On the third day in Taipei, they finally began to start working. The meeting with the streaming platform went even better than they had anticipated. The streaming platform had already produced several well‑regarded GL series, and their team possessed a sharp, mature understanding of storytelling. Participants of the meeting from the platform not only included the distribution manager but also the head of production and the general manager, Mr. Zhou.
When the first rough‑cut episode began to play, the room fell silent almost instantly, every eye fixed on the screen, and only when the segment ended did anyone let out a soft breath.
"The tension is excellent," the producer said first. "This isn't the kind of drama that rushes relationships forward at the beginning; it holds back on purpose and was with rhythm." She paused, then added, "audiences will feel every moment of it—they'll be drawn right in."
Mr. Zhou nodded in agreement. "And the emotional work is delicate, very much in the style of Taiwanese storytelling, and the characters are very well-developed and multi-dimensional. There is no artificially sweet romance, only focus on natural relationship development."
Hearing this, the tight knot of tension Yeh had carried finally began to loosen. She glanced instinctively toward Lin, then smoothly stepped in, guiding the focus toward her. "That's largely thanks to Lin's. She studied in Taiwan and interned in entertainment industry, so she understands exactly how contents are created in Taiwan. Much of the emotional depth in this gl project borrows directly from that Taiwanese films and series: subtlety and truth."
Lin was caught off guard by the attention, smiled and offered no false modesty, simply adding a few clear, calm thoughts on her creative process. As she spoke of certain scenes, her eyes would drift naturally to Yeh, as if checking that they shared the same memory—and every time, Yeh met her gaze instantly. It was not a performance or rehearsed coordination, but came from two people long accustomed to each other's rhythm.
The meeting stretched from afternoon into evening, moving smoothly from distribution terms to market positioning and even the possibility of collaborating on future productions, with never an awkward pause. By the time the details of the secondary distribution were settled, dusk had fallen and Taipei's lights were coming on one by one along the streets.
Mr. Zhou invited them all to dinner.
The atmosphere at the table was far more relaxed than in the conference room, conversation drifting naturally from work to life. Yeh was asked about her years in Hong Kong, she spoke of the relentless pace and pressure of the finance world, and the famous investment cases she had involved. Lin was asked about her creative philosophy and the journey that had brought her here.
Mr. Zhou listened, then smiled. "You two make quite a pair. One builds the structure, the other adds feeling into it. No wonder the result is that perfect."
Yeh said nothing, only looked sideways at Lin, silently acknowledging the truth of his words.
By the time the meal ended, their relationship had evolved beyond mere partners; they now shared a clear vision for what came next.
Back to the hotel, they did not go straight to her room. Yeh paused for a moment in the lift, then spoke. "Would you like to go to the roof lounge for a drink?"
It was the first time Yeh had ever made such a suggestion.
Lin looked at her, asked no questions, and simply nodded.
The bar on the top floor was dimly lit with perfect atmosphere and Taipei 101 stood clearly visible in the distance. They chose a table by the window and ordered cocktails: Lin's pink, Yeh's blue. Yeh lifted her glass and took a long drink, the cold liquid sliding down her throat, yet her mind was clear, and her heartbeat was steady and distinct.
Lin spoke first, her voice was soft, as if voicing a thought she had carried for a long time. "I've always thought… meeting you was something almost magical."
Yeh paused, then smiled and leaned slightly closer. "That's exactly what I should say." She gazed out at the spread of lights, her tone slowed into something softer. "Ever since I met you, everything has felt different. Every day suddenly became… vivid, full of colors and excitement."
Lin gave a quiet laugh. "Then I am very honoured."
A short silence followed, gentle and deliberate, as if giving space for those words to settle.
Yeh no longer looked away. Her fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her glass; her throat felt dry for a moment before she swallowed and spoke, her voice became far more serious than before.
"There's something I've carried inside for a very long time."
She paused, gathering words herself. "I always thought it was better not to say anything. After all, we were working together, and I didn't want to risk changing our relationship."
She lifted her eyes to meet Lin's directly, her gaze steady. "But now that this project is nearly done… I think you have the right to know. Actually I want you to know."
The air between them seemed to hold still. Those two seconds of silence were brief, yet long enough to make clear that everything was about to shift.
Yeh doesn't hesitate. She lokked straight into Lin's eyes, she said each word clearly and deliberately. "I don't know if you've ever felt it… but what I feel for you… it goes far beyond friendship. I had feeling for you since the very first time we met."
As soon as the words were out, she looked down and gave a small, self‑conscious laugh, as if easing the weight of what she had said, then took another sip of her drink. Those simple truths had been locked inside her for so long, yet now that they were spoken, they felt almost unreal, like something from a dream.
Lin's reaction came a beat late, her mind going briefly blank. It was a shock, and a joy she had never dared to expect. She had always believed that if she herself never spoke up her feeling, someone as restrained as Yeh would never reveal a thing.
Lin's breath caught for a moment, and her voice came softer than usual. "Do you remember that time I asked if you would like women… and you said in real life, no?"
Yeh smiled, a little helplessly. "Back then… I thought you and Jing were together." She paused, her tone was easing into something honest and open. " Since long time ago, I had already decided to keep my distance. Whether I liked women or not… it didn't seem to matter anymore."
She looked at Lin again, adding with faint self‑mockery, "Besides, I was afraid that you might misunderstand. I didn't want you to think I was falling for you… you know how much I hate one-sided love. And I was afraid that caring for someone would make me lose my grip, my rationality."
Now that it was all said, Yeh no longer tried to hide or step back.
Lin asked quietly, "And now? Are you still afraid?"
Yeh answered without a moment's thought. "No. Because you… you made me brave enough not to be."
Lin did not reply immediately. It was not that she did not understand, or that she felt nothing—quite the opposite, she knew exactly how heavy those words were. Because she understood so well, she could not give an equal answer in that instant. She knew that she felt the same, perhaps even as deeply as Yeh did, but she remembered all the times Yeh had pulled away before, and now this sudden closeness made her consider : was this a surge of emotion, or a choice that Yeh would hold steady?
She looked at Yeh as if seeing her truly for the first time.
"So," she asked softly, "what you're saying… is that you like me?"
Yeh nodded, without hesitation.
She had not expected Lin to answer right away; she had already accepted every possible outcome in her heart. She only knew she could no longer hide this truth behind silence or retreat.
A breeze drifted in, carrying the faint scent of spirits, while Taipei's night scenery stretched out endlessly beyond the glass.
They said nothing more, letting everything they felt rest exactly where it was, in that moment.