🤫 Part I: After the Storm
The aftermath of the 'Emotional Transparency Performance Art' (as Mr. Kim successfully spun the brunch disaster) left Meiyu and Chenxu in a state of profound, exhausted intimacy. The shared danger had cemented their bond beyond the professional.
Eun-Joo was temporarily neutralized, but the threat of her return still hung heavy in the air. For now, there was just the quiet reality of their lives together in the enormous, sterile penthouse.
Chenxu, relieved of the pressure, was exhibiting a profound calm. He still spoke without a filter, but the outbursts were replaced by thoughtful, almost childlike observations.
One evening, Meiyu walked into the kitchen to find Chenxu meticulously polishing a single, chipped bottle cap.
"This is from a soda bottle I drank when I was seven," he explained, holding it up like a priceless relic. "It's ugly, isn't it? But my mother would never let me keep anything imperfect. She threw away every bottle cap I ever collected. This one… this one is the only one I saved."
He looked up at Meiyu, his eyes large and honest. "You let me keep the chipped things, Meiyu. The ugly feelings, the weird hobbies. You don't try to polish them."
Meiyu walked over and gently touched the bottle cap. "They're not ugly, Chenxu. They're just yours."
A powerful, protective warmth flooded her chest. It was an undeniable, terrifying realization: she was deeply, irrevocably in love with this flawed, vulnerable, unfiltered man. It was a love built not on his fame, but on the broken pieces of his suppressed life.
🦢 Part II: The Shadow's Observations
The Shadow Advisory Council, now an established fixture, was intensely interested in this development. The Crane (Chenxu's Shadow) was ecstatic; The Lens (Kwon's Shadow) was, predictably, clinically dissecting the romantic dynamics.
"He's making eye contact with the chipped bottle cap, Meiyu! That's an advanced level of trust! Tell him you find his sincerity dramatically compelling!" the Crane insisted, its silver light pulsing with encouragement.
The Lens, however, injected a dose of reality. "Observe the risk, Meiyu. Your emotional state is now directly tied to his. His unfiltered self has chosen you as his emotional anchor. If he regains his true Shadow, the old, guarded self may reject the vulnerability he shared."
Meiyu felt a chill. The possibility that the real, polished Jiang Chenxu wouldn't recognize the connection she had forged with his broken half was the central tragedy of their situation.
"If the old Chenxu came back, would he remember this?" Meiyu whispered, looking at the man absorbed in his bottle cap.
"The memories remain, but the feeling doesn't," the Crane replied, its voice unusually subdued. "He'll know he ate the noodles and revealed the shame, but the distance will return. I am his emotional firewall. Without me, he returns to the cool, untouchable facade."
The romantic tension was now tied to a magical timer. Meiyu wasn't just falling for a man; she was falling for a temporary state of being.
 Part III: The Betrayal on File
The emotional high was soon shattered by a tactical alert from Mr. Kim.
"Meiyu, I need you to look at this," Mr. Kim said, his face pale, handing her a folder thick with legal documents. "Eun-Joo's agency just filed a formal injunction against Chenxu. They're claiming 'Emotional Breach of Contract' related to his initial fame-driven relationship with her."
The legal maneuver was complex, but the essence was simple: Eun-Joo was legally claiming that Chenxu's current "instability" was a pattern, one she was a victim of years ago, and she was demanding a massive settlement based on the damage his erratic behavior was causing her reputation.
"It's a shakedown," Meiyu realized, flipping through the pages.
"It's worse," Mr. Kim corrected. "This injunction forces a formal deposition. And Eun-Joo is demanding that Chenxu testify without his management team present. She knows he's exposed."
The stakes had never been higher. Chenxu would be forced into a room with the woman who knew his emotional pressure points better than anyone, and he would be unable to filter his honest, vulnerable responses. Eun-Joo wanted him to confess under oath to being emotionally unstable and unreliable, providing her the proof she needed to cash in on his fame.
"I need to go with him," Meiyu stated immediately.
"Impossible," Mr. Kim sighed. "The injunction specifically bans any personal staff who didn't exist during the period of the alleged 'emotional breach.' That means you, his current 'handler,' are blocked."
đź“ś Part IV: The Unexpected Loophole
Meiyu leaned against the wall, despair washing over her. She couldn't allow Chenxu to walk into that legal lion's den alone.
"Wait," The Lens suddenly cut through the tension, its cool light intensely focused. "Eun-Joo is relying on the letter of the law. But the filing bans 'personal staff.' Who is not considered personal staff?"
"A lawyer," Meiyu said automatically. "But we can't switch lawyers now."
"No, Meiyu. Think about the social definitions of accompaniment," The Lens instructed. "Who is allowed to accompany a person into any private meeting, legal or otherwise, without being defined as 'staff'?"
The Crane, meanwhile, was transmitting an urgent, powerful emotion: The need to be protected in public.
Meiyu's eyes widened as she flipped to a small print clause in the injunction. Personal staff, assistants, and stylists are prohibited.
She looked at Chenxu, who was still staring at the legal papers, his face gray with dread.
"The injunction doesn't ban family," Meiyu said slowly. "Or a fiancé."
Mr. Kim looked aghast. "You're not engaged! That's massive public fraud! The media will destroy us!"
"It's a temporary ruse," Meiyu argued, her mind racing. "A shield. Eun-Joo's whole argument is that Chenxu is emotionally unstable and incapable of a stable, healthy relationship. If he shows up with a stable, professional fiancée who has been publicly recognized as 'The Architect' and who clearly manages his life, the entire premise of her emotional instability claim collapses."
Chenxu looked up, the idea clearly resonating with his unfiltered, pragmatic core.
"It's a counter-narrative of extreme stability," Chenxu articulated, his eyes lighting up with the strategy. "It proves I am not only stable, but committed. It completely undermines her claim of damage."
He looked at Meiyu, the man who let her keep the chipped things, and offered her his hand.
"Marry me, Meiyu," he said, the words heavy and real, despite the obvious lie attached to them. "Just for the deposition. Marry the broken, unfiltered man with the ridiculous hobbies, so that he can be safe."
Meiyu looked at his hand, then at the glowing Shadow in her pocket—the desperate, lonely heart of the man asking her to save him. The feelings she had suppressed rushed forward, overwhelming the logic of her beige past.
"Yes," Meiyu whispered, placing her hand in his. "I'll be your fiancée. I'll be your ultimate shield."
đź’Ť Part V: The Ring and the Revelation
The logistics were handled with terrifying speed. Mr. Kim, convinced this was the only way to avoid financial ruin, procured a massive, blindingly expensive diamond ring—a temporary loaner—that could not possibly be argued against in court.
Later that night, Meiyu stood in the penthouse, holding the enormous, glittering ring. It was the physical manifestation of the lie they were about to sell to the world.
Chenxu came up behind her, taking the ring from her fingers. He slipped it onto her left hand. It fit perfectly.
"When I wore this in public, I used to feel sick," Chenxu confessed softly, watching the light fracture through the enormous stone. "It represented the lie—the perfection I had to uphold. But when you wear it..."
He turned her to face him, his eyes looking straight into her soul.
"When you wear it, it feels like a shield. A promise that you will stand between the real me and the judgment of the world."
He didn't lean in to kiss her. He simply looked at her, his expression carrying the weight of all the truth he had shared.
"Meiyu," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intense rumble. "The engagement is a lie. But my reliance on you… the way you see me and protect me—that's real."
The atmosphere in the room was thick with unspoken, terrifying, genuine emotion. Meiyu knew that this fake engagement was the riskiest move yet, professionally and personally. But as she looked at the vulnerable man before her, she knew she couldn't walk away. She had to save the unfiltered soul she had accidentally found.