The white walls of the hospital gradually became tiresome to look at. Outside the window, the changing seasons shifted from dense green to pale gold, and the air began to carry the dry, slightly cool breath unique to early autumn.
According to the doctors, Yan Hanxie's body had already reached the standard of "clinical recovery." She could be discharged and transition to recuperating at home with regular follow-up visits.
The weather on the day of discharge was exceptionally good. The sky was a clear deep blue, and the sunlight was bright but not scorching.
Zong Yi had arranged everything in advance—the car, the route, even ventilation and basic cleaning in Yan Hanxie's long-uninhabited apartment.
She stood at the door of the hospital room, watching as the nurse performed the final check of Yan Hanxie's indicators, removed the IV needle, and applied the last piece of tape.
Yan Hanxie changed out of the hospital clothes she had worn for several months and back into her own clothes.
A soft off-white cashmere cardigan, with a high-neck base layer of the same color underneath, and well-tailored smoke-gray casual trousers.
The clothes had been newly purchased by Zong Yi according to her current size—appropriately loose, perfectly concealing the thinness left by illness while giving her a calm and elegant temperament.
Her long hair was no longer meticulously tied up as before. It simply fell loosely behind her shoulders, the ends slightly curled, making her look casual and… soft.
Zong Yi's gaze lingered on her for a moment before quickly moving away. Yet in some corner of her heart, it felt as if a feather had lightly brushed against it, stirring an unusual flutter.
This version of Yan Hanxie was unfamiliar, yet… strangely attractive.
After completing the discharge procedures, the nurse and doctor gave the usual instructions.
Yan Hanxie listened quietly, occasionally nodding, though her gaze drifted from time to time toward Zong Yi, who stood nearby appearing attentive but somewhat distracted.
Only after they sat in the car and drove away from the hospital, merging into the city traffic, did the sense of frozen time—once surrounded by the smell of disinfectant and the sounds of machines—finally fade, replaced by the moving street scenery and real urban noise outside the window.
For a moment, the car was silent.
Zong Yi focused on driving, while Yan Hanxie turned her head to watch the scenery flashing past the window. Her gaze was somewhat distant, as if she were reacquainting herself with a world she had been away from for several months—both familiar and strange.
The car drove into the underground parking garage of the high-end residential complex where Yan Hanxie's apartment was located.
After parking, Zong Yi got out, walked around to the other side, and opened the door.
Yan Hanxie held the door frame and slowly stepped out, standing steady afterward.
Months of lying in bed and rehabilitation had restored much of her leg strength, but walking a distance independently was still tiring.
Zong Yi naturally extended her arm for support.
Yan Hanxie did not refuse. Her fingers lightly rested on Zong Yi's forearm, borrowing her support as they slowly walked toward the elevator.
The elevator rose upward. In the narrow space there were only the two of them. The mirrored wall reflected their figures standing side by side.
Yan Hanxie's gaze slid from Zong Yi's expressionless profile in the mirror and fell on the arm she was holding.
Through the thin fabric of the shirt she could clearly feel the firmness and warmth of the muscles beneath.
Her fingertips moved slightly, almost imperceptibly, as if casually tracing lightly across Zong Yi's forearm.
Zong Yi's body instantly stiffened, the fingers resting on the elevator button curling slightly.
She did not dare turn her head or look into the mirror. She stared straight ahead at the changing floor numbers, though the tips of her ears uncontrollably began to heat.
Yan Hanxie noticed every reaction. The corner of her lips curved faintly before smoothing out again.
The elevator dinged.
Zong Yi stepped out almost immediately, moving so quickly that the hand resting on her arm slipped slightly.
Yan Hanxie did not get annoyed. Instead, using that tiny stumble as an excuse, she grasped Zong Yi's arm more tightly, almost leaning half of her body weight against her.
"Careful," Zong Yi said softly. Her tone carried a trace of tension, yet her arm instinctively tightened, steadily supporting her.
Yan Hanxie said nothing. She simply leaned a little closer against her. The two of them almost walked together leaning against each other until they reached the apartment door.
The fingerprint lock recognized the print and the door opened.
The smell of a place long unoccupied rushed out, mixed with the faint scent of cleaning agent left behind by the staff Zong Yi had arranged earlier.
Sunlight poured through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, lighting the interior brightly yet leaving it somewhat empty. Furniture was covered with dust sheets, giving the space a slightly cold feeling.
Zong Yi helped Yan Hanxie sit down on the sofa in the living room. Then she began efficiently removing the dust covers, opening windows for ventilation, and checking the water, electricity, and gas.
Her movements were skilled, as if she had long treated this place as another workspace. Yet when her fingertips occasionally brushed the edges of furniture, a faint hesitation could be seen.
Yan Hanxie sat there quietly, watching her busy figure.
Watching the slight tension in her shirt when she bent or raised her arms.
Watching the eyes that always tried to avoid direct contact whenever she turned around to ask if the air conditioner temperature needed adjustment.
A strange, warm sense of satisfaction slowly rose in Yan Hanxie's chest.
This was no longer the hospital.
There were no nurses who could walk in at any time, no pungent disinfectant, no cold machines.
This was her territory.
And Zong Yi was busy inside her territory, for her.
This realization made the beast named "possession," suppressed for so long in her heart, release a pleased low growl.
She had always wanted to be close with her wife.
Although… her wife was not truly her wife.
At least, not yet.
But what did it matter?
The person was already inside her territory, wasn't she?
After finishing a round of tasks, fine sweat appeared on Zong Yi's forehead. She walked up to Yan Hanxie and spoke in a professional tone.
"President Yan, the basic checks are done. Water, electricity, and gas are normal. The windows have been ventilated for half an hour. Your regular medication and the materials for your follow-up appointments are on the bedside table in the master bedroom. The refrigerator has some semi-prepared ingredients that are easy to cook. There's emergency instant porridge and milk as well. Here are the contact numbers for property management and housekeeping, along with a list of precautions I organized."
She handed over a folder with neatly categorized contents.
Yan Hanxie did not take it. She simply looked up at her calmly.
"Do you have plans tonight?"
Zong Yi froze for a moment, clearly not expecting the question. "…No urgent matters for now."
"Then stay for dinner."
Yan Hanxie's tone was not a question but a statement.
She leaned back slightly, sinking deeper into the soft sofa, yet her gaze remained fixed on Zong Yi.
"You know the things in the refrigerator better."
"This…" Zong Yi hesitated. "You just got discharged and need rest. I shouldn't disturb—"
"Eating alone kills my appetite," Yan Hanxie interrupted. The reason was simple and direct, even carrying a trace of post-illness stubbornness. "The soup you make is better than the hospital's."
Zong Yi fell silent.
She looked at Yan Hanxie's slightly tired yet unusually stubborn gaze. The words of refusal turned several times in her throat but ultimately could not come out.
The habit of almost instinctive "accommodation" formed day after day in the hospital seemed to have followed them here.
"Then… I'll go prepare it."
She finally compromised and turned toward the kitchen, her back carrying a sense of resigned helplessness.
Yan Hanxie watched her disappear behind the kitchen door.
At last, a clear, triumphant smile appeared at the corner of her lips.
Soon faint sounds of washing, chopping, and cooking came from the kitchen.
Yan Hanxie did not get up. She simply changed into a more comfortable position, lying on her side on the sofa. Her gaze rested on the warm yellow light shining through the crack of the kitchen door, while the aroma of cooking food gradually drifted to her nose.
It was a long-lost scent—the warm and steady smell of a "home."
It was brought by Zong Yi.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling that her apartment, which had been empty, cold, and lonely for months, was gradually being filled and warmed because of this woman's presence.
Dinner was very simple.
Plain porridge, several light side dishes, and a bowl of chicken soup that Zong Yi had specially simmered using the ingredients she brought, with the oil carefully skimmed away.
The two of them sat facing each other at the long dining table. The sunlight had already turned into sunset, casting a soft golden glow over the room.
They ate in silence.
Only the faint sound of chopsticks touching bowls could be heard.
Yan Hanxie ate slowly, but seriously.
Zong Yi's cooking was not particularly impressive, but it was careful and clean.
She noticed that Yan Hanxie drank an extra small bowl of porridge, and the expression between her brows seemed to relax a little.
By the time the dishes were washed, the sky had completely darkened.
The brilliant city lights shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting colorful reflections inside the room.
Zong Yi checked the time and prepared to leave.
"President Yan, if there's nothing else, I'll—"
"Sit with me for a while."
Yan Hanxie interrupted her again. She had already stood up and slowly walked toward the sofa in the living room, patting the seat beside her.
"Right after eating, it's not good to move around immediately."
The reason sounded perfectly reasonable.
Zong Yi stood at the boundary between the dining room and the living room. She looked at Yan Hanxie sitting on the sofa, her head turned toward the night scenery outside the window. In the shifting light and shadow, her profile looked calm and… lonely.
Once again, the words of refusal stuck in her throat.
In the end, she still walked over and sat down on the other end of the sofa, leaving a clear space between them—wide enough for another person to sit.
Yan Hanxie did not seem to care about the distance. She simply picked up the remote control, turned on the television, and lowered the volume until it became background white noise.
Then she adjusted her posture, leaning comfortably against the sofa armrest, her gaze returning to the window as if she truly only needed someone to "sit with" her.
Time passed quietly in the living room.
The television played insignificant late-night news, its flickering light shifting silently across their faces.
At first Zong Yi sat upright, feeling extremely uncomfortable.
But perhaps because of her recent exhaustion, or perhaps because the room was too quiet and comfortable, her tense nerves gradually relaxed.
She secretly glanced at Yan Hanxie. The other woman seemed to have closed her eyes to rest, breathing steadily.
Sleepiness quietly crept in.
Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
After some time, Zong Yi vaguely felt her body tilt. Her head seemed to rest against something soft and warm.
A faint scent lingered near her nose—a cool fragrance left after the medicinal smell had faded, mixed with the clean scent of fabric dried in sunlight.
It was very comfortable.
She subconsciously rubbed against it slightly, wanting to sleep more deeply.
Then she suddenly woke up.
Opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was the soft texture of Yan Hanxie's cashmere cardigan right in front of her.
Her own head was resting in the hollow of Yan Hanxie's shoulder, and almost her entire upper body was leaning against her.
Zong Yi was so startled that her soul nearly flew away. She jumped upright suddenly, nearly rolling off the sofa from the force of the movement.
"S-sorry! President Yan, I…" She stammered incoherently. Her face instantly turned bright red, and she had no idea where to put her hands or feet.
Yan Hanxie seemed to have been awakened as well. She slowly opened her eyes. At first they were slightly unfocused, but soon clarity returned.
She raised her hand and rubbed the shoulder Zong Yi had been leaning on, as if it were a bit stiff. Her tone was calm, with no obvious emotion.
"Fell asleep?"
"Yes… by accident…" Zong Yi wished she could disappear into the ground.
"Mm."
Yan Hanxie responded briefly and said nothing more. She simply leaned back into the sofa again, her gaze returning to the window as if that intimate contact just now had been nothing more than an insignificant little incident.
But Zong Yi clearly noticed that under the reflection of the neon lights outside the window, Yan Hanxie's ear seemed to carry a very faint hint of redness.
It was not her imagination.
Realizing this made Zong Yi's already chaotic heartbeat grow even more irregular.
The air in the living room seemed to become thick and ambiguous because of that overly intimate accidental closeness—silent, yet full of tension.
Yan Hanxie's hand resting beside her curled slightly at the fingertips.
It touched.
Even though it was only an accident.
….It felt good.
She thought about it as the beast in her heart yawned in satisfaction.
The road to pursuing her wife was long, but at least tonight, the prey had leaned into her arms on her own.
Even if… it might have only been an accident.
But it did not matter.
She would create more "accidents."
Until those accidents became a habit, became inevitable, became… an everyday life where they could never be separated again.
—
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