The city stretched endlessly below them, blanketed in gold and silver lights. Yuyan still hadn't let go of Luchen's hand.
There was warmth there—foreign, hesitant, but present.
Luchen cleared his throat first, though his voice held none of its usual coldness. "We should talk. Really talk. Not fight. Not threaten with contracts."
Yuyan nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to their entwined fingers before she gently pulled her hand back. "If we're going to coexist without killing each other, we need ground rules."
His brow lifted, amused. "Rules?"
She gave him a flat look. "You used a marriage contract to bind me into this farce. You clearly love rules."
That drew a quiet, low chuckle from him. "Fair."
She stepped back, leaning against the balcony rail, arms crossing loosely in front of her chest. "Rule one: No more public scenes. If you're angry with me, don't show it to the press or to the staff. I'm not your pawn, and I have a career."
Luchen leaned beside her. "Alright. Rule two: Don't disappear for days without answering my calls. I'm your husband, fake or not. I have the right to know if you're alive."
She tilted her head. "Fine. But then, rule three—don't show up at my shoots unannounced to play jealous husband. We're not there yet."
His jaw ticked, but he nodded. "Noted."
Yuyan hesitated, then added, "Rule four: We try to be friends. Not enemies. Not strangers. Just... friends."
Luchen turned to face her fully then. "Can we do that?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I think we should try."
A silence stretched between them, soft but charged with unspoken things. Finally, Luchen murmured, "Friends don't sleep in separate bedrooms."
Yuyan blinked. "That's—"
"Just a joke," he added quickly, though his eyes never left hers. "Mostly."
She narrowed her eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "Rule five: Jokes about the bedroom are off-limits. For now."
"For now," he repeated quietly, as if savoring the possibility of what that might mean someday.
---
Later that night, back at their shared penthouse, the mood had changed. Yuyan entered first, heels clicking softly across the marble floor. Luchen followed, more subdued than usual. The silence between them was no longer hostile—it was reflective, thoughtful.
She paused at the foot of the staircase. "You don't have to keep pretending around me, you know. I saw you tonight. You care."
His expression remained unreadable, but his voice was low. "It's not pretending, Yuyan. I do care. That's what makes this harder."
She studied him, heart stirring with something like longing—but it was still too tangled to define. "Then don't make it harder. Let's just... build something normal. Slowly."
He stepped closer but didn't touch her. "Then I'll start. I'll be better."
Yuyan smiled faintly. "You're already trying. That's new."
He offered a soft, almost shy smile in return—rare, fleeting, but genuine. "Good night, Yuyan."
"Good night, Luchen."
She turned and climbed the stairs, her heart light but confused. Behind her, Luchen stood watching until she disappeared down the hall.
Something unspoken settled between them that night. Not love, not yet. But trust—fragile, tentative, and just beginning to grow.
---