Morning sunlight spilled across the old wooden floorboards of Jiù Mèng Xuān. The familiar smell of sandalwood and aged paper lingered in the air. Dust motes floated through shafts of light that fell from the high windows, catching on the edges of brushes and porcelain fragments laid neatly on the worktable.
Qing Yun stood at the threshold, unwilling for a moment to break the stillness.
Master Shen Huai Zhen looked up from his work. His white brows arched slightly when he saw her, but his eyes softened into a smile. "So, little Lin, you've come to say goodbye."
Qing Yun stepped forward and bowed deeply. "I leave for Guangjing tomorrow."
Master Shen put aside the porcelain he had been studying. His hands, though wrinkled with age, were steady as ever. "I heard. The course you've chosen is good. Their training is strict, but for someone with your patience, it will suit you well."
Qing Yun lifted her head, her voice calm but earnest. "Thank you, Master Shen. Without you, I wouldn't have discovered this path."
He chuckled lightly, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. "Paths are not shown, they're walked. You had the heart for it long before you walked into my studio."
Pouring her a cup of tea, he gestured for her to sit. "But listen carefully, Qing Yun. Study well. Don't rush to prove yourself. Learn slowly, carefully. Restoration isn't a competition—it is devotion."
She nodded. "I understand."
He regarded her for a long moment, then said, "And when you return, if you're still willing, I'll be happy to accept you formally as my apprentice."
Her chest tightened. Rational as she was, the promise touched her in a place she didn't know was aching. For years, she had lived without direction, her days spent carrying burdens for others. Now, for the first time, she had a promise of a future that was her own.
"Thank you, Master Shen," she whispered, bowing again.
"Go on, then," he said, waving his hand with a smile. "The world won't wait forever. But don't forget, old Shen is here. Whenever you need guidance, you can come back."
---
When Qing Yun returned to the mansion, the staff were gathered discreetly in the foyer. They didn't speak much—just respectful bows, small smiles, the kind of quiet acknowledgment that made her heart feel heavier than words could.
Yi Lan came running in a flurry, her arms looping around Qing Yun's. "Jiejie, are you really leaving? Less than ten days! That's so fast!"
Qing Yun smoothed her sleeve gently. "I'll be back. It's only a short course."
"But still!" Yi Lan pouted, eyes already glistening. Then her gaze dropped, catching the glint on Qing Yun's hand again. She squealed for what felt like the hundredth time. "And you're leaving right after saying yes to Director Gu? How cruel!"
Qing Yun shook her head, helpless. "It's not like that."
Yi Lan clung tighter, voice softening. "Fine. But you have to promise me video calls too. Not just him."
"Alright," Qing Yun agreed quietly.
Behind them, Ze Yan appeared, coat draped over his arm. His expression was calm, but the weight in his gaze never left Qing Yun.
---
The car ride to Guangjing was long, the scenery rolling past in a blur of late-summer greens.
Ze Yan sat beside her in the backseat, his hand loosely clasped around hers. He didn't speak much, but the warmth of his palm anchored her. She leaned against the glass, watching mountains give way to the sprawl of city outskirts.
When they finally reached Yuelan District, dusk had begun to settle. Neon signs flickered to life along the streets—bars, cafés, galleries—and the sidewalks buzzed with people. Yet, tucked away from the noise, Cloudpeak Residences rose sleek and serene, its glass walls reflecting the fading sky.
They entered through a private lobby, staff bowing respectfully as Ze Yan led her to the elevator.
The doors opened onto the top floor.
Her penthouse was pristine—floor-to-ceiling windows, minimalist furnishings, shelves already stocked with books she recognized, a vase of fresh lilies set neatly on the table. It felt prepared, lived-in, though she had never stepped foot here before.
Qing Yun walked slowly through each room, her fingers brushing the smooth surfaces, the carefully arranged details. Every corner bore his touch—arrangements made long before she had agreed to come.
From the balcony, the city spread out like a sea of stars.
Behind her, Ze Yan stood silently, watching her. There was something almost pained in his gaze, as though he were memorizing her silhouette against the lights.
---
Dinner was simple: steamed fish, vegetables, soup. They ate at the small dining table, their conversation sparse but steady.
"Everything you need is here," Ze Yan said, setting down his chopsticks. "Driver, housekeeper, security. If you want something else, tell me. Don't wait."
Qing Yun nodded, calm as ever. "I'll manage. It's only a few months."
His jaw tightened faintly, but he said nothing.
Later, as night deepened, she stepped out of the shower in a simple robe, hair damp against her shoulders. Ze Yan was already seated on the edge of the bed, his gaze lifting to her with quiet intensity.
She slipped beneath the quilt, the scent of fresh linen mingling with the faint cedar that always clung to him.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then he shifted closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"For this week," he murmured, voice low and steady, "you're mine. After that… we'll count the days."
Her eyes closed, her rational calm steady even now. "It will pass quickly."
He held her tighter in answer, his silence heavy with all the words he still couldn't bring himself to say.