Sang Lu returned to Qinghe Bay in high spirits.
Passing by the study, she saw Feng Yan, as usual, working at his computer.
He was dressed simply in a dark gray T-shirt and pants, his usual cold demeanor softened slightly.
Seeming to sense her gaze, Feng Yan lifted his eyes and turned his attention to her. Noticing the bouquet of tulips in her arms and her cheerful expression, he met her eyes briefly.
Sang Lu raised the shopping bag in her hand and smiled at him, as if silently saying, "I'm back with some shopping."
The man's naturally aloof expression relaxed slightly, and he gave a small nod.
This brief exchange of glances had become their recent way of communication.
Sang Lu suddenly thought back to the past, when she was still under the control of the plot's consciousness.
Back then, she was full of resentment.
She had always believed that Feng Yan stayed in the study every night, using work as an excuse to avoid spending time with her.
Now, she no longer thought that way.
Especially after being promoted to assistant director, she could empathize a little more.
Feng Yan might seem like someone who had everything—where even the slightest desire could be fulfilled without lifting a finger.
But in reality, managing such a massive corporation required far more time and effort than what outsiders could see.
Lost in thought, Sang Lu headed toward the bedroom.
After a long day of work, she felt sticky and uncomfortable.
She took a shower first and changed into fresh loungewear.
Once done, she neatly arranged the sodas and snacks she had bought from the supermarket into the fridge.
After organizing everything, she knocked on the door of the housekeepers' room.
Ah… finally.
Time to play SWitCh with Aunt Zhang and Aunt Li!
After a week apart, Aunt Zhang’s skills had improved drastically.
Three rounds later, Sang Lu had only won one game!
Just as she was about to demand a rematch, her phone on the coffee table lit up.
The screen showed the caller: Xie Sinan.
Well, game over.
Time to deal with work.
Suddenly, her empathy for workaholic Feng Yan deepened.
She handed the controller to Aunt Li, signaling with her eyes for them to continue without her.
The lively sound effects of the game filled the living room as Sang Lu stepped onto the balcony.
Pushing open the glass sliding door, she tapped the answer button on her phone.
The line was noisy.
Xie Sinan’s voice came through after a couple of "hellos," followed by muffled static—the signal seemed weak.
Sang Lu raised her voice slightly.
"Hello? Xie Sinan? Can you hear me?..."
Just then.
The study door opened.
Feng Yan was heading to the kitchen for a bottle of water.
As soon as he stepped out, Sang Lu’s voice reached him clearly.
His footsteps paused.
Then, he heard the sound of the balcony sliding door closing.
Following the noise, his gaze landed on Sang Lu, leaning against the railing.
Her expression was relaxed, the breeze lifting the ends of her hair.
Whatever was being discussed, she laughed softly.
She seemed in high spirits.
Feng Yan’s eyes cooled slightly, suddenly recalling the conversation he had overheard between two employees earlier that day.
"Chatty," "never a dull moment."
Such descriptions felt foreign and distant to him.
His gaze deepened.
After a long moment, his lashes lowered, shadowing his eyes as he walked straight to the kitchen.
Opening the fridge.
The top three shelves were filled with colorful sodas and juices.
The bottom two held his usual brand of mineral water.
Silently standing before the fridge, one hand resting on the door, he raised his arm, hovering over the upper shelves.
After a brief hesitation, his hand moved forward slightly before stopping abruptly.
Finally, he withdrew it.
Abandoning the idea of trying a new-flavored juice, he shifted his attention to the monotonous row of clear glass bottles, picking up a mineral water.
Closing the fridge, he left.
Passing through the living room, he noticed Aunt Zhang and Aunt Li had stopped playing SWitCh—the TV screen was frozen on the game’s results page.
The balcony door remained closed. Sang Lu was still leaning against the railing, lips moving, her expression bright and animated, eyes curved into crescents.
Click—
A soft sound.
The study door closed.
Feng Yan returned to his desk.
The glow from the computer screen reflected his distracted state.
The study and living room were separated by a large glass panel, and the flickering TV light was irritating.
Lifting his eyelids lazily, he glanced over.
On the TV screen, the game results were split in half. On the side closest to him, an English word flashed intermittently—"LOSER."
The air grew still for a moment.
He calmly averted his gaze.
Resumed typing.
Continued working.
By the time he looked up again, it was already 11:30 p.m.
Returning to the bedroom.
Only the bedside lamp was on.
Feng Yan walked in silently, his gaze shifting to the lump under the covers.
Sang Lu was fast asleep.
Suddenly.
A strange sense of doubt coiled in his mind.
After a long silence, he finally pinpointed the source of this unease.
Today, Sang Lu hadn’t prepared his usual calming tea.
Had she forgotten because of the phone call?
The thought had barely formed when his brows furrowed sharply.
What a pointless idea.
Overthinking—clearly, he wasn’t tired enough.
The man who had been ready to sleep abruptly turned on his heel. His tall figure was compressed into a sliver by the door before disappearing.
He went to the gym.
Two hours later…
The heavy punching bag swayed violently from the impact.
Having vented his excess energy, Feng Yan removed his gloves, showered in the gym’s bathroom, and finally returned to the bedroom.
The night was quiet.
Sang Lu’s soft, steady breathing reached his ears.
The lamp on his side of the bed cast a faint glow, barely outlining her silhouette.
She was curled on her side, her fair cheek slightly squished against the pillow.
Her long lashes fluttered faintly with each breath.
Feng Yan calmly withdrew his gaze.
Pulled the covers over himself and lay down.
The bed was large enough.
Large enough to maintain a clear boundary between them.
No more pointless speculation, association, or probing.
It was meaningless, a waste of energy.
And very unlike him.
He thought.
…
The next morning.
As sunlight seeped through the gaps in the curtains, Feng Yan left the house as refreshed as always.
The bedroom door closed with a soft click.
Suddenly.
Sang Lu’s eyes snapped open again: "..."
Bewildered, she blinked rapidly.
What on earth was going on?!
She had deliberately skipped his calming tea last night, so why was his arm still draped over her?
In fact, it was even closer than before!!?
