The morning light streamed through the bedroom window, soft and pale, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions that had raged the night before. Mei Lian woke up in her own room, the memory of Gu Yichen's touch on her wrist, and his quiet "thank you," a vivid and unsettling echo. She couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, a small, fragile change she didn't know how to handle.
She went to the dining room for breakfast, bracing herself for the usual silence. The long, polished table was set for one. But as she sat down, the door to the dining room opened, and Gu Yichen walked in. Her breath hitched. He had never joined her for breakfast, always leaving before dawn.
He looked different. The usual cold, impenetrable mask was gone, replaced by a kind of awkward stiffness. He wasn't meeting her eyes, his gaze fixed on the floor as he took the seat at the opposite end of the long table. The distance between them felt like a chasm. He didn't speak, but his presence was a loud, startling noise in the quiet room.
A maid brought out their food. Mei Lian ate her breakfast slowly, the food tasting like ash in her mouth. She felt his eyes on her, a weight she was not used to. Finally, unable to bear the silence, she placed her fork down and looked up at him.
"You're not usually here for breakfast," she said, her voice flat, almost an accusation.
He flinched, as if the sound of her voice had jolted him from a deep thought. He cleared his throat. "I have a meeting," he said, his voice low. "It was... delayed."
The lie was obvious, and a part of her felt a flash of angry satisfaction. But then he lifted his head, and their eyes met. His were no longer cold. They were filled with a raw, difficult vulnerability.
"About last night," he began, his voice a low rumble. He stopped, struggling for words. The powerful, commanding CEO was suddenly just a man who didn't know how to apologize. "I... the noodles. They were good. Thank you."
The gratitude was genuine. It was so unexpected, so completely out of character, that Mei Lian was stunned into silence. He didn't just say thank you; he acknowledged the noodles, the simple, small act of kindness she had given him. He was recognizing her not as a stand-in, but as the person who had cooked for him.
He was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on her. The silence this time was not empty. It was filled with all the things he couldn't say. He wanted to apologize for his cruelty, for his thoughtless words, for the night he had come home drunk. He wanted to explain the depth of his grief and how he had used her as a way to cope. He wanted to tell her that for the first time in a long time, he felt something other than sorrow. But the words were still trapped behind a wall of pride and a lifetime of emotional distance.
He finally broke the silence. "Is there... anything I can do?" he asked, the question a clumsy, but sincere, attempt to make amends.
Mei Lian stared at him, a sudden wave of emotion washing over her. She could ask for a thousand things. She could ask for an apology, for him to acknowledge her pain, to let her leave. But in that moment, all she saw was a man who was just as broken as she was. "Just... finish your breakfast," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
He nodded, a flicker of relief in his eyes. The rest of the meal was quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet. It was the silence of two people who had just taken a very small, very tentative step toward each other. The ice was not completely broken, but a small, fragile crack had appeared, a new path waiting to be explored. But what they didn't know was that a vengeful rival, furious at their newfound connection, was watching from the shadows, ready to destroy everything.
No he was still cold
He offered her a position in his company a
How's that ?
That's a fantastic idea. It fits his character and the business-first nature of their marriage much better. It's a way for him to acknowledge her without being emotionally vulnerable.
I'll rewrite Part 7 to reflect this new direction.
Part 7: A Position of Power
The morning light streamed through the bedroom window, soft and pale. Mei Lian woke up in her own room, a vague, unsettling memory of the night before lingering. She tried to shake it off and went to the dining room for breakfast, bracing herself for the usual silence. The long, polished table was set for one, as always.
Just as she sat down, the door to the dining room opened, and Gu Yichen walked in. Her breath hitched. He had never joined her for breakfast, always leaving before dawn. She stiffened, wondering what had changed.
He didn't sit. Instead, he stood at the far end of the table, his demeanor as cold and impenetrable as ever. He was in a perfectly tailored suit, a silent, powerful presence. He didn't meet her eyes, his gaze fixed on the table's surface. He didn't speak a word, but his presence was a loud, startling noise in the quiet room.
A maid brought out her food. Mei Lian ate slowly, the food tasteless in her mouth. She could feel his eyes on her, a cold, analytical weight she was not used to. Finally, unable to bear the silence, she placed her fork down and looked up at him.
"You're not usually here for breakfast," she said, her voice flat, almost an accusation.
He finally looked at her, and his eyes were completely devoid of warmth. "I have something for you," he said, his voice low and formal, without a hint of emotion.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a thin, white envelope, placing it on the table between them. "It's an offer for a position in my company. It's a senior role in the design department."
Mei Lian stared at the envelope, her mind reeling. This wasn't a conversation about their marriage. It was a business transaction. "Why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"The public is watching," he said, his voice flat. "It would look good. And frankly, a woman of your education shouldn't be sitting at home all day. You'd be an asset. You will start next week."
He didn't wait for her to respond. He simply turned and walked away, leaving her with the thin envelope. The offer was a shock, a brutal reminder that she was a commodity, a piece of his life to be moved around for the sake of public perception and business. This wasn't a tentative beginning. It was a cold, calculated move.
She picked up the envelope, her fingers trembling. The offer was not a sign of warmth or affection. It was a chain, one more link in her gilded cage. And as she looked at the name of his company printed on the envelope, a chilling thought struck her: this was not a gift, but a weapon. A weapon that could be used against her, and maybe, just maybe, against her rival.