In reality, from the very beginning, the fact that they lived in different cities had acted as an invisible boundary line in Yeh's mind.
She had always admired friends who managed long-distance relationships, She understood the patience and trust it required, yet she never believed it was something she could do. For her, affection needed a daily anchor; it required a presence that could be felt and touched—not sustained by imagination, but confirmed in a face to face interaction that instant, simply by turning around. More than once, she had used "distance" as her deciding factor for the relationship with Lin: even if there were no obstacles, even if the feelings were mutual, as long as they lived apart, the relationship was automatically categorized as "impossible."
That was why her time in Bangkok felt like a romance with a clear expiration date—brief, but burning intensely.
Because she knew it would come to an end, she allowed herself to get close to. Because the finish line was fixed, she could live in the moment without worrying about the future.
What Yeh didn't know was that long before they met, Lin and her team had already made the decision to relocate their company to Yeh's city. It wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision driven by emotion, but a rational business choice. The resources, brands, clients, and long-term opportunities here far exceeded those in their previous location; it was simply the right place for growth. The company registration was already complete; all that remained was finding an office and arranging the move.
For Lin, the only variable that didn't fit into this logical equation was Yeh—and she was the most unexpected surprise.
Two weeks after leaving Bangkok, Lin appeared again. Without warning.
When she stood in the lobby of Yeh's company building, Yeh stared at the familiar figure for a few seconds before it registered. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you would come?"
Lin smiled, putting on an air of casual ease. "Then it wouldn't be a surprise."
Her natural manner made it impossible to tell if it was planned or impulsive.
"Have you had lunch?" Yeh carried a voice which betraying a flicker of unhidden excitement. "Let me take you out to eat, and we can talk properly." She needed to know the reason behind this visit.
They chose a brunch spot with large windows. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating everything clearly on the table. As soon as they sat down, Yeh asked without beating around the bush: "Are you here for leisure, or for work?"
Yeh actually knew their common poject in Thailand didn't require Lin's participation right now.
"Looking for an office," Lin said, pausing slightly to let the words sink in. "We've decided to move our company here."
For a moment, Yeh was silent, processing the information. It was too direct, and she needed time to catch up.
"That sudden?" she asked instinctively. "You never mentioned it before."
"We've been planning it since last year," Lin said calmly. "This city is better for expanding our business. Most of our clients and partners are based here. Back home, it was too relaxed... not the right environment for building something new."
Yeh nodded, keeping her expression composed, but inside, a wave of emotion surged—happiness, shock, and an overwhelming lightness that felt almost inappropriate.
Yeh suppressed it quickly. "So... when is the official move?"
"If everything goes well this trip, we'll sign the lease. The company is already registered."
"You really are efficient," Yeh smiled. "Just let me know if you need any help with anything."
As soon as she said it, another question slipped out, almost unbidden. "Where are you planning to stay?"
"Accommodation isn't urgent," Lin replied. "We'll focus on the office first. We can stay in hotels for now, and look for a place later."
Yeh nodded, but couldn't stop herself: "Will you guys live together, or separately?"
"Same as before," Lin said. "Jing and I will share a place. The rest will have their own."
It was the answer Yeh expected; she had always known their arrangement.
Yet hearing the name "Jing" again still caused a sharp, involuntary tightening in her chest. It was a complex feeling—not exactly jealousy, nor dislike, but a stark realization: some people were permanently anchored in Lin's life. Regardless of how their relationship was defined, that depth of companionship was already there.
Yeh quickly smoothed her expression, forcing a light tone. "That makes sense. Good to have someone to look out for you."
The words were barely out of her mouth when she added, without thinking:
"Until you find a place... you could stay with me. I live alone, anyway."
The moment she spoke, she froze. It was as if an emotion she wasn't allowed to have had suddenly exposed itself.
She immediately regretted it, bracing herself for rejection.
But Lin agreed without hesitation. "Sure." No pause, no hesitation.
This time, it was Yeh who was stunned.
"I thought you'd hesitate," she said softly. "I was just thinking... maybe I was being too warm-hearted."
"Why would I hesitate if you don't mind?" Lin looked at her, her voice steady. "It's not like we haven't lived together before."
It was said lightly, like a simple statement of fact, yet the intimacy behind it was impossible to ignore.
Yeh lowered her head to take a sip of coffee, trying to hide the way her heart had skipped a beat. "Right."
But her mind was already racing, uncontrollably imagining the days to come.
This conversation also gave Yeh a clearer picture of where Lin stood now.
From their very first meeting, she knew that Lin didn't just want to create content for brands; she wanted to make works—things that would last, things that truly touched people. It was the exact same dream that had driven Yeh into content making.
But reality demanded compromise. Lin had a team to support; she had to take on commercial projects, breaking down her creativity into marketable content, often adjusting her vision to suit client needs. Even those popular short videos they made together weren't truly, entirely hers.
Yeh understood clearly that the GL project she was developing could, in many ways, be the beginning of Lin's dream. Although the project had been got up long before they met. Yeh wanted it to succeed not just for the business, but for Lin. She wanted to take on the risks, so that Lin could finally create what she truly wanted. Even if Lin's company wasn't a co-presenter, as long as her name was on it, it would be her work. And once this project proved successful, once the model was sustainable and replicable—
Next time, Yrh wanted to make a story that belonged completely to Lin.
She had never voiced this thought. But from the day they met, she had known one thing for certain:
Deep down from heart, Lin had a story that she had to tell.