The office was too bright.
Fluorescent light spilled across polished glass, across the stacks of papers, across the sleek lines of Luminar System's headquarters. Yet for Gu Ze Yan, it all looked grey, as though a shadow had fallen inside his chest and spread through everything he touched.
His pen lay untouched. Reports stacked high, contracts waiting for his signature, charts flickering on the screen. Normally, he would devour them all—every detail, every number. Today, his eyes refused to focus.
What he heard instead was her voice.
"Why do I have to take another step when all I see is nothing? Why not end it here?"
Lin Qing Yun's words from last night echoed mercilessly. Soft, calm, almost detached, yet sharper than any blade.
Ze Yan leaned back in his chair, fingers pressed against his forehead. His chest was tight, his breath shallow. He had faced boardroom battles, corporate sabotage, family politics that could crush men twice his age. But none of that had prepared him for this—watching her fade, piece by piece, smile by smile.
He wanted to save her. But how?
---
The office door clicked open. Su Shen Qiao stepped in without knocking. Normally, he would tease her for that, but today he barely lifted his head.
She paused, studying him, the sharp eyes of Luminar's managing director catching every detail—his unshaven jaw, his slumped shoulders, the heavy shadow beneath his eyes.
"Ze Yan," she said softly. "This isn't about work. It's about her."
His throat tightened. He didn't argue.
Shen Qiao closed the door, crossing the room to sit across from him. For once, she wasn't the poised executive with clipped words and a quick wit. She was simply a friend.
"Tell me," she urged.
And he did. Slowly, haltingly, he told her about last night. About Qing Yun's voice in the dim study room, about the way she spoke of her life as if it were already over. About how she laughed at her own pain, mocking herself with a bitterness so quiet it broke him.
He pressed his fist against his knee to stop it from trembling. "She said… she said she doesn't see a reason to move forward anymore. That everything doesn't matter."
Shen Qiao listened in silence. Ze Yan's words cracked, his composure slipping as he confessed the truth:
"I'm terrified. Terrified of losing her. Not just to death—though Heaven knows that fear never leaves me—but of losing her piece by piece, until nothing is left. Do you understand? Watching her… it feels like drowning myself. And I can't do anything. I'm helpless."
The great Gu Ze Yan—CEO, visionary, the man investors praised for his strength—looked like a lost child.
---
Shen Qiao leaned forward, resting her hands on the desk. Her voice was calm, firm.
"Listen to me. If you truly want to stay by her side, you must be stronger than this. Stronger than her despair. You must be patient—more patient than you have ever been in your life."
Ze Yan lifted his eyes, raw with desperation.
She continued, "She may push you away. She may not look at you. She may never say the words you want to hear. If you choose to stay, you cannot crumble each time she doesn't respond. You cannot break when she doesn't give you what you hope for. If you doubt yourself, if you hesitate, let go now. Because once you stay, there is no turning back. It's all in, or nothing."
Her words cut through him like cold water.
"And one more thing," Shen Qiao added, her voice low. "You must prepare yourself. The ending may not be sweet. It may be painful. It may shatter you. But if you love her… truly love her… then you endure. Even if she never returns that love."
Ze Yan's fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened. His pulse thundered in his ears.
All in or nothing.
He thought of Qing Yun's eyes last night—empty, yet carrying a trace of the girl he once knew. He thought of her silence, her stillness, the way she let him hold her but gave him nothing back.
And he knew. He could not let go. Not again.
---
Shen Qiao's tone softened. "If you want, I can take her under my care. Give her small routines, work that doesn't overwhelm her. Sometimes activity helps, gives people a reason to keep going. She'd be near you still, and you wouldn't have to carry this alone."
Ze Yan inhaled slowly, then nodded. "Maybe. It could help."
When she left, he remained alone in the office. Outside, the city buzzed with life—traffic, neon signs, endless ambition. Inside, he stood before the tall window, staring at his own reflection.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then he whispered, a vow carved from the marrow of his soul:
"My life is no longer mine. From this moment, it belongs to Lin Qing Yun. Whether she loves me or not, whether her light returns or not, I will endure. For her."
---
That evening, rain fell over Liangcheng. The city lights shimmered through it, fractured into rivers of silver. Ze Yan's chauffeur drove him back to the mansion, the sound of tires on wet roads steady and low.
When he entered, the air was warm, faintly scented with sandalwood. He didn't remove his coat immediately, only followed the familiar path to the study room.
She was there.
As always.
Lin Qing Yun sat with a book in her hands, the lamplight spilling over her profile. Her expression was serene, but her eyes seemed distant, like a lake with no ripple. She looked too calm, too still—fragile porcelain untouched.
Ze Yan's chest tightened.
He didn't speak. Instead, he moved quietly behind her, unfolding a blanket. With careful hands, he draped it around her shoulders. She stiffened slightly, then stilled.
He placed a cup of steaming tea by her side. "It's warm," he murmured.
She didn't answer. Her gaze returned to the page.
But then—
She looked up at him. And her lips curved.
Not wide, not bright. Nothing like the dazzling Sunny smile that once lit his world. But a small, fleeting smile. Real. Hers.
Ze Yan's heart stopped. Then surged.
It was gone in an instant. She lowered her eyes again, turned another page as if nothing had happened.
But he had seen it.
He caught it, clutched it like a man grasping a fragile flame in the dark. His throat ached with the urge to speak, to thank her, to beg her never to take it away again. Instead, he only reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with trembling fingers.
Thank you, he thought. For letting me see you.
---
That night, Gu Ze Yan allowed himself to believe.
That even in the deepest darkness, even in the quietest silence, Lin Qing Yun's light was still there. Fragile. Faint. But alive.
And he would never let it fade again.