Yichen's POV
The second the door closed behind them, silence fell heavy in the apartment.
For a moment, I just stood there—motionless—staring at the empty space where my father and brother had been sitting.
Their words still echoed in my head like a bad dream I couldn't wake from.
"Divorce her."
"She was your brother's first love."
"Do what's best for the company."
My jaw tightened. What about what's best for me?
I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled sharply, forcing myself to breathe.
Then I remembered her.
Hua.
She was still here—waiting, hiding in the laundry room.
Without another thought, I headed straight there, my steps quick and heavy with tension.
I opened the door, and the world instantly brightened.
She was sitting there, small and silent in that cramped little room, holding the book I'd left her with.
When her eyes met mine, the worry on her face melted into something softer—relief, warmth, maybe even love.
I could breathe again.
"Hua…" I whispered, my voice breaking just a little.
She jumped into my arms.
Her heartbeat was wild against my chest—fast, uneven, and real.
I wrapped my arms around her tightly, as if I could shield her from everything, from my father, from my brother… from the world.
"You heard everything, huh?" I asked softly, stroking her hair.
She nodded against my shirt.
Cute.
Her voice was muffled when she finally spoke, "Are you going to divorce me?"
I froze. Pulled back slightly to look at her.
Her big eyes were filled with fear, her lips forming a tiny pout. A cute one, but still—heartbreaking.
"That…" I lifted her chin, making her look at me.
"That will never happen," I said firmly. My voice left no room for doubt.
Never. Not in this lifetime. And not even in the next one.
I picked her up effortlessly and carried her to the living room, ignoring her small protests.
"You know I can walk, right?" she said, half-pouting, half-smiling.
"I know," I replied, lying down beside her on the sofa, pulling her against me.
"I just want to be close to you."
She rolled her eyes but laughed softly, and I felt her body relax in my arms. My hand brushed through her hair, then gently traced the outline of her face. Her skin was warm, smooth, delicate. She turned red instantly.
"What?" I teased, laughing.
She hid her smile behind her hand. "You can be really sweet when you want to…"
That line made me grin like an idiot. I leaned forward and kissed her—once, then again, then again, because one wasn't enough.
But then… her smile faded. Her gaze drifted off, lost in thought.
My heart dropped a little.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked softly.
Her eyes met mine again, hesitant. "What will happen to us now?"
She looked so worried. It broke me.
I cupped her face and forced a small smile. "I have a plan. So don't think about it."
"What plan?" she pressed immediately.
I froze. Because truthfully—I didn't have one.
Not yet.
I just wanted to stop her from worrying.
"It's a secret," I said quickly, and kissed her forehead, a little too aggressively.
She giggled. Success.
Then she hugged me again, tight. Her warmth seeped through my shirt, into my chest, into my bones. I felt lucky—too lucky—to have her here, after everything.
And then, her stomach grumbled.
She froze. Looked at me with the guiltiest, shyest little face.
"I… I didn't have time to eat."
I bit back a laugh, teasing, "I'm honored to be your first meal today!"
She gasped. "Hey!"
I kissed her cheek before she could finish protesting.
Her blush deepened. "You look cuter when you smile," she said suddenly.
Cute? Me?
No one's ever called me that before. For a second, I didn't know how to react. My chest felt weird—tight and light at the same time.
She tilted her head. "Did I say something wrong?"
I shook my head quickly. Words would betray me right now.
Instead, I asked, "What do you want to eat?"
"Mmm…" She looked up at the ceiling, thinking hard. That small pout again.
"Oh!" Her face lit up. "There's a hot pot restaurant near my place—you have to try it!"
Whatever makes my princess happy, I thought.
"Let's order, then," I said out loud.
"Oh… they don't do delivery."
Her smile faded.
"Then let's just go there!" I offered immediately.
She blinked. "But what about Yiran? And your father? And your position in the company?"
I paused. Right. All that.
The company. The deal. The pressure.
For a moment, all that noise came crashing back.
But then I looked at her again—her bright eyes, the hope, the innocence—and I thought: Screw it.
"Let's… disguise ourselves," I said, the idea forming in real time.
Her reaction was instant—a bright smile that lit up the room.
She jumped to her feet, excitement overflowing.
"What should we dress like?" she gasped. "Siblings? Or maybe I can be your pregnant wife! Or… hippies!"
I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it.
Seeing me laugh, she looked even more mischievous. "Okay, fine. What about… an elderly couple? Let's be old together!"
That one… I liked.
"Let's do that," I said, smiling.
I took her to my dressing room. She started digging through my closet immediately.
"You only have suits and designer clothes! It's boring!" she complained, pouting again.
"Sorry," I said, amused.
She sighed dramatically. I couldn't resist—I grabbed her waist, pulled her closer, and hugged her from behind. The scent of her shampoo was driving me insane.
She gently pushed me away, still pouting. "I'm hungry," she said in that tiny, adorable voice.
I chuckled and led her to another room—the one I hadn't opened in a long time.
"This way," I said.
Inside was a smaller bedroom. A faint floral scent lingered in the air. Against the wall stood an armoire—one that I hadn't touched in years.
When I opened it, a burst of color greeted us: silks, scarves, embroidered jackets. Everything was my mother's—at least, everything I managed to save.
Hua's eyes widened. "Wow…"
She stepped closer, fingers brushing the fabrics like they were made of gold. "Why do you have so many women's clothes?"
"They were my mom's," I said simply.
She turned to look at me, and for a second, I thought I saw pity in her eyes. I hated that feeling, so I forced a smile. "Choose something."
"Is it okay?" she asked softly.
Instead of answering, I grabbed a bright old-fashioned scarf and tied it under her chin. She looked like a young version of an old lady—adorable beyond words.
She laughed. "How do I look?"
"Perfect," I said, smiling.
Then she picked one for me. A scarf that still smelled faintly like my mother's perfume. She tied it around my head carefully. The scent hit me—warm, nostalgic, painful. My throat tightened before I could stop it.
A tear slipped down.
But Hua's hand was faster. She wiped it away, gentle as ever.
When I looked at her, I realized she wasn't pitying me. Her eyes were soft—sad, yes, but full of compassion.
She stepped forward and hugged me. I froze at first, then hugged her back.
In her arms, something inside me broke open. I hadn't cried like this since my mother's funeral, but I couldn't stop the tears now. My body shook. Hua said nothing—she just held me tighter, patting my back gently, her warmth grounding me.
After a while, I pulled back, wiping the last trace of tears away.
"Thank you," I said quietly, brushing the top of her head.
"Now—" I smiled, forcing my tone lighter. "You're gonna starve. Let's get ready!"
***
We finally left the building, disguised as an oddly dressed couple.
When we took the cab, Hua giggled at her reflection in the window.
"We actually look like old people," she whispered proudly.
I smiled, watching her laugh.
If someone told me a week ago that I'd be sneaking out in ridiculous costumes with my wife, I'd have laughed.
But now? It felt… right.
As the cab rolled through the city, the scenery changed. The shiny towers and glass buildings slowly gave way to narrow streets, old shops, the scent of street food.
By the time we arrived, the air smelled like smoke and spices. The restaurant looked old, the signboard rusty—but the smell coming from inside made my stomach growl.
The moment I stepped in, my senses exploded.
Garlic, chili, broth—everything blended into something warm and homey.
Inside, the place was small and cozy, like someone's living room.
Hua suddenly grabbed my hand and led me to a table near the window. The way she held my hand—so naturally—made my heart skip.
"The usual, please!" she called out confidently to the waitress.
But the old lady behind the counter looked confused. Then her eyes narrowed.
"Oh! I didn't recognize you!" she exclaimed, loud enough for the whole street to hear. "What's with this outfit?"
Hua quickly shushed her. "Shhh! I'm not supposed to be here, okay? It's a secret!"
The woman laughed, nodding knowingly before heading to the kitchen. Their dynamic was adorable.
I couldn't help smiling.
Hua turned back to me. "I've been coming here since I was eleven," she said proudly. "Whenever my mom was too drunk or tired to cook, I came here. Auntie Min Zu would feed me, and sometimes she'd even put the money I gave her back into my pocket when I wasn't looking."
She laughed, but I felt my chest tighten.
How many nights had she eaten here alone as a kid? How many times had she had to take care of herself?
I took her hand gently. "From now on," I said, locking eyes with her, "I'll cook for you whenever you crave something. And if you want restaurant food, I'll cancel every meeting to take you there myself."
Her eyes softened. Then she smiled and squeezed my hands. "Let's take good care of each other, okay?"
Those words hit me hard. Take care of me?
Someone actually wanted to do that?
I didn't realize I'd been craving that feeling for so long.
Auntie Min Zu came back then, carrying a steaming pot and several plates. The smell was heavenly.
"Here you go, my favorite girl!" she said, setting everything down.
"Thank you!" Hua chimed cheerfully.
We started eating. The first bite made me groan softly. The broth was rich, perfectly spicy, the noodles chewy—real comfort food.
It tasted better than anything I'd ever had from a five-star chef.
"This is… amazing," I said, eyes widening.
Hua grinned. "Told you!"
But before I could compliment the taste again, her phone vibrated violently against the table.
The name flashing on the screen made her expression freeze.
"Yiran," she whispered. "He's calling me."
My blood boiled instantly.
Of course. That bastard never rests.
"Don't answer," I said sharply.
"I have to…" she said softly, biting her lip. "Remember? He's the favorite son right now."
She was right—and I hated it.
She hesitated a second longer, then answered. "Hi…"
Her voice was low, nervous.
"I'm at home," she lied.
I almost smiled. Good girl.
But her face changed suddenly. "What?! Oh—no, I—oh!"
Then she looked at the phone. "He hung up."
"What happened?" I demanded.
"He's coming to my house," she said quickly, standing up. "He wants to see me. I have to go."
"What? No way!" I stood too. "You're not going anywhere near him."
"I must," she said, her voice trembling but firm. "If he finds out I lied, he'll think I was with you. We can't risk it."
She was right—again.
God, I hated that man.
I clenched my jaw, finally nodding. "Fine. But I'll follow you. Just in case."
She didn't argue. She just nodded, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door.
And, like always… I followed her.
To be continued...
Next episode: chaos or kisses — what's your bet? ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚