December painted Liangcheng in pale frost. The trees along the streets were stripped bare, leaving only twinkling lights strung up in anticipation of the new year. The days were short, the nights long, and in Gu Ze Yan's apartment, a soft yellow glow spilled from the floor lamp, warming the quiet winter night.
---
Movie Night
"Sunny, how can you just sit there like this?" Ze Yan sniffled loudly, grabbing a tissue with one hand and clinging to Qing Yun's sleeve with the other. On the television screen, the hero died in the arms of his beloved, snow falling like a silent curtain around their tragic farewell.
Tears streamed freely down his sharp cheekbones, his lips trembling with exaggerated misery. "It's too cruel… why must they part like this? Haven't they suffered enough?"
Qing Yun, curled up comfortably beside him, leaned her chin on her hand. Her eyes stayed calm, almost serene, as if she were watching not a tragedy but the falling of gentle snow.
She reached out and dabbed his cheek with a tissue, her lips curving faintly. "It's only a movie."
"That doesn't make it less sad!" Ze Yan cried, voice thick.
Her gaze softened, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Why cry for something that isn't real?"
Ze Yan turned toward her in disbelief, his expression caught between despair and outrage. His fiancee—his Sunshine—didn't shed a single tear. Not even one.
"You don't have tear ducts, do you? You're not human!" he accused, tossing the crumpled tissue into the trash.
Qing Yun's laugh was low and warm, brushing against the winter air like a gentle ember. She patted his head, soothing him as if he were the one who needed comforting. "Silly. You just have too many tears for both of us."
The truth lingered unspoken in her calm eyes: she had shed too many in the past, long before he ever appeared. Now, there were none left for a fiction on a screen.
Ze Yan stared at her in frustration and tenderness all at once, and finally, with a sigh, let his head drop onto her lap. She smoothed his hair absentmindedly as the movie played on, the hero buried, the heroine alone, and only the steady warmth of their small apartment keeping out the December chill.
---
Everyday Habits
Their routines had begun to intertwine so tightly it was difficult to remember when one ended and the other began.
At Luminar's headquarters, Chen Rui had developed a new habit: every time lunch rolled around and their CEO still hadn't touched a single bite, he would quietly text Qing Yun.
He hasn't eaten again.
Without fail, Qing Yun would appear at Ze Yan's office door carrying a lunchbox. And only then—only when she pressed chopsticks into his hand or even fed him herself—would he finally chew, his eyes still fixed stubbornly on the laptop screen.
Once, Chen Rui walked in to deliver a report and stopped dead in the doorway. His usually cold, untouchable boss was leaning forward obediently, chewing while Qing Yun slipped another piece of braised beef into his mouth. Chen Rui closed the door without a word, muttering under his breath, "This is ridiculous."
But the employees soon learned to look away politely, as if it were normal for their CEO to be hand-fed by his fiancée during work hours. Behind their bowed heads, whispers spread: the devilish, ruthless Gu Ze Yan had turned into a clingy puppy.
Qing Yun herself was a little embarrassed by it, but she never said no. Each time, when his dark eyes softened with a rare boyish gleam, her heart melted just enough to let him have his way.
---
Dinner with the Zhao Family
One chill evening, Ming Liang extended an invitation. A high-end restaurant with velvet chairs and a chandelier glittering like ice above. Mei Lian was resplendent in silk, Xin Yue bright and warm in her youthful charm.
Over dishes of abalone and fine wine, conversation drifted to the future.
"Have you two set a date yet?" Mei Lian asked, her voice gentle but insistent, eyes full of maternal expectation.
Ze Yan reached across the table, brushing his fingers against Qing Yun's hand before answering, "Next year. Before Si Yao leaves for her studies overseas."
Mei Lian nodded, though worry touched her brow. "That gives us only six months. Weddings of this scale take time to prepare. We must start soon, otherwise it will feel rushed."
Xin Yue leaned forward eagerly, eyes sparkling. "Qing Yun, have you tried on any gowns yet?"
Qing Yun shook her head with a small smile. "Not yet."
"Then it's settled!" Xin Yue clapped her hands. "Tomorrow, you're coming with me. At least you need to know what styles you like. If you want something custom-made, it's better to start early."
Qing Yun hesitated, but Xin Yue was already glowing with determination. Across the table, Ze Yan only lifted his wine glass, hiding a soft smile behind its rim.
---
Wedding Dress Shopping
The next day, Xin Yue appeared at Luminar with a radiant grin. "I'm borrowing your fiancée!" she announced boldly.
From the window of his office, Ze Yan watched his sister whisk Qing Yun away. For once, he didn't try to interfere. He only waved goodbye and whispered to himself, "I'll trust Sunny with Xin Yue."
At the bridal boutique, the staff welcomed them as if royalty had arrived. Rows of gowns shimmered in soft light—lace, silk, pearls, and crystals.
Qing Yun tried on one after another: a sleek mermaid cut that clung to her figure, a ballgown that made her look like she had stepped out of a fairy tale, an elegant off-shoulder dress that bared her collarbones like delicate porcelain.
Xin Yue squealed with every new look. "This is unfair! Your figure is perfect! You look stunning in everything!"
Qing Yun only laughed softly, shaking her head. "Then maybe we don't need to decide now. At least there are plenty of photos to help later."
Xin Yue finally gave up, slumping in defeat—but not before sneaking behind her future sister-in-law to snap photos and secretly send them to her brother.
Back in his office, Ze Yan's phone buzzed. He opened the messages and froze.
Photo after photo of Qing Yun in white gowns—smiling faintly, serene, radiant.
His lips curved without him realizing, his chest tight with an emotion he could hardly contain. He replayed the photos again and again, Chen Rui passing by and staring at the foolish grin on his usually cold boss's face.
"What… what are you smiling at like that?" Chen Rui muttered.
Ze Yan didn't answer. He only tilted the screen away, clutching the phone as though it carried the most precious treasure in the world.
For the first time, marriage wasn't just an idea—it was real, tangible, shimmering before his eyes. He couldn't wait for the day she would stand beside him, not just in white lace, but as his wife.
---
Dresses and Shadows
That evening, Qing Yun returned exhausted. She kicked off her shoes and sank onto the sofa, sighing.
Her gaze wandered across the room… and landed in the corner.
There, neatly stacked boxes sat untouched. The belongings Ze Yan had carried from her old apartment: her plain clothes, her threadbare books, her single blanket.
Two years of her life compressed into boxes. Still packed, still sealed, still carrying the echo of a lonely, colorless existence.
Her lips pressed together faintly. For a long moment, she stared, her thoughts unreadable.
Am I really never going back?
Ze Yan emerged from the kitchen carrying two cups of hot tea. He saw her gaze, the way her shoulders tensed, but he didn't ask.
Instead, he sat beside her, placed the cup in her hand, and drew her gently into his arms. His warmth wrapped around her, steady and certain, while her thoughts wandered like leaves on cold water.
For him, the future was clear and brilliant.
For her, shadows still lingered in the corners of her heart.