Chapter 10: The Boss And Her White Little Lotus
The cold in her voice melted when it reached Yu Zixue's ear, turning unexpectedly gentle, like water over stone. Yu Zixue leaned into her instinctively. Her little hands hovered for a moment, tangling in the fabric of Lin Qinglan's coat, sliding up and down as if searching for permission. Her breathing was uneven, cheeks flushed, lashes wet.
She smells so good… Yu Zixue's mind wandered absurdly for a half second. Why is she always this calm? Her heart swayed. Finally, she surrendered fully.
Her arms wrapped around Lin Qinglan's slender waist, tightening slowly at first, then more confidently. She pressed her face against Lin Qinglan's shoulder, long lashes brushing the delicate skin at her collarbone. Light, almost accidental contact — but it sent a faint shiver through Lin Qinglan's spine.
Yu Zixue glanced at Yao Yinuo one last time, her gaze fragile, wounded, almost heartbreaking. Then she turned inward, hugging Lin Qinglan tighter. What's so good about a stinky man? she thought irritably. Still girly, still delicious. The thought made her cling just a little harder.
From his position, Yao Yinuo stood alone, bouquet bright and unnecessary in his hands. The vivid red petals looked almost ridiculous now — against the quiet intimacy unfolding in front of him. Something in his chest ached. This wasn't how it usually went.
Du Ruxue was supposed to soften when she saw him. She was supposed to hesitate, to waver. Instead, she was wrapped around Lin Qinglan like ivy around a pillar.
There seemed to be something wrong.
Yao Yinuo's voice dropped, low and careful. "Ruxue."
Yu Zixue stiffened almost imperceptibly, a tremor of surprise, but she didn't pull away.
Lin Qinglan felt it immediately.
Her arm around Yu Zixue's shoulders gripped just slightly. Protective. Possessive. Controlled.
Yu Zixue didn't look up. She pressed herself closer, her face barely brushing against Lin Qinglan's collarbone.
She spoke softly, words muffled against the warmth of her coat. "Brother Yinuo… I'm tired."
Her words were simple. Fragile, almost childlike.
Yet her fingers gripped the back of Lin Qinglan's coat as if holding onto something solid in a storm.
Yao Yinuo took an involuntary step forward, instincts kicking in, but Lin Qinglan shifted subtly, placing herself half a step in front of Yu Zixue. Calm, deliberate. A barrier no one would breach.
"Master Yinuo," Lin Qinglan said evenly, voice smooth but unyielding, "Ruxue's condition isn't suitable for conversation."
Her eyes were steady. Sharp but not hostile. Firm, but not aggressive.
The tension in the room stretched taut, thin enough to feel like a cord across one's chest.
Yu Zixue inhaled slowly, her nose brushing lightly against the fabric at Lin Qinglan's shoulder. She could feel the steady beat of Lin Qinglan's heart beneath her cheek — strong, reassuring. Safe, somehow.
Why does this feel… safe? she thought.
Her arms instinctively tightened against Lin Qinglan's side, as if the embrace itself could shield her from everything outside.
Lin Qinglan lowered her head slightly, letting her lips hover near Yu Zixue's ear. "Can you stand?" she murmured, soft, measured, voice so close it tickled her senses.
Yu Zixue's breath caught. A delicate warmth spread through her chest.
Her ear tingled where Lin Qinglan's breath ghosted over it.
"I can," she whispered back, but she didn't let go. Not immediately. The lingering closeness was a silent challenge, a subtle claim.
The pause, the quiet intimacy, made something flicker behind Yao Yinuo's eyes — a brief, unguarded moment of understanding he couldn't fully place.
"Qinglan," he said carefully, his voice steady but cautious, "this is between me and Ruxue."
Lin Qinglan's lips curved faintly, almost amused. "Is it?" she replied. Calm, unshaken, unreadable.
Yu Zixue felt it — the subtle edge beneath the composure, the silent warning threaded through Lin Qinglan's tone. And suddenly, she wanted to laugh.
Instead, she sniffed softly, leaning shamelessly into Lin Qinglan's side, letting her weight rest there with deliberate innocence.
"I feel dizzy," she murmured faintly, letting her words ride on the soft warmth of their closeness.
Lin Qinglan glanced down at her. Yu Zixue's eyes were still red, lashes damp, lips slightly parted. Pitiful, yet defiant. Anyone else might have softened.
But Lin Qinglan knew better. She felt the deliberate weight, the careful, controlled closeness. And yet — she didn't push her away.
Instead, she adjusted her hold, one hand sliding to support Yu Zixue's waist firmly. Her palm pressed warm, steady, reassuring.
Yu Zixue's breath hitched again. She could feel it — Lin Qinglan really was holding her. Not loosely, not just a brush of contact, but with intention. With focus.
Yao Yinuo exhaled slowly. The bouquet of roses in his hand suddenly seemed heavier. He couldn't move without feeling the weight of the intimacy unfolding in front of him.
"I didn't come to cause trouble," he said quietly, voice measured. "I just wanted to check on you and her."
Yu Zixue lifted her face slightly, eyes glimmering faintly through wet lashes, still tucked against Lin Qinglan's shoulder. Her voice was small, polite. "Thank you, Brother Yinuo."
Distant. Controlled.
Lin Qinglan's gaze flickered toward her for a brief moment. Something unreadable passed between them.
Yao Yinuo studied the pair — the way Yu Zixue instinctively leaned in, the way Lin Qinglan's hand rested securely at her waist, fingers flexing slightly over fabric, warm and firm. It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't loud. But it was intimate, deliberate intimacy that spoke louder than words.
"There seems to be something wrong," he murmured under his breath.
Lin Qinglan heard it. Her fingers flexed once at Yu Zixue's waist before relaxing.
"Master Yinuo," she said, calm and measured, "please take care." The dismissal was clear, undeniable.
Yu Zixue peeked sideways through her lashes, watching Yao Yinuo's expression shift — confusion, pride, hesitation — and finally, resignation.
He placed the bouquet gently on the table. "Rest well," he said, then left.
The door clicked shut. Silence washed over the room.
For a few seconds, neither moved. Yu Zixue held Lin Qinglan tightly; Lin Qinglan continued supporting her waist. Their breathing gradually slowed, synchronizing in an unspoken rhythm.
"Are you done acting?" Lin Qinglan asked quietly, voice low, teasing in its softness.
Yu Zixue blinked. Then she laughed softly, the sound muffled against Lin Qinglan's shoulder. "I wasn't acting entirely," she admitted, voice playful but still weighted with lingering charm.
Lin Qinglan arched an eyebrow, sharp and curious. "Oh?"
Yu Zixue pulled back just enough to look up at her. Up close, Lin Qinglan's features were striking — elegant, composed, framed by the dark fabric of her coat. Loose strands of hair brushed against her cheek, catching the light subtly.
Yu Zixue swallowed. "You looked… very handsome just now," she admitted, unabashed, eyes wide, voice soft.
Lin Qinglan's fingers tightened faintly at her waist, a subtle reminder of control.
"Handsome?" she echoed, measured.
Yu Zixue nodded earnestly. "Very."
A beat passed. Then Lin Qinglan exhaled lightly, a corner of her lips twitching in amusement despite the calm of her expression.
"Stand properly," she said.
Yu Zixue didn't. Instead, she leaned back in again, cheek brushing Lin Qinglan's collarbone deliberately. "You held me first," she argued softly, playful defiance in her tone.
Lin Qinglan looked down at her. Her gaze softened, just slightly, a subtle shift Yu Zixue noticed and treasured.