The morning sunlight spilled through the sheer curtains in a golden haze, soft and quiet. Shen Miao blinked slowly, awakening to the rhythmic sound of breathing beside her and the warmth of a strong arm draped across her waist.
She turned her head.
He Ran was still asleep, his features relaxed in a way she rarely saw at work. There was a boyish peace to him here, under morning light—his messy hair, his bare shoulders, the slow rise and fall of his chest.
She smiled.
Then, as if sensing her gaze, he stirred.
"Staring already?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
"You drool a little when you sleep," she teased.
He opened one eye. "Liar."
She leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Morning."
He reached up and pulled her down by the waist until their noses touched.
"Morning," he whispered—and then kissed her. Not with urgency, but with quiet joy. Like he was still making sure this was real.
When she tried to move, he groaned dramatically. "Stay. I think you're too tired to move after last night."
Shen Miao's cheeks burned. "You're unbelievable."
He grinned. "And you're adorable when flustered."
---
Later — The Kitchen
The smell of coffee and butter filled the air. He Ran stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up, flipping a perfectly golden omelet.
"You can cook?" she asked, genuinely surprised as she walked in wearing one of his shirts.
"I'm full of surprises," he said, turning toward her. "Sit. You're not lifting a finger today."
They ate together—feet brushing under the table, shared bites of fruit, eyes lingering a little too long.
After breakfast, he tugged her toward the bathroom. "Come on. Let's clean up and get you ready."
Getting Ready
As steam fogged the mirror, laughter echoed in the tiled bathroom. Their hands worked through soap and towels and stolen kisses.
Later, as she stepped into the bedroom in a robe, she saw a dress neatly laid out on the bed. A soft cream color, elegant and flattering.
"For me?"
He nodded. "Thought of you the second I saw it."
She wore it. It fit perfectly.
When they stood by the front door, dressed and polished, He Ran reached for her hand, then stopped.
"We keep this just between us," he said gently.
She nodded. "For now."
He smiled. "Our little secret."
Shen Miao emerged from the bathroom, her hair damp and cascading in soft waves, cheeks flushed from the warm shower. Her eyes fell on the dress laid out on the bed again, and she ran her fingers over the fabric with a gentle smile.
She slipped into it slowly, relishing the way it hugged her shape—modest, elegant, and clearly chosen with care. She twirled once in front of the mirror, laughing under her breath.
He Ran entered just as she turned, still buttoning the cuff of his shirt.
The moment he saw her, he stopped.
"Wow..."
She raised an eyebrow, cheeks pink. "Too much?"
He walked up, sliding his hands around her waist. "Too perfect."
She rested her palms on his chest. "You picked this for me?"
He nodded. "I imagined you in it the second I saw it. But this... this is even better."
He kissed her forehead, then her nose, then—slowly—her lips.
She giggled between kisses. "We'll be late."
He pulled her closer. "Worth it."
Their kiss deepened for a moment, slow and full of quiet affection. When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Shen Miao smoothed his collar and grinned.
"We're going to have to be really professional today."
He smirked. "Impossible. You're going to make it very hard."
She gave him a playful glare, grabbing her purse. "Let's go before you make me change into something less... distracting."
He opened the door for her with a hand on the small of her back. "Never."
At the Office
They walked in minutes apart. Shen Miao headed straight to her department while He Ran took the elevator to his.
But the quiet bliss didn't last long.
Irene arrived with a storm of perfume and attitude.
"I've been calling since morning," she said as she approached Shen Miao at her desk.
"I don't handle Mr. He Ran's phone," Shen Miao replied coolly.
Irene's smile sharpened. "You certainly seem close these days."
Before Shen Miao could respond, Irene turned on her heels and marched into He Ran's office.
She stayed a long time. But when she emerged, her expression was tight.
Shen Miao's phone buzzed.
He Ran: Hungry. Come up. Coffee spot, now.
Curious, she slipped away as the rest of her team headed down for lunch. The small break area upstairs was empty—except for him.
He was leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand. But the moment she walked in, he set it down.
Without a word, he pulled her close.
She giggled softly. "He Ran, someone might—"
He silenced her with a kiss. Then, gently but firmly, he lifted her onto the counter.
"I said I was hungry," he whispered, lips brushing her ear. "But not for food."
Her breath hitched as he kissed her—deeper, slower. One hand on her thigh, the other bracing her lower back.
His lips found her neck, then her mouth again.
Just when her fingers tangled in his hair, footsteps echoed outside.
They froze.
Shen Miao's heart pounded. He Ran gently stepped back, helping her down.
Their eyes met, half-laughing, half-nervous.
"I guess we'll have dessert later," he whispered.
Flashback — A Ribbon and a Rainy Day
She had forgotten her umbrella.
It was the last week before summer break, and the rain had come suddenly, heavy and cold. Most students had already left, but she stayed behind in the library, hoping it would pass.
When she finally stepped out, clutching her soaked notebook to her chest, the school courtyard was empty—except for one boy leaning beneath the awning.
He Ran.
He held out a folded umbrella. "You walk toward the East Gate, right?"
She blinked. "How did you—?"
"I've seen you." He paused. "Every day."
She hesitated, then stepped under the umbrella beside him. They walked quietly, the rain pattering above them like music.
At the gate, he handed her a small package wrapped in kraft paper.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Open it later," he said, eyes flicking away.
That night, in her room, she unwrapped it carefully.
Inside was a pale blue silk ribbon with stitched edges—delicate, hand-selected.
A note in messy handwriting read: For the girl who always ties her hair with rubber bands.
She never wore rubber bands again.