Lin Che blinked, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, she thought she had imagined it—the shadow by the window, tall and still, half veiled by the dim light that filtered through the curtains. But then, the figure moved.
Instinctively, she moved back to create an invisible space between them.
Her heart gave a violent thud.
The steps that came toward her were slow, deliberate, not rushed or threatening, yet every soft sound echoed through the silence like a steady heartbeat.
Lin Che's body felt frozen, her feet unwilling to move, as if the air itself had solidified around her.
When the man finally came into view, the faint golden light from the window brushed across his features.
She could not see his face because of the darkness yet his presence was very loud.
His presence was calm yet imposing, his expression unreadable. There was a weight to his gaze that drew her in—quiet, deep, almost ancient.
Even before she could fully make out his face, Lin Che knew. Something inside her recognized him.
The feeling was impossible to describe, as though time had bent in that single instant, as though every heartbeat she had ever felt was leading her to this very moment.
Her fingers tightened on the doorknob, and the door gave a soft click as it shut behind her. The sound startled her, echoing far too loudly in the silence.
When she lifted her eyes again, the man stood only a few steps away.
The air between them shifted.
He said nothing. He only looked—deeply, intently—his dark eyes holding her in place. Lin Che could not tell what was in them: curiosity, surprise, disbelief… or something deeper, something even he might not understand.
Gong Feng was the first to realize that he was holding his breath.
This was absurd. He had told everyone to stay away from the East Wing, to leave him alone. He had sought quiet, solitude, and space to think, yet the one person who had occupied his thoughts since that day in the mountains was now standing here—uninvited, unreal, impossible.
Lin Che.
Her name moved through his mind like a whisper.
He had thought of her face countless times since that brief meeting—a strange pull that refused to fade no matter how he tried to dismiss it.
He had told himself it was nothing, that it was simply curiosity, a passing interest. But seeing her now, framed by the faint light, her presence filling the stillness of the room—everything suddenly made sense.
That tug in his chest, that unshakable feeling of familiarity—it had always been leading here. To her.
Lin Che, for her part, could not move or speak. Her heart raced painfully, her mind blank except for one question: Why does this feel so right?
He took a step closer.
The distance between them felt both small and infinite. Lin Che's breath hitched as his shadow stretched toward her, and for a fleeting second, it was as if two separate worlds had quietly collided.
Gong Feng looked down at her, and even through the soft haze of light filtering through the curtains, he could see her clearly.
Her beauty was not loud, not the kind that demanded attention. It was quiet, almost fragile — like the glow of dawn that slips gently across the world before anyone wakes. She stood there, small in stature yet commanding all the space in the room without even realizing it.
She didn't seem to know how beautiful she was.
Her hair framed her face in loose strands, her eyes wide with confusion and nerves, and the faint rise and fall of her chest betrayed the thundering of her heartbeat. Her lips parted as if to speak, then pressed together again — uncertain, hesitant.
Gong Feng felt something inside him shift.
It was ridiculous, he thought — to feel like this, just because of a face. But it wasn't just her face. It was everything. The softness in her gaze, the uncertainty in her stance, the sheer unawareness of her own allure — all of it wove itself into his mind, into something he could not quite untangle.
And it anchored there.
He realized, in a quiet, almost frightening way, that he didn't want to forget her expression at this very moment. He wanted to keep it — memorize it — as though it were something precious he might never see again.
Lin Che, meanwhile, stood frozen, unsure of what to do. She could feel his gaze — steady, unrelenting, like a weight pressing gently against her heart. Her throat felt dry, her mind scattered. She wanted to speak, to explain that she had only wandered here by accident, that she hadn't meant to intrude… but no sound came out.
Then he moved.
It wasn't much — just a step back. A small motion, but one that shattered the invisible thread between them for a brief instant. Gong Feng had seen the flicker of fear in her eyes, the stiffness in her shoulders. He hadn't meant to frighten her.
He wasn't sure what he had meant to do.
So he gave her space. But even as he did, every fiber of his being resisted. His body ached to close the distance again, to reach out, to make sure she was still real.
He drew in a quiet breath, steadying himself. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm — too calm — the faintest edge of cool authority weaving through it, though his heart was anything but steady.
"What are you doing here?"