The morning light filtered through the silk curtains, pale and quiet, brushing over the edges of the vast master bedroom. Outside, the bamboo swayed in the early breeze, their shadows stretching long across the stone path of the garden. The mansion, usually alive with quiet movements of staff, felt hushed, as though it were holding its breath.
Gu Ze Yan was already awake.
He lay on his back for a long moment, his mind echoing with the words he had overheard the day before—the conversation between Lin Qing Yun and Ruan Yi Lan.
> "Isn't it tiring to be Cinderella? … The richer he is, the more expectations he got. She will start to fake herself and get exhausted."
He had stood outside, listening. Every syllable had pierced him like a knife, because he knew those words weren't meant as idle philosophy. They were her own truth. Her own fear.
For so many years he had been trying to chase back the light of "Sunny." He wanted her smiles, her joy, her brightness. But perhaps all he had been doing… was forcing her to wear a mask again.
Ze Yan sat up slowly. The realization pressed on him heavily, but for the first time, instead of despair, there was clarity. If Qing Yun was afraid of spectacle, of pretenses, then he would strip all of that away.
---
Breakfast
He didn't summon the chef. He didn't ask the housekeeper. Instead, he went into the kitchen himself. The staff looked at him with wide eyes but quickly disappeared at his silent gesture.
He boiled water, kneaded simple dough, rolled out dumpling wrappers with movements that were clumsy but determined. By the time Qing Yun woke and stepped into the dining room, faint steam rose from a small spread of steamed buns, dumpling soup, and boiled eggs.
No French pastries. No imported cheeses. No elaborate displays. Just the kind of food one might find in a quiet neighborhood breakfast stall.
Qing Yun paused at the doorway, her hand lingering on the frame. Her eyes flickered, unreadable, as she looked at the simple dishes on the table.
Ze Yan, sleeves rolled up, turned toward her. He smiled—not his confident CEO smile, but a gentle, almost awkward curve of lips.
"Sit," he said softly. "It's nothing fancy. Just… something to start the day."
She lowered herself into the chair. For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, quietly, he added:
"You don't need to force yourself to eat more than you want. Just… enough is fine."
Her eyes lifted, startled. For a long breath she only looked at him, then she picked up her chopsticks and ate a few bites. No expression, no comment, but he saw it—the faintest softening of her gaze. And for Ze Yan, that was enough.
---
At Luminar
The new Luminar System headquarters stood tall in the business district, glass gleaming against the sky. It was a monument to his five years of relentless work, his obsession to build a future worth showing her.
When the black car pulled into the driveway, employees turned their heads. The CEO's arrival always drew whispers, but today, the whispers were louder.
Because their CEO walked into the lobby beside a woman.
Everyone in Luminar knew the rumors. They had seen his gestures—his kisses, his public affection, his inability to hide his devotion. Today was no different; he placed his hand lightly on Qing Yun's back, steering her through the crowd.
But the difference was in his demeanor.
There was no arrogance, no parade of power. He wasn't showing her off like a trophy. Instead, his expression was warm, protective, his steps matched carefully to hers. When she paused, he paused. When she moved, he followed.
People whispered behind their hands, envious, curious. But Ze Yan ignored them. He didn't care if she wore plain clothes, if her face showed no smile. To him, this was already perfect.
---
Lunch
At noon, his assistant asked where he would dine—with the board? With investors?
Ze Yan only turned to Qing Yun and asked, "What do you want to eat?"
She hesitated, eyes flickering with the same guarded calm as always. Then she said softly, "A noodle shop. Nearby."
The chauffeur was startled when their CEO gave the order, but he obeyed.
The noodle shop was cramped, the kind of place packed with office workers and students, noisy with clattering bowls and chatter. Ze Yan entered with Qing Yun, drawing curious stares. A man in a tailored suit worth more than the shop's monthly rent did not belong here.
But he didn't falter.
He helped her find a seat by the window, then went to order—no assistant, no secretary, just himself in line like any other customer. When the bowls arrived, steaming and fragrant, he pushed hers gently toward her.
Qing Yun ate quietly, the noise of the shop wrapping around them. For once, she didn't look guarded. Her shoulders eased. She seemed almost… comfortable.
Ze Yan watched her, his heart swelling with something painful and sweet.
So this is what she likes. Not chandeliers and ballrooms. Not wine and diamonds. Just noodles at a small shop, where no one demands her to shine.
In that moment, he vowed he would give her this kind of simplicity, as much as she wanted.
---
Afternoon Gesture
Back at Luminar, he passed by her department. She was at her desk, head bent slightly as she explained something to Ruan Yi Lan. He didn't interrupt, didn't lean down to steal a kiss as usual.
Instead, he placed a thermos of warm tea on her desk with a folded note.
> "For when you're tired. – ZY"
He left quietly.
Later, Qing Yun saw it. Her face didn't change, but her fingers lingered on the note for a heartbeat longer than necessary before she tucked it under her book.
---
Evening Garden
The sky blushed with the colors of sunset when they returned to the mansion. After dinner, Ze Yan suggested, "Let's walk in the garden."
He didn't drag her outside, didn't try to fill the silence. He simply walked beside her, his hand hovering near hers without pressing.
The koi pond shimmered under lantern light. Qing Yun stopped, gazing at the ripples, her profile delicate in the dim glow.
"You're quieter today," she murmured at last.
Ze Yan looked at her, his voice low, steady.
"Because I want to hear you. Even if you say nothing, that's enough for me."
She turned her face slightly, as if to study him. For the first time, there was no resistance in her gaze—only a quiet acknowledgment, as though some small wall had shifted.
---
Nighttime Ritual
That night, as always, Ze Yan slipped into her room.
Qing Yun looked at him from her bed, her voice calm. "Your bedroom is spacious. Why squeeze in here?"
He leaned against the doorframe, eyes mischievous. "Because it's warmer here. Unless you'd rather move to mine, if you want more space?"
She gave him no reply. Only silence. But she didn't send him away.
He crossed the room, laid beside her, and in the stillness of the night, simply held her hand.
She didn't pull away.
And that was enough.
---
Closing Reflection
Ze Yan closed his eyes, feeling her quiet presence beside him.
For the first time, he wasn't chasing "Sunny." He wasn't demanding light or brightness. He was simply lying next to Lin Qing Yun—the tired, wounded, imperfect woman who no longer wanted to pretend.
And he realized… this was love. Not because of her smiles. Not because of her cheer.
But nevertheless, because she was herself.