After returning from the cemetery, it felt as though the final invisible shackle had been removed.
The plain band on her ring finger was no longer just cold metal—it carried the warmth of Yan Hanxie's fingertips and the sunlight of the cemetery, firmly encircling her finger, becoming a clear and sweet mark.
Even the air in the villa felt different.
There was no longer cautious probing, no more deliberately maintained distance.
Everything seemed to have been washed by that winter sunlight and those tears, revealing its most genuine texture.
Yan Hanxie began to grow accustomed, in the mornings, while Zong Yi was still freshening up, to gently wrapping her arms around her waist from behind, resting her chin in the crook of her shoulder, watching their intertwined reflection in the mirror.
At first, Zong Yi's body would stiffen slightly, but later she relaxed. Sometimes, while applying skincare, she would casually smear a bit of excess serum onto Yan Hanxie's cheek as she leaned close, earning a low chuckle and a tighter embrace in return.
She began to grow used to, while they worked separately in the study, looking up and meeting those calm, steady eyes across from her.
Sometimes, Yan Hanxie would be the first to set aside her documents, walk over, take the pen from Zong Yi's hand, and knead the stiff muscles at the back of her neck from long hours at the keyboard.
Sometimes, after finishing a difficult section, Zong Yi would look up to find that Yan Hanxie had already prepared two cups of coffee, pushing one toward her. The rising steam blurred their smiling eyes as they looked at each other.
The kitchen became the place they most often shared.
Yan Hanxie's cooking was still far from excellent, but that clumsy earnestness became the most moving sight in Zong Yi's eyes.
She would roll up her sleeves, stand beside Yan Hanxie, take over the unevenly chopped vegetables from her hands, her knife falling in clean, steady rhythms.
Yan Hanxie would assist from the side washing vegetables, handing over seasonings, or simply watching Zong Yi's focused profile, her gaze so gentle it seemed to drip with warmth.
The occasional clatter of utensils, the rising steam, the aroma of food blending with the clean, warm scent they both carried.
That string of sandalwood prayer beads, once discarded and later picked up again by Zong Yi, had at some point returned to Yan Hanxie's left wrist.
The dark brown beads rested against her pale wrist bone, and right beside them was the matching silver-gray plain band.
One wood, one metal; one old, one new. One carried past confusion and struggle, the other engraved with present certainty and hope. Strangely, they coexisted in harmony, lightly colliding with the movement of her wrist, producing a soft and peaceful sound.
Sometimes, Zong Yi would stare at the beads and the ring, lost in thought—thinking of their origins and journey, of the complexity in Yan Hanxie's eyes when she said "it's fine to wear them," of how she felt when she restrung them.
Now, they had both returned to their original owner, witnessing the beginning of a relationship in another way.
Yan Hanxie seemed to notice her gaze. Occasionally, she would raise her wrist, brush her fingers over the beads, then lightly tap the ring, before looking at Zong Yi with a knowing smile and a hint of hidden relief.
Relief that the beads had not truly been lost to the dust, relief that in the end, they had guided her back to this person.
On a weekend afternoon, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warming the living room.
Zong Yi curled up on the sofa reading, covered with a dark gray cashmere blanket.
After finishing a few emails, Yan Hanxie walked out of the study, naturally sat close beside her, and leaned her head on her shoulder.
"Tired?" Zong Yi set down her book, her fingers unconsciously twirling a strand of Yan Hanxie's loose hair.
"Mm." Yan Hanxie closed her eyes, her nose brushing lightly against Zong Yi's neck like a lazy cat. "What are you reading?"
"Just a casual book." Zong Yi showed her the cover.
Yan Hanxie glanced at it, uninterested, instead slipping her hand under the blanket, accurately finding Zong Yi's hand and interlocking their fingers.
The two matching plain bands touched lightly, making a soft sound.
"Next month," Yan Hanxie suddenly said, her voice low and slightly hoarse as if just waking up, "my birthday."
Zong Yi's heart skipped a beat. "Mm. July 16."
"You remember it that clearly?" Yan Hanxie opened her eyes, turning to look at her, amusement in her gaze.
"It's engraved on the ring. Hard to forget." Zong Yi shook their joined hands slightly, the rings clinking together.
Yan Hanxie let out a low laugh, the vibration of her chest passing through to Zong Yi.
She leaned closer, pressing her forehead against Zong Yi's, their breaths mingling.
"Then… have you thought about my birthday gift?" she asked, a trace of expectation in her tone, along with a hint of a lover's justified coquettishness.
Zong Yi's cheeks warmed.
She had indeed thought about it, but no matter what she prepared, it felt as though it couldn't match the weight of Yan Hanxie's ring engraved with their birthdays and the solemn honesty at the cemetery.
"Not yet." she admitted honestly. "Is there something you want?"
Yan Hanxie looked at her deeply, her gaze sliding from her eyes to the tip of her nose, finally settling on her lips.
The heat in that gaze made Zong Yi's heart race even faster.
"I want you." Yan Hanxie's voice dropped very low, breathy, like a feather brushing against the heart, "for the whole day."
Zong Yi's face instantly flushed red, even the tips of her ears burning. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Seeing her shy expression, the smile in Yan Hanxie's eyes deepened, though it was tinged with seriousness.
She straightened up, pulling back just a little, but did not let go of their joined hands.
"Just kidding." she squeezed Zong Yi's fingers. "The gift isn't important. What matters is… that you're by my side that day."
She paused, her gaze falling on their intertwined hands, on the plain bands between their fingers glowing softly in the sunlight.
"Zong Yi," she called her name again, her tone becoming solemn, "we've been together, but it seems we haven't officially… celebrated it yet?"
Zong Yi froze for a moment.
Indeed, after returning from the cemetery, they had naturally transitioned into the state of lovers—living together, kissing, embracing, sharing every detail of life.
There had been no grand confession ceremony, no public declaration, not even a proper "celebration of being together" dinner.
"It seems… so," Zong Yi said softly, yet a warm current surged in her heart.
So Yan Hanxie cared about this too.
"So," Yan Hanxie looked at her, her eyes bright with anticipation, "on my birthday, let's celebrate, alright?"
"Celebrate your birthday, or celebrate… us being together?" Zong Yi asked, unable to stop the corners of her lips from lifting.
"Both." Yan Hanxie leaned closer and lightly pecked her lips. "Celebrate me coming into this world, celebrate us finding each other, celebrate… all the days to come."
Her kiss was light, yet carried unmistakable cherishment and joy.
Zong Yi's heart melted into a puddle.
She tightened her hold on Yan Hanxie's hand, her fingertips brushing over the plain band, and nodded.
"Okay," she said. "But I'll still prepare a birthday gift."
Yan Hanxie smiled, that smile dazzlingly bright. "Then I'll look forward to it."
Sunlight flowed quietly, wrapping the two of them in a warm glow as they embraced.
Their hands beneath the cashmere blanket remained tightly intertwined, rings pressed together like a small, silent vow.
Life continued forward, calm yet fulfilling.
Both of them returned to their normal work routines, but the center of their lives inevitably tilted toward the villa and toward each other.
People in the company gradually noticed some changes for example, Director Zong now had a simple plain band on her ring finger; for example, President Yan would occasionally come personally to pick up Director Zong after work (though most of the time it was still the driver, her personal appearances had clearly increased); for example, the unspoken tacit understanding and the glances flowing between them had long surpassed the boundaries of ordinary superior-subordinate or business partners.
Naturally, there were speculations and discussions, but due to their status and consistent way of handling things, no one dared to comment openly.
Only Vice President Sun once joked half-seriously to Yan Hanxie after a senior management meeting: "President Yan, you've been looking great lately. Seems your recovery has gone well—you've also… softened quite a bit."
Yan Hanxie only gave him a faint glance and didn't respond, but the slight upward curve of her lips revealed her good mood.
Zong Yi also began to participate more naturally in Yan Hanxie's social circle.
For some necessary, more private gatherings, Yan Hanxie would bring her along.
At first, Zong Yi felt a bit uncomfortable, but Yan Hanxie would always introduce her in the most natural way, her hand lightly resting at Zong Yi's lower back, silently conveying support and possession.
Those seasoned veterans of the business world were all sharp; seeing this, they understood immediately, and their attitude toward Zong Yi became increasingly polite and respectful.
Once, at a small private appreciation event in an art gallery, Yan Hanxie was pulled aside by a familiar collector to discuss a painting.
Zong Yi didn't understand much about it, so she walked alone to the lounge area.
She had just sat down when a well-dressed, elegant middle-aged woman approached and sat across from her.
"Miss Zong?" the woman smiled as she spoke, her gaze falling on the plain band on her ring finger. "I'm Ji Ying, Yan Hanxie's aunt on her mother's side."
Zong Yi quickly straightened up. "Ms. Ji, hello." She was a bit surprised; Yan Hanxie had never mentioned this aunt.
Ji Ying seemed to notice her confusion and smiled. "I don't interact with Hanxie much. She's quite solitary, takes after her grandfather. However…" she paused, her gentle gaze assessing Zong Yi, "you're the first person I've seen who made her wear those beads again—and this ring."
Zong Yi's face warmed slightly, unsure how to respond.
Ji Ying said no more, only lifting her teacup for a sip, her gaze drifting toward Yan Hanxie in the distance who was speaking with others. Her voice was soft, as if speaking to herself, yet also to Zong Yi: "That child has always been strong, carrying everything on her own. She seems to have everything, but inside, she's emptier than anyone. Now it's better—finally, there's someone who can let her settle down."
She turned back to Zong Yi, her eyes carrying the reassurance of an elder and a trace of earnestness: "Miss Zong, Hanxie… sometimes may not know how to express herself, but her feelings run deep. Please… be a bit more understanding with her."
Zong Yi's heart was gently struck by those words.
She looked into Ji Ying's sincere eyes, then toward Yan Hanxie's upright and focused figure in the distance, and nodded solemnly. "I will."
Ji Ying smiled, said nothing more, and left gracefully.
That night, after washing up, the two of them leaned against the headboard.
Zong Yi hesitated for a moment, but still brought up Ji Ying.
After listening, Yan Hanxie fell silent for a while before responding with an "Mm." "She's a distant relative on my mother's side. She's a good person, just a bit talkative."
Her tone was calm, but Zong Yi could tell there was no dislike.
"She told me…" Zong Yi carefully chose her words, "to be more understanding of you."
Yan Hanxie turned her head to look at her. The soft light from the bedside lamp reflected in her eyes, making them appear especially deep.
"And you?" she asked, her fingers unconsciously twirling a strand of Zong Yi's hair. "Do you need me to be understanding of you?"
Zong Yi smiled, catching her restless hand and interlocking their fingers, their rings lightly touching.
"Yes." She looked into Yan Hanxie's eyes and said seriously, "I need you to be understanding of my stubbornness, my slow warmth, my… occasional lack of romance."
Yan Hanxie smiled as well, leaning closer to kiss her forehead.
"Same here." she said, then pulled her into her arms, resting her chin atop her head. "Then let's be understanding of each other, and… bully each other for a lifetime."
Her arms tightened, her warm body heat seeping through their sleepwear.
Zong Yi leaned into her embrace, listening to her steady heartbeat, breathing in that familiar scent. The ring on her finger pressed against her skin, bringing a constant, reassuring sense of presence.
Outside, the moonlight was just right.
The journey of chasing her wife had long reached its end, while the slow, enduring life they would share had only just begun.
There would be arguments, and there would be reconciliation; there would be storms, and there would be clear skies; there would be personal persistence, and there would be mutual compromise.
But no matter what, they had already carved each other's names into the deepest parts of their lives, wearing them closest to their hearts.
With a plain band as proof, and a lifetime as the term.
—
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