Hua's POV:
The city was painted in gold and violet when Yiran's car pulled up in front of my building.
He insisted on driving me home, saying it was "the least he could do" after today's chaos. I didn't argue — mostly because I didn't have the strength to.
He didn't speak much during the ride. Just soft music playing in the background, his fingers tapping faintly on the steering wheel, the quiet hum of the air conditioner filling the silence.
It was the kind of silence that made your chest tight.
When the car finally stopped, I reached for the door handle.
But he spoke before I could leave.
"Wait."
I froze.
He reached into his coat pocket and took out a small velvet box — dark blue, the kind used for jewelry.
He opened it and held it out to me.
Inside, nestled on white satin, was a pair of earrings. My earrings.
My eyes widened. "You still have those?"
"I can't bring myself to throw them away..." he said smoothly, his tone gentle but deliberate. "After Yichen interrupted us last time, I kept them safe."
The words hit me like a small, controlled fire.He'd kept them?Was that just an excuse to come back — to drive me crazy all over again?
"You remembered," I whispered before I could stop myself.
Yiran smiled faintly, that same composed, charming smile that used to melt me — before I learned how dangerous it could be.
"Of course I did," he murmured. "I remember everything about you."
My fingers hesitated above the velvet box. I wanted to take it — but something in the way he said that made my skin prickle.
Still, I reached for it, because rejecting him would only make things worse.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
His gaze lingered on me for a beat too long. Then, in a voice that sounded like silk hiding steel:
"You should be careful, Hua. The next few days might be… complicated."
The words lingered in the air. I couldn't tell if it was a warning or a threat.
Maybe both.
When I finally stepped out of the car, the air felt colder. The hum of the engine faded behind me, but the unease stayed.
I looked down at the little box in my hand — that tiny gleam under the streetlight.
It didn't feel like a gift.
It felt like bait.
I barely slept that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face — that calm smile, those words.
Complicated.
By morning, I was running on caffeine and nerves. The world outside looked the same — buses, street vendors, office workers clutching coffee cups — but everything in me had shifted.
When I reached the office, Lin Jing was already there, typing quietly. She didn't look up when I entered, and I didn't say a word either. The air between us still felt… fragile.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Every sound made me jump — a printer, a phone ringing, the click of heels down the hallway.
It felt like the entire floor was watching me, waiting for me to slip.
At noon, an email from management popped up on everyone's screens:
📢 Mandatory team meeting — 3 PM, Conference Room B.
Just six words, but the air turned electric.
I could almost feel the whispers starting before the message even closed.
By three, the room was packed. Everyone looked tense.
When Yichen entered, the noise died instantly.
He wore a dark suit, his expression calm, unreadable. The kind of calm that came right before something dangerous.
"Good afternoon," he began, his tone even. "I'll keep this brief."
He stood at the head of the table, hands resting lightly on the surface, gaze scanning the room.
"There's been a data breach," he said simply.
The words hit like thunder. We all looked at each other. I wondered if I was the only one to know the truth...
Yichen continued, unbothered. "I'm not interested in blame. What matters now is control. From today, all communications will move to a secured system. I'll personally handle access permissions."
He gestured toward a small pile of sleek, silver devices on the table. "These are new company-issued computers. Encrypted. Untraceable. Use them for work only."
Silence.
Then, slowly, his gaze found mine.
And stayed there.
My heart thudded against my ribs. I couldn't look away.
"I trust my team," he said quietly, almost too softly. "I believe in everyone sitting here."
But something in his tone told me he already knew.
He knew who was behind the breach.
And maybe, he was trying to protect me.
The meeting ended quickly after that. People rushed out, whispering under their breath.
I remained seated for a second longer, trying to steady my breathing.
When I finally stood up, Yichen was by the door, speaking to Zhang Wei. He didn't look at me — not directly — but I could feel his attention like static in the air.
Later, when I returned to my office, Lin Jing's desk was empty. She must have left early.
The light from the window was fading, painting the room in a pale orange glow.
I sat down, exhausted, ready to shut down my computer when another email appeared.
No subject line. Just a single sender — HR Department.
I clicked it open.
Transfer Approved.
Please report to Director Yiran Lin's division (HQ) next Monday at 9 AM.
Welcome to your new team.
Signed: Administration Office.
My breath caught. My entire body went cold.
He actually did it.
I stared at the screen, disbelief and dread twisting in my stomach.
No discussion. No warning. No choice.
Just a decision made for me.
The sound of footsteps in the hall made me jump. I turned — and there he was.
Yichen stood at the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a folder.
He looked calm. Composed. Dangerous in that quiet way that made your heart race.
"I got transferred," I said. My voice came out flat. "To HQ."
He didn't move. Just looked at me — long enough for me to feel my walls cracking again.
"It's over," I added, forcing a small laugh that didn't sound like me.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes unreadable. Then, almost lazily, he said,
"Not yet."
For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe.
"what?"
"You'll understand this weekend. At the event."
There was something in his tone — a quiet certainty, like he already had a plan.
Before I could speak, the elevator at the end of the hall dinged.
He glanced toward it, then back at me, his expression softening just a little.
"Go home," he said. "You'll need rest."
And then he walked away, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.
I took the bus home that night. I didn't trust cars anymore — not even the silence of one.
The city lights blurred past the window, the reflection of my face flickering between streetlamps.
I reached into my bag and found the small velvet box still there. I opened it slowly.
The pearl glimmered faintly in the dim light.
I stared at it for a long time, and a thought crossed my mind —
maybe Yiran never meant to return what I'd lost.
Maybe he wanted to remind me that he could still take it away whenever he wanted.
When I finally got home, I didn't even bother turning on the lights.
The quiet felt heavier than usual — the kind that wraps around you until you can barely breathe.
I kicked off my shoes, let my bag slide from my shoulder, and collapsed onto the bed.
Something jabbed at my back. A small, stubborn pain.
I reached beneath the sheets and pulled it out — a single earring.
The silver glinted faintly in the dark, cold against my palm.
My old earrings.
The ones Yiran had returned to me — as if giving them back would erase everything that had come with them.
A sting, not from the metal, but from memory.
The smell of hot food. The clink of chopsticks.
Yichen had looked at me like he could see straight through every lie I'd told myself.
"You only love them because they remind you of something — or someone — you've already outgrown."
His voice had been calm, too calm, as if he were explaining something inevitable.
"If you look closely," he'd added, setting down his chopsticks, "you might find another pair that suits you better. One that actually compliments your beauty."
I remembered the way the steam had curled between us, the faint tremor in my hand as I reached for my tea.
I'd laughed then — a weak, empty laugh — pretending his words hadn't struck somewhere deep.
But they had.
Because he wasn't just talking about the earrings.
He was talking about me.
About us.
Now, lying there in the dark, the earring caught a shard of moonlight, glinting like an unfinished thought — or a wound that refused to close.
I turned it over in my fingers, feeling its weight, its cold beauty.
So fragile. So stupidly beautiful.
Just like the memory.
To be continued...