Zhao Meilin didn't rush.
She never did.
—
She waited.
Watched.
Studied.
—
And when she saw it—
That small distance between them—
—
She moved.
—
"Yichen."
—
He turned.
—
Meilin stood at the entrance of the corridor, her expression calm.
Soft.
Familiar.
—
"I need to speak with you."
—
His gaze lingered on her for a moment.
Then—
"…What is it?"
—
"Privately."
—
A pause.
—
Then—
He followed.
—
—
The room was quiet.
Closed.
Isolated.
—
Meilin poured tea slowly.
Gracefully.
Like nothing had changed.
—
"You seem tired," she said.
—
"I'm fine."
—
"You're not."
—
Her voice softened slightly.
—
"You've been distant."
—
Yichen didn't respond.
—
"…Is it because of her?" Meilin asked.
—
His expression hardened slightly.
—
"This isn't your concern."
—
Meilin smiled faintly.
—
"It used to be."
—
Silence.
—
She stepped closer.
—
"You don't look happy," she said quietly.
—
"I am."
—
"No," she shook her head slightly.
"You look trapped."
—
The word landed.
—
Yichen's jaw tightened.
—
"She's not what you think," Meilin continued.
—
His gaze snapped to her.
—
"Be careful."
—
But she didn't stop.
—
"She's changed, Yichen," Meilin said softly.
"Cold. Calculating."
—
"She had to."
—
"Or maybe…" Meilin stepped closer,
"She's just showing who she really is."
—
Silence.
—
Because doubt—
Even the smallest amount—
Was dangerous.
—
"…You don't believe that," Yichen said.
—
Meilin didn't answer immediately.
—
Then—
"I believe she knows how to keep you."
—
The words were soft.
But sharp.
—
And for the first time—
Yichen didn't immediately reject them.
—