Late September sunlight spilled into the restoration lab, glinting off rows of porcelain fragments and delicate brushes. Qing Yun sat with her sleeves neatly rolled, a small porcelain bowl in front of her. Its body bore a jagged crack, carefully aligned with temporary supports.
Her fingers moved steadily, a brush dipped in adhesive tracing the fracture line. Her movements were precise, neither hurried nor hesitant. Around her, other students worked with varying degrees of success—some frustrated, some careless—but Qing Yun's calm steadiness drew quiet attention.
"Very good," the professor remarked, leaning over her shoulder. "Your control is excellent. Patience like this is rare. Keep it."
Murmurs rippled among her classmates. The lively girl seated two benches away whispered, "See? I told you she's amazing," before nudging the quiet boy beside her, who only nodded in silent agreement.
Qing Yun simply inclined her head, expression composed. Praise was encouraging, but she knew this was only the beginning.
---
By afternoon, the exercise was complete. The lively girl tugged Qing Yun's sleeve with a bright smile. "Come with us for coffee! There's a new bookstore café near Yuelan—quiet, but really pretty."
Qing Yun hesitated, instinct urging her to decline. Yet the girl's sincerity softened her refusal. She gave a small nod. "Alright."
So she found herself in the company of three classmates, seated at a sunlit café table lined with stacks of poetry books. The lively girl chattered endlessly about dorm life, the quiet boy offered occasional thoughtful comments, and Qing Yun listened. She didn't speak much, but her attentive presence made the others include her naturally.
Later, walking back to Cloudpeak, she realized she was smiling faintly. Not a mask, not an effort—just a small ease that had crept in without notice.
---
While Qing Yun's days unfolded gently, Liangcheng moved at a different pace.
At Luminar HQ, the atmosphere was sharp with preparation for the upcoming Atlas launch. Ze Yan sat at the head of the conference table, reviewing reports with his executives. His eyes scanned the documents, his mind focused, but his hand drifted occasionally to his phone on the table.
Chen Rui noticed, though he said nothing. He simply set a fresh cup of coffee beside his boss, murmuring, "Your flight to Guangjing is already arranged for the holiday week."
Ze Yan's gaze flicked up briefly. A soft, almost imperceptible "En" was his only reply.
---
That afternoon, Luminar's lobby stirred with the arrival of a visitor.
Jiang Yi Rong stepped out of a sleek car, heels clicking against the polished marble floor. She wore a tailored suit of deep sapphire, her hair glossy against the sharp lines of her jaw. Behind her, two assistants carried slim portfolios, their expressions carefully neutral.
The receptionist greeted her respectfully. Moments later, she was escorted upstairs to the boardroom.
When Ze Yan entered, his expression didn't flicker. "Ms. Jiang," he said evenly.
"Director Gu," she returned with a slow smile. Her eyes lingered on him a fraction longer than courtesy required.
The meeting proceeded as business demanded. Jiang Yi Rong's team presented investment interest in Luminar Atlas, questions sharp, proposals polished. Throughout, her composure was flawless, her tone measured. Yet beneath the professionalism, her attention rested on Ze Yan with a weight that could not be mistaken.
When the discussion concluded, the others began packing their notes. Jiang Yi Rong moved more slowly, deliberately.
As they left the boardroom, she adjusted her pace so Ze Yan would walk beside her. The corridor stretched wide and quiet, afternoon light slanting through tall windows.
"You've become exactly the man I knew you would," she said smoothly, her voice pitched for him alone. "Serious. Sharp. Untouchable."
His gaze remained forward. "You came for business. Let's keep it that way."
Her smile curved faintly. "Business, yes. But don't dismiss the truth when it's standing right in front of you."
She leaned in slightly, not invading but commanding space with her presence. A trace of perfume lingered between them, cool and faintly floral.
"You're the kind of man no woman forgets," she continued. "Do you think I have?"
Ze Yan stopped, his tone clipped. "That time is gone, Jiang Yi Rong. There's nothing left."
But she only looked up at him, steady, unflinching. "We'll see." Her heels echoed against marble as she walked away, leaving the air behind her faintly charged.
Chen Rui, waiting discreetly near the elevator, glanced at Ze Yan's expression. The frost in his boss's eyes told him enough.
---
That night, two cities glowed under the same sky.
In Guangjing, Qing Yun sat on her balcony, a cup of jasmine tea warming her hands. The hum of Yuelan's nightlife drifted faintly from the streets below, but here it was quiet. She set her cup down when her phone buzzed.
Ze Yan's name filled the screen.
She answered, and his face appeared—dim light behind him, his tie loosened, fatigue etched around his eyes. Yet the moment he saw her, his features softened.
"How was class?" he asked.
Qing Yun leaned against the railing, her tone calm. "We worked on porcelain. My professor said I was steady."
A flicker of pride crossed his expression. "Good."
She hesitated. "I went to a café with classmates today. It was… pleasant."
His lips curved faintly, the kind of smile reserved only for her. "I want to see it myself next time."
Silence stretched, but it wasn't empty. She watched him through the screen, and he, her. The world outside—Atlas launches, business proposals, Jiang Yi Rong's lingering shadow—faded into irrelevance.
For a while, they spoke of nothing. When words ran out, they simply listened to each other's quiet breaths until drowsiness pulled her eyelids down.
In Liangcheng, Ze Yan remained awake, phone still in his hand. On the other side of the city, Jiang Yi Rong sipped wine in her suite, her eyes cool and calculating, her resolve sharpening.
The game had begun.