When the plane touched down, Lin looked out at the city below. This time Lin came with her business partner as well as Jing.
This was where Yeh lived—
closer than she had imagined, and far more unsettling than she had expected.
Lin told herself she was here for work, not for Yeh.
She also knew she didn't entirely believe it.
Fiona went downstairs early to meet Lin's team.
Yeh was there as well, standing slightly apart, as if every feeling had been folded neatly into a professional stance.
Still, the moment Lin entered the lobby, her eyes found Yeh.
Not deliberately—
the body was simply quicker than rationality.
Yeh saw her too.
There was no rush this time, no loss of control. Just a light, quiet flutter. Like something that didn't need to be spoken.
You're here.
I am.
They didn't move in for a hug. Just a nod, a smile—proper, restrained, carrying a warmth only the other could recognize.
Before the meeting, people gathered in the conference room to prepare materials. Fiona spoke with Lin's partner about progress. By the floor-to-ceiling window, Yeh and Lin stood in the same pocket of space.
The air settled.
Lin asked softly, "You've been busy lately, haven't you?"
It sounded casual, though the concern slipped through.
Yeh nodded. "It's been fine. You may be busier."
She didn't ask how Lin had been. That would too unlike her, too revealing.
Lin understood the boundary being held by Yeh.
She found it faintly amusing. And, unexpectedly, appealing.
This was someone who tightened completely at the slightest step out of line.
They stood in silence for a few seconds.
Then Lin said, "That conversation we had in Bangkok… I still remember it."
Yeh paused, not expecting the words.
Lin added quickly, pulling the moment back to safer ground.
"I think our collaboration will go well."
Yeh smiled. "I think so too."
They both knew it wasn't only about the project.
The meeting went smoothly. The investors approved Lin's team's ideas, and the schedule was finalized sooner than expected. Everyone discussed roles, next steps, and budget breakdowns.
Only Yeh knew that the hardest thing to manage wasn't the negotiation—
it was Lin, seated diagonally across from her.
Now and then, Lin looked up. Their eyes met—briefly, unintentionally. Each time, it was enough to stall Yeh's heartbeat for a fraction of a second.
Each time, Yeh shifted her gaze away with practiced calm, maintaining perfect professional distance.
Lin thought, with a trace of admiration:she really doesn't give me a single opening. Which only made her want to look closer.
They went to dinner together afterward. The mood was easy, and Lin spoke comfortably with the investors.
Then, in an unremarkable moment, Lin handed Yeh a glass of water.
Their fingertips brushed.
Too brief to linger. So light it could have meant nothing.
And yet both of them paused—just half a breath.
Yeh took the glass as if nothing had happened.
Lin turned her attention back to Jing, pretending to listen.
But the same thought surfaced in both their minds:
So feeling's still there.
So emotions never really passed.