The morning sunlight slanted into the office, bright and warm, but Xinyi felt a prickling unease as soon as she stepped into the floor. The festival's memories—her laughter, the teasing, the accidental "hubby"—still lingered on her cheeks like a blush that refused to fade. She couldn't help but notice the subtle glances from her colleagues: quiet smiles, a whisper here, a chuckle there.
Zhiyuan appeared at her side, his usual calm presence grounding her, though his eyes sparkled faintly with amusement.
"Good morning," he murmured, voice casual, yet there was a trace of teasing. "Survived the festival without declaring yourself to the world?"
Xinyi glared, half embarrassed, half amused. "Barely. You weren't supposed to notice that, you know."
He leaned slightly closer, his fingers brushing against hers as he handed her coffee. The contact was casual—seemingly innocent—but it sent a tiny shock through her.
"Notice what?" he asked lightly, voice low, close to her ear. "I think everyone noticed… but don't worry. I've got you."
Her pulse quickened. She wanted to feel reassured, and part of her did—but another part couldn't shake the sense of exposure. The whispers had begun.
A passing colleague, Li Wen, paused near her desk, pretending to check something on the printer. "Hey… did you see Director Lin and Vice President He last night at the festival?" His tone was light, almost casual, but the smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. "They seemed… close."
Xinyi's ears burned. Zhiyuan's hand brushed hers again under the desk, grounding her. "Relax," he murmured, voice smooth and protective. "They can gossip all they want. We control the story."
But as the day progressed, more whispers floated in her direction:
"Xinyi, is that your boyfriend?"
"Zhiyuan seems unusually attentive to you lately…"
"Did you see them holding hands when no one was looking?"
Even innocuous glances felt loaded. Every time a colleague leaned toward her to speak, she flinched, expecting someone to "catch" them. Zhiyuan noticed, of course.
"You're tensing up," he said quietly, leaning close as she walked between desks. "Breathe. It's just gossip. And if anyone asks, we say nothing."
Yet the whispers didn't stop. During lunch, as they moved to the cafeteria, Xinyi felt the weight of eyes on them. She tried to pretend it didn't bother her, but a stray laugh behind them made her glance over her shoulder. Zhiyuan's hand rested briefly on the small of her back, anchoring her.
"See?" he whispered. "No one can touch you while I'm here."
Later, in a meeting, Assistant Zhou caught a hint of their closeness—subtle gestures, shared glances, hands brushing just so. He tilted his head, brow furrowed, scribbling notes in his ever-present notebook. His suspicion had clearly deepened, though he hadn't yet connected all the dots.
By mid-afternoon, Xinyi's nerves were fraying. She leaned back in her chair, fanning herself subtly, cheeks warm from embarrassment and a lingering trace of wine from the night before. Zhiyuan's gaze never left her. Each time someone passed nearby, brushing past her chair or lingering to speak to her, he subtly moved closer, a protective shadow.
"Stop looking so worried," he murmured, leaning down just enough for his lips to brush her hair. "No one's going to humiliate you. Not while I'm around."
She allowed herself a small sigh, feeling the tension ease just slightly—but the whispers still buzzed around her, a constant reminder that their secret was fragile.
As the workday ended, the chatter quieted. Colleagues trickled out, some exchanging smirks and knowing looks as they left. Xinyi felt Zhiyuan's hand slip over hers again.
"You survived another day," he murmured, voice low, protective. "And tomorrow? More of the same. But remember…" He brushed a soft kiss along her temple, almost playful. "…I'm always right here."
Her heart fluttered despite herself. The thrill of secrecy, the risk of being caught, the soft but constant protection—it all combined into a tension she couldn't quite name. But beneath it, the warmth and intimacy they shared remained constant: hers to hold, his to guard.