1:37 a.m.
The office was quiet. Too quiet.
Empty pizza boxes sat stacked on the corner table. Yiyi sat cross-legged on the couch, tapping on her laptop while Zhou Yichen sat on the opposite end, scrolling through reports with a level of intensity that screamed avoidance.
"I'm sending the final recovery draft now," she said, breaking the silence.
Yichen nodded but didn't look up.
Five seconds passed.
Ten.
She closed her laptop. "You always this quiet when things aren't falling apart?"
He didn't answer at first. Then:"I don't like people watching me when I'm thinking."
Yiyi smirked. "You think?"
He shot her a look — not irritated, just tired. "Very funny."
She studied him. The sleeves of his perfect shirt were rolled up. He looked… human. Still closed off, but human.
"You weren't always like this," she said softly, surprising even herself.
His brows lifted slightly. "Like what?"
"Angry. Cold. Emotionally constipated."
He almost laughed. Almost. "It's a side effect of inheriting an empire you didn't ask for."
She blinked. "You didn't want the job?"
He hesitated, then looked away. "I wanted something quieter. But I was born a Zhou."
That hung between them for a moment — heavy, honest.
And just like that, the space between them didn't feel so wide.
"…I thought you were just a jerk," she admitted.
"I am," he said, but softer this time.
They both laughed — real, surprised laughter. It fizzled into silence again. But this time, it felt… warm.
Then his eyes met hers — really met hers — and something shifted.
Unspoken, uncertain, and very dangerous.
She looked away first. "We should get back to it."
"Yeah," he said, voice lower now. "We should."
But neither of them moved.
The Next Morning
Yiyi woke up with a crick in her neck, her head resting on a pile of spreadsheets.
Across from her, Yichen was asleep too — jacket draped over his shoulders, one hand still on his laptop. In the soft light, he didn't look like a CEO. He looked like a man who hadn't rested in years.
She stared for a moment too long before quietly standing, grabbing her bag, and whispering to the empty room:
"You're still a disaster. But I get it now."
And then she left.
But she took his jacket with her.
Just for revenge. Obviously.
(Not because it smelled like expensive wood and trouble.)