The flight from Jakarta was short, yet it felt like a shift in worlds.
When the plane dipped through cotton clouds, the island unveiled itself—a stretch of turquoise sea kissing white beaches, lush fields stitched in neat green terraces, and distant volcanic peaks guarding the horizon.
Lin Qing Yun leaned toward the window, her breath catching softly. "It's beautiful…"
Gu Ze Yan, seated beside her, wasn't watching the view. His gaze lingered on the light dancing across her eyes. A smile tugged at his lips. "Not as beautiful as what I see here."
She rolled her eyes, but the faint blush across her cheeks betrayed her.
Arrival
Their car wound along narrow roads lined with coconut palms. Women in bright sarongs balanced woven offerings on their heads, incense trailing behind them like prayer made visible. The scent of sea salt mingled with frangipani blossoms carried by the breeze.
When the villa appeared, it was like stepping into a postcard.
Set on a secluded cliff, its open walls invited the ocean inside. An infinity pool mirrored the sky, and beyond it, the endless sea spread like a painted canvas.
The staff bowed politely, offering cool towels scented with jasmine and cups of ginger tea.
Qing Yun set the cup down, her eyes drinking in the horizon. "It feels… unreal."
Ze Yan came behind her, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. His voice lowered, only for her: "Sometimes, the unreal is what I want to give you."
Through the Fields
The next morning, they borrowed bicycles. The path curved through golden-green rice terraces, the stalks swaying gently under the sun. Farmers lifted their heads to wave, children chased one another barefoot, their laughter spilling like bells.
Qing Yun's skirt fluttered as she pedaled, sunlight painting her skin. She turned her head and laughed when Ze Yan, too focused on her rather than the path, nearly steered into a ditch.
"Careful, CEO Gu," she teased, cheeks flushed from the breeze. "You're not negotiating with the road."
He caught up, a hand reaching out to steady her handlebar for a moment. His smile softened. "As long as I can follow you, I don't mind where the road leads."
Her heart stumbled, though her lips only curved faintly.
By the Sea
Afternoon found them barefoot on the beach. The sand was warm and fine, the waves rolling lazily.
Qing Yun bent to gather seashells, fingers tracing their ridges. Ze Yan, sleeves rolled and trousers wet at the hems, tried to help, but ended up watching her more than the shore.
When she looked up, holding a shell to her ear, her smile caught him off guard—it was simple, unguarded, luminous.
Without thinking, he reached out, brushing sand from her cheek. She froze a heartbeat, then let him, the tide filling the silence between them.
Later, they sat side by side, sharing grilled seafood from a beach shack, the smoke carrying spices and lime. Ze Yan cracked crab shells with surprising skill, placing the sweet meat into her bowl.
"Eat more," he said firmly.
She lifted a brow. "You're acting like I'll starve if you don't."
He met her gaze, unflinching. "You never care enough about yourself. So I'll do it."
Her chest ached at his quiet certainty. She lowered her eyes, biting gently into the crab.
Sunset on the Sea
On their third evening, Ze Yan led her to a private yacht moored at the harbor.
The deck was laid with soft lights, a table set with candles and crystal glasses. As the yacht drifted from shore, the world melted into color—the sun sinking in slow grandeur, sky aflame with crimson and gold.
Qing Yun leaned on the railing, wind teasing her hair. "It's like the sky is burning."
Ze Yan came to stand beside her, close enough that his arm brushed hers. His voice was steady, yet softer than the sea: "Even if the world burns, I'll make sure you never feel the fire."
She turned, startled by the weight of his words. His gaze met hers, unwavering, the ocean behind him endless.
Dinner was a dream—lobster glazed in butter, delicate salads, sweet tropical fruits. But neither remembered much of the flavors; it was the way their laughter carried across the water, the way candlelight reflected in each other's eyes, that filled the night.
When dessert came—red bean soup laced with coconut cream—Qing Yun's heart tightened. She lifted the spoon slowly, remembering the quiet symbolism of red beans: longing, love, promises unspoken.
Her eyes flicked to Ze Yan. He was already watching her.
Night fell gently, stars pricking the velvet sky. The sea lay calm, dotted with reflections of scattered lights from faraway shores.
Qing Yun tilted her face upward, breath stolen by the sheer expanse. "So many…" she whispered. "It feels like they could fall."
Ze Yan's heart beat hard against his ribs. He watched her silhouette outlined by starlight, delicate yet unyielding, as though she belonged to the night itself.
And then, without warning, he knelt.
The sudden movement drew her gaze down. Her breath caught. He was there—on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand, its contents glinting softly beneath the fairy lights strung across the deck.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
His voice was low, steady, every word carved from the depths of his chest.
"Sunny… from the first time I saw your smile in that bookstore, I knew. I didn't know your name, your story, or the weight you carried. But I knew my heart had already chosen."
He lifted the ring, the diamond catching starlight.
"I want to give you everything—every sunrise, every storm, every ordinary day. Not as a contract, not as an obligation, but because I love you. Will you marry me?"
For a moment, the world seemed to pause. The sea stilled, the stars leaned closer, and Qing Yun's heart hammered in her ears.
She looked at him—this man who had once been distant as the moon, now kneeling before her with all his defenses undone.
Her smile came slow, like dawn breaking. Calm, yet radiant.
"Yes."
Applause did not erupt. Fireworks did not bloom. Only the quiet sea, the stars above, and the warmth in their hands when he slipped the ring onto her finger.
Ze Yan stood, pulling her into his arms with a breath that trembled despite his composure. She felt the strength of his embrace, the relief, the promise sealed in his heartbeat.
When he kissed her, it was tender at first, then deeper, carrying both reverence and yearning. She answered, not with fire, but with a quiet acceptance that melted into him like waves meeting shore.
That night, before sleep claimed them, Qing Yun lay on the villa bed, the sound of waves outside like a lullaby.
"Ze Yan," she murmured.
He brushed her hair back, smiling lazily. "Hmm?"
Her voice softened. "Why me? You've been surrounded by elite people, celebrities, beautiful women… why me?"
His smile deepened, though his eyes grew serious. "Because of your smile."
She blinked.
"The first time I saw you, behind that bookstore counter, I fell in love with the way you smiled. Bright, sincere, even when you were tired. I came back again and again, hoping you'd remember me. But you ignored me, even called me 'chili boy's friend.'"
Qing Yun laughed, muffled by his chest.
He cupped her face, gaze tender. "You care for others even when you're struggling. You treat everyone with kindness, never asking for anything in return. I wanted to give you everything—not to change you, but to let you live with ease, with joy. To be the one who carries the weight for you."
Her eyes softened. She didn't answer, only nestled closer, her faint smile hidden against his shoulder. In her heart, she whispered: I hope this is truly my fate.
Their last day in Bali was painted with quiet happiness—wandering markets where vendors called with cheerful voices, sipping tea on the terrace while waves curled below, walking barefoot on the sand one last time.
That night, as they packed, Ze Yan stood behind her, arms encircling her waist. His breath was warm against her ear.
"Sunny," he whispered, "I love you."
She turned, resting her forehead against his. "I know."
The sea outside roared and hushed, a witness to their promise.
When the plane took them back toward Liangcheng, the island disappeared beneath the clouds—but what it had given them remained: a ring, a promise, and a love no longer needing disguise.