Days passed after that incident in the mall.
The Moon Pavilion was unusually quiet that evening.
Li Zeyan walked its halls with the steady rhythm of someone trying to forget something,her lips, her warmth, the damn way his heart had thudded after the kiss. He told himself it was nothing. She was his wife on paper, a burden forced into his life.
Nothing more.
He headed toward the east wing, where one of the housekeepers had said they stored the old architectural portfolios. He had half a mind to clear the room out, repurpose it into something useful. Maybe a study. Maybe anything that didn't remind him of her quiet footsteps echoing through his space.
But as he approached the slightly ajar door of the old art room, a sound stopped him cold.
Laughter.
Not loud. Not forced.
But soft, pure.
A gentle ripple of joy so unexpected that it made his footsteps halt mid-step.
He tilted his head slightly, just enough to peek through the open door.
And there she was.
Xu Meilin.
Sitting on a low wooden stool, a charcoal pencil in hand, sketchbook on her lap. Her sleeves rolled up, a smudge of black on her cheek, her hair loosely pinned and falling over one eye. She was grinning, biting her lip in amusement as she showed her sketch to one of the younger maids kneeling beside her.
"I told you he'd look like a fat sparrow," Meilin said, laughing again, pointing to a rough, adorable bird with messy feathers and huge eyes.
The maid burst into laughter, and Meilin joined in, her head tilting back slightly, her mouth parting as the sunlight hit her face through the window. Her white teeth flashed. Her cheeks lifted.
She looked...
Radiant. Alive.
Beautiful in a way he hadn't seen before. Not at galas. Not behind hotel desks. Not even in his own home.
And she didn't know he was there.
Li Zeyan's breath caught.
Something inside his chest twisted. A quiet, traitorous ache bloomed in his sternum. The room felt smaller, like her laughter had stolen the air.
She was laughing without him.
Smiling for someone else.
And she had never smiled like that… for him.
He straightened. The ache turned to something bitter.
He pushed the door open fully.
The laughter died instantly.
The maid scrambled up with a deep bow. Meilin stiffened. Her hand clenched around her charcoal pencil.
Li Zeyan's face was unreadable, his voice colder than ice. "So this is how you spend your time?"
Meilin stood slowly. "It's my off-day. I..."
"Sketching birds?" he cut in, eyes flicking to the open pages. "Playing games with the staff like a child?"
Her mouth parted, but no words came out.
The maid tried to excuse herself. "Sir, I..."
"Leave."
The girl fled, her footsteps disappearing down the corridor.
Now it was just the two of them.
Zeyan stepped further into the room, eyes not on her drawing, but on her face. Her smile had vanished. That sparkle in her eyes was gone. She looked… small again.
He hated it.
No, he hated that he noticed.
"I didn't know I needed permission to feel normal," Meilin said softly, picking up the sketchbook and closing it. "It was just a moment."
"Then don't waste them," he snapped. "You're not here to laugh away your afternoons."
She flinched, just barely. "Right."
He stared at her for a second longer, searching her face for that trace of laughter again.
It was gone.
Just like that.
He turned, jaw tight, heart louder than he wanted it to be.
As he walked out, the door closed with a soft click behind him.
He didn't look back.
But long after he left, her smile still haunted him.