The car wound through narrow coastal roads, tracing the curve of the Mediterranean.
The horizon was endless blue — calm, steady, quiet. The kind of sea that looked like it had seen every version of love and still stayed still.
Qing Yun rolled down the window. The wind was sharp, salty, alive.
She breathed in deeply. "It smells like freedom."
Ze Yan glanced at her. "Freedom smells expensive."
"Coming from you, that's almost a compliment."
He smiled faintly. "You'll like this place."
The villa he'd rented sat above a small harbor, white walls and blue shutters, surrounded by olive trees. From the terrace, the sea stretched out so close they could hear waves breaking against stone.
Inside, it felt like sunlight lived there permanently.
Soft cream furniture, linen curtains, a faint trace of citrus.
Qing Yun walked barefoot across the wooden floor, trailing her hand along the wall.
She turned to him. "You could've told me."
"About what?"
"That you planned half of Europe."
"Would you have let me?"
She hesitated, then smiled. "Probably not."
---
The Morning Market
The next morning, they walked to the local market near the pier. Fishermen were unloading nets; children ran past carrying bread still warm from the oven.
Qing Yun stopped at a stall selling tangerines and pottery. She lifted one, felt its weight, smelled the peel.
"Sweet," she murmured.
Ze Yan tilted his head. "You can tell by smell?"
"I can tell by feeling," she said, and he laughed quietly.
"Here," she said, handing him one. "Try to guess."
He bit into it without hesitation. Juice ran down his thumb. "Sweet," he confirmed. "You were right."
"See?" she said proudly. "I know things."
"You're dangerous when you're right," he said, wiping his thumb on her scarf.
"Hey—"
He only smiled. "Souvenir."
They wandered along the waterfront, their bags full of bread, cheese, and fruit.
Everywhere they went, people smiled at them, as if peace was contagious.
---
Midday at the Café
They found a café overlooking the sea — quiet, sunlit, with white umbrellas fluttering.
Qing Yun sat with her chin in her hand, watching waves roll against the rocks.
"Would you ever live somewhere like this?" she asked.
He stirred his coffee. "You mean without meetings, investors, and Chen Rui calling every ten minutes?"
"Exactly."
He pretended to think. "If I did, I'd have to start fishing."
"You'd hate that."
"I'd make you do it."
She smiled. "I'd catch all the fish, sell them to you, and make a fortune."
He leaned back, amused. "Married a business genius."
"Restorer," she corrected. "Not merchant."
"Same precision. Different medium."
She looked down at her coffee, the surface rippling slightly. "You really think I'm precise?"
"I think you rebuild things others would throw away."
Her fingers paused on the cup. "That's… what love should be, isn't it?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached across the table, his thumb tracing the inside of her wrist.
"Love," he said quietly, "is knowing something can break again — and still choosing to hold it."
---
Afternoon by the Sea
They spent the afternoon walking along the rocky beach behind the villa. The tide had pulled back, revealing small shells scattered like secrets.
Qing Yun crouched to pick one up. "Look, it's cracked but still beautiful."
Ze Yan knelt beside her. "You like the flawed ones."
"They feel honest."
He smiled. "You say that like it's not rare."
She turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes. "You think I'm rare?"
"I think," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "you're the only person I can't rebuild from memory."
Her breath caught. The sound of the waves filled the silence between them.
He lifted her chin gently. "Stop looking for reasons to doubt this."
"I'm not," she said softly. "I'm just—trying to understand how it's real."
"It's real because I'm here," he said, kissing her forehead. "And you're not running."
---
Evening
That night, the villa was lit only by warm lamps and the reflection of the sea through the windows.
Qing Yun lay against the pillows, hair loose over his arm. Her skin glowed faintly in the soft light.
Ze Yan brushed his thumb across her collarbone. "You're quiet."
She turned her head, eyes half-lidded. "Thinking."
"Dangerous habit."
"I was thinking… you must be very patient to wait five years."
"I wasn't patient," he said. "Just stubborn."
Her lips curved faintly. "Same thing."
He smiled, tracing the curve of her cheek. "You're worth both."
She stared at him, serious now. "You're not afraid?"
"Of what?"
"That I'll bring you bad luck."
He blinked, then laughed softly. "That's too late."
"Too late?"
"I already tied my life to yours." He leaned closer, voice low and warm. "If you sink, I sink."
She sighed, half helpless. "That's not how love is supposed to work."
"That's how ours does."
She touched his face, her fingers trembling slightly. "You shouldn't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because I'll believe you."
"Good," he murmured. "Then you'll stop apologizing for existing."
Her breath hitched. The world seemed to go quiet except for the waves outside.
He kissed her—slow, deep, careful, like a promise made wordless.
When they pulled apart, she whispered, "You still think I'm not cursed?"
He looked at her, eyes dark and certain. "If this is a curse, I hope it never ends."
---
Morning After
Sunlight spilled through the curtains the next morning, golden and warm.
Qing Yun woke first, the sea glittering beyond the window. Ze Yan's arm was draped over her waist; his breathing slow and steady.
She turned carefully, studying his face. He looked younger like this — softer, less guarded. The kind of peace she'd once thought impossible for either of them.
She whispered, "I hope I don't wake up from this."
His eyes opened slightly. "You won't," he murmured, voice still hoarse with sleep. "You're already home."
She smiled, small and real.
---
Farewell to the Coast
Their last day came quietly. They packed slowly, moving around each other in practiced rhythm.
Ze Yan closed his suitcase, watching her fold her scarf. "Do you regret not having a big wedding?"
She shook her head. "I like this better."
"Why?"
"Because I remember every second of it," she said simply. "If it were big, I'd just remember the noise."
He nodded, a small smile tugging his lips. "Simple suits you."
"Simple suits us," she corrected.
He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Then let's keep it that way."
---
They left the villa before sunset. The road curved uphill, giving one last view of the sea — waves breaking against light, white sails in the distance.
Qing Yun rested her hand on the window, eyes following the line of the horizon.
"It's strange," she said. "When I was younger, I used to think love should feel like fireworks."
"And now?"
"Now I think it should feel like this." She turned to him, her smile calm and certain. "Quiet. Steady. Real."
Ze Yan reached over, his hand finding hers. "Then we did it right."
The car climbed higher, the sea shrinking into a thin blue line behind them.
In the mirror, sunlight caught the rings on their fingers — two circles glinting against the fading light, endless and unbroken.
---