The car ride back from the grove was quiet, but it wasn't the silence of strangers. It was a silence filled with warmth, with the kind of ease that needed no words. Lin Qing Yun leaned her head lightly against the glass, watching the lake recede from view, the faint fragrance of osmanthus still lingering in her hair. Gu Ze Yan's fingers rested on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road, but every so often, they flickered toward her.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to. Tonight, everything had already been said beneath the falling blossoms and under the moonlight when their lips finally met.
When they returned to the five-star hotel, the corridors gleamed with quiet luxury. Qing Yun excused herself to bathe first. She let the warm water cascade over her skin, steam rising in delicate clouds. The day's exhaustion slipped away, leaving her body soft, her heart restless.
By the time she stepped out, hair damp and cheeks flushed, she was wrapped in a thick robe. Ze Yan had just come out of the shower. His hair was still wet, but his jaw was clean-shaven, smooth as porcelain. She blinked in surprise, and he chuckled.
"You won't complain about stubble tonight," he said softly.
Qing Yun looked away, pretending not to hear, though the tips of her ears betrayed her.
She drifted to the window where the curtains were parted. Outside, the lake shimmered beneath moonlight, silver and endless. She stared at it in a trance, almost forgetting the man behind her.
Ze Yan approached quietly, and without asking, he slipped his arms around her waist from behind. His chin rested against her shoulder. She stiffened only for a second, then leaned into him, letting his warmth steady her.
The scent of cedar and faint cologne wrapped around her, mixing with the cool night air.
"Sunny," his voice was low, husky, "don't look at the lake. Look at me."
She turned slightly, only for his lips to find hers.
At first it was tender, careful, as if he was still afraid she might pull away. But soon, the kiss deepened, fire melting into fire. Her hands trembled as they clutched at his robe. His breath grew heavier, and before long, they stumbled back toward the bed, lips never parting.
On the edge of the mattress, Ze Yan hovered above her, eyes dark as midnight. He wanted, desperately—but he didn't dare to take.
Qing Yun could see his hesitation. Her lips curved faintly. Softly, she whispered, "It's okay."
The last of his restraint crumbled. His mouth found hers again, hungrier now, his fingers trembling slightly as they untied her robe.
It wasn't Ze Yan's first time, but he treated it as though it were sacred. For Qing Yun, it was her first. There were moments of pain, her lips pressed tight, her breath uneven. Each time, he slowed, his hand brushing her hair back, whispering, "Tell me if it hurts too much. We can stop."
But she only shook her head, eyes shining with quiet determination.
And so, he was unbearably gentle. Every movement was patient, every kiss filled with devotion, as though he wished to ease away every sorrow she had ever carried.
By the time their bodies finally joined, the moonlight poured through the curtains like a silent witness. For Ze Yan, it was as if the world had finally aligned. For Qing Yun, it was both strange and tender, bittersweet and sweet all at once.
The early morning came softly, with no alarm, no rush.
Ze Yan stirred first. He opened his eyes to find her curled against him, her head resting on his arm, her slender fingers tangled in his shirt. She looked serene, her face unguarded in sleep, lashes trembling faintly as though she were dreaming.
For a long time, he simply stared.
This is it, he thought. This is the dream I chased. But I want more. I want this dream to last forever.
Careful not to wake her, he reached for his phone. His thumb slid across the screen, opening search after search. He scrolled slowly, eyes narrowing, as if weighing invisible choices.
Before he could decide, Qing Yun stirred. Her eyes fluttered open. Ze Yan quickly locked the screen and set the phone aside.
She smiled at him, sleepy but radiant. "Morning."
He kissed her forehead, her cheek, then her lips. "Good morning, Sunny."
She wrinkled her nose, pushing at his chin. "You shaved yesterday. Now you're smooth. But later, you'll scratch me again."
He laughed, low and deep, his chest rumbling under her hand. "Then I'll shave every morning if I must."
"Don't be ridiculous," she muttered, hiding her smile as she burrowed closer.
"Go back to sleep," he whispered. "It's still early."
She nodded drowsily, closing her eyes again. Within minutes, her breathing was soft and steady once more.
When she woke the second time, sunlight had filled the room. Ze Yan had already ordered breakfast, insisting the hotel serve it on trays so he could carry it to bed for her.
She laughed when he presented it, teasing, "Gu Ze Yan, you're going to spoil me rotten."
He only leaned closer and whispered, "Then let me spoil you more."
They spent the day wandering through Qinghu. Hand in hand, they strolled along the lakefront promenade. They browsed tiny shops, where Qing Yun picked up trinkets for Si Yao. At a tea house, they sat facing the water, sipping fragrant osmanthus tea. In the marketplace, they tried delicate sweets, laughing when powdered sugar smeared the corner of her lip and he wiped it away with his thumb.
The day moved slowly, peacefully, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them.
At dusk, they returned to Liangcheng.
In front of her apartment, Ze Yan pulled Qing Yun into his arms, holding her tightly as if reluctant to let go. His lips brushed her ear, his voice quiet but steady:
"Sunny, I love you."
The words carried no hesitation, only truth.
Qing Yun's eyes softened. She smiled faintly, but the warmth in her gaze was enough to undo him.
He kissed her—tender, lingering, sweet, long enough to etch itself into memory.
At last, he let her go. She turned and climbed the stairs, disappearing into the apartment.
Ze Yan stood there in the quiet street until the door closed behind her. Only then did he leave, his chest aching but full.