Lantern light swayed gently above them, shadows and gold flickering across old brick walls. The narrow alley was quiet, only their footsteps echoing against the stone.
Qing Yun's fingers curled inside his coat pocket, twined with his. She stopped, her gaze steady but soft, and drew in a quiet breath.
"Do you know," she began, her voice low but clear, "on the plane, when we're boarding, the flight attendants explain the safety rules? When the oxygen masks fall, you have to put yours on first before you help others."
Ze Yan tilted his head, eyes never leaving her face.
"Save yourself first," she whispered, "then save the other. Love yourself first, so you know how to love others." She paused, lips pressing together. "I couldn't even love myself back then. So how could I love you?"
His grip on her hand tightened slightly, but he said nothing. He simply listened.
Her eyes glimmered faintly under the lantern glow, like a lake rippling with long-suppressed truths.
"But Ze Yan…" Her voice trembled, not from fear, but from the effort of honesty. "Lately… after all this time… it's not habit, not just for the past's sake. Against everything I've trained myself to think… I find myself wanting to do more for you. Not out of gratitude. Not out of obligation. Just because something in me woke up."
She looked down briefly, lashes lowering, then lifted her face again with quiet strength.
"I want to look good for you. I want to eat again. I want to keep breathing, just so I can see you again." Her lips curved faintly, almost self-mocking. "I don't even understand it. Because for me, since I was little, love was always something I had to work for. Something that came with conditions."
Her breath hitched, but she went on, words pulling themselves out from the deepest place inside her.
"But you…" She shook her head slowly, wonder threading her tone. "Only you make me want to do something without reason. Without needing anything back. Without anyone telling me I should."
A pause. Her eyes grew damp, though no tears fell yet.
"It's not obligation anymore," she whispered. "I don't even want to try to do anything for you… and yet, all I do ends up being for you. It's you, Ze Yan. All I can see now… is you."
He didn't speak.
Not because he doubted. Not because he wanted more. But because the words she had just given him were heavier, truer, than any I love you he could have demanded.
Silence wrapped around them. His thumb brushed once across the back of her hand. Then, slowly, he reached up, cupping her face.
His lips pressed to hers, soft but deep, lingering until her breath shivered out against his.
When he drew back, his forehead leaned against hers. For the first time in years, his heart stilled—no unease, no fear. Peace, solid and certain.
They returned to Cloudpeak hand in hand. The moment the door shut behind them, Ze Yan pulled her close again.
This time, there was no hesitation in either of them.
Their intimacy was not hurried, not desperate, but filled with the quiet urgency of those who finally understood each other. He touched her as if he had all the time in the world, every kiss slow, every caress careful, her breath catching against his skin.
And she gave herself without restraint, no longer holding back out of guilt or duty. The night stretched long, the two of them finally moving in rhythm not just of bodies but of hearts.
The next morning, Qing Yun woke with the sun streaming through half-drawn curtains. Ze Yan was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching her with an expression that made her cheeks flush.
"Stop staring," she mumbled, pulling the blanket higher.
He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You finally slept well."
Over the next two days, Ze Yan refused to leave her side.
He escorted her to class, ignoring the curious stares of her classmates. Some whispered, some outright gawked.
At lunch, he invited her small group of friends to hotpot. They squeezed into a round table, and when the bill came, her classmates tried to protest, but Ze Yan's expression silenced them.
"Take care of her," he said quietly, passing the server his card.
Her friends glanced between them, half in awe, half in envy. Qing Yun wanted to sink into the floor from embarrassment, but inside, a warmth bloomed she couldn't deny.
Later, one classmate whispered to her: "Lin jiejie, your boyfriend is… wow."
She only smiled faintly.
On the third day, Ze Yan's phone buzzed relentlessly. Shen Qiao's voice on the other end was sharp, scolding him for abandoning back-to-back meetings.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, listening with a trace of guilt.
That evening, he told Qing Yun he had to return to Liangcheng. She nodded calmly, understanding, but her eyes softened when he brushed her cheek before leaving.
"I'll be back soon," he promised.
Back in Liangcheng, his office filled again with reports and meetings. Yet one date stood out on his calendar.
November. Qing Yun's birthday.
Ze Yan leaned back in his chair, gaze fixed on the circled day. His lips curved faintly.
This year, she would not spend her birthday alone.