The office buzzed with its usual rhythm—voices from meeting rooms, footsteps in the corridor, keyboards tapping like rain. In the middle of it, Lin Qing Yun sat at her desk, flipping through reports. Beside her, Ruan Yi Lan leaned close, whispering in her usual half-excited, half-timid way.
"Senior Lin, after work… do you want to join us? Just a small dinner. Nothing fancy. Everyone will be there."
Qing Yun looked up at the girl. Yi Lan's bright eyes carried such hope it was difficult to say no. For weeks now, the girl had followed her around like a little sister, eager to learn, eager to please. And somehow, instead of pushing her away, Qing Yun had let her in.
"I'll come," she said simply.
Yi Lan's grin widened, making her cheeks flush pink.
Later, when Qing Yun stepped out of Luminar with the small group of colleagues, her phone buzzed with a message.
Chen Rui: CEO just asked me where you are. I told him you left the building with colleagues.
Qing Yun paused, staring at the screen. She knew Gu Ze Yan had spies everywhere—though he would never admit it outright. She typed back a short reply:
I'll be home later. Don't worry.
That word—home. She realized it only after she sent it. For a second her fingers hovered, tempted to delete the message. But it was already gone, already delivered. She closed her phone, pretending not to care.
The evening passed with casual food, clinking glasses, and Yi Lan's endless chatter about stories she wanted to write.
"I'm really going to do it this time," Yi Lan declared, waving her chopsticks for emphasis. "Not just thinking about it—actually write a novel. A CEO romance, maybe! Or… a story about someone who looks cold outside but is actually so gentle inside—like you, Senior Lin."
Qing Yun almost choked on her tea. "I'm not like that."
"You are!" Yi Lan insisted, smiling like a child. "When you speak, it feels… different. Like there's weight. And when you look at people, it's like you see through them. If you wrote a book, I bet everyone would read it."
Qing Yun set her cup down gently. "If you want to write, Yi Lan, don't think about whether people will read it. Just write with sincerity. Someone, somewhere, will feel it. That's enough."
Yi Lan fell quiet for a moment, staring at her with admiration. Then she whispered, "Senior Lin, you're like a heroine in a novel already. Someone strong, someone who's lived through everything."
Qing Yun didn't answer. Her gaze drifted to the window, where neon signs flickered against the night. A heroine? She hardly felt like one.
It was nearly ten when she returned to the mansion. The house was still lit, warm against the summer night. As she stepped into the living room, she froze.
Gu Ze Yan was there, seated on the sofa with one leg crossed, his jacket tossed aside. A book lay unopened on the coffee table, a pot of tea steaming faintly beside it. He looked up immediately, eyes sharp, but softened when he saw her.
"You're late," he said quietly.
She slipped off her shoes. "Dinner with colleagues."
He rose without another word, walked over, and took the bag from her shoulder. Setting it gently aside, he pressed a cup of tea into her hands. His movements were unhurried, but every gesture carried the weight of someone who had been waiting for hours.
Qing Yun sat next to him on the sofa. The tea was warm between her palms, fragrant and light. She sipped once, letting the silence stretch.
Then Ze Yan spoke. "Xin Yue is getting married."
Qing Yun turned her head. "Really?"
"She asked me to tell you she wants you there." His gaze lingered on her face. "Will you come with me to her wedding reception?"
The image of Xin Yue surfaced in Qing Yun's mind: gentle, considerate, always offering kindness without demand. From the very beginning, Xin Yue had treated her not as an outsider, but as someone worth respecting.
Qing Yun lowered her eyes, her voice soft but certain. "I'll go. She's been good to me. I won't disappoint her."
Ze Yan's shoulders eased, the faintest trace of relief flickering across his features. He leaned back slightly, his tone casual but his eyes gleaming. "It's in Haiyun City. We'll leave next week."
She nodded.
For a long moment, the two of them sat in quiet companionship, the lamplight casting warm gold across the room. Qing Yun sipped her tea slowly. Ze Yan, meanwhile, didn't touch his own cup—he simply watched her, as though her presence was enough.
When she set the cup down, she felt his gaze linger. Turning slightly, she caught it—steady, unwavering, filled with something that made her chest tighten.
"…Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked softly.
Ze Yan's lips curved, a smile that was both helpless and tender. "Because you're here."
Qing Yun lowered her eyes again, pretending the steam of the tea hid the faint heat rising to her cheeks.
That night, after she retired to her room, Ze Yan remained in the living room, staring at the empty cup she had held. In the silence of the mansion, he felt something shift—quiet, fragile, but real.
She had promised to attend Xin Yue's wedding. She had called this place home.
And though she still carried her sadness like a shadow, he could feel it: step by step, she was walking closer to him again.