The wind outside the Moon Pavilion howled like a grieving woman.
Inside, Xu Meilin remained on the balcony, her veil now loose and drifting gently with the night breeze. Her gown, that once pristine white symbol of a bride, looked out of place against the somber, stone-cold sky.
Behind her, the master bedroom door opened with a soft click.
She didn't turn.
She didn't need to.
The air had shifted.
Li Zeyan had arrived.
Footsteps echoed faintly on the polished marble floor. Not rushed. Not apologetic. Just… heavy. Controlled. Distant.
He paused just inside the room.
His presence filled the space like smoke, suffocating, unreadable, cold.
Meilin slowly turned to face him. Her expression was unreadable, her posture elegant and composed. But her eyes held exhaustion that no sleep could cure.
Zeyan's suit was slightly rumpled, his tie askew. His hair was tousled, not in a charming way, but as if he'd run a hand through it a hundred times out of frustration.
There was no apology in his gaze.
No greeting.
No curiosity.
Just silence.
She spoke first.
"You didn't come."
He looked at her for a long moment before answering, "I never agreed to this."
Her chest ached at the bluntness, but she didn't flinch.
"And yet, here we are," she said softly.
He stepped further into the room, his movements stiff almost as if he were forcing himself to stay upright.
Meilin noticed it immediately.
His skin was flushed.
His breathing uneven.
And when he reached for the chair by the dresser, his fingers trembled.
"You're not well," she said, walking forward slightly.
Zeyan collapsed into the chair, loosening his collar as if the fabric was strangling him.
"There was a party," he muttered. "Some investors. Wine. Too much talk. Too many strangers."
She moved closer, stopping a few feet away. His pupils were dilated. His shirt clung to his chest. Sweat dotted his brow.
"I think… I was drugged," he said slowly, each word heavier than the last.
Xu Meilin's heart skipped.
Her instinct told her to call a doctor. To rush for help.
But the way he looked at her—
His eyes were no longer cold. They were burning.
"Meilin," he breathed. "Help me."
She stiffened.
He stood abruptly, staggering forward like a man caught between sanity and fire. "Everything's too hot. I can't think—"
She backed away.
"You're not yourself," she said, voice calm but sharp. "You need ice. Water. A hospital."
But he reached for her wrist.
"I need you."
She tried to pull away, but he held tighter.
"Zeyan—"
"Please…" His voice cracked. "Just… stay. Don't leave."
There was a desperation in him that frightened her. Not because he was dangerous, but because he was unraveling. And she didn't know if she had the strength to hold him together.
"I'll bring you water," she said, gently prying his fingers from her wrist. "And a cold towel. Just sit."
"No," he said, and his voice dropped into something low and raw. "Don't leave me."
She hesitated.
And then slowly, cautiously, she sat on the edge of the bed.
He dropped to his knees before her, pressing his forehead to her lap like a man praying at an altar.
"I hate this," he murmured. "I hate all of it. The marriage. The lies. But most of all… I hate that I needed someone tonight… and you were the only one who came."
She didn't speak.
Her hands hovered, unsure whether to comfort him or keep her distance.
"You shouldn't have had to marry me," he said, voice muffled. "You don't deserve this."
Something sharp twisted in her chest.
"And yet… here we are," she whispered, echoing her earlier words.
He looked up at her.
For the first time… he really looked.
And in that moment, he saw her not as the girl chosen by their families, not as a pawn in a business arrangement, but as a woman, tired, brave, and utterly alone.
Just like him.
He reached for her hand again, but this time gently, almost reverently, and pressed it to his chest.
"I'm not asking for anything," he said. "Just... stay until the fever passes."
She could have walked away.
She could have locked the door.
But she didn't.
Because somewhere beneath the layers of ice and fire, pride and pain, Xu Meilin saw the boy he used to be.
And maybe… just maybe… they were both victims of the same cruel fate.
---
That night, Xu Meilin stayed by his side, a silent sentinel beside the bed as he finally collapsed into sleep.
She placed a cold towel on his forehead.
She wiped the sweat from his brow.
And when he mumbled her name in the fevered darkness… she didn't cry.
She just sat there, spine straight, eyes clear, watching the moon rise above the trees.
Because she knew
This was only the beginning.
And the storm had just begun.