey again. Outside, the sky rumbled with thunder, and heavy raindrops began to drum against the glass windows.
Inside, it was warm. Cozy.
Qing Yun sat curled against Ze Yan's chest on the sofa, a thick book from his library in her hands. The words absorbed her entirely, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration.
Ze Yan, on the other hand, held a book as well, but he hadn't turned a page in half an hour. His gaze was not on the ink but on the girl leaning against him, her hair brushing against his chin, her soft warmth seeping into him like fire on a winter night.
His heartbeat was loud. Far too loud. He wondered if she could hear it, if she would tease him for it.
He lowered his chin slightly, his lips brushing her hair without her noticing.
If only time could stop like this, he thought. Just this. Just her.
By afternoon, the rain still poured, the storm refusing to leave. Qing Yun opened her laptop for translation work, glasses perched on her nose, her fingers moving quickly across the keyboard.
Ze Yan booted up his PC, the screen flickering with the familiar dark fantasy world of his game.
He played in silence, but every time a loading screen appeared, he leaned sideways to steal a kiss from her cheek.
"Stop it, Gu Ze Yan." She swatted at him without looking up, though her lips curved.
"Why?" he teased. "The game needs to load. I need to do something."
She shook her head, but her shoulders trembled with laughter.
Eventually, she challenged him. "Fine. Duel me."
He accepted with confidence—and promptly lost. Again. And again.
By the fifth round, he was slumped in defeat, his controller dangling from his hand. "Sunny, are you secretly a professional gamer?"
She adjusted her glasses, smirking. "No. I just read manuals."
He groaned. Life was cruel. But seeing her so lively, so radiant in her element, he couldn't even be upset.
When the rain finally eased in the evening, Ze Yan drove her to a small, romantic restaurant nestled in the city. Candlelight flickered across the tables, and soft music filled the air.
Qing Yun wore a simple dress, her hair falling loosely, but she glowed brighter than the lights around them.
Across the table, Ze Yan couldn't take his eyes off her. Chen Rui's smug text from earlier in the day flashed in his mind, and for once, he didn't mind owing him a favor.
She caught him staring. "What?"
"Nothing." He smiled faintly. "Just thinking you make everything look brighter."
Her cheeks warmed, but she looked away, pretending to focus on the menu. "Smooth talker."
Later that night, in front of her apartment, Ze Yan held her close. He didn't want to let go, his chin resting lightly atop her head.
His voice was low, steady, but carried all the weight of his heart.
"I don't say things I don't mean. And when I say I want you, it's not for a moment—it's for always."
Lin Qing Yun tilted her head up, her eyes gleaming. Her lips curved into a faint smile, teasing but soft.
"Hm… so sweet. I didn't know you were such a smooth talker too."
Ze Yan chuckled, leaning down to kiss her gently. It wasn't long, but it was deep enough, tender enough, to burn into both their memories.
When she pulled away and climbed the stairs, he stood there for a long time, watching until her figure disappeared inside the building.
Only then did he turn back, his chest filled with warmth that no storm could ever wash away.