The late summer air was heavy with cicada song. In the mansion kitchen, the marble counters gleamed, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound—until a sharp clatter rang out.
"Ze Yan!"
Qing Yun turned, horrified. Ze Yan stood at the cutting board, a cucumber mangled beneath his knife. The slices were thick, uneven, some nearly cubes instead of ribbons. He raised his head slowly, expression calm as ever.
"These are fine," he said in that low, steady voice. "They'll taste the same."
Qing Yun pressed her fingers to her forehead. "You've just committed murder. That cucumber did nothing to you."
His lips curved slightly, unbothered. "Strong noodles require strong cucumbers."
She blinked. For a moment she didn't know whether to scold him or laugh. In the end, a bubble of laughter escaped despite herself. "You're impossible."
He watched her laugh, eyes softening in quiet triumph.
The two of them had decided—well, Qing Yun had decided, and Ze Yan had immediately volunteered himself—that they would make cold sesame noodles for lunch. The dish was simple enough, perfect for the heat, but with Ze Yan's "help," the kitchen already looked like a storm had passed through.
"Step aside," Qing Yun said firmly, pushing him away from the cutting board. She took up another cucumber, knife flashing as she sliced clean, even strips. "Watch carefully. This is what thin looks like."
Ze Yan leaned against the counter, arms crossed, clearly not watching the cucumber at all. His gaze followed her profile, the focused line of her brows, the way strands of hair clung to her neck from the warmth.
Qing Yun felt his stare even without looking. "You're not learning anything like that."
"Mn," he murmured, unrepentant. "I'm learning enough."
She bit her lip to keep from smiling.
By the time they finished, the noodles were plated with cucumber slivers, sesame sauce drizzled neatly. The kitchen, however, was a battlefield—cucumber ends scattered, sauce splatters across the counter, a knife precariously balanced on the edge of the sink.
Qing Yun sighed, hands on her hips. "You made more mess than food."
Ze Yan stepped behind her, his palm brushing her waist lightly as he bent close. "Then I'll just have to practice with you more often."
Her ears warmed. She elbowed him gently. "Practice on your own. I don't have the patience to clean up after both you and the cucumbers."
He only chuckled, low and amused, and reached past her to steal a bite of noodles straight from the bowl.
The tranquility of their afternoon was soon interrupted by cheerful footsteps echoing down the hall.
"Qing Yun Jie Jie!"
Ruan Yi Lan's voice carried even before she appeared, her figure bright as she bounced into the kitchen doorway. A stack of folders clutched in her arms, her cheeks were flushed from the summer heat.
Behind her trailed Chen Rui, holding his own stack of documents, his grin already tilted in mischief.
"Boss," Chen Rui said lazily, "I'm starting to think you've moved your office here. Should I forward all work calls to your kitchen now?"
Ze Yan shot him a flat look. "Try it."
Chen Rui laughed, unfazed.
Yi Lan darted forward, nearly tripping on the polished floor. She let out a startled squeak—then found herself steadied by Chen Rui's arm.
"Careful, kid," Chen Rui said easily. "If you break your neck here, the boss will deduct it from my salary."
Yi Lan puffed her cheeks, embarrassed. "I'm not a kid!"
"Mm. You're right." Chen Rui tilted his head mock-thoughtfully. "You're shorter than one."
"Chen Rui Ge!" she protested, swatting his arm.
Qing Yun stifled a laugh from the side. Ze Yan's gaze lingered on Yi Lan for a moment, then shifted to Qing Yun—protective, but silent. He let the exchange pass without comment.
Once the documents were set aside, Yi Lan shyly opened her phone. "Qing Yun Jie Jie, I… I updated my story again."
Her eyes sparkled as she scrolled to show the post. The draft was rough, words uncertain, but Qing Yun read with quiet focus. She stopped at one line about a girl who waited by a window for her dreams to return.
"This part," Qing Yun said softly, pointing. "It feels real. Honest. Readers will feel that."
Yi Lan's face lit up with a glow brighter than the summer sun. "Really? If Jie Jie likes it, then it must be good!"
From the corner, Chen Rui leaned over with exaggerated curiosity. "Ohhh, our intern is secretly an author? Should I be asking for your autograph now before you become famous?"
Yi Lan turned crimson. "I—I'm not famous! It's just a silly story online!"
"Right, right," Chen Rui said, nodding gravely. "Just a silly story with fans, right? Next thing we know, paparazzi will be chasing you."
"Chen Rui Ge!"
Their banter filled the room, light and quick. Qing Yun smiled faintly, warmed by their energy.
By the time evening fell, the sun dipped low in the sky. Cicadas quieted, replaced by the hum of street lamps outside.
Ze Yan glanced at the clock, then at Yi Lan. "It's late. Chen Rui, drive her home."
"Eh?" Chen Rui scratched his head. "What am I, chauffeur now?"
"You already talk too much," Ze Yan said coolly. "Might as well be useful."
Chen Rui sighed dramatically, but he grabbed his keys. "Come on, kid. Before your fans come begging for autographs outside."
"I told you I'm not—!" Yi Lan's protest followed them out the door.
The car ride was short, but filled with chatter. Yi Lan sat in the passenger seat, swinging her legs slightly, humming a tune under her breath.
Chen Rui glanced sideways, brow lifted. "Do you always make this much noise? The car's going to file a noise complaint."
Yi Lan laughed, unoffended. "At least it's not boring. Don't you ever smile, Chen Rui Ge?"
"I smile plenty."
"Mm, no you don't." She leaned closer, peering at his face. "See? Nothing. Blank. You should practice more."
Chen Rui snorted, but the corner of his lips betrayed the smallest twitch.
At a red light, Yi Lan pointed eagerly out the window. "Look! That bookstore—one day I want to see my book in their window. Do you think that's silly?"
Chen Rui's hands tightened slightly on the wheel. His usual grin faltered, replaced with something quieter. "With how much you talk… people will read just to find out what's on your mind."
Yi Lan blinked, stunned. Then laughter bubbled out, light and happy. "Chen Rui Ge, that was almost a compliment!"
"Don't get used to it." He turned forward quickly, but his ears were faintly red.
When they reached her building, Yi Lan hopped out, waving energetically. "Thank you! Drive safe!"
Chen Rui watched her disappear inside, his grin slipping into something thoughtful. "…This kid."
Back at the mansion, Qing Yun and Ze Yan finished tidying the kitchen together. She placed the last dish on the rack and turned to find him leaning against the counter, arms folded.
"You," she accused, "made a bigger mess than the food itself."
He stepped closer, voice lowering near her ear. "Then I'll just have to practice more. With you."
Her cheeks warmed. She shoved at his chest lightly, though her lips curved. "Hopeless."
He caught her hand, fingers intertwining. His smile deepened.
Outside, cicadas sang into the warm night. Inside, the mansion glowed with laughter and quiet warmth. For now, everything was still—ripples hidden beneath the surface, waiting for their time.