The morning sun had only just begun to stretch its golden fingers across the horizon when Yun Lan was already in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, helping her grandmother prepare breakfast.
The scent of scallion pancakes and rice porridge filled the air, along with the soft crackling of the wood-burning stove. Despite the warmth, Yun Lan felt a chill settled deep in her bones. She hid it well behind a polite smile and nimble hands.
Her grandmother glanced at her occasionally, noticing the pale tint to her cheeks, the faint shimmer of sweat on her forehead, though the kitchen was far from hot. "You didn't cough last night, did you?" she whispered quietly, handing her a wooden spoon to stir the soup.
Yun Lan shook her head, giving her a reassuring look. "I'm fine, grandmother. The medicinal bath helped. Thank you."
The older woman sighed, brushing a hand gently over Yun Lan's hair before turning back to the stove. They didn't speak further about the illness—not here, not now, not with him upstairs. Especially not with him.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Leon's footsteps echoed on the stairs a moment later. He entered the kitchen still half-dressed, his hair tousled from sleep, his shirt lazily buttoned halfway. His eyes landed instantly on Yun Lan.
"Good morning, wife," he said smoothly, coming to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You smell better than the food."
Yun Lan elbowed him gently, cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Don't flirt while we're cooking."
Her grandmother chuckled. "It's fine, child."
Leon raised an eyebrow. " Let me help you with the cooking."
Breakfast passed in pleasant silence. They sat together at the small wooden table—Leon, Yun Lan, her grandmother, and the fox cub curled beneath Yun Lan's chair. She had named him Xue, for his snow-white fur, and he had become her little shadow, following her everywhere.
But no matter how sweet the moment felt, Yun Lan couldn't stop her thoughts from drifting. Her fingers trembled slightly when she lifted the chopsticks. Her chest felt tight—tighter than usual.
It wasn't just the poison today. It was the guilt.
Later that afternoon, while her grandmother napped and Xue lay dozing in a patch of sun, Yun Lan escaped onto the porch swing. The breeze was light, tugging gently at her long sleeves. She sat in silence, legs tucked beneath her, arms wrapped around herself.
She knew she couldn't keep hiding this from Leon forever. He wasn't stupid. He watched her too closely, cared too deeply. He would notice.
But how could she tell him?
Tell him she had been dying for years. That she had only three months left—at most.
Her chest ached, this time from the weight of truth.
She leaned back, closed her eyes.
Footsteps creaked across the porch. A moment later, Leon sat beside her on the swing. He didn't say anything at first. Just reached out and gently placed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.
"You've been quiet," he said finally, voice low.
"Just thinking," she replied.
"About what?"
"Nothing important."
Leon turned to look at her. His hand came up to tilt her chin toward him. "Don't lie to me, Yun Lan. Something's wrong."
Her lips trembled. She wanted to say it. She almost did.
But instead, she lowered her gaze. "It's just... fatigue. Maybe the weather."
Leon stared at her for a long time, not speaking. He could feel the lie. Taste it. But instead of pushing, he nodded slowly and pulled her into his arms.
"Then let me take care of you, even if it's just fatigue."
She nodded, her face hidden against his chest.
The day passed lazily. Yun Lan helped clean up the kitchen while Leon fixed a broken fence post out back. Xue followed her around, occasionally stopping to chew on the hem of her robe or demand cuddles. Leon watched them through the window, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Later, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, Yun Lan lay on a mat with Xue curled on her chest. She giggled softly as he licked her cheek and pawed at her hair.
Leon came over, wiping sweat from his brow. He crouched beside them.
"You love that fox more than me," he said, pretending to pout.
Yun Lan laughed. "He's softer than you."
Leon leaned in, brushing her hair from her face. "But I'm warmer."
He tried to kiss her, but Yun Lan turned her face away, avoiding him with a teasing smile. "Not now. I smell like food and sweat."
Leon's eyes darkened, but not from lust—from something else. Disappointment? Worry? He stood and walked away without another word.
Yun Lan frowned. She sat up slowly, watching him collapse on the couch inside with a deep sigh, arms crossed, head tilted back.
He looked... hurt.
She bit her bottom lip, then stood and walked over to him.
"Are you angry?"
Leon didn't open his eyes. "I'm not angry. Just... wondering what I have to do to get your attention."
She smiled softly and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "Maybe nothing. Maybe you already have it."
He opened his eyes then, catching her waist and pulling her onto his lap. She gasped softly, hands braced against his chest.
"You think you can tease me and then walk away like nothing happened?" he growled playfully.
"Maybe," she whispered.
He kissed her then—slowly, thoroughly, as if tasting her secrets. Her fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt. His lips traveled to her jaw, then her neck.
Just as things began to heat up, a small sneeze interrupted them.
The fox cub had climbed onto the couch and wedged himself between them.
Leon stared down at him in disbelief.
Yun Lan burst out laughing. She scooped Xue into her arms and nuzzled him. "Jealous, are we?"
"Yes," Leon muttered.
She laughed again, this time softer, and kissed his nose. "You're cute when you pout."
"I don't pout."
She climbed off his lap and grabbed his hand. "Come on. Let's go lie down."
They walked together into the bedroom, Xue trotting behind them.
That night, as Leon fell asleep beside her with one arm draped across her waist, Yun Lan stared at the ceiling. Her body ached. Her fingers trembled slightly again.
She was running out of time.
And she hadn't told him the truth.
But for tonight, just for tonight... she let herself pretend.
That she wasn't dying.
That he would never find out.
That their time wasn't slipping away, moment by fragile moment.
She closed her eyes, and for the first time in days, the tears finally came.
Silently, she cried beside the man who had become her home.
And he slept on, still holding her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.
Because to him, she was.