The car wound its way out of the city, the skyline shrinking behind them until glass and steel gave way to winding roads and dense green hills. Li Na sat in the passenger seat, arms folded loosely, eyes half-distracted by the blur of trees.
It had been Yen Rui's idea. "A weekend at the lake house," he'd said that morning, with a finality that allowed no protest. "We both need air."
Now, as the gates opened onto a secluded property nestled by still waters, Li Na felt her breath ease for the first time in weeks. The house was different from the cold, corporate sharpness of the mansion. Wood and stone framed its walls, the scent of pine drifted in with the breeze, and the lake shimmered like glass beneath the afternoon sun.
She stepped out of the car and tilted her face to the wind. "It doesn't feel like your world," she murmured.
"It isn't," Yen Rui replied, standing beside her. His gaze swept over the property, but his voice was quieter than usual. "It belonged to my mother. She believed some places should be untouched by ambition."
The admission startled her. He rarely spoke of family, and the softness in his tone disarmed her more than any sharp remark could.
Inside, the house was warm, filled with books, photographs, and small details that hinted at a life lived, not measured. Li Na ran her fingers along a wooden banister, pausing at a framed picture of a young boy standing beside a woman with gentle eyes. Yen Rui, though smaller, still carried the same serious expression.
"You look the same," she said, half teasing, half wistful.
He came to stand beside her, his hands in his pockets. "I learned early that smiling was a luxury."
Something tugged at her heart, but she said nothing, only moved toward the terrace that overlooked the lake.
That evening, they sat outside as the sky turned shades of pink and gold. For once, no phones buzzed, no papers lay scattered, no directors shouted for answers. Only the sound of water lapping against the dock and the occasional call of birds filled the silence.
Li Na sipped her tea, then glanced at him. "Is this what peace feels like?"
He didn't answer right away. Then he turned his head, eyes catching the fading light. "It feels like you."
Her breath caught, her cup trembling slightly in her hands. She wanted to reply, but the words tangled in her throat.
Instead, he reached over, covering her hand with his. No demand, no pressure just only presence. A silent truce.
For the first time, Li Na allowed herself to lean into it. Not as a contract, not as survival, but as something that felt dangerously close to belonging.
The lake reflected the stars that night, and in its quiet surface, two people who had begun as strangers found themselves tied by something deeper than rules or signatures.