The evening air of Liangcheng was crisp, touched with the faint coolness that signaled winter's slow approach. The river below the bridge caught fragments of neon and bent them into trembling ribbons. Above, the towers of the business district gleamed in orderly rows of light, their reflections scattered by the current.
Lin Qing Yun stood at the railing, both hands tucked into her coat pockets. Her hair lifted lightly with the wind.
Beside her, Gu Ze Yan slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer as if she might be carried off by the night breeze.
"Sunny," his voice was soft, almost coaxing, "what if we take a vacation? Not just a short trip. A long one. We could go around the world."
Qing Yun tilted her face toward him, amused. "Around the world? That would take years. What about Luminar? Don't you still have an empire to build?"
Ze Yan chuckled. "I'll leave it to Shen Qiao. He's more than capable."
Qing Yun shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "That's impossible. Luminar is your life. You could never leave it behind."
He bent his head, his gaze catching hers with quiet intensity. "No. You are my life now. Like plants need the sun, I need my Sunny."
Her steps slowed. For a moment, she studied him—not as Gu Ze Yan, the dazzling founder of Luminar, but as the man who held her too tightly at night as if afraid she would vanish.
Her lips curved, but her eyes were thoughtful. "And what if the sun stops shining? What if one day… I stop being Sunny?"
Ze Yan didn't hesitate. "That will never happen." He spoke like a man swearing an oath. "If you stop shining, then I'll make you shine again. Your smile, your happiness—that's all I want. If I must, I'll spend my life bringing back your light. You'll always be Sunny. Forever."
Qing Yun's expression softened into something bright and fragile. She leaned into his chest. "You always say the most unreasonable things."
"And you always make me believe them," he murmured, tilting her chin and brushing her lips with his.
The lights of the city glittered behind them, but in Ze Yan's eyes, only she existed.
---
They returned to his apartment in a haze of closeness, warmth still lingering on their skin from the night breeze.
From the elevator to the hallway, to the very threshold of their bedroom, Ze Yan didn't let go of her hand. His kisses fell like raindrops—her temple, her ear, the slope of her neck—until Qing Yun gave a soft, helpless laugh, pushing at his chest.
"Gu Ze Yan, we're not even inside yet."
He only smiled, locking the door behind them and catching her wrist again. "I've missed you for too long. I won't wait."
Her quiet moan silenced any protest. Buttons came undone under his deft fingers, her blouse sliding from her shoulders, his own shirt abandoned on the floor. Their bodies pressed together, skin to skin, until no space remained.
This time there was no awkwardness, no hesitance—only rhythm, practiced and familiar, as if they had been meant for this dance all along. Each kiss deepened, each touch learned where the other's breath caught, where the other trembled.
When at last their movements slowed, they lay entangled, the night humming with the aftermath of tenderness.
Ze Yan cupped her face, his lips still hovering near hers. "I mean it, Sunny. Wherever you want to go, I'll follow. I love you. So much."
Qing Yun kissed him lightly in return. "Good night, Gu Ze Yan."
He smiled, content, and drifted into sleep with her in his arms.
But she did not sleep. Her eyes lingered on his face in the faint glow of the bedside lamp. She traced his cheek gently with her fingers, the sadness in her gaze hidden by the shadows. Only when she let out a quiet breath did she finally close her eyes.
---
The next morning, Ze Yan adjusted his tie in the mirror, preparing for an important event. Qing Yun stood behind him, fastening the knot with her usual graceful efficiency.
"I'll be home late," he said, brushing a kiss across her hairline. "Wait for me?"
Qing Yun smiled—radiant, unflinching. "Of course." She smoothed his lapel, her Sunny smile as flawless as ever.
He left with light steps, warmed by her brightness.
After the door shut, silence filled the apartment.
Qing Yun walked slowly back into the bedroom. As she passed the tall mirror, she paused.
Her reflection smiled back—Sunny, warm and cheerful. She held it for a long moment, then watched it falter, dissolve, and fade into a calm, expressionless face.
She nodded once at herself, as though sealing a decision.
---
That evening, Ze Yan returned home carrying a box of cake. He called out as he kicked off his shoes:
"Sunny, I'm home! Look what I brought—your favorite."
The apartment was quiet.
He set the cake on the counter, his brow furrowing. "Sunny?"
No answer.
He checked the bedroom. Empty.
The bathroom. Empty.
The balcony. Empty.
His chest tightened. He called her phone—it was turned off.
"She must have gone to the store," he muttered, trying to calm himself. He rushed downstairs, checked the convenience shop, even the little café nearby. No sign of her.
Panic licked at his throat as he hurried back up to the apartment. Only then did he notice the small, neat arrangement on the dining table.
A velvet ring box.
A hairclip—the one he had given her on the ferris wheel.
A bank card—the one he had pressed into her hand, telling her to use it freely.
And a folded piece of paper.
His hands shook as he opened the paper.
Four words stared back at him.
I'm sorry, Gu Ze Yan. Goodbye.
---
The apartment swayed around him. The lights blurred.
For a long moment, he couldn't breathe.
The ring box slid from his hand, clattering against the table. The hairclip caught the lamplight, glinting once before going still.
And Gu Ze Yan—once the unshakable leader who had carried Luminar through storms, once the man who could calculate risks with the calm of a surgeon—stood frozen in his own living room, undone by four quiet words.
The cake box on the counter remained unopened. The city outside continued to shine. But for him, the night had already gone dark.