Morning arrived gently, as if the world itself had decided to be kind.
Ling Yue woke to the sound of movement outside — not hurried footsteps, not urgency, just the steady rhythm of someone familiar. When she pushed the window open, she saw Ye in the courtyard, sleeves rolled up, sleeves dusted with flour.
He was… cooking.
She blinked.
Ye noticed her almost immediately and looked up. For a brief moment, surprise crossed his face — and then he smiled.
Not the careful curve of his lips she'd grown used to.
A real smile.
It caught her so off guard that she forgot what she meant to say.
"You're awake," he said. "Good timing."
"What are you doing?" she asked.
He gestured vaguely at the table. "Trying not to burn breakfast."
"You?" She laughed softly. "The man who can't tell salt from sugar?"
"That was one time," he replied, affronted.
She came down anyway.
---
They sat together on the steps, sharing food that was slightly uneven — one side of the flatbread overcooked, the other pale. Ling Yue tore a piece and handed it to him without thinking.
He accepted it just as naturally.
"You didn't have to do this," she said.
"I wanted to."
That simple answer made her pause.
She watched him eat — slow, unhurried, as though this moment was something he intended to remember.
"You're smiling a lot today," she said.
He looked at her, then away. "Is that bad?"
"No," she said quickly. "It's just… new."
He chuckled quietly. "Then I suppose I should do it more."
She didn't realize she was smiling too.
---
They spent the morning together, moving through small tasks — mending a loose fence, carrying water, sweeping fallen leaves. None of it required two people.
But neither suggested leaving.
At one point, Ling Yue reached up to brush dust from Ye's shoulder. Her fingers lingered longer than necessary.
She froze.
So did he.
The air between them shifted — not sharply, not frighteningly, but unmistakably.
"Sorry," she murmured, withdrawing her hand.
"It's fine," Ye said — too quickly.
They stood there, too close, both suddenly aware of the space they occupied.
Ling Yue cleared her throat. "You're… different today."
He tilted his head. "Different how?"
"Lighter," she said. "Like you're not carrying something heavy for once."
His expression softened.
"For today," he said quietly, "I'm not."
---
It happened near the river.
They sat on the bank, feet dangling just above the water. Ling Yue trailed her fingers through the current, watching ripples form and disappear.
"Do you ever think about leaving?" she asked suddenly.
Ye's body stilled.
"Yes," he answered truthfully.
Her heart tightened. "Then why don't you?"
He turned to her — really turned, fully facing her.
"Because some things are worth staying for," he said.
The words settled between them, heavy with meaning.
Ling Yue looked up, breath caught.
The world felt small. Quiet. As though it were holding its breath with them.
Ye lifted his hand — hesitated — then gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her skin, warm and careful.
"If I cross this line," he said softly, "things will change."
She searched his face.
"Then don't cross it alone," she replied.
That was all the permission he needed.
Ye leaned in slowly — slow enough for her to pull away, slow enough for doubt to stop him.
She didn't move.
Their lips met — tentative, brief, almost shy.
Not a kiss of urgency.
Not a promise.
Just a moment quietly chosen.
When they pulled back, neither spoke.
Ling Yue's cheeks were warm. Her heart was racing.
Ye… was smiling.
Not relieved.
Not sad.
Just happy.
It startled her.
"You're smiling again," she whispered.
"I know," he said. "I can't seem to stop."
She laughed softly, resting her forehead against his. "Then don't."
For a moment — just one — fate looked away.
---
That night, Ling Yue lay awake, touching her lips, wondering when the world had shifted so gently.
Outside, Ye stood beneath the stars.
He lifted his hand, letting faint light slip through his fingers — restrained, controlled.
He smiled once more.
Not because he had forgotten what awaited him.
But because — for the first time — he had something worth losing.