The morning sun filtered through the large glass windows of the Taipei residence, casting a golden glow over a household that had finally found its rhythm. Following their usual disciplined schedule, Akira and Naea rose with the sun. While Akira headed to the shower to wash away the remnants of sleep and prepare for another day at the "editing cafe," Naea immediately stepped into her role as a mother.
With practiced, gentle movements, Naea tended to little Naria, feeding her a warm bottle of milk. There was a quiet grace in the way she balanced her life—yesterday a brilliant tutor, this morning a devoted mother.
By then, Aunt Zhi and Zheng were already up and active. Aunt Zhi had taken charge of the kitchen, the comforting sound of breakfast being prepared drifting through the house. Zheng, however, was already at the dining table. She was huddled over the practice questions Naea had assigned her the previous evening. Though she had finished most of them, a few tricky problems remained. Her brow was furrowed in deep concentration, her "boxer's spirit" now focused entirely on conquering the logic on the page.
A few minutes later, Akira emerged from the room, looking sharp and professional in her day's outfit. The steam from the shower still lingered in the hallway as she walked into the dining area, where a fresh breakfast was waiting on the table, prepared by Aunt Zhi.
The four of them sat in the drawing area, enjoying the breakfast Aunt Zhi had prepared. The atmosphere was calm; Naria had fallen back into a deep sleep after her milk, allowing the adults a moment of peace.
However, the peace was short-lived. From the bedroom, the sudden, sharp sound of a baby's cry cut through the air. Naria had woken up, and finding herself alone, she had immediately let out a distressed wail.
Naea instinctively started to stand up, her motherly concern overriding her hunger. But before she could leave her seat, Akira reached out. She placed a gentle, firm hand over Naea's, her touch warm and reassuring.
"Stay here and finish your breakfast in peace, Naea," Akira said softly. "I've got her. I'll go soothe her."
Naea looked into Akira's eyes and gave a small, understanding smile, relaxing back into her chair. Aunt Zhi watched this exchange with a twinkle in her eye. Once Akira had disappeared into the room, she leaned toward Naea with a teasing grin.
"Look at that," Aunt Zhi whispered. "Akira hasn't just become a perfect partner; she's become an incredible parent, too. You've really found a gem, Naea."
Naea felt a flush of heat creep up her neck. She lowered her eyes to her plate, a shy, radiant smile playing on her lips.
But across the table, the mood was different. Zheng's grip on her chopsticks tightened until her knuckles turned white. Hearing Aunt Zhi praise Akira's "perfection" and seeing Naea's blushing happiness felt like a weight in her chest. For reasons she couldn't yet explain, the sight of their perfect domestic harmony didn't bring her joy—it brought a bitter surge of resentment.
Naria was inconsolable. Despite Akira's best efforts, the little miss wanted no one but her mother. Her cries grew louder, echoing through the hallway until Akira finally emerged from the room, carrying the restless baby back to the drawing area.
Naea had just finished her breakfast and was already on her feet, drawn by the sound of her daughter's distress. Akira handed Naria over with a weary but affectionate sigh. "This little miss simply won't settle down for me," she admitted, her gaze softening as she watched Naria instantly calm down in Naea's arms.
Naea let out a gentle laugh, a radiant smile directed at Akira. "It's okay, I've got her now. You should head out, Akira—you don't want to be late Editor ."
Akira nodded, picking up her bag and adjusting her spectacles with a sharp, professional flick. She stepped close to Naea, leaning in to press a tender kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you in the evening," she whispered. Then, leaning down to Naria, she kissed the baby's chubby cheek. "And you... don't trouble your mom too much , okay?"
With a final wave, Akira turned and headed for the door.
Across the table, Zheng watched every single second of this exchange. The way Akira spoke so intimately to Naea, the way Naea's face lit up whenever Akira was near—it was like a slow-burning fire in Zheng's chest. Her eyes dropped to her books, but her mind was far away.
"I wish it were me," Zheng thought bitterly, her grip on her pen tightening. "I wish I was the one making her smile like that, instead of Akira." She stared at the complex Math problems in front of her, but all she could see was the lingering warmth of Akira's goodbye. The seeds of a dangerous obsession were starting to take root.
After a smooth drive through the city, Akira arrived at the Editor's Cafe. She took a moment to refresh herself, letting the cool air of the cafe settle her mind before diving back into the world of ink. With a steaming cup of black coffee by her side, she opened the manuscript where she had left off last night.
The next two to three hours passed in a blur of red ink and deep focus. After a brief one-hour break chatting with the Cafe Head about mundane things—a necessary mask for her secret life—she returned to Wei Jian's story.
The chapter was electric with tension. Fen had just challenged the boundary between them, mentioning a kiss to her professor, Ruoxi. The aftermath was a cold, suffocating silence. Ruoxi tried to maintain her professional distance, acting as if they were nothing more than a teacher and a student, but the air between them told a different story.
In a moment of sudden courage, Ruoxi took a step forward. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her breath hitching as she leaned in—but at the last second, she froze. The weight of her position, the fear of the unknown, held her back. She couldn't do it.
The tension was a physical wall between them until Fen broke it. She didn't wait for her to struggle anymore. She leaned in, pressing her lips against Ruoxi's. It wasn't a passionate movement; there was no rhythm, no demand. She simply held her lips against hers, a silent, still contact that felt like a question and a promise all at once.
Ruoxi stood there, completely paralyzed, her mind a whirlwind of confusion. The line had been crossed, and in the silence of that frozen kiss.
It was Fen Tao who closed the gap.
Fen wasn't looking for a scandal; she was looking for an answer. She leaned in, her eyes searching Ruoxi's before finally pressing her lips against the professor's. It was a soft, unmoving contact—a frozen moment in time where the only thing that existed was the touch of Fen's lips against Ruoxi's.
Ruoxi's mind went blank. The world of lectures, grades, and boundaries dissolved. She was paralyzed by the simple, quiet weight of Fen's breath against her skin. It wasn't an attack; it was a surrender.
Akira picked up her red pen, but for a second, she hesitated to mark the page. She found herself thinking about her own life—how she and Naea had crossed their own "forbidden" lines to be together. She realized that Wei Jian, the young author, wasn't just writing a romance; she was writing about the bravery it takes to be oneself.
As Akira turned the page, the ink seemed to vibrate with the intensity of the scene.
In the manuscript, Ruoxi tried to pull back, her mind screaming about the danger of their proximity. But Fen Tao wasn't ready to let go. Her hands were locked firmly behind Ruoxi's back, drawing the professor even closer, refusing to let the distance return.
When Ruoxi tried to retreat again, something in Fen snapped. The patience she had maintained as a student evaporated, replaced by a surge of raw, frustrated passion. She didn't wait for permission this time. Fen leaned in again, and the stillness of the previous kiss vanished. Her lips moved against Ruoxi's with a sudden, overwhelming softness—a passionate, deep kiss that left the Ruoxi breathless and utterly confused.
Ruoxi's hands came up to push Fen away, to re-establish the wall between them. But before she could find the strength to do it, the fire in Fen seemed to burn out just as quickly as it had ignited.
Fen's eyes fluttered shut, her strength leaving her. Instead of another move, she let her forehead drop, her head coming to rest heavily on Ruoxi's shoulder. The room fell silent, the only sound the ragged breathing of two women.
As the intensity of the moment faded, Ruoxi's professional mask finally snapped back into place. She didn't say a word. With trembling but steady hands, she gently laid the unconscious Fen Tao down on the couch. Without a single glance back—fearful that if she looked, she might never leave—Ruoxi turned and walked out of the mansion.
The cold night air hit her face, but the heat of Fen's lips still lingered. She drove in a daze, her mind a chaotic whirlpool of confusion and guilt, until she reached the hospital.
She walked through the sterile, white hallways until she reached the room where her brother, Chen, lay sleeping. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room. Ruoxi didn't sit down. She went straight to the washroom, turning the tap on until the water was icy cold.
She splashed her face repeatedly, trying to wash away the sensation of the kiss, the confusion, and the "mistake" she felt she had just made. As she looked at herself in the mirror, water dripping from her chin, she asked herself the silent question: Was she just a professor, or was she already lost in Fen Tao?
The morning sun felt too bright, too intrusive, as Fen's eyes fluttered open. She was still on the couch, her mind a fog of confusion until the memories of the previous night came rushing back like a tidal wave. The birthday party... the mansion... and then, the kiss.
The memory of her lips against Professor Ruoxi's sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through her. At twenty-three, Fen had always been bold, but remembering how she had forced her way past Ruoxi's boundaries made her stomach churn with a mix of longing and intense self-loathing.
"What have I done?" she whispered, burying her face in her hands.
She rushed to get ready, her heart hammering against her ribs. She needed to see Ruoxi. She needed to apologize, or explain, or simply see if the wall between them had truly shattered. When she reached the college, her friends surrounded her, laughing and praising the legendary birthday party from the night before. Fen barely heard them. Her eyes were locked on the corridor, waiting for the elegant, poised figure of the twenty-four-year-old professor to appear.
But when the bell rang for the lecture, it wasn't Ruoxi who walked through the door. A substitute professor, brown-haired and stern, stepped up to the podium and opened a textbook.
The seat of authority was occupied, but Ruoxi was gone. Fen sat frozen, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. Ruoxi wasn't just avoiding her; she had disappeared.
The atmosphere in the lecture hall shifted instantly as the new professor introduced himself. "My name is Professor Yang," he said with a charming, confident smile. He was undeniably handsome and young, and a wave of excited whispers immediately broke out among the female students.
But for Fen, the world had gone silent. Her heart sank into her stomach as Yang announced that he would be taking over all Computer Science lectures moving forward. The seat that belonged to Ruoxi—the woman whose scent still lingered in Fen's memories—was now occupied by a stranger.
A few male students, who had long harbored secret crushes on the elegant Ruoxi, couldn't hide their disappointment. "But Professor," one of them blurted out, "Where is Professor Ruoxi? Why isn't she teaching us anymore?"
Professor Yang adjusted his collar and gave a casual, almost cheerful smile. "Ah, Professor Ruoxi has resigned. She's focusing on her personal life now—she's getting married to her fiancé very soon."
The words hit Fen like a poisoned arrow, piercing straight through her chest. The room seemed to spin. Married? Fiancée? The kiss that had felt like the ending of everything last night was, in reality, the reason Ruoxi was running into the arms of someone else.
Fen stared blankly at her notebook, the ink blurring as her eyes filled with unshed tears. The "Frozen Kiss" hadn't broken the ice; it had built a wall of glass between them that Fen could never shatter.
As Professor Yang's voice droned on in the background, Fen felt the world around her dissolve into the cold shadows of the previous night. The conversation she had tried to bury in her excitement now came back with haunting clarity.
Ruoxi's voice, steady but filled with a hidden sorrow, echoed in her mind: "If you do this, Fen... if we cross this line, we become strangers. There is no going back."
Fen closed her eyes, the guilt washing over her like a freezing tide. She realized now that Ruoxi hadn't stayed because she wanted to; she had stayed because she saw how much Fen was hurting, and perhaps, because she wanted one last memory to carry into a life she didn't choose. By not pulling away, Ruoxi had given Fen everything she wanted—and in return, Fen had lost her forever.
The drink, the birthday atmosphere, and the intoxicating proximity of the woman she loved had blinded Fen to the truth. Ruoxi's resignation wasn't a sudden decision. It was a escape. The kiss hadn't been a spark; it was the final flame of a bridge being burned.
While Akira was still miles away at the cafe, diving deep into the manuscript, the author herself—Wei Jian—was sitting in Akira's own living room. Zheng had led her inside, informing her that Akira was currently occupied.
As Wei waited, the atmosphere of the house seemed to wrap around her. It felt sophisticated, yet warm. Suddenly, Naea walked into the room, carrying a sleepy Naria in her arms. The sight was so picturesque that Wei instinctively stood up to greet her.
"Hello," Wei said softly, her eyes immediately drawn to the infant. "What a beautiful baby... whose is she?"
Naea gave a warm, radiant smile, the kind that could put anyone at ease. "She's ours. Akira and I adopted this little angel. Her name is Naria."
Wei's expression softened into a genuine smile. "Naria... it's a lovely name. And honestly, even though she is adopted, she has your charm, Miss Naea. There's a certain peace about her that matches yours."
Naea thanked her with a nod, and sensing that Zheng might be feeling overwhelmed by the guest, she turned to her student. "Zheng, you've worked hard today. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and head home?"
Zheng froze. She didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay in Naea's presence, away from the bitter thoughts that had been haunting her. But before she could protest, Wei Jian spoke up.
"Miss Naea, it's alright. Your student can stay and study if she wants. I don't mind at all."
Zheng quickly seized the opportunity, her voice eager. "Miss, I'm perfectly comfortable here. I'd rather finish my work."
Naea looked between the two—the young author with a hidden world in her head, and the intense student with a hidden fire in her heart—and slowly nodded.