Lou Yan like sat chest-deep in the still water, arms resting on the polished stone edge of the spring. Steam drifted lazily around him, and the sharp mountain air softened to a lull. He felt... strange. Not in pain. Not uncomfortable. Just strangely light. Like something heavy inside him had uncoiled.
Li Wei sat beside him, pink from the heat, a small cloth draped over his forehead. "This is the best part of winter, Lou," he said with a sigh. "Hot water, fresh air, and no board meetings."
Lou nodded, serene and slightly stiff. "It's very... calming."
Li Wei gave him a sidelong look. "You're allowed to say 'nice,' you know. It's not undignified."
"I was taught to avoid superlatives. They compromise objectivity."
Li Wei chuckled. "And yet you're engaged to my daughter."
Lou blinked, caught. "That... was not an objective decision."
"Good."
They sat in silence again, the steam like a soft veil around them. Then, light footsteps approached, and Syra's voice floated over with exaggerated innocence: "Oh? You're here too?"
Lou turned. His gaze landed on her wrapped in a robe, her hair damp at the ends, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"You didn't say you'd be visiting the springs," she said, deadpan.
Li Wei huffed. "Coincidence, she says, and yet Nasreen's been packing snacks since morning."
Syra ignored him and came to kneel by Lou's side. "You look better," she said, studying his face. "Less ghost, more human."
"I feel... overheated," Lou admitted, and then, as if summoned by his honesty, a sudden trickle of blood slipped from his nose.
"Lou!" Syra reached for a towel.
"It's a minor reaction," he said calmly, blinking in mild surprise. "The capillaries in my nasal cavity are not accustomed to sustained thermal exposure."
Li Wei groaned. "The man is bleeding and giving a science lecture."
Syra dabbed his face with care. "I told you not to simmer like dumpling stock." Lou looked faintly alarmed. "Was I simmering?"
"You were boiling," she said. Li Wei handed over a chilled yogurt drink with glee. "This fixes everything." Lou accepted it politely. "Thank you. Do I consume it rapidly or—"
"Lou," Syra said gently, "just drink." He did, slowly. "It's quite pleasant. Cool. Sweet." "Like me," Syra muttered.
"You're more tart than sweet," Li Wei said, reclining again. Syra rolled her eyes and patted Lou's shoulder. "Come on. We'll get you changed and take you somewhere better suited to your temperature range."
---
Later that evening, Lou Yan drove them into the heart of S City's French district. The restaurant he chose was quiet, refined—discreetly luxurious, not loud. It overlooked a tree-lined avenue and served slow, elegant food with more detail than conversation.
They were led to a private booth curtained off from the rest of the room. Everything gleamed softly—silver utensils, crystal glasses, candlelight that flickered without fuss.
"I hope this is acceptable," Lou said. "I reviewed five options. This had the least likelihood of overcrowding or flash photography." Syra smiled. "It's perfect." Lou looked to Li Wei. "Would you prefer a selection of meats? I realize I cannot share in that, but I can order for you."
"You don't have to—" "I want to," Lou interrupted, softly but firmly. "It would please me." So he order for them.
Quietly, without show, he ordered Li Wei and Nasreen a thoughtful array—duck glazed in plum sauce, lamb in garlic reduction, slow-roasted beef with peppercorn oil. Then he requested, for himself, steamed tofu, sautéed greens, and lotus soup with a tone so peaceful it almost made the waiter bow twice.
"You memorized this place's menu?" Syra asked later, amused. "I studied it," Lou said. "It's important to avoid improvisation in unfamiliar environments." Syra sipped her wine. "You're unbelievable."
"I've heard this before," he said, with such sincerity that it made her laugh. The meal passed gently. Li Wei told stories. Nasreen scolded him for exaggerating. Syra leaned against Lou once, just lightly, and he didn't move away. His fingers didn't shake. He didn't flinch.
And for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like he was performing calm. He simply was calm.
---
At the end of the night, he dropped them off at Syra's parents home. She lingered by the open car door, one hand on the edge.
"I'll stay with my parents this week," she said casually. Lou looked at her, surprised. "You have classes to teach."
"I've rescheduled. You have the YanTech launch to prepare for. And I think…" She hesitated, but her voice was steady. "I think you need space to finish what you've started." Lou's throat tightened. "I've missed you."
"I know." She smiled. "But I don't need to be close to hold you up. Just remember—breathe. Sleep. Eat something other than boiled lotus." He managed a small laugh. "I'll try."
She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then closed the door. Lou sat in the car for a long while after they disappeared inside. The street was quiet. The heater hummed softly. And for the first time in weeks, he felt something he hadn't let himself feel: Steady.