Rain streaked the penthouse windows in thin silver ribbons, a storm murmuring against the sky. Inside, the lights were low, casting the living room in gold and shadow. Lin Yuyan sat curled on the couch, script in hand, but her eyes hadn't moved from the same line in ten minutes.
Across the room, Zhao Luchen stood by the bar, sleeves rolled up, pouring two glasses of wine. He hadn't said much since returning from his meeting—tense, distracted, quieter than usual. But she knew him well enough now to read between the silences.
He handed her a glass and sat beside her, the space between them tense with everything unspoken.
"You looked like you needed this," he said.
Yuyan accepted the glass. "You looked like you needed a whole bottle."
He gave a soft huff of amusement but didn't deny it.
She took a sip, then asked, "Did you find anything?"
Luchen hesitated. "A lead. Someone sent that photo from a burner account. I traced the IP to a café in the business district. No cameras, no traceable login. But I think it was deliberate."
She turned toward him. "You think it was Lemin."
"I think it was someone who wants us to believe it's Lemin."
Her fingers tightened on the glass. "But it could be him."
Luchen's jaw clenched. "Yes."
The word settled between them like a stone. They hadn't spoken his name in days—not since that photo arrived, showing Lemin holding their old marriage contract. In the background, blurred but unmistakable, stood Luchen himself.
"It doesn't make sense," Yuyan whispered. "If Lemin was being blackmailed the day of the wedding, why send this now? Why stay gone?"
"I don't know," Luchen said quietly. "But I'm going to find out. You deserve to know the truth."
She nodded slowly, then leaned back, watching the storm lash the glass.
He watched her instead.
"You're scared," he said.
She looked at him. "Aren't you?"
"I'm terrified," he admitted. "Not of him. Of losing this. You."
Yuyan's breath caught. They hadn't crossed that line yet—not fully. Their kisses had deepened. Their touches lingered. But they hadn't gone farther. Not yet. Not while questions still hung in the air like ghosts.
She placed her glass on the table and turned to him fully, her voice low. "Then why haven't you asked me to stay?"
He met her gaze, eyes dark and searching. "Because I want you to stay because you want to. Not because I asked."
Yuyan leaned closer. "And if I do want to?"
He reached for her, gently brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "Then tell me what you need."
She hesitated. Then whispered, "I need to feel safe. With you. With us."
"I won't touch you until you do."
Her eyes shimmered. "You already are."
He bent forward, pressing his forehead to hers. The moment stretched between them, soft and aching.
Then his phone buzzed on the table.
She pulled back, heartbeat quickening. Luchen picked it up, glancing at the screen—and froze.
"What is it?" she asked.
He turned the phone to show her.
An anonymous number. A single message:
> You don't know everything he sacrificed for you. Maybe she deserves to remember the truth.
Attached: a grainy video clip.
Yuyan's fingers trembled as she pressed play.
The footage was from the wedding day. Lemin, dressed in his tuxedo, speaking heatedly to a man in the shadows. A voice—low and distorted—hissed, "Walk away, or she dies. You know who she is. You know what they'll do."
Lemin's face twisted in fury. "Don't you dare touch her."
Then static. Then black.
Yuyan stared at the screen, cold washing over her. "He didn't leave because he wanted to…"
Luchen reached for her, pulling her close as her breath grew shaky.
"I don't know what any of this means yet," he murmured. "But I know you're here now. With me. And I'm not letting anything take you away again."
She buried her face against his chest, heart pounding.
"I'm scared, Luchen."
"So am I. But I'd rather face this storm with you than be safe without you."
His hand found hers, their fingers entwining, a silent promise.
Outside, lightning lit the sky. Inside, the warmth between them held.
Not yet lovers. Not yet safe.
But in the quiet between them, something unbreakable had begun.
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