After washing up, Si Chen stood staring at the woman in the mirror—someone who still hadn't quite come back to herself. Her wet hair only added to the dishevelment.
What unsettled her was her own calm—facing all of this today, and still feeling nothing she couldn't manage. It didn't seem right.
Since they'd got home, he had stayed out on the balcony smoking. Si Yuan, quick as ever to read the room, had made himself scarce the moment he sensed the atmosphere, retreating to his room to "revise."
It shouldn't have been this quiet. Even dinner had passed without a word between them.
Maybe he didn't care after all. Her chest felt hollow. Was she still hoping for something from him?
The thought brought back a memory she hadn't reached for in years. For some reason she could no longer remember, they'd been in the middle of a cold war, walking side by side along a crowded street without speaking. A woman on an electric bike came from behind and hit Si Chen's calf. Frightened—the brakes had probably failed—she didn't apologise. Instead she turned on Si Chen and shouted: watch where you're going.
Yu Hao had been crouching down to check the bruise. His fist tightened. He stood up, said nothing, and walked straight toward the bike, kicked it once, hard, then seized it and hurled it aside. It wasn't the pain that frightened Si Chen. It was the fury that had been there all along, suddenly breaking through. Through his teeth, he turned and snarled: "And who's not watching where they're going now?" Every inch of him was ready to go further.
She lunged forward and grabbed his hand, holding on tight."Don't. Please. I'm scared. I want to go home."
That was the first time she'd truly seen what lay hidden beneath his composure.
The door eased open. In the mirror, their eyes met.
Surprise crossed Yu Hao's face, then displeasure—the helpless kind, the kind he was holding himself back from showing. She could read it at a glance.
He came closer, switched on the hairdryer with one hand, and with the other lifted a damp lock of her hair. The roar of warm air flooded the room, slicing through the dead quiet. When it stopped, his voice came through, low, carrying reproach, and something that refused to be swallowed down.
"You never mentioned him."
So he'd been sitting on it all day. She'd half expected him to let it go. Si Chen pulled herself up at once, ready for it.
"I did mention him. He sent a set of bone china from the States—we picked it up from the post office together, remember?"
Yu Hao went still. The hand on her shoulder tightened. "That so-called best friend," he said through his teeth. "The cups you could never bring yourself to use."
Once she was in this mood, nothing on earth could intimidate her. She turned to face him directly, meeting his eyes without flinching.
"That's right."
If a storm was coming, let it come properly. She had no time for a cold drizzle. She squared her shoulders, chin up, with the look of someone saying: your move.
She was in full battle mode now, with a quiet certainty that this was going to be a bad one.
His eyes caught the faint red marks at her throat and stopped there. For a moment, he seemed to lose himself. His gaze remained fixed on that small patch of skin as he lifted a hand and touched it, at first lightly, then with gathering force, as though he could wipe away a mark that had no right to exist.
She moved to push him off. His arm came around her waist and locked her in place. She stepped back and found there was nowhere to go. His mouth found hers, tentative at first, then hardening into something that was almost possession. The heat spread from that single point of contact and moved through her, and she couldn't stop the small tremor that followed.
Everything came loose.
This was not the storm she'd been bracing for.
He was like a wild thing that had been caged past its limit, and she was the prey he had already decided was his. His words came broken, low against her ear—halting, but each one absolute.
"You're… mine… you're mine…"
His anger hadn't gone anywhere. It had been pressed down until there was nowhere left for it to go—and then it had surged back up and taken everything with it.
The door swung open without warning. Si Yuan's face was entirely composed.
He glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen. Past one in the morning. Had it got that late already? He'd barely made a dent in the game.
He'd known this was coming. He pulled off his headset—and the opening line landed squarely.
"Is that what revision looks like."
"I was avoiding things I shouldn't hear. Domestic conflict causes lasting psychological damage to teenagers, you know."
One look at the man's expression told him this wasn't the moment for jokes. He shifted into evidence-briefing mode immediately.
"Premeditated—clearly. Came prepared. First he gets close, then he stirs up the old feelings. Next move will be a full offensive."
"And where were you?"
Oh, come on. This lands on me now? Your wife nearly runs off—that's a marital problem. I'm just here for the show.
"Me? I played the third wheel flawlessly. Didn't even call him 'uncle' a second time—he wrote me off as a 'stepson' and that was that. And remember, German tank Andres and French romantic Julien both counted me as a bonus. Buy one, get one free."
The situation was serious. The man looked wrecked. Time to put something back in him.
"The good news is, so far every attempt has failed. Flies don't land on uncracked eggs. These past few years I've practically made a career of swatting them away."
He stood there rigid, looking genuinely bleak. Time to inject some fighting spirit, Si Yuan decided.
"Fortunately, at this point? All feeling on his side, none on hers—for now."
The man let out a long breath. Something in his face eased. Si Yuan wasted no time, sidling up to him with his most shameless grin.
"You have to admit, I've worked incredibly hard. That photo last week—if I'd had a zoom lens I wouldn't have had to keep running back and forth just to get the focus right."
"No."
Yuan pulled a face and retreated. The mannerism was so familiar it gave the man pause. Whose temper was that, exactly.
Old memories surfaced—all those schemes that had left him half furious and half trying not to laugh.
Why not… savour them again, through the boy.
"Two."
The reaction was more than he'd bargained for. Si Yuan lit up like he'd won the lottery, launched himself forward, and planted kisses all over his face. He had her in him entirely, right down to the last impish spark.
"Alright. Bed. Breakfast ready by ten."
Nothing in this life came free. Breakfast would be the price. For the sake of that lens, he could manage.
Then a thought flashed through his mind and refused to stay down. A City to T City—over an hour, even without traffic. How had he arrived so much earlier than that?
The answer came, perfectly flat:
"High-speed rail."
For once, Si Chen slept well. The duvet stayed warm—not like those mornings when the cold crept in before dawn. The reason, well. There was a source of heat beside her. She kept her eyes shut and stayed still, pretending to sleep to avoid the awkwardness.
"Did you sleep well?" the heat source murmured.
No. Every single part of her ached.
She said nothing, kept her eyes shut, and played dead. He shifted closer, gathered her curled-up body into his arms, his breath warm against the top of her head, lips moving at her neck, stubble grazing her skin and raising a trail of shivers.
There had been a time when she opened her eyes and found his calm face looking back, and it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. She'd never stopped to question why. Ten years, and they'd never once spent more than a fortnight continuously together. She'd thought that was just how it was.
Now she was restless and irritable, with no way to settle it. All she wanted was out.
Two years. He couldn't admit fault—not once? Was she supposed to drag over a stool and build him a step down herself? Why on earth should she.
The pressure in her chest built. She reached for the duvet. He must have felt it—his arms tightened, pulling her in as though letting go meant losing her for good.
"Bathroom."
See? He had to let go.
She seized the moment, threw back the covers, and locked herself in the bathroom. When she was done, she went straight to the living room.
Breakfast passed in silence. Si Yuan, reading the atmosphere, simply took lunch upon himself as well. Noodles, again.
She regretted not teaching him more. She'd only ever thought: if he can make noodles, he won't go hungry. What she hadn't counted on was him becoming a specialist. fish ball noodle soup, dry-tossed noodles, pan-fried noodles—beyond noodles, a complete blank.
She'd been hoping the day would pass without incident—until Si Yuan dropped it, as casually as a stone into still water:
"Grandma's coming for dinner."
The headache arrived immediately. The fridge held a few slices of luncheon meat and some spinach. That was nowhere near sufficient for the empress dowager's standards. The three of them inhaled the rest of lunch and headed out.
They were almost out the door when Si Yuan's head appeared in front of her, scanning her up and down like a human detector.
"Your neck is really red," he said, voice full of exaggerated concern. "Want some cream?"
Si Chen sucked in a breath. She wanted to smack him. She wanted to deal with the actual culprit. She wanted the floor to open up and take her.
At least someone had a conscience. He slipped away to the bedroom and returned with a scarf, wrapping it around her neck to cover the damage.