The days that followed settled into a rhythm. Li Yueran appeared at the construction site with perfect timing—not too often, not too little—her actions measured, precise, yet infused with quiet warmth. She offered snacks and drinks, ensured the safety equipment was functional, and even provided small first-aid kits for minor injuries.
Aiden noticed her interventions but remained skeptical. "Why do you care so much about us?" he asked one afternoon, wiping sweat from his face.
Li Yueran knelt slightly, offering him a bottle of water without touching him directly. "Because sometimes, even the strongest deserve care," she said softly. Her voice was like silk over steel—gentle yet unyielding.
He looked at her, a flicker of something he hadn't felt in years—curiosity. He accepted the water, their fingers almost brushing, and though it never happened, she imagined that contact, imagined feeling the warmth of his hand in hers. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to step back, respecting the boundaries her body had always demanded, yet longing for the closeness she could never admit aloud.
Meilin observed quietly, her heart both fluttering and aching. She had grown up seeing her mother care for the lost and the helpless, but watching her with Aiden was different. Every motion, every glance, every breath was laced with intensity, almost frightening in its devotion. She felt both drawn to him and painfully aware that she could never compete with the depth of Li Yueran's obsession.
Evening fell, and Aiden left the site. Li Yueran lingered, watching him retreat into the city's haze. She whispered to herself, "Patience. I must be gentle… until he trusts me completely."