In the bedroom, Su Xiaolan buried her face in her duck-printed pillow, trembling with suppressed laughter until tears streamed down. The smart lock's feeble yet stubborn "Wishing you... a good... night..." was the final straw—shattering Li Chenyuan's icy dignity and detonating Su Xiaolan's last shred of composure. The image of the leviathan silently seething in the shadows, radiating murderous intent toward the door yet bound by his status, struck her as absurdly... delightfully hilarious!
Laughter eventually surrendered to feverish exhaustion. As the smart lock fell silent and the living room plunged into unnatural stillness, Su Xiaolan succumbed to sleep—her mind filled with visions of a socially deceased whale.
Morning light filtered through the curtains. Su Xiaolan woke to birdsong and... an unmistakable scent of something burning.
Her fever had broken, leaving her weak but clear-headed. She stretched—then froze.
Li Chenyuan!
He was still here!
Memories flooded back: the shattered door, the violent kiss, the fever, the noodle disaster, the smart lock's broadcast, and Li Chenyuan's silhouette frozen in mortal embarrassment...
Her heart leapt to her throat. She held her breath, listening.
Silence.
Barefoot, she crept to the bedroom door and peered through the crack—
Morning light spilled into the living room. On the absurdly small sofa, Li Chenyuan slept curled in a cramped position. His wrinkled, half-dried white shirt hung open, revealing sharp collarbones. And clutched tightly in his arms—
—was her smiling yellow duck pillow.
His stern face pressed against its fuzzy head.
Li Chenyuan... cuddling a duck?!
The sight was a hundred times more shocking than last night's snoring broadcast!
Su Xiaolan clamped a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
Sizzle—CRASH!
A louder burn smell erupted from the kitchen.
Li Chenyuan's eyes snapped open—sharp, disoriented, then annoyed. He scanned the kitchen, scowling.
Then he looked down.
He froze, staring at the grinning duck in his arms. Horror flashed across his face. He flung it away like hot coal. The duck tumbled innocently onto the sofa.
Li Chenyuan stood, rubbing his temples as if erasing the memory. He stalked toward the kitchen—ground zero of the burning smell.
Su Xiaolan watched his stiff retreat, biting her lip to stifle giggles. This leviathan's morning routine is... catastrophically adorable.
Kitchen Catastrophe:
Su Xiaolan tiptoed to the doorway.
Chaos. Oil splattered the counters. Eggshells littered the floor. In a smoking pan: blackened lumps (eggs?). A toppled salt shaker spilled its contents.
And there stood Li Chenyuan—sleeves stained with oil and soy sauce, brandishing a spatula like a weapon, murder in his eyes as he killed the stove's flames.
He spotted Su Xiaolan. His gaze sharpened—equal parts irritation and poorly concealed shame.
"You're awake?" He blocked her view of the wreckage, voice icy but rough from sleep (and rage). "Wash up. Breakfast is ready." His eyes darted guiltily to the charred lumps.
Su Xiaolan took in his forced composure and the "breakfast." She couldn't help it—
"Pfft!"
Laughter rang through the smoke-filled kitchen.
Li Chenyuan went rigid. He turned slowly, eyes dark with fury... and wounded pride.
"What. Is. Funny?"
But Su Xiaolan felt no fear. After last night's social execution and this kitchen apocalypse, his CEO aura had crumbled to dust. The man before her—stained, flustered, clinging to dignity—was oddly... human.
She pointed at the pan, grinning. "Mr. Li... is that breakfast? Or a biological weapon?"
His face darkened. He stared at the charcoal lumps. For three seconds, silence hung thick.
Then—he grabbed a plate.
With grim determination, he shoveled the blackened ruins onto it. Stomped past her. Slammed the plate onto the coffee table.
"Eat."
He stared out the window, radiating: I cooked. You're welcome.
Su Xiaolan looked at the "weaponized" eggs, his rigid profile, and the discarded duck pillow...
Warmth—absurd, sweet, disarming—flooded her chest. She picked up the duck and walked to him.
Li Chenyuan eyed her like a live grenade.
She held up the duck, beaming—bright, mischievous, utterly fearless.
"Good morning, Mr. Li!"
"Thank you... for taking care of me last night." Her eyes flicked to his stained sleeves, smile widening. "And... thank you both for a lovely night together!"
Before he could react (she knew that face), she hugged the duck and skipped to the bathroom, humming off-key.
Click. The door shut.
Li Chenyuan stood alone.
He stared at his stained shirt.
At the plate of charcoal.
At the bathroom door.
Her laughter echoed in his mind. "Biological weapon." "Lovely night together." That sun-bright, unafraid smile...
A tsunami of defeat and absurdity—and something unsettlingly like dizziness from that smile—crashed over him.
He pressed his fingers to his throbbing temples.
The salty fish...
Was...
...mocking him?
He listened to her terrible, cheerful humming behind the door. Looked down at his ruined shirt.
For the first time in his commanding life, Li Chenyuan felt the crushing weight of a collapsed persona... and the terrifying, unfamiliar warmth of sunlight reaching his深海 depths.
The war between obsession (his) and inertia (hers) had reached its verdict on this morning of burnt offerings, duck pillows, and a broken CEO.
Victory was declared.
Or had the battlefield simply turned... sweeter (and more disastrous)?