The evening air was thick with the scent of dust and distant rain. Zhang Liu walked slowly along the stone path leading to Lin Mei's mansion, his steps steady but his thoughts tangled.
The sky above was a bruised canvas of fading gold and creeping indigo, and the wind carried the hush of a city winding down.
He adjusted the strap of his satchel, eyes half-lidded, mind drifting. It's been months, he thought, months since Lin Mei last looked at me with anything but that calm, unreadable gaze.
The memory of her touch had grown faint, like a dream half-remembered upon waking. Yet even in this quiet ache, he found a strange contentment.
I married a woman of grace and brilliance, he reminded himself. Isn't that enough?
But the thought didn't hold. It cracked slightly when he remembered the nights—so many of them now—spent in separate rooms. The silence between them had grown familiar, like a third presence in the house. He sighed, the sound barely audible over the rustling leaves.
A flicker of temptation crept into his mind. That colleague from work… the one with the soft laugh and curious eyes. He didn't entertain the thought long, but it lingered like perfume—sweet, dangerous, and unwelcome.
The mansion loomed ahead, its lanterns casting long shadows across the courtyard. As he stepped through the gate, the head maid appeared, her posture straight as a blade, her expression carved from stone.
"Welcome home, Master Zhang," she said, bowing slightly.
Zhang's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary. There was something about her—her quiet strength, her composed beauty—that stirred something in him. But her stoic face reminded him of boundaries not meant to be crossed. He nodded, clearing his throat.
"Evening," he said, offering a polite smile. "Is Lin Mei awake?"
"She is resting. I will call her shortly. Please change and freshen up for dinner."
Zhang's smile faltered, just slightly. He had hoped to see Lin Mei first, to bridge the distance with a simple greeting. But he nodded again, masking his disappointment.
"Of course."
He walked past the maids, offering brief greetings, and disappeared into his room. The silence there was familiar—neither comforting nor cruel. He changed slowly, washing the dust from his face, adjusting his collar with mechanical precision.
Meanwhile, the head maid ascended the stairs to Lin Mei's chamber. The room was dim, the curtains drawn, the air still. Lin Mei lay curled on the edge of the bed, her long hair spilling over the pillow like ink. Her breathing was slow, deliberate.
"Madam," the maid said softly, "Master Zhang has returned."
Lin Mei snorted, a quiet sound of acknowledgment. She opened her eyes, calm and clear, and sat up with practiced grace. "I'll come," she said, her voice smooth as silk, untouched by emotion.
With the help of another maid, she fed her daughters—three small, bright-eyed girls who clung to her with innocent affection. Lin Mei's hands moved gently, her voice soft, but her eyes remained distant. She was present, yet somewhere else entirely.
After the children were settled, she rose and walked toward the dining room. Her steps were slow, deliberate, like someone walking through a dream. Zhang was already seated, his posture eager, his eyes lighting up as she entered.
She offered him a smile—perfectly shaped, perfectly false.
"How was your day?" she asked, her voice warm but hollow.
Zhang's mood lifted instantly. He leaned forward, animated, recounting the events of his day with enthusiasm. Meetings, minor victories, a humorous mishap with a delivery boy—he spoke with the energy of someone desperate to be heard.
Lin Mei listened, her smile frozen in place. Inside, her thoughts drifted. He talks so much, she mused, as if words could fill the space between us. Her fingers tapped lightly against the tablecloth, hidden beneath her sleeves.
When Zhang finally paused, she exhaled quietly, the sigh masked by the rustle of the maids serving food. They bowed, placing dishes with practiced elegance, then stepped back to stand silently around the room.
Together, Zhang and Lin Mei performed the evening prayer—a ritual gesture toward the divine, hands clasped, heads bowed. It was custom, not connection. Then they began to eat.
The clink of utensils filled the silence. Zhang glanced at Lin Mei between bites, searching for something in her eyes. She remained composed, her movements graceful, her expression unreadable.
After the meal, Zhang hesitated. His fingers tightened around his cup, then loosened. He cleared his throat.
"Lin Mei," he said softly, "it's been a long time since we… slept together."
Lin Mei's stomach turned, but her face did not betray her. She looked at him calmly, her voice steady.
"I can't," she said. "I'm caring for the children. And I'm pregnant."
Zhang blinked. He had known, of course—but hearing it like that, so plainly, made the distance feel wider. He opened his mouth to speak again, but her gaze stopped him. It wasn't cold. It wasn't angry. It was simply final.
"I understand," he said, forcing a smile. "I'll go greet the girls."
She nodded. "Go."
Zhang rose and walked toward the children's room. Lin Mei stepped outside, the night air brushing against her skin like a balm. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. The tension in her chest loosened slightly.
Inside, Zhang knelt beside his daughters. They giggled, reaching for him with tiny hands. He smiled, genuine this time. They're so beautiful, he thought. They'll grow into strong, graceful women.
He played with them for a while, then kissed each forehead gently. "Good night," he whispered, rising to leave.
As he passed Lin Mei's room, he paused. "Good night," he said softly.
"Good night," she replied, her voice calm.
Zhang entered his room, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence returned.
Lin Mei stepped back inside, her maids already arranging the blankets and pillows on the floor. She feared the children might fall from the bed, so she slept beside them, surrounded by soft covers and quiet breathing.
She lay down, her arms wrapped around her daughters. They nestled close, warm and trusting. She smiled—this time, real.
This is bliss, she thought. This quiet, this closeness. This is mine.
Her hand drifted to her stomach. A month more, she remembered. Then he'll be here. The doctor had confirmed it. A boy.
She closed her eyes, her heart light. The storm outside had passed. Inside, there was peace.
And in that peace, Lin Mei slept.
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Author's Note:
If u come to this then add it to ur library, this little support is what i truly appreciate the most. Comment on ur thoughts freely and Goodbye!!