Chapter 3

A week passed, and the atmosphere in the Wang mansion remained tense but steady.

Yibo kept his distance. And zhan had no intention of chasing after a man who had no interest in him, beyond their agreement.

Still, the encounter in the library lingered in zhan's mind.

One evening, as zhan stepped into the dining hall, he was surprised to see yibo already seated.

A variety of dishes were spread across the long dining table, but yibo was focused on his phone, barely touching his food.

Zhan hesitated before sitting across from yibo. "Is this how you usually eat? In silence?"

Yibo glances up briefly. "I don't see the need for an unnecessary conversation"

Zhan rolled his eyes. "Of course, wouldn't want to waste your precious words".

Yibo sighed, setting his phone down. "If you have something to say, say it".

Zhan stabbed his salad with his fork. "Fine, since we are stuck at each other, we might as well try to be civil. I don't want to spend the rest of my life living in a house where we pretend the other doesn't exist".

Yibo studied zhan for a moment before nodding slightly. "Fair enough what do you propose?"

Zhan thought for a moment. "Dinner together. A conversation that doesn't revolve around money or business. Just two people talking. Can you handle that Mr. Wang?"

Something flickered in yibo's eyes-amusement, perhaps. "I suppose, I can manage".

It was a small step, but for the first time since their marriage.

Zhan felt like they were moving toward something, other than mutual resentment.

The ice between them, however thick, had begun to crack.

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Days turned into weeks, and although the air in the Wang mansion was still thick with unspoken words, there was a subtle shift between zhan and yibo.

The cold tension that once defined their marriage had started to melt, piece by piece.

One evening, a violent thunderstorm raged outside, sending sheets of rain pounding against the mansion's tall glass windows.

The wind howled, rattling the branches of the trees surrounding the estate.

Zhan sat curled up in the grand sitting room, staring at the flickering flames in the fire place, trying to drown out the sound of the storm.

Zhan had never been fond of thunderstorms. They reminded him of the night his father left, the night his world had fallen apart.

Zhan had hoped to spend the evening alone. But his loneliness was interrupted by the quiet sound of footsteps.

Yibo entered the room, his gaze flickering briefly toward zhan before settling on the storm outside.

"You don't like thunderstorms?" Yibo asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

Zhan exhaled, debating whether to answer yibo at all. But something about the night made zhan defenses lower just a little. "Not particularly"

Yibo didn't press further. Instead, he sat down in the chair opposite to zhan, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter on the side table.

The firelights cast a long shadows across his face, making his normally sharp features appears softer.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence between them is no longer suffocating it was almost..... Comfortable.

"You don't seem like the type to sit in the dark, and be deeply serious" zhan finally said, breaking the silence.

A smirked formed across yibo's lips. "And you don't seem like the type, to be afraid of a little rain".

Zhan frowned. "I'm not afraid. I just.... Don't like it"

Yibo studied zhan for a moment before setting his glass down. "Come with me"

Zhan blinked. "Excuse me?"

Yibo didn't wait for zhan's response. Instead, he stood up and extended a hand toward zhan.

Zhan hesitated before finally placing his hand on his. Yibo's grip was warm, firm, but not forceful.

Yibo led zhan through the mansion, past the grand staircase and down a long Hall way. Zhan had spend weeks here, yet there were still rooms zhan hadn't explored.

When yibo finally stopped, zhan realized they were in a glass enclosed conservatory filled with lush greenery.

The rain pelted against the glass ceiling, but inside it was peaceful.

Yibo walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a thick blanket, draping it over one of the benches before gesturing for zhan to sit.

Yibo then sat beside zhan, their shoulders almost touching.

"This was my mother's favourite place", he said after a long pause. "She used to sit here for hours whenever it rained".

"She said storms weren't just destruction. They were a reset-washing away everything that no longer served it's purpose"

Yibo's gaze remained fixed outside, his expression unreadable. "I never understood what she meant when I was younger. But now...... maybe I do".

Zhan swallowed. He had never seen yibo like this before-so raw, so unguarded.

Zhan didn't know what to say, so he simply sat there, listening to the rain and the quiet sound of yibo's breathing.

For the first time since their marriage, zhan didn't feel like an outsider in this house.

And for the first time, yibo didn't feel like the cold, untouchable man zhan had believed him to be.

As the storm continued to rage outside, something shifted between them. The walls they had built around themselves had started to fade, brick by brick.

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