The walk to Nana's house took longer than Zayne expected. She'd given him directions.
—"the small wooden house past the vegetable market, with the blue door and the flower pots"—but he'd still gotten turned around twice in the maze of narrow village streets.
When he finally found it, he paused at the gate, taking it in.
The house was small. Smaller than his apartment in Linkon, certainly smaller than his childhood home.
The wood was weathered, paint peeling in places. The roof looked like it might leak during heavy rains. Flower pots lined the front step—wildflowers, probably planted by the children, blooming in cheerful defiance of the house's poverty.
It wasn't fancy. It wasn't shimmering or impressive or anything his mother would approve of.
But somehow, even from outside, it radiated warmth.
Zayne knocked.
The door flew openZayne knocked. The door flew open immediately, revealing a small girl—maybe nine years old—with wide, curious eyes and pigtails.
"MAMA! THE PRINCE IS HERE!"
"Lili, don't shout—" A woman's voice called from inside, then Nana's mother appeared, wiping her hands on her apron. She was older than Zayne expected, worn down by hardship but with kind eyes that reminded him of her daughter.
"You must be Dr. Li. Please, come in, come in. Ignore the mess—we weren't expecting—Lili, move, let the man inside—"
Zayne stepped into cheerful chaos.Children were everywhere. Two teenage girls—twins, identical except for their hairstyles—sat on the floor doing homework, craning their necks to stare at him with barely concealed giggles. Another girl, maybe seventeen, sat on the worn couch reading, but her eyes kept darting to him with undisguised curiosity.
The small one—Lili—had attached herself to his leg, peering up at him like he was a mythical creature.
"Are you really a doctor?" Lili asked, awestruck. "Can you see people's insides? Can you fix anything? Do you have magic powers?"
"Lili, let go of him—" Nana burst from the kitchen, face flushed from cooking, apron covered in flour. She looked mortified. "I'm so sorry, she's—they're all—we don't usually—"
"It's fine." And surprisingly, Zayne meant it.
The warmth, the noise, the unfiltered curiosity—it was overwhelming but not unpleasant.
"I don't mind."
Nana's mother ushered him to sit in the living room—the only chair that didn't have books or toys on it—and pressed a cup of tea into his hands before bustling back to help Nana in the kitchen.
The twins had migrated closer, whispering to each other but loud enough for him to hear:
"He's so tall—"
"And handsome—"
"Like from a drama—"
"Do you think he's really going to marry Nana?"
"Shh, he'll hear you—"
"He can definitely hear you,"
the older sister—Meimei, Zayne remembered—said dryly from the couch.
"You're whispering like elephants." She looked at Zayne directly. "Sorry about them. They've never seen anyone from the city before. You're like a celebrity to them."
Zayne found himself smiling—a real smile, not the polite professional one.
"I've never been considered a celebrity before. Usually, people avoid me in hospitals."
"Because you look scary?" Lili asked innocently.
"Lili!" Nana called from the kitchen, mortified.
"It's alright," Zayne said. "And yes, probably. I've been told I have an intimidating demeanor."
"What's a demeanor?" Lili asked.
"It means he looks like he might eat children for breakfast," one of the twins supplied helpfully.
"Does not!" the other twin protested.
"He looks nice. Just... serious."
"Very serious," Lili agreed, studying his face with intense concentration.
"Like a teacher. Or a statue."
Zayne couldn't help but laugh—actually laugh, a sound that surprised him as much as it surprised everyone else.
The children stared, then broke into delighted giggles.
"He laughed! The statue laughed!"
"Lili, stop calling him a statue—"
From the kitchen, Zayne could hear Nana and her mother working together, their voices blending in comfortable rhythm.
The sounds of chopping, sizzling, the clatter of dishes. The twins had returned to their homework, occasionally glancing at him. Meimei had gone back to her book but kept smiling to herself.
This, Zayne thought, is what a family sounds like.Not the cold silence of his apartment. Not the rare, formal dinners with his parents where conversation revolved around research papers and medical conferences.
This was messy, chaotic, loud—and completely alive.
"Do you have brothers and sisters?" Lili had claimed the spot next to him on the couch, still studying him with that unnerving child directness.
"No. I'm an only child."
"That's so sad!" Her eyes widened with sympathy. "Who do you play with? Who do you fight with? Who steals your snacks?"
"I... don't have anyone who does those things."
"That's really, really sad." Lili patted his hand consolingly. "But now you have us! If you marry Nana, we'll be your sisters. I can steal your snacks and everything!"
"Lili, that's not how marriage works—" Meimei started, but she was grinning.
"It's exactly how it works," Lili insisted. "When people marry, they get a whole new family. Teacher said so."
Zayne felt something warm and unfamiliar expanding in his chest. A whole new family. He'd never considered that aspect.
He'd been so focused on the impossibility of marrying Nana, on their different worlds, that he hadn't thought about what came with her.
These children. This warmth. This home that wasn't fancy but felt more real than anywhere he'd ever lived.
"Dinner's ready!" Nana called, and suddenly everyone was moving—the twins jumping up, Lili dragging Zayne by the hand, Meimei marking her page and setting her book aside.
The dining table was small, barely big enough for all of them. They had to squeeze together, elbows bumping, chairs overlapping.
Nana had made a feast from what must have been very simple ingredients—rice, stir-fried vegetables, soup, a small amount of pork stretched to feed everyone.
Zayne watched her serve the children first, making sure each got enough, her own portion noticeably smaller. When she caught him looking, she blushed.
"Sorry it's not fancy. We don't usually have—I mean, if I'd known you were coming earlier, I could have—"
"It's perfect," Zayne interrupted gently.
"Thank you for having me."
Dinner was chaos. The children talked over each other, sharing stories from school, arguing about whose turn it was to wash dishes, laughing at jokes Zayne didn't entirely understand but found himself smiling at anyway.
Nana's mother asked polite questions about his work, and he found himself giving simpler explanations than usual, conscious of the children listening with fascination.
"So you cut people's hearts open?"
one of the twins asked, eyes huge.
"In a carefully controlled medical procedure, yes."
"And they live?"
"Usually, yes. That's the goal."
"Cool," both twins breathed in unison.
After dinner, Nana suggested they walk around the neighborhood—partially to escape the interrogation from her siblings, partially because she looked like she needed air after the embarrassment of the meal.
"I'm sorry about them," she said as soon as they were outside. "They're—they're a lot. I know it's overwhelming. This house, this life—it's so different from what you're used to—"
"Stop apologizing." Zayne's voice was firm but gentle. "Your family is wonderful."
"They're loud and nosy and—"
"Alive." He looked at her. "They're alive, Nana. They laugh and fight and ask ridiculous questions. They love each other. They love you." His throat tightened. "Do you know how rare that is? How precious?"
She stared at him, surprised.
"I've spent my whole life in silence,"
Zayne continued. "In apartments where you can hear the clock tick. In houses where children were taught to be quiet, to be perfect, to not disturb the important adults. Your house is loud and messy and—" He paused, searching for words. "—it feels like home."
Nana's eyes misted. "Really?"
"Really." He smiled softly. "Lili offered to steal my snacks. That's the sweetest thing anyone's done for me in years."
She laughed through her tears. "She's a menace."
"She's adorable. They all are. Just like you."
The words slipped out before he could stop them. Nana's face flushed deep red, and she looked away quickly, focusing intently on the path ahead.
They walked in companionable silence through the neighborhood, past other small houses, past the elderly woman tending her garden who waved at Nana, past the group of children playing in the street.This is nice," Zayne said. "Walking. No agenda, no schedule. Just—"
A hissing sound interrupted him.
They both froze.
There, blocking their path with wings spread wide and malevolent intent, was the largest, most aggressive-looking swan Zayne had ever seen.
"Don't move,"
Nana whispered urgently. "That's Mr. Chen's swan. It's territorial and—"
The swan charged.
"RUN!" Nana shrieked.
They ran.
Zayne—chief of cardiology, award-winning surgeon, dignified medical professional—ran screaming from a swan like his life depended on it. Behind him, he could hear Nana's panicked laughter mixed with genuine fear.
"This way!" She veered left, but the swan was faster, cutting them off. "Tree! Climb the tree!"
I don't climb trees—"
"CLIMB!"
Nana scaled the nearest tree like a squirrel—quick, agile, clearly having done this many times before. She perched on a branch and reached down. "Come on!"
Zayne grabbed her hand and hauled himself up with significantly less grace, his expensive shoes slipping on bark, his suit jacket catching on branches.
He made it to a branch just as the swan arrived below, hissing murderously up at them.
"Did we just—" Zayne panted, "—get chased up a tree—by a swan?"
"Yes." Nana was trying not to laugh and failing completely. "Welcome to the countryside, Dr. Li."
They sat on parallel branches, catching their breath, watching the swan patrol below like a feathered security guard.
Nana's hair had come loose from its ponytail, leaves stuck in the strands.
Zayne's suit was rumpled, a small tear in his jacket sleeve. They looked ridiculous.And then they started laughing.
Really laughing—the kind that hurt your stomach, that made tears stream down your face, that felt like releasing years of tension all at once. Every time they tried to stop, they'd make eye contact and start again.
"You—you should have seen your face—" Nana gasped between giggles.
"You literally climbed that tree in three seconds—"
"I have younger siblings—climbing trees is a survival skill—"
"Apparently so is escaping homicidal swans—"
They dissolved into laughter again.
Finally, the swan lost interest and waddled away, apparently satisfied that it had defended its territory. They climbed down carefully, still chuckling, and continued their walk with significantly more caution.
"I can't believe that just happened,"
Zayne said, brushing leaves from his hair.
Welcome to my daily life." Nana grinned. "Not so glamorous now, is it?"
"No." Zayne looked at her—really looked at her. Disheveled, laughing, leaves in her hair, absolutely radiant with joy. "It's better."
She met his eyes, and for a moment, everything else faded. The village, the evening, the impossible situation—all of it disappeared except for this: two people seeing each other clearly for the first time.
"You're beautiful when you laugh," Zayne said softly. "I want to protect that. Your smile, your joy, your ability to find humor even when a swan is trying to murder us."
He paused. "Grandfather was right about you."
"What do you mean?"
"You make life feel less like surviving and more like living."
Nana's breath caught.
"Zayne—
"I know we're still figuring this out. I know I'm terrible at emotions and probably will say the wrong thing constantly. I know my world and your world are completely different."
He took a careful step closer.
"But today, watching you with your siblings, seeing how they love you and how you love them—sitting in your loud, messy, perfect house—being chased by a swan—" A small smile. "I think I'm starting to understand why Grandfather believed in us."
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because separately, we're both incomplete. I'm all logic, no warmth. You're all heart, no stability. But together—" He gestured between them. "—maybe we balance. Maybe we could build something neither of us could build alone."
Tears spilled down Nana's cheeks, but she was smiling. "You really think so?"
"I'm a scientist. I don't believe things. I test hypotheses." His voice was gentle, hopeful. "And I'd like to test this one. If you're still willing."
She nodded, unable to speak, and impulsively grabbed his hand.
They walked back to her house hand in hand, and neither of them mentioned that this was the first time they'd voluntarily touched.
Neither mentioned that it felt right, natural, like two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.
At her door, Lili peeked out the window and let out an excited squeal. "THEY'RE HOLDING HANDS! MAMA, THEY'RE HOLDING HANDS!"
Nana groaned, mortified. "I'm so sorry—"
"Don't be." Zayne squeezed her hand gently before letting go. "Thank you. For today. For your family. For—" he gestured vaguely at his rumpled, leaf-covered suit, "—the swan experience."
She laughed, bright and beautiful. "Anytime, Dr. Li. Anytime."
As he walked back through the village, Zayne caught himself smiling—genuinely smiling—at nothing in particular.
He'd been chased by a swan.
He'd sat in a loud, chaotic house full of children.
He'd held hands with a girl who climbed trees and made soup taste like home.
And for the first time in his carefully controlled, perfectly planned life—
He was happy.
Not content. Not satisfied. Not functioning optimally.
Happy.
Just... happy.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued __