"It's me."
Two words. They struck the waters of Su Xiaolan's heart like the final stones, shattering every veil of doubt and defense. She stared into Li Chenyuan's eyes—no longer icy abysses, but churning tides—as his fingertips traced the faded blue library card. A tsunami of aching sweetness crashed over her, and tears fell without warning. Not from sorrow or anger, but from the seismic tremor of truth unearthed across time:
The boy in the sunlit library corner, watching her crunch chips with unguarded joy…
The man who remembered her favorite snack's packaging…
The leviathan who'd stormed her lazy life…
Had always been him.
Every absurd "efficiency investment," every overbearing "special care," every possessive demand—finally made sense. That cryptic "Because you're Su Xiaolan" now glowed with revelation.
Confession in Sunlight and Dust
He caught a tear with his thumb, his touch uncharacteristically clumsy. "Why cry?" His voice roughened, stripped of its usual ice. He paused, thumb brushing the card's frayed edge, as if its roughness lent him courage. "Because you discovered… a fool's been obsessed with you for years?"
Obsessed.
Fool.
Su Xiaolan froze. Li Chenyuan—calling himself a fool? Her mind screamed trap!, but her heart galloped wildly. Memories flashed: him trapping her in the elevator, commanding her to use the heated mug, the splintering door last night—all reinterpreted by that single, devastating word: crush.
"You… had a crush on me?" Her voice trembled, fingers white-knuckled on the hem of his oversized gray shirt. "In… the library?"
He looked away, his gaze settling on the worn library card. Silence stretched, thick with unsaid years.
"That corner by the window… the light was good." His voice, slow and heavy with time, filled the quiet room. "The old sofa was soft, but always empty… except for one girl. She curled up like a cat sunning itself, always clutching a bag of chips."
Su Xiaolan's heart skipped. Through his words, she saw it: golden afternoon light, dappled shadows of plane trees, dust motes dancing, the low hum of AC, distant page turns. Her sanctuary.
"Quiet with books. Giggling at comics." A ghost of a smile touched his lips, warm and fleeting. "When she ate those chips… her eyes crinkled shut. Like a little thief who'd stolen sunshine." His finger traced the card, mirroring a remembered blue bag, crumpled in her grasp.
(Su Xiaolan's memory flickered: A tall figure near the shelves? At a nearby table? She'd guarded her chips, her spot, thinking him a rival—never guessing the warmth in those passing glances.)
"Back then… I was a machine." Self-mockery laced his tone. "All efficiency. Cold. Purpose-driven. Seeing her… so inefficient, yet so alive." His gaze locked onto hers, turbulent with confusion, fascination, and a buried longing. "Like color bursting into a black-and-white world. Impossible… to look away."
"Impossible?" she breathed, heart hammering against her ribs.
"Mn." Stark honesty. He glanced toward the windowsill, where the washed, flattened chip bag lay, anchoring his past. "Like observing a fascinating anomaly. What magic made pointless joy feel so vital?" He frowned, recalling the puzzle. "It became habit. A final glance before leaving. Memorizing her chip flavors. Her laugh…" His voice softened. "It became… oxygen. Oxygen named 'Su Xiaolan'."
Oxygen named 'Su Xiaolan'.
Her heart clenched, sweet and aching. Tears surged anew—warmer, unstoppable.
"After graduation… the corporate vortex." Weariness etched his voice. "That corner… that girl… faded. A dusty photograph buried deep." His gaze grew distant, then sharpened, refocusing on her with predatory certainty. He leaned in, closing the gap, warmth radiating.
"Until months ago… a resume landed on my desk."
"That smiling photo. Eyes crinkled just so."
"Fluent in three languages. Hobbies: napping and chips."
"Su Xiaolan…" He savored her name, each syllable weighted with years. "Like a piece of my past, washed back to shore by time's tide."
He paused, the silence thick with possession. "This time… I wasn't letting go."
The Collapse
"The massage chairs… private elevator… breaking my door… it was all—?"
"To cage you." Brutal honesty. His thumb brushed a tear from her cheek, touch unexpectedly tender. "To keep your lazy joy safe. Where I could see it."
His gaze darkened, possessive, as it swept over his shirt engulfing her frame. "To drown you… in my scent."
"Clumsy. Tyrannical. Unhinged." He acknowledged his own chaos, a wry twist to his lips. "I terrified you." His finger tapped her tear-reddened nose, infinitely gentle. "But a leviathan never releases its prey. Especially the one… who breathed color into his monochrome world."
The last barrier shattered. Sobs wracked her. She crashed into his chest, fists pounding weakly against solid muscle. "You idiot! Why not just say it?! I thought I was an experiment! A lab rat! Stupid whale! Stupid, stupid!"
His arms closed around her—stiff at first, then fiercely protective. "Sorry," he murmured into her hair, voice thick with remorse. "I only knew how to hunt. Not how to ask…" He held her tighter, pouring apology into the embrace. "…if my little salted fish… wanted to be caught."
She cried harder, melting into him. "I'm not yours! I just want to nap! You're awful…!"
A low laugh vibrated against her, warm and relieved. He gently tilted her tear-streaked, red-eyed face up. His gaze, soft yet fiercely possessive, swept the room—past the phantom massage chair, toward the unseen matching aprons—before settling on her. "Nap all you want." His thumb wiped away fresh tears. "But you'll nap… in my waters."
"My sunshine. Your chips. Your massage throne…" His voice dropped, a velvet trap. "All yours."
"The price?" He leaned in, forehead touching hers, breath mingling. "Let me taste…"
His lips hovered, a breath away.
"…if after all these years,"
"that chip flavor…"
"…has changed."
Harbor
His kiss was nothing like before—no storm, no demand. Only reverence. A pilgrim finally reaching sacred water.
She didn't pull away. His lips met hers, gentle, seeking. She tasted salt tears, memories of cheap snacks, and him. Her lips parted, shyly, clumsily responding.
Time slowed, thick and golden.
(Outside, afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting bright pools on the floor. On the sill, the washed, flattened chip bag lay. Sunlight caught its silver lining, scattering dancing light spots like a sparkling sea. A silent time capsule, witnessing a love story born in a library corner, finding its harbor in tears, truth, and a kiss.)
They parted, breathless. Su Xiaolan's cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes still red but now hazy with shy wonder. Dazed, she mumbled against his chest, "The chips… still taste the same… seaweed flavor…" She flushed crimson, burying her face deeper, then peeking up through her lashes.
Li Chenyuan's heart melted at her tear-stained, flustered beauty. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. One arm held her waist, the other tenderly tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertip grazing her sensitive lobe, making her shiver.
"Mn," he agreed, voice rich with amusement and satisfaction, his forehead resting against hers. "Salty. Like the sea." His gaze, heated and meaningful, held hers.
Su Xiaolan burned with embarrassment, but her fists only clenched his shirt tighter.
The salted fish's pond was now the leviathan's sea.
And the right to laze?
Bathed in sunlight, surrounded by chips,
cradled in the arms of her unraveled CEO—
suddenly felt…
irresistibly, dangerously sweet.