The city looked different after silence.
Lin Yaoyue pressed her forehead against the cool car window as they passed familiar intersections and blinking neon signs. She had always hated the noise — the endless traffic, the flashing ads, the way everything moved at double speed.
But now, it felt like something was chasing them the moment they crossed the bridge back into downtown.
The moment the villa disappeared behind them, reality came rushing in.
Jiang Zeyan sat beside her in the back seat, back straight, tablet in hand, face unreadable. His tie was already redone, watch glinting against his wrist. Every inch of him looked composed again.
Like the villa, the rain, the almost-moment between them had never happened.
"Schedule for the week has been updated," he said without looking up. "You'll be attending two events with me. One charity panel, one closed-door investor dinner. I've instructed my assistant to prepare briefing notes for you."
"Back to business," she said under her breath.
He glanced at her then, briefly. "Was it ever not?"
She didn't answer.
But she looked away and wondered how long it would take for that warm, steady feeling from the villa to wear off completely.
---
Back at the Jinlin tower, the media frenzy was worse than expected.
The moment the elevator doors opened, reporters were already waiting in the lobby. Paparazzi with long lenses angled to catch anything that might look like intimacy, or distance, or drama. Staff members whispered behind half-closed doors. Even the interns paused mid-coffee to steal glances at her.
Yaoyue kept her chin up and her pace steady. But her stomach twisted tighter with every step.
She wasn't just an accessory anymore. She was *news*.
They reached the top floor and entered his office. The door clicked shut, and for a moment, she just stood there, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows, expensive silence, and a man who had already moved on to the next meeting.
"You don't have to act like nothing happened," she said finally.
"I'm not acting."
"You always do."
Zeyan looked up from his desk, eyes sharp. "And what would you prefer I do?"
"I don't know," she snapped, arms folding. "Acknowledge that things are complicated? That this isn't just a game? That pretending to be close makes it harder not to feel like something is real when it isn't?"
Silence.
Then, quietly, "I thought you understood the terms."
"I do."
"Then don't rewrite them now."
It wasn't harsh. It wasn't even cold. It was just distant.
Professional.
And it hurt more than if he'd yelled.
She turned without a word and left the office.
---
The breakroom was mercifully empty.
Yaoyue poured herself a coffee with shaky hands, gripping the edge of the counter to steady herself. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the same city she'd always known, but today it felt farther away. Like she was standing behind glass in her own life.
"You're going to need something stronger than that."
She looked up.
Thalia, the sharp, stylish head of PR, leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed with interest.
"Let me guess," Thalia said, "back from a romantic getaway, already walking on eggshells?"
Yaoyue blinked. "I didn't realize you were following the story."
"I am the story," Thalia said coolly. "It's my job to control what the public sees. Or, in this case, can't unsee."
She stepped closer, gaze softening just slightly. "Word of advice? If you're going to fake date a man like Jiang Zeyan, you'd better learn how to outlie the liars and outlast the cameras."
"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Yaoyue asked. "Just pretending?"
Thalia smiled. "Aren't you?"
---
Meanwhile, in the executive boardroom two floors down, Jiang Zeyan leaned back in his chair as his legal advisor clicked through slides.
"Damage control is in progress," the advisor said. "But we received a request for clarification from the board. Specifically regarding the legitimacy of your relationship. There's concern about reputation risk, internal leaks, and potential shareholder anxiety."
"I'm aware."
"They want confirmation."
Zeyan closed the file in front of him.
"They'll get it."
He stood, jacket crisp, expression controlled, but inside, a storm was quietly tightening.
He had known the leak would come with consequences.
But he hadn't expected the one consequence he couldn't categorize, deflect, or manage.
Yaoyue.
And the way she had looked at him earlier.
Like she wanted something real.
Like part of her believed he could give it.
That was the most dangerous thing of all.
---
The day ended late.
The lights in the office dimmed as staff filtered out. Yaoyue stood near the elevator with her coat in hand, ready to leave, unsure if she was supposed to say goodnight or just disappear like the performance had ended.
Zeyan appeared beside her a moment later.
He didn't say anything.
Neither did she.
But when the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside, something hung in the air between them. Not words. Not anger.
Just exhaustion.
And a quiet ache neither of them wanted to name.