That single "okay" was like the first stone of spring dropped into a frozen lake. Ripples spread lightly across the surface, but underneath the frozen ice began to crack with fine, dense sounds.
After that Christmas Eve agreement, something became completely different.
On Christmas Day, Zong Yi arrived at the villa in the afternoon as promised.
There was no grand celebration, no noisy crowd—only the two of them in one room, warm lights, soft music, and a dinner personally cooked by Yan Hanxie (although the process was still somewhat clumsy, it was far more practiced than before), with Zong Yi assisting.
It was not a lavish meal, but it was full of sincerity.
After dinner, they casually chose an old movie. The plot was already familiar; what they watched was the quiet of sitting side by side, sharing the same blanket.
At some point Yan Hanxie's shoulder gently pressed against Zong Yi's.
Her body warmth passed through the thin fabric of their clothes.
Zong Yi's body was slightly stiff at first, but later gradually relaxed. At a calm turning point in the movie, exhausted from many days of work, she actually leaned against Yan Hanxie's shoulder and fell asleep in a daze.
When she woke up, the movie was nearly over and the ending song flowed softly.
She realized the dark gray cashmere blanket was covering her body. Her head was still resting on Yan Hanxie's shoulder, and Yan Hanxie had not changed her posture, only tilting her head slightly to look at her. In the shifting light from the screen, her gaze was unbelievably gentle.
"You're awake?" Yan Hanxie asked softly, moving her somewhat stiff shoulder.
Zong Yi quickly sat up straight, her cheeks slightly warm. "…Sorry."
"It's fine." Yan Hanxie stretched her arm. Naturally, when that arm fell again, she did not withdraw it to her side. Instead it rested lightly on the back of the sofa behind Zong Yi, forming an almost embracing posture.
"If you're tired, rest early. The guest room is always ready."
"I…" Zong Yi wanted to say she should go back, but looking at Yan Hanxie's calmly waiting gaze and the warmth and peace in the room that made her reluctant to leave, the words stuck in her throat.
Once again, she stayed the night.
After the first time came the second, the third… holidays, late nights after overtime, even just ordinary evenings after a tiring workday.
Gradually there was no longer a need for reasons. It was as if she naturally should have a place here, and Yan Hanxie naturally reserved everything for her.
The traces belonging to Zong Yi in the villa expanded from a set of pajamas and a pair of slippers to skincare products on the dressing table, professional books and files piling higher in the study, and seasonal clothes in the walk-in closet gradually filling with items that matched her taste.
She no longer needed to carry any personal belongings. Everything here had already been prepared for her, and suited her preferences as if she had chosen it herself.
Yan Hanxie was like the most brilliant spatial designer and psychologist, using endless patience and meticulousness to create for her a cocoon so comfortable it was impossible to resist.
Zong Yi was inside it, moving from initial vigilance and discomfort to gradual habit, and later even beginning to feel a strange sense of belonging.
She still handled heavy work and was still the calm and decisive Director Zong.
But whenever she finished a tiring day and drove toward the suburban villa with its warm lights shining, that barren frozen ground in her heart would quietly loosen a little.
There was air at a comfortable temperature, food that suited her taste, relaxation without the need to hide her exhaustion, and… Yan Hanxie.
Yan Hanxie's presence itself had become a habit.
Her silence was no longer pressure, her gaze no longer scrutiny, and those seemingly casual touches and approaches no longer made Zong Yi feel as if she were facing a great enemy.
Between them formed a tacit understanding that required no words. A glance or a movement was enough to know what the other needed.
Days slipped toward the end of the year amid calmness and hidden currents.
In the last week before the Spring Festival, the company entered the final stage. Various annual meetings, summaries, and social obligations came one after another.
Zong Yi was so busy she was dizzy. After several days of continuous work, she was finally knocked down at a late-night social banquet by several unavoidable toasts of alcohol.
Her alcohol tolerance was actually quite good, but several days of exhaustion plus an empty stomach still made her steps unsteady when she left, her head heavy and her feet light.
She refused her colleagues' offer to take her home. Instead she called for a designated driver herself, and the address she reported, almost subconsciously, was the villa.
By the time she arrived, it was already past midnight.
The lights on the first floor of the villa were still on.
She staggered out of the car, entered the password, pushed the door open, and warmth mixed with the faint scent of calming aromatherapy washed over her.
Yan Hanxie had not gone to sleep yet. Wearing pajamas with a cardigan draped over them, she was sitting on the living room sofa reading a book.
Hearing the movement, she looked up. When she saw Zong Yi's flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes, her brows knit almost imperceptibly.
"You drank?" She set down the book and walked over.
"Mm… a little." Zong Yi leaned against the wall by the entrance, trying to steady herself, but her body swayed uncontrollably.
Yan Hanxie immediately reached out to support her.
The arm she touched was burning hot, and her breath carried a strong smell of alcohol.
She did not ask any more questions. She simply half-supported, half-embraced her and brought her into the living room, pressing her down onto the sofa to sit.
"Sit still," she instructed, then turned toward the kitchen.
Zong Yi collapsed into the soft sofa. Her head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton, buzzing, and her vision was somewhat blurred.
She watched Yan Hanxie's back as she moved about in the kitchen. The warm yellow light outlined her tall, slender figure (her height of 178 still looked upright even in home clothes). Her long hair hung loosely down her back as she moved efficiently—pouring water, slicing lemon, and finding honey.
After a while, Yan Hanxie returned with a cup of warm honey lemon water and sat down beside her.
"Drink," she said, bringing the cup to Zong Yi's lips.
Zong Yi drank more than half of it in small sips with her help.
The warm, slightly sweet liquid slid down her burning throat, bringing a bit of relief.
She leaned back against the sofa, half-closing her eyes. The alcohol relaxed her body, but it also lowered the defenses she usually kept.
Yan Hanxie placed the cup aside and looked at her face, flushed with an unnatural redness.
Because she was leaning back, Zong Yi's neck was completely exposed, its lines graceful. Under the light her skin glowed porcelain-white, tinged with a faint pink from the alcohol and the warmth of the room.
Her collar was slightly open, revealing a small patch of delicate collarbone.
Yan Hanxie's gaze lingered on that skin for a moment.
Then she reached out her hand—not to touch it, but to gently brush aside the damp strands of hair on Zong Yi's forehead with her slightly cool fingertips.
The sensation of her fingers brushing her skin made Zong Yi's body tremble lightly. She opened her eyes in a daze.
Their eyes met.
In the warm light, Yan Hanxie's eyes looked especially deep, like two dark pools clearly reflecting Zong Yi's current disheveled state and… complete lack of guard.
Complex emotions stirred there—concern, helplessness, and perhaps a trace of another kind of heat blurred by the scent of alcohol.
"Don't drink this much next time," Yan Hanxie said, her voice slightly hoarse. Her fingertip moved slowly along Zong Yi's temple to her burning cheek and lightly touched it. "The one who feels miserable is you."
The touch carried comfort, yet also an intimacy and possession that could not be ignored.
Zong Yi looked at Yan Hanxie, who was so close.
The alcohol blurred her reason but magnified her senses.
She could clearly smell the clean, cool fragrance on Yan Hanxie mixed with the scent of alcohol on herself. She could feel the cool touch of her fingertips and the gentle pressure lingering on her cheek. She could see the deep darkness in her eyes, as though it might draw her in.
The string in her heart that had always been tightly stretched snapped with a sound under the alcohol and this overly intimate atmosphere.
Suddenly she raised her hand—not to push her away, but to… grasp the hand resting on her cheek.
Her palm was burning hot and slightly damp with sweat, but she held it tightly, firmly.
Yan Hanxie seemed to freeze for a moment. Her gaze moved from their clasped hands to Zong Yi's dazed yet unusually bright eyes.
Zong Yi looked at her. The alcohol left her mind in chaos, yet it also released things that had long been suppressed.
She opened her mouth. Her voice was hoarse from dryness and drink, carrying an almost aggrieved murmur.
"…Yan Hanxie."
She called her by her full name.
Yan Hanxie's heart suddenly tightened.
"Mm?" she responded, her voice extremely soft, as though afraid to disturb something.
But Zong Yi did not continue. She only squeezed her hand firmly once more, then, as if all strength had been exhausted, tilted her head and leaned against Yan Hanxie's shoulder, closing her eyes.
Her breathing gradually became steady. She had fallen asleep just like that.
Yan Hanxie froze where she sat.
The weight and warmth on her shoulder, the hand tightly gripping her palm, the scent belonging to Zong Yi mixed with alcohol lingering at the tip of her nose… all of it felt so real and yet so unreal.
She lowered her head and looked at the person sleeping against her shoulder.
Zong Yi's eyelashes were long, casting a small shadow beneath her eyes. Because of the alcohol, her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly parted as she slept without any guard.
All her usual calmness, distance, and stubbornness had vanished. What remained was only the most instinctive, soft dependence.
Yan Hanxie looked at her for a long, long time.
Then she very carefully adjusted her posture so that Zong Yi could lean more comfortably.
Her other free hand slowly lifted, her fingertip hovering above Zong Yi's soft lips for a long while. In the end, it still did not fall.
She only lightly brushed the back of her fingers against her burning cheek.
Outside the window, the night was thick like ink.
Inside, the electronic flames in the fireplace flickered silently.
On the sofa, the two figures leaning against each other were gently wrapped in warm yellow light.
Yan Hanxie sat there just like that, letting Zong Yi lean on her, her hand tightly held, without moving.
Until the sky began to brighten.
The road of pursuing a wife seemed to have reached a subtle crossroads.
Under the catalyst of alcohol, the prey had taken the initiative to grab the hunter's hand and removed all her defenses.
And the hunter, after a long wait and careful approach step by step, had finally sheltered this proud yet fragile bird steadily beneath her wings.
Although it happened in a way she had never expected—almost like coquettish dependence.
But the result seemed… not bad.
The corner of Yan Hanxie's lips curved into a very faint but utterly genuine smile.
She tilted her head slightly and gently pressed her cheek against the top of Zong Yi's soft hair.
And remained like that until dawn.
—
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