Morning came.
Chen Li woke with the weight of the previous night. He lay still for a moment and listening next door.
After sometime he got up, washed, and stepped into the small yard to hand a damp towel. Mei Lanying was there.
She stood near the dividing line between the houses, with a basket of folded clothes at her feet. Her hair was loose this time, falling over her shoulders. She looked up when she felt the presence of someone watching. When she saw Chen, her eyes paused on Chen's face just a beat too long.
"Did you get enough sleep?" she asked.
"Yeah," Chen replied.
She nodded. "Night shifts are like that."
They stood in silence, the space between them narrow, unguarded. A breeze lifted the edge of her sleeve, brushing lightly against his wrist.
Neither of them moved away.
"You came back late," Mei Lanying said quietly.
"Yes," Chen said.
"You should eat before you go out again," she said. "I made breakfast."
It wasn't an invitation phrased as one. Chen went to her home.
Inside her house, the air was warmer, carrying the faint scent of cooking oil and rice. The table was small. Two bowls were already set.
Chen sat.
They ate in silence at first. Some closeness formed between them. Mei Lanying reached across the table to adjust something near his collar. Her fingers lingered unintentionally.
Chen's breath slowed.
She noticed.
Her hand stilled, then withdrew halfway, hovering. The space between them felt charged, as if something had finally reached a limit.
"This isn't appropriate," she said softly.
Her voice lacked conviction.
Chen looked at her. "It's okay, I'll leave."
She stopped him. She stood, turning slightly as if to create distance. Chen followed, stopping just behind her. The room felt suddenly smaller.
Mei Lanying turned back.
Their faces were close enough now that Chen could feel her breath, warm and uneven. Her eyes flicked to his lips once—quick, instinctive.
He leaned in. The kiss was tentative at first, questioning. Then her hand caught his sleeve, fingers tightening, pulling him closer. The second kiss was deeper, less careful. Heat spread quickly. Her back met the edge of the table.
Chen's hand came up to her waist, resting there. She inhaled sharply but didn't stop him. Instead, she kissed him again, harder, urgency bleeding through restraint.
A sound escaped her before she could swallow it back.
Then—a voice.
"Mama…"
The voice was clear, close and unmistakable.
Mei Lanying froze.
Chen pulled back instantly. The door to the inner room creaked.
Mei Lanying stepped away as if burned, smoothing her hair, her clothes, her expression—too fast.
"I'll be right there," she called, voice steady with effort.
She didn't look at Chen again.
He stood where he was, heart still racing, the echo of the interrupted kiss lingering on his lips.
Mei Lanying moved fast. Her steps were quick but controlled as she turned toward the inner room.
"Wash your hands," she said. "Breakfast is almost ready."
The small figure retreated without argument. The door closed.
Mei Lanying stayed where she was for a moment, back to Chen, one hand braced against the counter. Her shoulders rose and fell once, slow and deliberate, as if she were forcing her breathing back into order.
"This shouldn't have happened," she said.
Her voice was steady.
Chen didn't answer immediately. He was still standing where she had left him, the echo of warmth fading from his hands.
"I didn't plan it," he said.
She turned her head just enough to glance at him. Her eyes were sharp now, guarded, the softness from moments ago folded away.
"Neither did I," she replied. "That doesn't change anything."
She straightened, smoothing the front of her clothes, restoring distance with each small movement. When she faced him fully, the intimacy was gone—replaced by something tighter, more dangerous.
"You should go," Mei Lanying said quietly. "Before this becomes… confusing."
Chen nodded once.
As he stepped toward the door, her voice stopped him.
"Chen Li."
He turned.
Her gaze lingered on his face, unreadable. For a split second, something almost regretful flickered there.
"This stays here," she said. "Between these walls."
"I understand," he replied.
Outside, the air felt cooler.
Chen walked back into his house, closing the door softly behind him. The thin wall remained—unchanged, unforgiving. He leaned against it briefly, eyes closed, then pushed himself away.
Whatever that moment had been, it wasn't over. It had only been delayed.
Across town, Qiao Ruoan glanced at the screen, then set it aside without answering. Her attention was on the schedule in front of her, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
Not everything worth watching announced itself loudly. Some things revealed themselves through timing.