Xiaoyu sat at the edge of the dining table, both hands wrapped around the porcelain bowl, the warmth pressing faintly into her palms.
She was already drinking the soup.
It had gone a little lukewarm, but she didn't mind. She lifted the spoon slowly, carefully, as if sudden movement might shatter the fragile quiet inside the apartment. The broth slid down her throat, comforting and light, carrying the faint sharpness of ginger that spread gently through her chest. For a moment, it grounded her—anchored her to something ordinary.
She hadn't realized how exhausted she was until now.
Her shoulders ached, her temples throbbed, and beneath it all was a bone-deep weariness that felt older than just one night. Like she had been holding herself together for far too long, and only now had she allowed herself to loosen her grip.
Across the living area, the CEO sat on the sofa, posture relaxed, one arm resting against the backrest. His suit jacket had been set aside, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. His expression was calm, eyes lowered toward the documents on his tablet, as though this were any other quiet morning.
He hadn't said much since she started drinking—only a brief acknowledgment, quiet and restrained. No probing questions. No unnecessary comfort.
The silence wasn't awkward.
It was tense.
It stretched between them, thin as glass, heavy with everything neither of them dared to name.
Xiaoyu raised the bowl again—
The doorbell rang.
Sharp. Sudden.
The sound cut through the apartment like a blade.
She flinched violently, the spoon clinking against porcelain as her hands shook. A splash of soup sloshed dangerously close to the rim. Her heart slammed into her ribs, panic flooding her veins before her mind could catch up.
The doorbell rang again, longer this time, impatient.
Her breath caught halfway in.
Footsteps hurried from the hallway, faster than normal, and the door opened.
"Boss!"
Shen Lu rushed in, tie loosened, hair slightly disheveled, chest rising and falling too fast. He looked like someone who hadn't slept—or someone who'd slept and woken to disaster. His face was pale, the usual composure stripped away, eyes wide with urgency he couldn't fully hide.
"It's bad," Shen Lu said quickly, words tumbling over each other. "It exploded overnight."
Xiaoyu's stomach dropped as if the floor had vanished beneath her.
"Videos and photos," Shen Lu continued, holding up his tablet with shaking fingers. The screen glowed harshly in the soft apartment light. "From the bar."
The soup went cold in Xiaoyu's hands.
Her ears rang faintly, the world narrowing until there was only that word.
Bar.
"They caught everything," Shen Lu said, voice tight. "You crying. You hitting him." He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. "Multiple clips. Different angles. Someone slowed it down. Zoomed in."
Xiaoyu's vision blurred, tears burning hot behind her eyes.
"I didn't— I wasn't—" Her voice came out thin, fragile, barely audible even to herself.
"The first video shows her breaking down at the bar," Shen Lu said, speaking faster now, panic bleeding through his professionalism. "You're yelling. Crying. You hit him. Twice. People are replaying it frame by frame. They're calling it a public meltdown."
Xiaoyu's fingers clenched so tightly around the bowl that her knuckles turned white, the porcelain pressing painfully into her skin.
Her chest felt hollow, like something essential had been scooped out and left behind.
"And then," Shen Lu went on, "photos of you carrying her out. She's crying, hiding her face against your shoulder. Someone followed you all the way to the car."
The room felt too small.
Too tight.
The air itself seemed to press against her lungs.
Xiaoyu's breathing turned shallow, uneven, each inhale sharp and incomplete.
The CEO rose from the sofa slowly, movements unhurried, controlled.
"And the apartment?" he asked calmly.
The steadiness of his voice felt unreal.
Shen Lu nodded grimly. "Security footage screenshots. Blurry, but clear enough. You carrying her into the building. Into the elevator. Someone caught the hallway too."
Xiaoyu's chest seized.
Her mind betrayed her, dragging her back to that moment—the way her legs had given out, the solid weight of his arms, the humiliation of needing to be carried like she couldn't stand on her own.
She remembered her tears soaking into his shirt. Remembered clinging to him as if letting go meant disappearing altogether.
Her shame burned, hot and relentless.
"I shouldn't have…" she whispered, tears finally spilling over. "I shouldn't have hit you."
The words felt useless the moment they left her mouth.
Before anyone could answer, the CEO's phone rang.
The sound was sharp, insistent.
He glanced at the screen.
"My grandmother," he said evenly.
He declined the call.
It rang again almost immediately.
"My sister."
Declined.
Again.
"Company PR."
Declined.
Each vibration felt like a countdown.
Xiaoyu's phone buzzed violently in her pocket. She flinched, heart leaping, fumbling to pull it out with trembling hands.
Unknown number.
Another vibration followed immediately.
Then another.
"They're calling me," she whispered. "They found me."
Her throat tightened painfully.
Shen Lu's phone lit up too—notifications stacking faster than he could swipe them away. Messages. Calls. Alerts.
From outside the apartment came noise.
Muffled at first.
Then clearer.
Voices overlapping. Shouting. Someone calling out a name.
And beneath it all—the unmistakable click of cameras.
"They're here," Shen Lu said hoarsely. "Press vans. They traced the car. They're already in the lobby."
Xiaoyu stood abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor.
"I need to leave."
"No," Shen Lu said firmly, stepping forward without thinking.
She looked at him, eyes wide with fear, panic spilling over. "Why not?"
"They're watching the exits," Shen Lu replied. "Elevators, stairs, lobby. If you step outside now, they'll get your face. Clear shots. No way to stop it."
"I didn't do anything wrong," she said, voice cracking. "I just— I lost control."
"I know," Shen Lu said softly, the edge gone from his voice.
The CEO finally spoke.
"You're staying," he said calmly.
Xiaoyu turned toward him, panic flooding her expression. "They saw me hit you. They're saying things. They're twisting it—"
"They don't know the context," he replied. "And they won't get it today."
He set his phone down deliberately and adjusted his cuffs with practiced composure, as though grounding himself in routine.
"Shen Lu," he said, "call building security. Restrict access. No one comes up."
"Yes," Shen Lu replied immediately, already dialing.
Xiaoyu's phone vibrated again.
Then again.
She stared at the screen, hands shaking so badly she almost dropped it.
"They won't stop," she whispered.
"Turn it off," the CEO said gently, his voice low but firm.
She hesitated, then powered it down. The sudden silence rang in her ears, louder than the noise outside.
From below, the shouting grew louder—reporters calling questions into the air, demanding answers that didn't exist yet.
"They're calling it a violent scandal," Shen Lu said quietly after ending the call. "Some are saying you abducted her after she caused a scene at the bar."
Xiaoyu felt sick.
"That's not—" She swallowed hard, bile rising in her throat. "That's not what happened."
"I know," the CEO said.
He turned toward the windows, the city stretching endlessly beyond the glass—bright, indifferent, uncaring.
"I won't deny her presence," he said finally. "But I won't define it."
Shen Lu hesitated. "They'll speculate."
"Yes," the CEO replied calmly. "That buys us time."
The apartment phone rang.
Shen Lu answered, listened, then covered the receiver. "Your grandmother says if you don't call her back, she's coming here."
The CEO closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled slowly. "Tell her I'll call."
Xiaoyu's legs gave out.
She sank onto the sofa, hands clenched tightly in her lap, shoulders trembling despite her efforts to stay composed.
The bowl of soup sat untouched on the table now, completely cold.
Chaos filled the apartment—ringing phones, raised voices, pressure from every direction—but at the center of it all, the CEO remained steady, unmoving.
Xiaoyu watched him through the blur of her tears and wondered how someone could stay so calm while the world tried to tear them apart.
And whether standing beside him meant surviving the storm…
Or being consumed by it.