The black sedan glided smoothly through the winding private road, its headlights briefly brushing against rows of ancient maples whose branches arched overhead like silent guardians. Beyond them, carefully manicured gardens stretched beneath soft morning mist, every hedge trimmed with obsessive precision. The estate slowly revealed itself through the pale light of dawn until the Moonlit Sanctuary appeared ahead—serene, secluded, and quietly imposing, its white stone walls glowing faintly against the lingering shadows of night.
The car came to a gentle stop.
Meilin stepped out.
The midnight-blue gown she had worn the night before was gone, replaced by a sharply tailored charcoal suit that wrapped around her like quiet authority. The clean lines of the jacket emphasized her poised elegance, and her hair was neatly tied back, giving her an air of calm control. She moved through the silent corridor with measured steps until she reached the bedroom door.
Inside, the room was bathed in soft morning light.
Zihan was awake.
He was sitting against the pillows, the empty porcelain bowl of congee resting on the bedside table beside him. The white camellias she had left earlier stood quietly in their vase, their petals glowing softly in the sunlight.
He looked paler than usual, but the worst of the exhaustion had faded. The dark circles beneath his eyes were lighter now, and a faint color had returned to his cheeks.
When the door opened, his gaze lifted.
For a moment there was only surprise.
Then recognition settled slowly into his eyes.
"You're awake," Meilin said.
Her voice was softer than usual, stripped of the sharp composure she showed the world.
She walked toward the bed, her movements graceful and unhurried, and sat lightly on the edge of the mattress. The bed dipped slightly beneath her weight.
Zihan watched her quietly.
His gaze lingered on her face, as if trying to memorize the small details of her presence.
"The note…" he said slowly, his voice still slightly rough from the fever. "It was from you."
"It was," she confirmed calmly, picking up the empty bowl and setting it aside.
Her eyes moved back to him.
"Did you finish it all?"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Every last drop."
He glanced toward the vase of camellias.
"It was… good."
"And the flowers," he added.
"They were a small token," Meilin replied, meeting his gaze. "For the success of your stream."
She reached forward, brushing a stray crease from the bedsheet. Her fingers grazed lightly against the back of his hand.
The touch was brief.
Almost accidental.
But it sent a quiet jolt through him.
"How do you feel?" she asked, studying him carefully. "Any lingering pain?"
Zihan shook his head slowly.
"Tired," he admitted. "But the throbbing… it's gone."
His eyes held a quiet wonder.
"You again… saved me."
"You saved yourself, Zihan," she corrected gently.
Her gaze did not waver.
"Your will to live, your resilience—those mattered more than any needle."
She paused, scanning his face thoughtfully.
"Still, your body needs time to recover. The gamma-strain was potent. You won't be attending classes today."
His brows drew together immediately.
"But the exams are coming soon," he said, instinctively sitting a little straighter. "I can't afford to lose time."
The familiar determination—the scholarship student who fought for every opportunity—had returned.
Meilin watched him for a moment before speaking.
"You can afford to recover."
Her tone was firm, but not unkind.
"Consider this a mandated rest period."
A faint hint of teasing slipped into her voice.
"ZM Technology can spare its future CEO for a day or two."
He blinked.
"Besides," she continued, "I've already informed the university. A medical leave has been arranged."
His eyes widened slightly.
"No need to worry about attendance or grades."
Zihan stared at her in stunned silence.
"You… did all that?"
"A small matter," she replied lightly, though her gaze remained steady on him.
"Your health is far more important."
She straightened slightly.
"The staff will ensure you have everything you need. Congee and soup will be served regularly. No work. No studying."
he had blurry thought ,yesterday bathtub ,hug ....could not remember clearly
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Just rest."
Zihan sighed softly.
Arguing would be pointless.
"Okay," he conceded quietly.
"If you insist."
"I do," she replied.
She stood, smoothing the front of her charcoal jacket.
But before leaving, she seemed to hesitate.
Her gaze shifted back toward him.
"There is… one more thing."
Zihan looked up.
"This weekend," she continued, "there will be a small banquet at the Tang residence."
"The Tang mansion?" he asked slowly.
She nodded.
"My Grandpa is hosting it ,u met right on qingyuan mountain"
The words hung in the air for a moment.
she said calmly. "Several industry figures will be present."
Her gaze softened slightly.
"And you should attend."
Zihan blinked in surprise.
"Me?"
"Yes."
His instinctive reaction surfaced immediately.
"That kind of event isn't really… my environment," he admitted. "I'd probably just stand in a corner looking out of place."
Meilin watched him quietly for a moment.
"You won't be alone," she said simply.
Her voice carried a quiet certainty.
"I will be there."
Something in the way she said it made the refusal sitting on his tongue slowly fade.
Still, he hesitated.
"It sounds like a very high-profile gathering," he murmured.
"It is."
"And you want me there?"
"Yes."
There was no hesitation in her answer.
For a long moment, Zihan studied her expression.
Then he sighed faintly.
"…Alright."
But he added quickly,
"I'll go."
A small smile touched Meilin's lips.
"That will be sufficient."
She moved toward the door, pausing briefly before leaving.
"Rest today," she said softly.
"Truly rest."
Then she stepped out, the door closing quietly behind her.
The room felt emptier the moment she left.
Yet traces of her remained everywhere—the faint scent of her perfume in the air, the white camellias beside the bed, the lingering warmth of the congee she had brought.
Zihan leaned back against the pillows slowly.
His body still felt weak, but the quiet peace in his chest was stronger than the fatigue.
He closed his eyes.
The image of her face beneath moonlight lingered in his thoughts.
And somewhere in the distance, beyond his drifting thoughts, a new scene was quietly approaching.
The Tang Mansion.
The weekend banquet.
And whatever waited for him there.
For now, though—
He allowed himself to rest.