The days slipped by quietly amid the hustle and bustle and underlying tensions. Under the guidance of Vice President Chen, Lin Weiwei gradually became capable of working independently, taking charge of the implementation of some small-scale projects. She discovered she seemed to have a knack for this; the sense of accomplishment that came from analyzing, negotiating, and ultimately achieving her goals had her hooked.
Su Qingyu was still very busy, dealing with Gu Chen's endless business maneuvers, but she was a little more relaxed than before. Perhaps it was because Lin Weiwei's growth had alleviated some of her pressure, or perhaps it was because she now had clear goals and a partner in arms; the icy, aloof aura she usually exuded would occasionally thaw just a little.
Their life as roommates had also developed a strange kind of harmony. They left the apartment together in the morning, and unless there were business engagements, they would return to the apartment for dinner in the evening. The part-time housekeeper was an excellent cook, always coming up with new dishes to satisfy their tastes. After dinner, Su Qingyu would usually head to the study to continue working, while Lin Weiwei would sometimes read business case studies in the living room or work on her own project files with her laptop.
Their conversations were no longer limited to work; occasionally, they would chat about trivial matters, such as a newly released movie or the new dessert shop that had opened downstairs. Although Su Qingyu still spoke less and Lin Weiwei spoke more most of the time, the awkwardness and hesitation that had once hung in the air had gradually been replaced by a natural familiarity.
That evening, a small project Lin Weiwei was in charge of wrapped up smoothly, with results that even exceeded expectations. In high spirits, she made a detour on her way home to the new dessert shop and bought a slice of their signature chestnut cake.
She returned to the apartment excitedly carrying the cake, only to find that the living room was dimly lit by a single floor lamp. Su Qingyu was curled up on the sofa, covered with a thin cashmere blanket, and appeared to be asleep.
Lin Weiwei tiptoed in, carefully placed the cake in the refrigerator, and then hesitated, wondering if she should wake her up and send her back to her room to sleep.
As she drew closer, she noticed in the dim light that Su Qingyu's brows were slightly furrowed, her face looked pale, and there was even a fine sheen of cold sweat on her forehead; her breathing was also more rapid than usual.
"Qingyu?" Lin Weiwei's heart sank as she crouched down and called out softly.
Su Qingyu showed no reaction, as if trapped in a restless nightmare. Her lips moved silently. Lin Weiwei leaned in closer and faintly caught a few fragmented syllables.
"…No… not like this…"
"…Why… are you controlling me…"
"…Weiwei… run away…"
Hearing her own name, Lin Weiwei's heart sank. Was she having a nightmare? Dreaming about the plot? Or… was she dreaming about her?
Seeing the rare vulnerability and pain on Su Qingyu's face, Lin Weiwei felt as if an invisible hand were clutching her heart tightly, causing a sharp, throbbing pain. This woman, who was usually so strong and composed—seemingly invincible—was so helpless in her sleep.
She hesitated for a moment, then reached out and gently took Su Qingyu's hand, which was exposed outside the blanket and felt slightly cold.
"Qingyu, wake up," she said softly, as if soothing a frightened child. "It's okay. It was just a dream."
As if sensing the warmth from her palm and the gentle voice by her ear, Su Qingyu's tense body gradually relaxed, and her rapid breathing began to steady. Her long eyelashes fluttered a few times, and she slowly opened her eyes.
In those eyes, usually clear and cool, a trace of lingering confusion and fear still remained. Bathed in the dim light, they looked as if veiled by a thin mist. She gazed blankly at Lin Weiwei, who was just inches away, and it took several seconds for her gaze to come into focus.
"Weiwei?" Her voice carried the hoarseness of just waking up and a hint of uncertainty.
"It's me." Lin Weiwei clasped her hand tightly, refusing to let go. "You had a nightmare."
Su Qingyu paused for a moment, her gaze resting on their clasped hands before slowly drifting back to Lin Weiwei's face, which was etched with worry. She didn't immediately pull her hand away, nor did she quickly put on her usual mask of composure. Instead, she simply looked at Lin Weiwei quietly for a few seconds, then—extremely gently, almost imperceptibly—squeezed her hand back.
That faint pressure, however, made Lin Weiwei's heart skip a beat.
"Mm," Su Qingyu murmured softly, pushing herself up to sit. The thin blanket slipped from her shoulders. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, her voice tinged with a rare weariness. "I had a dream… about something bad."
Was it about the plot? Lin Weiwei wanted to ask, but held back. She released her grip, got up, poured a cup of warm water, and handed it to her.
Su Qingyu took the cup, her fingertips inadvertently brushing against the back of Lin Weiwei's hand, sending a faint tingling sensation through her. She lowered her head and took a few sips; her pale complexion softened slightly.
"I bought a chestnut cake," Lin Weiwei tried to change the subject, hoping to lighten the mood. "Would you like to try some? I heard it's delicious."
Su Qingyu looked up at her. In the dim light, her gaze was complex, with a hint of emotion in its depths that Lin Weiwei couldn't quite decipher. She didn't answer the question about the cake, but suddenly asked, "You were… there the whole time just now?"
"Yeah, you looked like you weren't feeling well," Lin Weiwei replied honestly.
Su Qingyu was silent for a moment, then gently patted the empty spot next to her on the sofa. "Sit."
Lin Weiwei sat down as instructed. A distance—neither too close nor too far—separated them, and the air was thick with a subtle, unfamiliar atmosphere.
"Sometimes," Su Qingyu said, staring at the water glass in her hand. Her voice was soft, as if she were speaking to herself, yet also as if she were confiding in Lin Weiwei, "I can't tell which events actually happened and which are memories and emotions that the 'plot' has forced into my mind. Like that dream just now… it was so chaotic."
Lin Weiwei listened quietly, a pang of bitterness welling up inside her. She couldn't imagine the torment Su Qingyu had been enduring all this time—fully aware that she was being manipulated, yet forced to play a predetermined role.
"So… what about now?" Lin Weiwei asked softly. "Can you tell the difference now?"
Su Qingyu turned her gaze toward her, her eyes deep and intense, as if they might draw her in. "Now…" She paused, her voice low yet clear. "The feeling of holding your hand—that is real."
Those words were like a pebble dropped into a calm lake, sending ripples spreading through Lin Weiwei's heart. Her cheeks began to burn uncontrollably, and her heartbeat lost its rhythm.
Su Qingyu watched her slightly flushed cheeks and evasive gaze. The complex emotions in her eyes gradually settled, transforming into an intensely focused, warm gaze. She leaned forward slowly, drawing closer to Lin Weiwei.
Lin Weiwei froze, watching that cold, strikingly beautiful face grow larger before her eyes. She could clearly feel Su Qingyu's warm breath brushing against her skin. Her mind went blank; she forgot to look away—and… didn't want to look away.
Just as their lips were about to touch once more, Su Qingyu stopped. Her nose was almost touching Lin Weiwei's, her gaze burning into her eyes, her voice carrying a hypnotic hoarseness:
"Lin Weiwei, this time, are you afraid of me?"
Lin Weiwei met her gaze. In those deep, piercing eyes, she saw her own reflection, and she saw a genuine emotion that could not be mistaken. The panic and sense of absurdity she had felt moments before vanished strangely, replaced by a heart-pounding thrill and a courage that seemed to burst forth from the earth.
She shook her head, her voice soft yet exceptionally firm:
"I'm not afraid."