The silence that followed Tang Min's collapse was different.
Not the tense kind.Not the waiting-for-the-other-shoe kind.This silence was… restful.
For the first time in weeks, no one was watching Yaoyue.
No one was questioning her past, or her place beside Zeyan, or whether she "belonged."
She still got looks in the elevator. Still got whispers in the hallway.
But now, they were different.
Now, they were curious.
Or worse, respectful.
She stood on the penthouse balcony, arms folded, hair loose in the breeze. Below her, the city moved like it always had, loud, messy, fast.
Behind her, Zeyan stepped out, holding two mugs of tea.
Chamomile. Her favorite.
He didn't say anything. Just handed her the cup, then leaned on the railing beside her.
They stood like that for a while, the quiet stretched between them, easy now instead of heavy.
Eventually, she said, "So… that's what it looks like when you decide to ruin someone."
He took a sip of his tea. "She ruined herself. I just made sure no one looked away."
"You're terrifying."
"I know."
There was a small pause.
Then she added, "Also kind of hot."
He almost choked on his tea.
Yaoyue smirked.
Zeyan recovered quickly, though his ears, just barely, turned red.
"I didn't know you were capable of flirting," he said.
"I didn't know you were capable of having emotions, so here we are."
They both smiled this time.
A quiet, unforced smile.
Later that night, they sat on the floor of the living room. The couch was right there, but neither had moved. Their legs were stretched out in front of them, backs resting against the side cushions.
A movie played in the background, but neither one was watching.
Yaoyue glanced over at him.
"You ever going to tell me why you chose me for that contract in the first place?"
Zeyan didn't look at her. "You're the only one who didn't try to sell yourself to me."
"That's not romantic."
"No. But it was honest."
She nudged his arm with her foot. "You really think I would've let you get away with it if I knew what you were like?"
He turned his head just slightly, eyes meeting hers.
"I was counting on you not letting me get away with anything."
Another silence.
But this one buzzed, charged in a way it hadn't been before.
She didn't pull away when he leaned slightly closer.
And he didn't stop when she didn't.
Their lips met in a kiss that was gentle at first, hesitant. Testing.
Then deeper.
Not rushed.
Not desperate.
Just two people who had finally earned the right to stop pretending.
When they pulled back, Yaoyue's heart was racing.
Zeyan's hand stayed lightly against her jaw.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
"I should've kissed you three press conferences ago."
He smiled, the real one, the small one she'd only seen a few times before.
She leaned into his shoulder.
And for once, neither of them said anything clever.
She stayed that night.
Not just because it was late.Not just because she was tired.But because she wanted to.
Zeyan didn't say anything when she curled into him on the couch.
He just shifted to make room, pulled the blanket over both of them, and kept one hand resting over hers like it belonged there.
Which, strangely, it did.
The next morning, Thalia passed him in the hallway.
She looked him up and down once, then said, "You slept."
"I did."
"You look happy."
He didn't answer.
She arched a brow. "I'm going to take that as a yes."
Later, when he stepped back into his office, there was a note on his desk in Yaoyue's handwriting:
"Don't get too soft. I still expect you to be annoying by 3 p.m."
Underneath it, she'd left his favorite pen.
He stared at it for a long moment.
Then folded the note neatly, placed it in the inner pocket of his suit.
And got back to work.