The rain started without warning.
Chen Le Xin stood under the building's awning, staring at the dark sky, irritation already settling in her bones. She had stayed late again—fixing follow-ups, answering board emails, cleaning up consequences that never seemed to end.
Her phone buzzed.
Kai Ying: You're still here.
Le Xin frowned. That wasn't a question.
Seconds later, heels clicked against marble.
Kai Ying stepped beside her, holding an umbrella. Black coat, glasses slightly fogged, expression unreadable as ever.
"You're going to get sick," Kai Ying said.
Le Xin scoffed. "You sound like my doctor."
Kai Ying opened the umbrella. "Come with me."
"Where?"
"My place," Kai Ying replied, calm and direct.
Le Xin turned sharply. "Absolutely not."
Kai Ying didn't react. "You're exhausted. It's closer than yours. And I'm not asking twice."
Their eyes locked.
God, she hated how Kai Ying did that—how she stated things like facts, not demands.
Le Xin clenched her jaw. "…Fine."
Kai Ying's apartment was exactly what Le Xin expected.
Minimal. Clean. Cold.
Too cold.
Le Xin slipped off her shoes and immediately frowned. "You actually live like this?"
Kai Ying shrugged, setting the umbrella aside. "It's efficient."
"It's depressing."
Kai Ying glanced at her. "Sit."
Le Xin bristled. "Stop ordering me around."
Kai Ying stepped closer.
"Then stop listening."
The distance between them vanished.
Le Xin's back hit the edge of the counter. Kai Ying's presence loomed—controlled, restrained, dangerous. She didn't touch her. Didn't need to.
"You've been pushing yourself again," Kai Ying said quietly.
"That's none of your business."
Kai Ying's gaze dropped—just briefly—to Le Xin's lips. Then back to her eyes.
"It became my business when you collapsed."
Silence.
Electric. Tight.
Le Xin swallowed. "You don't get to care now."
Kai Ying's voice lowered. "I always cared."
That cracked something.
Le Xin laughed, sharp and breathless. "You have a funny way of showing it."
Kai Ying's hand came up—slow, deliberate—bracing against the counter beside Le Xin's shoulder. Not touching her. Boxing her in.
"I don't show," Kai Ying said. "I act."
Their faces were too close.
One breath apart.
Le Xin could smell her—clean, faintly bitter, intoxicating.
"This is a mistake," Le Xin whispered.
Kai Ying didn't move away. "Say stop."
Le Xin opened her mouth.
Didn't.
Kai Ying leaned in—
The knock at the door was loud. Sudden. Brutal.
They froze.
Kai Ying straightened immediately, composure snapping back into place like armor. She stepped away, jaw tight.
"I'll get it," she said.
Le Xin stayed where she was, heart pounding, fingers digging into the counter.
When Kai Ying returned, her expression was dark.
"Board issue," she said. "Tomorrow morning."
Le Xin exhaled shakily. "Of course."
Kai Ying looked at her—really looked at her.
"What just happened," Kai Ying said slowly, "doesn't change anything."
Le Xin lifted her chin. "Good."
Kai Ying nodded once. "Good."
But neither of them believed it.
Kai Ying grabbed her coat. "You can take the guest room."
Le Xin hesitated. "Kai Ying."
Kai Ying paused.
Le Xin spoke quietly. "You crossed a line."
Kai Ying didn't turn around. "So did you."
The door closed.
Le Xin stood alone in the silent apartment, pulse still racing.
Rivals didn't look at each other like that.
Rivals didn't almost kiss.
And rivals definitely didn't leave unfinished tension burning in the air like a promise.
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Thank you for reading my novel