Morning sunlight streamed across the gleaming glass of the Luminar headquarters, catching on the polished steel logo that crowned the building. The lobby buzzed with its usual rhythm—receptionists answering phones, employees scanning in with coffee in hand, the elevators gliding up and down in steady cadence.
Among the quiet stream of staff moving in, Lin Qing Yun walked with her usual calm. She carried no aura of superiority despite being closely connected to the company's founder; instead, she blended into the office atmosphere, greeting familiar faces with a soft nod, answering good mornings with her gentle voice.
Her workspace was tucked into one of the calmer corners of the floor—neat and orderly, a small plant resting by the monitor, a notebook aligned perfectly beside her keyboard. Even her background screen was serene: a photograph of the Liangcheng mansion's back garden, dew on grass under pale dawn.
As she set down her bag, a familiar voice rang out.
"Miss Lin, your daily productivity fuel."
Chen Rui appeared with a grin, balancing a small thermos and a pastry box. He set them down like an offering, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Boss says hydration is efficiency. Don't blame me, I'm just the delivery guy."
Qing Yun sighed softly, but warmth glimmered in her eyes as she unscrewed the lid. Sweet fragrance rose—red bean soup, slightly thick, with a hint of osmanthus. "Does he even realize how childish this looks? Having you run errands like this?"
Chen Rui straightened dramatically. "Childish? Miss Lin, this is true strategic management. A well-fed lady equals a peaceful boss. My workload thanks you."
Before Qing Yun could retort, a voice chimed behind them.
"Qing Yun Jie Jie!"
Ruan Yi Lan bounded up, a bundle of files in her arms, cheeks flushed with energy. Her voice carried across the office, turning heads as always. Several colleagues smiled indulgently; Yi Lan's youthful enthusiasm had long become a source of daily amusement.
Qing Yun's expression softened. "Yi Lan. Slow down, you'll trip again."
"I won't! I've improved," Yi Lan declared, though her heel nearly caught on the edge of the carpet. She righted herself quickly, beaming as though nothing had happened.
Chen Rui muttered under his breath, "Improved at alarming me, maybe," earning himself a glare from her.
Qing Yun shook her head, lips curving faintly, and turned back to her screen. For her, the office was like water: she flowed through it quietly, touching everyone without drawing attention, offering calm against the tide of deadlines and chatter.
But she noticed the way Yi Lan hovered, approaching her desk twice that morning, opening her mouth as if to speak—only to be pulled away by calls from other departments, or intercepted by Chen Rui bringing yet another stack of documents from Ze Yan upstairs.
Qing Yun smiled reassuringly each time, murmuring: "We'll talk later."
---
By midday, the sun had climbed high, the office buzzing with hunger. A group quickly formed for lunch—Qing Yun, Yi Lan, Chen Rui, and two other colleagues from Shen Qiao's department.
They chose a diner across the street, one that smelled of sesame oil and frying dumplings the moment they pushed open the door. Tables were crowded with office workers, the air thick with laughter, chopsticks clattering against bowls.
The group slid into a corner booth. Qing Yun took the seat by the window, Yi Lan pressed beside her, Chen Rui sprawling opposite with his usual casual arrogance.
Menus were hardly needed. Plates of dumplings, cold noodles, and stir-fried greens arrived quickly, filling the table.
Conversation flowed easily. One colleague complained about blind dates gone wrong, another recounted a hilarious family quarrel over mooncakes. Chen Rui seized on every detail, exaggerating until the whole table was shaking with laughter.
Yi Lan laughed so hard she nearly choked on a dumpling. "Chen Rui Ge! Stop, I can't—"
"You can," he said with mock solemnity, handing her water. "Survival of the fittest. Only the strongest can withstand my wit."
"You mean the most patient," Yi Lan shot back, eyes dancing.
The others roared with laughter.
Through it all, Qing Yun sat quietly, chopsticks poised, listening more than speaking. But her presence was steady, grounding. When someone grew embarrassed about their story, her soft "That must have been difficult" soothed them. When conversation lulled, her gentle smile encouraged it forward.
She did not need to be loud. She was the quiet center of the table, the sister everyone unconsciously leaned toward.
Yi Lan, especially, glowed in her presence—her laughter brighter, her anecdotes more eager, as if every word was offered for Qing Yun's approval.
---
The meal stretched long, the plates emptying. Eventually, the group spilled back out into the sunlight, crossing the street toward Luminar's towering glass facade.
Inside the cool lobby, they clustered near the elevators, waiting for the next car. The air was filled with idle chatter, coworkers joking about afternoon workloads.
Yi Lan fidgeted beside Qing Yun, her fingers twisting around the strap of her bag. Her lips parted once, twice, then pressed shut again. Finally, she blurted, voice trembling with both nerves and joy:
"Jie Jie… I need to tell you something."
Qing Yun turned, brows lifting faintly. "What is it?"
Yi Lan's cheeks flushed, but she pressed on, words tumbling out. "I uploaded my novel. Weeks ago. At first I was so afraid, I thought no one would read it. But a few days ago… it suddenly trended. People are reading it, commenting, supporting me! I—" She clutched Qing Yun's hand with both of hers, eyes shining. "If not for you, I never would've had the courage. You believed in me when no one else did. You gave me this dream. You really feel like my real Jiejie. Thank you… thank you for being in my life."
Her voice broke on the last words.
The lobby noise seemed to dim. Qing Yun's breath caught. Slowly, she raised her hand, tucking a stray lock of Yi Lan's hair behind her ear—the same gesture she had done countless times for Si Yao.
For a moment, Yi Lan's smiling face blurred, overlapping with the memory of her half-sister, gone too soon.
Her lips trembled. She whispered, almost inaudible: "You did it."
And then the tears came.
One fell, warm against her cheek. Then another. Suddenly, she could not stop them. The weight of years pressed down all at once, shattering the fragile dam she had held for so long.
Her knees gave way. In the middle of the lobby, Lin Qing Yun crouched down, hands covering her face, sobbing silently—but the tears kept streaming, unstoppable.
The busy lobby stilled. Colleagues froze mid-step, glancing, whispering. The quiet rippled outward, confusion and concern spreading.
Yi Lan stood stunned, panic filling her eyes. "Jie Jie? Did I—did I say something wrong? What's happening?" She reached helplessly, not knowing how to comfort.
---
Chen Rui's grin vanished. For once, the joker was serious. He moved quickly, stepping between Qing Yun and the curious stares, crouching low to shield her with his body.
He pulled out his phone, voice tight. "Boss. You need to come. Miss Lin's in the lobby—she's crying. She can't stop. Hurry."
The call ended, his free hand hovering uncertainly, as if wanting to touch Qing Yun's shoulder but afraid he might worsen her trembling. Yi Lan clung to her side, tears forming in her own eyes from fear and guilt.
Minutes stretched, heavy and unbearable.
Then the elevator chimed.
---
Gu Ze Yan stepped out.
The CEO's presence cut through the lobby like a blade—tall, sharp, commanding. The crowd instinctively parted, silent under the weight of his aura. But when his gaze found Qing Yun, crouched and trembling, all that steel melted into raw concern.
He strode forward, dropping to one knee before her. His large hand brushed her hair back from her damp cheeks, fingers gentle.
"Qing Yun," he murmured, voice low and aching. "What happened?"
She lifted her tear-streaked face, sobs shaking her words. "It won't stop… the tears… they won't stop…"
Ze Yan's heart clenched. He stroked her hair, his tone steady despite the storm inside him. "Then don't stop. Let them come."
Her sobs deepened, shaking her small frame. He leaned closer, his forehead almost touching hers. "Do you want to go home?"
She nodded desperately, unable to form words.
Ze Yan pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Then, with deliberate care, he gathered her into his arms, lifting her effortlessly against his chest.
His voice was soft, but it carried through the silent lobby: "Let's go home."
No one dared move. Colleagues watched, stunned—not just because Lin Qing Yun had broken down, but because their unyielding CEO carried her away as if she were already his world, label or not.
As the elevator doors closed behind them, Qing Yun buried her face against his shoulder, her tears soaking into his shirt. His arms only tightened, carrying her away from the stares, from the noise, from the weight she could no longer hold alone.
And for the first time in twenty years, Lin Qing Yun allowed herself to break—because she was no longer breaking alone.