In the days following that night in Taipei, after every word had finally been expressed, Yeh felt a profound sense of lightness. She had always imagined that a confession would demand a clear outcome—either acceptance or rejection—yet what had happened was something else. Lin gave no answer, and strangely enough, that absence of an answer brought none of the disappointment Yeh had anticipated. Instead, all those details she had turned over in her mind for months, every thought that had made her doubt herself, suddenly lost their weight and meaning. She no longer needed to guess, or dissect every sentence or glance for hidden clues; she had spoken the truth that mattered most.
As for what Lin thought, or what she might choose, Yeh found she was no longer in such a hurry to know. One thing had become utterly clear: whatever the answer turned out to be, she would never regret what she had done. Lin remained the partner she trusted, and the person she wanted to be close to—and that truth would not be undone by any single result. She could even accept, with surprising calmness, the possibility that Lin was still hesitating between herself and Jing, or had not yet untangled her own feelings. In that case, she would simply let time and circumstance move forward in their own way.
This newfound stability within her coincided with the project entering its most intense phase.
Post‑production had barely paused since filming wrapped; editing, colour grading, and sound mixing had proceeded steadily, with the director and editor shaping the rhythm together, while Lin stepped in to refine every key emotional beat. Parallel to this, the marketing team had moved in early, breaking behind‑the‑scenes footage, cast interactions, and featurettes into carefully timed releases. On short‑video platforms, clips of the interaction of the actress were edited to highlight the romantic tension between them by cp fans. Main posters, character posters, the teaser, and a full trailer were launched one after another, each timed to catch the wave of rising discussion. The streaming platform coordinated media interviews, where the director and producers spoke openly about the creative vision and philosophy behind the series.
Fiona's strengths were evident at this stage. Her judgment of talents and market trends was sharp and accurate; as soon as the artists began to become popular, she began securing small commercial appearances and events to test audience response, while carefully controlling exposure to ensure enthusiasm did not burn out too quickly. She travelled to Bangkok far more often now, accompanying the artists to brand functions, keeping the conversation alive, and paving the way for larger business partnerships in the future.
The streaming platform also confirmed the release date: one month later. With the timeline set, everyone moved forward with renewed schedule.
Yeh and Fiona flew to Bangkok once again, this time not only for the project itself but to plan for something much bigger.
Their second meeting with Olina delved deep into concrete details. The conference room was covered in documents covering valuation, shareholder structure, profit sharing, the company's future positioning, and a roadmap for projects and talent development over the next two to three years.
Olina's vision was clear: she did not merely want to invest in a single production, but to build a stable company structure capable of delivering consistent content, linking production, talent management, and distribution into one seamless operation. In fact, her goals aligned perfectly with Yeh's own. Olina's terms were not demanding, but she insisted on a clear pace—especially for the first year, the core team would be required to be based in Bangkok, building the business from the ground up.
Yeh understood exactly what that meant. It was not a matter of frequent travel, but of truly moving there to live and work.
From morning until evening, most details were agreed upon, leaving only the final decision to be made. By all logic, this was an opportunity Yeh should not hesitate over. The major GL market was in Southeast Asia, the content was in their hands, and funding was ready—every signal seemed to point toward "do it now".
Yet at the very last moment, Yeh did not give her ultimate decision. She gathered the proposal and said she needed time to think.
Olina showed no frustration, only offered a rational reminder. "I can wait, but not for long. Capital has its own opportunity cost, and if you cannot accept the terms, I will invest it elsewhere."
Her meaning was unmistakable.
That evening, they skipped formal restaurants and found a simple street‑side eatery instead. The lighting was dim, the tables was small, and the air was thick with the hum of conversation and the smell of cooking oil—an atmosphere that, oddly enough, made it easier to relax.
Fiona glanced at Yeh and spoke directly. "You didn't say yes today because of Lin, didn't you?"
Yeh did not deny it. She stirred the ice in her glass and nodded softly. "Yes." She paused, then added, "I told her, while we were in Taipei."
Fiona lifted an eyebrow. "Told her what? That you like her?"
"Mmhmm."
"And what did she say?"
Yeh smiled, faint and bittersweet. "She said nothing." She paused again, her tone was even. "Maybe it was just my own thinking all along."
"Don't jump to conclusions," Fiona said, watching Yeh carefully. "She might just need time to understand her own feeling."
"It doesn't matter." Yeh looked away, toward the neon signs across the street. "I never expected her to answer right away." She added, with more certainty than ever before, "But I don't regret saying it."
A quiet moment passed between them.
Then Yeh remembered something and looked up. "What about you? If you're staying in Bangkok long‑term, what happens with your girlfriend?"
Fiona laughed easily. "We've always lived in different cities. Seeing each other once a month is enough for us." She spoke as if it were the most natural arrangement in the world.
Yeh watched her, her feelings was complicated and hard to name. She knew she could never be that detached. For her, loving someone meant impossible to accept long‑term separation.
At the same time, Yeh saw clearly the other side of the choice. Logically, she should accept Olina's offer. This was a window of opportunity that might never open again. The project was gaining momentum, the team was at its suitable status, and if they did not move forward now, all that energy and enthusiasm would begin to fade. Most importantly, creating GL content with international reach had been her dream long before she met Lin.
Her fingers tightened slowly around her glass.
For the first time, she realised with absolute clarity: this was not merely a career decision. It was a question of whether she was willing to pause her life for someone else.
And she knew she could no longer give an answer as easily as she would have previously.