CHAPTER 66 — The Weight Behind Closed Doors
The elevator doors slid shut, sealing out the reporters, the flashes, the chaos.
Silence fell instantly.
Not peace.
Just silence.
Shi Yunxi stood stiffly in the corner of the elevator, her fingers still trapped in Mu Lingchen's grip. He didn't squeeze, didn't pull—just held her as if letting go was not an option.
She swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper.
"…You shouldn't have said that."
He didn't respond.
The elevator hummed softly as it ascended.
"You shouldn't have talked about marriage," she continued, breath unsteady. "People will misunderstand. They'll think we—"
He finally looked at her.
Directly.
Calmly.
Dangerously.
"Is it a misunderstanding?"
Her heartbeat stumbled.
"Lingchen—"
He stepped closer. The elevator was large, but suddenly it felt impossally small.
"You're overwhelmed," he said quietly, "but I'm not going to pretend anymore. Not after three years. Not after losing you once."
Her lips trembled.
She looked away.
Away from his eyes.
Away from the pulse of emotion in them.
"You didn't lose me," she whispered. "I left because—"
"Because of the Shi family," he finished for her.
She froze.
He continued, voice low.
"Because you were scared. Because they wanted to destroy you. Because you didn't trust me enough to stay."
Her breath caught.
He had always known.
He had always known she left out of fear, not betrayal.
He had never been fooled —
not even back then.
She wanted to speak, but his next words crushed the air around her.
"You didn't lose me either, Yunxi."
His voice dropped to something gentler, something more intimate.
"But you almost did. And I won't allow it again."
The elevator chimed.
They had reached the private top floor.
His office.
His territory.
His world.
He guided her out with a hand on her back, small but steady.
Her steps felt heavy, like each one dragged her deeper into dangerous territory—dangerous because it felt too familiar, too warm, too much like coming home.
Inside his office, the quiet settled between them again.
She turned away from him, hugging her arms.
"You shouldn't get involved," she said softly. "The situation online, the rumors, the Shi family… it's too much. You're the president of Mu Corporation—"
He walked around her, stopping only when they were face to face.
"I don't care about any of that."
"Lingchen—"
"I don't care," he repeated, firmer this time. "Not about video views, not about public pressure, not about business consequences."
His gaze softened.
"I care about you. And the children."
Her knees felt weak.
She clenched her fists to steady herself.
"…You're making it hard to think," she whispered.
"Good."
Her eyes snapped up.
"Lingchen—"
He leaned slightly closer.
"Because when you think too much, you run. You hide. You convince yourself you don't deserve happiness."
Her breath trembled.
"And you do. You always did."
Her throat tightened painfully.
But before she could answer, before she could fall apart, there was a sharp knock on the door.
Lingchen straightened.
His voice cooled instantly.
"Enter."
Li Wei stepped inside, bowed slightly, then handed Lingchen a folder.
"President Mu, the investigation results you requested."
Yunxi blinked.
Investigation?
Her heart stuttered.
Lingchen flipped through the file quickly, his jaw tightening.
"Everything in here?"
"Yes, sir."
Li Wei cast a quick glance at Yunxi, but didn't dare linger.
He left just as fast as he came.
Lingchen closed the file slowly.
Too slowly.
Yunxi frowned.
"What… what is that?"
He hesitated.
It was subtle. Barely visible.
But for a man who rarely hesitated in anything, it was shocking.
"Lingchen?"
He looked at her.
"It's the truth about what happened three years ago."
Her entire body went still.
The world around her seemed to blur.
"No," she whispered. "Lingchen, I don't want—"
"You need to know."
"I already know what happened."
"You know parts," he corrected. "Not all."
Her chest tightened.
Painfully.
Terrifyingly.
"I don't want to go back to that time," she whispered. "I barely survived it the first time."
He stepped toward her.
"I know," he said softly.
"Then why make me—"
"Because the lies nearly destroyed you," he said tightly. "And almost destroyed our children. They won't vanish just because you look away."
Her breath shook.
He offered the file to her.
She stared at it.
A simple folder.
Plain.
Unassuming.
But inside it were the ghosts she had tried so hard to bury.
She took one step back.
"I can't."
"You can," he said quietly. "And I'll be here."
Her voice cracked.
"I'm not ready."
He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly—not in frustration, but in understanding.
"Then I'll wait."
Her eyes widened.
"You… will?"
"Yes," he said simply. "When you're ready, you'll read it. Until then…"
He placed the file on his desk.
His next words were softer than anything he had said today.
"I'll protect you from everything—except your own memories. Those, you'll have to face when you choose to."
The wind outside pushed against the glass windows, humming against the silence between them.
She slowly sat on the couch, burying her face in her hands.
He didn't rush her.
Didn't touch her.
Didn't speak.
He just stayed close enough for her to feel he was there.
After a long moment, she whispered:
"I'm scared."
"I know," he murmured.
"But you're not alone anymore."
Her throat tightened.
Her eyes burned.
And for the first time in three years—
She allowed herself to believe it.