Rain had fallen softly through the night, blanketing the valley in a curtain of mist by dawn. The pine needles held trembling drops at their tips, and the narrow footpaths that led into the depths of the Lin estate glistened like silver threads under the early morning light. The air was cool and fragrant, a blend of moss, earth, and the lingering floral breath of the peach trees.
Lin Yu stood beneath the eaves of the stone pavilion, dressed in a dark linen robe. A teapot steamed on the carved tea table beside him, sending wisps of warmth into the still morning air. Dahuang lay curled nearby, his heavy chest rising and falling in slow rhythm. The massive mastiff lifted his head only slightly when he sensed footsteps approaching — quiet, unhurried steps that crunched lightly on the damp gravel outside the front courtyard.
She arrived precisely as he'd expected.
Luo Yan stepped into the courtyard wearing a slate-gray trench coat, her hair tied into a low ponytail, a leather strap across her shoulder holding a canvas bag. There was no uniform today — only quiet practicality, and the faintest hint of fatigue in her eyes. Lin Yu poured a second cup without a word and set it beside her chair.
"I wasn't sure if you'd still be here," she said as she removed her coat and hung it neatly on the wooden rack near the door. Her blouse beneath was light beige, tucked into dark jeans that clung neatly to her legs, rain-speckled at the hem.
"I never leave," Lin Yu replied simply, watching the steam rise between them.
She sat down across from him, hands resting on her lap for a moment before she finally reached for the teacup. Her fingers, long and calloused from years of firearms training and paperwork, curled around the porcelain with unexpected delicacy.
"I brought something." She reached into her bag and pulled out a slim bottle wrapped in paper — unmarked, bound with twine. "Local confiscation. Rice wine. Not exactly legal, but... not dangerous either."
Lin Yu took the bottle from her hand. "I trust your judgment."
"Don't," she said, her voice dry. "I drink more than I should lately."
He poured the wine into two small cups. The aroma was mellow, with a faint bitterness, a rustic depth that came not from refinement, but from imperfection. She took a sip and exhaled slowly, eyelids lowering.
"This place," she murmured, eyes scanning the stone walls, the carved lanterns, the scattered petals across the courtyard floor, "feels like it forgot how to be loud."
"It has no reason to raise its voice."
"Neither do you, it seems." She took another sip. "But you still get heard."
Lin Yu didn't answer. He simply watched her — not with desire, not with judgment, but with stillness.
Luo Yan leaned back slightly in her seat, the warmth from the tea and the wine softening the tension in her shoulders. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, her voice had changed — lower, more tired.
"My husband hasn't asked where I go anymore. Not in months."
He waited.
"He used to call. Now he sends me our shared bank updates." She laughed bitterly. "We communicate through credit card logs."
"You don't need to explain."
"I'm not explaining," she said. "I'm trying to remember who I am when I'm not in uniform."
"You're doing fine," Lin Yu said quietly.
They sat for a long time in silence, sipping wine and tea, letting the breeze swirl the scent of wet stone and flowering herbs through the open courtyard. Dahuang shifted beside them and let out a soft huff.
Eventually, Lin Yu rose from his chair and offered her his hand. "Walk with me."
She hesitated, then placed her palm in his.
They walked without speaking through the inner paths of the estate — past the meditation garden, where morning glories curled around polished wooden trellises, and through the orchard trails, where raindrops slid from leaf to leaf like falling beads of glass.
They reached the back of the property, where the mountain rose more steeply and the pine grove began. Here, the air was denser, cooler, and the scent of damp bark mixed with the delicate fragrance of wild plum blossoms. Wooden lanterns lined the path, unlit but clean, their sides etched with poems in calligraphy.
Luo Yan paused by one of the stone benches. "I envy this quiet."
"It was built for people who forgot what quiet sounds like."
"I don't think I ever knew," she said.
She looked up at the treetops, then closed her eyes.
"I can't remember the last time I sat somewhere and didn't have to check my phone."
"You haven't looked at it once since you arrived."
She opened her eyes and met his gaze.
"I haven't needed to."
They returned to the guest pavilion as the sun began breaking through the clouds. The slate roof glistened, droplets running off in tiny rivulets. Luo Yan stepped inside first and removed her damp boots by the door. Lin Yu followed, wordless, and began lighting the incense by the window.
A calm, grassy aroma filled the room — not overpowering, but grounding.
The bed was made, sheets folded with care. A robe had been prepared for her on the screen near the washbasin.
She looked at it, then at him. "You... expected me to stay."
"I hoped you would."
"I didn't bring anything."
"You won't need anything here."
She turned slowly, her hands tightening slightly by her sides. Lin Yu stood by the paper window, shadows of the pine trees swaying across his figure. His robe clung to his shoulders with effortless elegance.
When she stepped toward him, her movements were unsure at first — but not hesitant. Her breath came more slowly. Her gaze softened.
She stopped when they were only a few inches apart.
"You didn't ask for this," she whispered.
"No," he said. "But I waited for it."
Her fingers touched his collar, traced the edge, then pressed lightly against his chest. Her hands trembled, just barely. She leaned in and kissed him.
It was a quiet kiss. A sigh more than a statement. Her lips were firm but uncertain — not from inexperience, but from fear of letting go. His hands slid to her waist, warm and slow, grounding her.
When she broke the kiss, she didn't speak.
He turned her gently, undid the buttons at the back of her blouse, kissed the bare slope of her shoulder. She closed her eyes, tilting her head slightly as his mouth brushed her neck, his hands undoing years of tension with nothing more than presence.
Her clothes fell soundlessly, layer by layer. His followed. There were no urgent motions. Just soft breath, warm skin, and the creak of the bamboo floor beneath their feet.
When he laid her down on the bed, she reached for him — not as a soldier, not as an officer, not as someone whose name was on state payrolls and criminal databases.
She reached for him as a woman.
Their bodies met in slow rhythm, matched like waves against a shore — patient, certain, and deep. Her breath caught in her throat again and again, not from pain, not from restraint — but from the sheer unfamiliarity of being desired without conditions.
When she finally cried out, it wasn't loud.
But it echoed long.
Afterward, she lay against his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his collarbone slowly, as if memorizing a map.
"I should be ashamed," she murmured.
"There's nothing shameful about honesty."
"I still wear a ring."
"So does the world," Lin Yu replied. "But it keeps spinning."
She buried her face in his neck and laughed — quietly, bitterly, and then freely. It was the first time he'd seen her smile without holding back.
They didn't sleep until the candle burned all the way down.
When the sun rose, Luo Yan sat up, pulled the sheets around herself, and looked at the mountain view outside the window. Mist curled along the treetops again, as if time had reset.
"I'm not asking for promises," she said.
"You don't need to. You came back."
"I might come back again."
"I know."
She dressed slowly, brushed her hair back into a low bun, and slipped on her coat without a badge. When she stepped outside, the morning breeze hit her face like a gentle splash of water.
Lin Yu was already by the pond, feeding the koi.
She stood there for a long moment, watching him.
Then she walked away — not quickly, not guiltily. Just quietly.
Like someone with something worth returning to.
---
Back in his study, Lin Yu poured himself a fresh cup of tea and watched the koi swim in slow spirals below the surface.
The system interface blinked quietly in the corner of his vision.
> Romance Progress: Luo Yan – 26%
Trust Level: Awakened
Emotional Route Unlocked: "Shield Beneath the Flame"
Daily Summon Token Rewarded
He closed the panel with a thought and walked to the garden.
The world had changed again.
But only he noticed.
And that was how he liked it.
---
End of Chapter 4