Lin didn't stay long this time, yet she wrapped up every task with her usual efficiency and precision. Within just a few days, the search for a studio space, negotiations, and contract arrangements were all finalized—true to her style: no delays, no room for second-guessing or hesitation.
A week after returning home, she sent Yeh a message: "I'm coming over to look for a place to stay soon."
Yeh was sitting at her desk, going over budget spreadsheets filled with endless lines of numbers that had left her feeling drained. Her fingers paused as she read the text, her gaze lingering on those few words before she typed back: "You can just stay here. Like we agreed before."
Almost instantly, Lin replied: "Then I'll take you up on it."
Looking down at the screen, Yeh couldn't help a soft smile tugging at her lips—subtle, yet more genuine than any emotion she had felt in a long time.
This time, Yeh decided to pick Lin up at the airport.
In the past, whenever Lin visited the city, they would meet directly at work venues, their schedules timed perfectly down to the minute. Airports were the kind of place reserved for people who mattered more, for relationships that ran deeper.
Yeh had always felt there was a distinct difference between seeing someone off and waiting for their arrival. Seeing someone leave meant watching them walk away; picking them up meant knowing—they are coming here to see you.
The arrival hall was bustling with people, and Yeh stood by the barrier, her eyes instinctively scanning the crowd pouring out. She rarely waited for anyone like this, and the anticipation was unfamiliar, making her feel slightly nervous.
Then she saw her. Lin emerged from the gate, wearing a crisp white shirt and jeans, her hair tied loosely back—simple, quiet, yet standing out effortlessly from the crowd. She wasn't loud or attention-seeking, yet it was impossible not to notice her.
Yeh lifted her hand and waved instinctively.
At that moment, Lin's heart gave a gentle, unmistakable lurch. It suddenly felt as though this trip wasn't just about work. It felt like... coming home, to a place where someone was waiting.
"You really didn't have to come all the way here," Lin said as she approached, her voice holding genuine surprise.
"You're an important guest," Yeh replied, then, realizing it might sound too heavy, added lightly, "Besides, I pick up good friends all the time."
She took hold of Lin's luggage. "Come on, I parked my car outside."
In the parking lot, the headlights of Yeh's red Tesla flickered on. Once the bags were stowed away and Lin settled into the passenger seat, she glanced around the interior curiously.
"This is the first time I've ridden in your car."
Yeh fastened her seatbelt calmly. "There will be plenty more chances."
She said it naturally, casually, yet the words seemed to stretch toward a future that neither of them had dared to name. Lin didn't reply, only smiled softly to herself.
As they pulled out onto the road, the city lights flickered into view one by one, painting the evening in warm gold.
Yeh lived in a quiet residential neighborhood. As the elevator rose, neither of them spoke much, yet there was no awkwardness—instead, a quiet understanding seemed to settle between them, slowly taking shape like a new habit.
The moment the front door opened, a light, pleasant fragrance drifted out to greet them. Inside, the living room was bright, warm, and immaculately kept. Soft blankets draped over the sofa, shelves lined with books and small trinkets, and lush green plants by the windows, clearly tended to with great care. Scattered around were souvenirs from travels all over the world: a delicate sculpture from Barcelona, a miniature yellow taxi from New York, the little mole from Prague, a Smurf figurine from Brussels, and a tiny wooden elephant from Thailand. They were arranged casually but with purpose, like fragments of memories carefully preserved. Most striking of all was a row of cute plush toys lined up neatly on a shelf.
Lin couldn't help but laugh.
"I never pictured your place like this. You're actually quite cute, aren't you?"
Yeh dragged the luggage inside, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "I happen to like cute things," she admitted, glancing at Lin with a look that seemed to say more than the words themselves.
Lin's attention shifted to the display board mounted on the wall, covered in photographs, cards, and stills from films—all featuring actresses and movies Yeh clearly admired.
"I didn't take you for the type to follow celebrities."
Yeh froze for a split second, as if Lin had touched upon a part of herself she rarely showed anyone, before smiling shyly. "I suppose I am... though my closest friends don't even know."
"Why not?"
Yeh paused, choosing her words carefully. "I've never been very good at expressing feelings. Even being a fan feels like something deeply personal, something I keep to myself."
Lin didn't press further, simply nodding gently. In that moment, she felt as though she understood a little more about the parts of Yeh that always remained unspoken.
Yeh showed her to the guest room. The bed was neatly made with fluffy bedding in soft yellow, patterned with cute animal prints, and a large toy bear sat propped against the pillows.
Lin stared at it for a second, then chuckled softly. "You really are like a kid sometimes."
Standing by the door, Yeh's ears turned scarlet. "I bought it recently... I wasn't sure what you'd like."
Fresh towels were folded neatly beside the bed, along with brand-new toiletries and a toothbrush—every small detail was considered and prepared.
"You really do think of everything," Lin said warmly.
Yeh shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Well, of course. It's not regular you visit my home, I should be a good host ." She paused, then added quickly, "And if you need pajamas, you can borrow mine too." As if afraid it sounded too intimate, she clarified hastily: "Basically, just bring yourself. Everything you need is already here."
Lin leaned against the doorframe, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement.
"I brought my own," she said, slowing her words deliberately, "but... maybe next time I'll wear yours."
Yeh was caught completely off guard. She ducked her head, pretending to smooth out the bedsheets, her movements stiff and deliberate as she tried to hide the sudden flutter of her heart.
She had hosted many friends before, of course. But this was the first time—she was living under the same roof with the person she cared about much.
It was late by the time Lin finished her shower. In the living room, only a small lamp was switched on, casting a soft glow that was just bright enough to see each other's outlines. Yeh was sitting on the sofa scrolling through her phone, but looked up as she heard footsteps approaching.
Lin stood there in simple sleepwear, her hair still slightly damp at the ends.
"Goodnight," she said softly.
Yeh blinked, her mind taking a moment to catch up. "Goodnight." She didn't try to keep the conversation going, nor did she make any effort to extend the moment. As if they had silently agreed, they each turned and retreated to their own rooms.
Slowly, the house settled into stillness.
Lying in bed, Yeh found sleep impossible. Staring up at the ceiling, her mind replayed the day's moments over and over again—the airport, the car ride, the moment the front door opened, and those words she'd said so casually: "There will be plenty more chances."
She had once believed she would keep her distance forever. But now, everything felt different, suddenly filled with hope again. The bond between them had become tangible, solid enough that she could no longer simply choose to step away or maintain a safe distance.
It was a long time before sleep finally came. The sheets smelled fresh and clean, with the faint scent of sunlight lingering in the fabric. She turned over, catching sight of the big toy bear sitting on the pillow, and smiled quietly to herself.
Her time in Bangkok had been vibrant, fast-paced, and emotionally intense, swept along by constant movement and noise.
But this place was different. This was Yeh's space, quiet and true, reflecting exactly who she was.
Thinking about it, a profound sense of calm settled over Lin. It was the feeling of someone who had always been moving, finally finding a place to rest, even if just for a little while.
She closed her eyes, and fell asleep almost instantly.