When the meal was finally finished, Lin Che realized something strange.
She had expected the silence to turn awkward. Expected the air to grow heavy, tense, suffocating.
Yet none of that happened.
They simply sat there.
No one rushed to speak. No one tried to fill the quiet with meaningless words. The dim light by the window softened the room, stretching their shadows across the floor in long, gentle lines. Outside, the night hummed faintly with the distant sounds of the mansion—laughter, music, footsteps—but here, it all felt far away, as if the world had politely stepped back and given them space.
Lin Che found herself relaxing without realizing it.
The tight knot in her chest loosened, just a little.
For the first time that night, the chaos—the engagement announcement, the humiliation, the heartbreak—felt secondary. They still existed, sharp and real, but they were no longer pressing down on her lungs, no longer demanding her attention every second.
She glanced at Gong Feng from the corner of her eye.
This man… was not what she had imagined.
The Gong Feng everyone talked about was ruthless, distant, sharp-edged—a man who ruled empires and crushed opposition without blinking. Yet the Gong Feng sitting across from her now was quiet, composed, almost gentle. There was something unexpectedly homey about his presence, as if he belonged more to a quiet room with warm food than to glittering banquets and ruthless boardrooms.
The contrast unsettled her.
And comforted her.
They remained like that for a while longer, until Lin Che suddenly stood up, breaking the stillness.
"I have to go," she said softly.
She had barely taken a step when his voice stopped her.
"What are you going to do from now on?"
The question landed heavier than she expected.
Lin Che froze.
From now on?
She realized, with a strange clarity, that she hadn't truly thought about it—not seriously. For years, her future had been unconsciously built around Gong Rui. Marriage had always hovered somewhere ahead, vague but assumed, like a destination she was steadily walking toward.
And now?
That path had vanished.
She turned back slowly and met Gong Feng's gaze. For some reason, answering him felt… easy. There was no pressure in his eyes, no judgment, only quiet curiosity.
"I'll look for a job," she said after a moment. "Work. Save some money. Find a way to make my grandmother comfortable."
"Your grandmother?" he asked.
She nodded immediately.
"My parents passed away when I was very young. No one else wanted to take me in, so my grandmother raised me." Her voice was steady, almost casual. "She hasn't been feeling well lately. Medical bills aren't cheap, so… I need to earn."
Gong Feng's eyes darkened slightly in the low light—not with suspicion, but with thought.
She was telling him things people usually guarded carefully. Not out of recklessness, but out of sincerity. There was no rehearsed tragedy in her tone, no attempt to gain sympathy. She was simply stating facts, as if her life had always been like this and she had long since learned to carry it on her own.
That, more than anything, intrigued him.
He hesitated, then asked a question that even he found unexpected.
"You're not going to fight for him?"
She understood immediately who him was.
A dull ache flickered in her chest, but she masked it with a faint smile.
"How would I even fight?" she asked quietly.
She paused, then continued, "When I first heard about it, I thought… maybe it was pressure. Family interests. Money. I thought there might still be something to hold on to."
Her mind flashed back, unbidden, to Gong Rui's words—I will accommodate you.
She did not say them out loud.
But the memory alone was enough.
"But then I realized," she said softly, "there's nothing worth fighting for."
Gong Feng watched her closely.
"I just want to go back to my village," she continued. "Live the way I used to. Simple. Quiet."
"That's it?" he asked.
She frowned slightly, confused by his tone, then nodded.
"That's it. Even if I wanted to fight, he's backed by the Gong family now. I've watched enough dramas to know how that ends—villains, schemes, humiliation. I don't have the energy for that."
"It wouldn't be you destroying anything," Gong Feng said suddenly.
She looked at him, puzzled.
"I don't understand."
"You could," he said, then stopped.
"You could what?" she pressed.
But he didn't finish the sentence.
Instead, he looked away, as if he had said too much already.
Lin Che checked the time hanging quietly on the wall.
It was late.
Too late.
Nan Lu must be worried sick by now.
She stood up again, smoothing her dress.
"Goodbye, Young Master Gong," she said politely. "Thank you for today. Really. But I have to go. My friend will be looking for me, and I can't let her worry."
She turned and walked toward the door.
Gong Feng stayed where he was.
He watched her retreating figure, each step she took echoing softly against the floor. With every step, something inside his chest tightened—an unfamiliar, unsettling sensation.
If she walked out now…
Would this be it?
Would they return to being strangers who once shared a brief, strange night of warmth and honesty?
Did he want that?
The answer came faster than he expected.
No.
Before his mind could catch up, his body moved.
He crossed the room in a few strides and reached out, gripping her hand.
Lin Che gasped softly and turned around, startled.
Their eyes met.
His gaze was intense—but not domineering. There was no calculation there, no cold ambition. Only a raw, almost reckless sincerity that made her breath hitch.
For once, Gong Feng did not weigh the consequences. Did not analyze the future. Did not plan ten steps ahead.
He simply spoke.
"Marry me."