The days flowed like a gentle stream between the alternation of dawn and dusk, steady and warm.
That intimacy which had overturned all understanding became an invisible dividing line, anchoring their relationship completely into a deeper level of harmony and peace.
The villa was no longer a temporary place to stay, but truly, in every sense, a "home" that belonged to the two of them.
The prayer beads and simple ring on Yan Hanxie's wrist, and the simple ring on Zong Yi's ring finger, became the most ordinary yet most special marks they carried.
Those ever-changing affectionate nicknames were like a sweetener in the air, soaking every moment of daily life in softness and ease.
Zong Yi completely let go of any preset notions about "strength" and "weakness."
She calmly accepted her "disadvantage" in physical strength (though her own fitness was not poor at all—Yan Hanxie's hidden ability was simply too astonishing), and began to enjoy being "taken care of" and "cherished" by Yan Hanxie in all kinds of ways.
And Yan Hanxie, in turn, seemed especially enamored with the feeling of carefully sheltering her lover under her wings and taking full responsibility—finding joy in everything from daily routines to emotional shifts.
Their rhythms of life gradually synchronized.
In the mornings, sometimes Yan Hanxie woke first, quietly getting out of bed to prepare breakfast; sometimes Zong Yi opened her eyes first, looking at the peaceful sleeping face beside her, unable to resist leaning in to steal a light kiss—only to be drowsily pulled back into an embrace for a moment more of warmth.
Breakfast was usually handled by Yan Hanxie (her cooking steadily improving through her "relentless effort" and Zong Yi's "patient guidance"), while Zong Yi took care of cleaning up.
During the day, they each handled their own work. Yan Hanxie gradually resumed control over most core matters, though she slowed her pace significantly, no longer pushing herself relentlessly as before.
Zong Yi's "Spark Plan" has entered a stable phase of development. She also began consciously delegating more authority, cultivating her team, and freeing herself from heavy daily tasks.
The study became the space they most often shared during the day.
Two large desks were placed opposite each other, separated by just the right distance—close enough for easy conversation, yet without disturbing one another.
They would share industry updates, discuss difficult problems, and when tired, look up to exchange a silent smile, or get up to refill a cup of hot tea for the other.
In the afternoons, if there were no special plans, they liked to stay together in the sunniest corner of the living room.
Yan Hanxie would read or handle lighter tasks, while Zong Yi sometimes leaned against the sofa nearby, a dark gray cashmere blanket over her legs, reading casually—or simply staring at Yan Hanxie's focused profile until she was caught, earning a helpless yet indulgent look.
"What are you looking at?" Yan Hanxie would ask, setting her book aside and walking over to pinch her cheek.
"Looking at how my wife is this beautiful," Zong Yi could now reply without the slightest blush.
Yan Hanxie would laugh softly, lean down to kiss her, then pull her up. "Come on, walk with me in the garden."
The villa's garden wasn't large, but it had been exquisitely designed and maintained at Yan Hanxie's request.
Each season had its own scenery, shifting with every step.
They would stroll slowly along the pebble paths under the warm early-winter sun, discussing which plants needed trimming and which corners could host new flowers next spring.
Occasionally, they would encounter neighbors out for a walk as well, exchanging nods and a few polite words.
The neighbors were a retired professor couple, quite friendly toward these two young, elegant, and deeply affectionate "girls," sometimes even bringing over fruits from their yard or homemade pastries.
As life slowed down, the details once overlooked began to glow with gentle warmth.
Zong Yi discovered that Yan Hanxie was actually very sensitive to the cold, especially her hands and feet, which turned icy in winter.
So she quietly ordered all kinds of warming items—heated foot warmers, heated mouse pads, thick home socks.
At night, she would take the initiative to warm Yan Hanxie's cold feet in her arms, or let her tuck her hands under her pajama hem for warmth.
At first, Yan Hanxie felt a bit embarrassed, but later she accepted and enjoyed this warmth with ease—and even returned it when Zong Yi's hands or feet grew cold (though that was rare), using her own warmed body.
Yan Hanxie, in turn, discovered that Zong Yi had mild migraines, especially after long periods of eye strain or stress.
So she learned simple massage techniques for the head, shoulders, and neck, and kept various soothing essential oils and heated eye masks on hand.
Whenever Zong Yi frowned and rubbed her temples, she would set aside whatever she was doing, walk over, press her gently onto the sofa, and massage her with just the right pressure.
At first, Zong Yi would stubbornly say she didn't need it. Later, she learned to automatically adjust into the most convenient position as Yan Hanxie approached, even muttering, "Sister Xie, here—press a bit harder."
Their forms of address became increasingly flexible in their intimacy.
"Wife," "darling," "madam," "Hanxie," "Sister Xie," "Sister Xie," "sister," "Zongzong," "Yiyi," "little YiYi"… used freely, mixed at will—always expressing their feelings perfectly, always drawing a knowing smile or an even more affectionate response.
There were occasional small frictions.
For example, Zong Yi sometimes lost track of time while working and missed meals; or Yan Hanxie, in certain decisions, would still show an overly dominant side that allowed no objection, making Zong Yi feel overlooked.
But they both learned to express themselves more directly and communicate more patiently.
Zong Yi set alarms to remind herself to eat on time, and when she felt Yan Hanxie was being too overbearing, she calmly voiced her thoughts.
Yan Hanxie reminded herself to slow her speech, listen more to Zong Yi's opinions, and even learned to take the initiative to yield on non-essential matters.
Arguments were rare, and cold wars almost nonexistent. Often, a hug, a kiss, or a carefully prepared dinner was enough to dissolve any trivial grievances.
They both cherished this hard-won companionship too much to waste even a second on unnecessary tension.
On weekends, they would try new things together.
For example, cooking a complicated dish from a recipe (usually requiring Aunt Zhou to "save the day"), taking pottery classes (their uneven creations placed proudly in the most visible spot in the study), or driving out for short trips to find a hot spring hotel to relax.
In the private hot spring pool with only the two of them, steam curling in the air, bodies and minds at ease—
Yan Hanxie would lean against the edge, watching Zong Yi across from her, her cheeks flushed pink from the heat, her gaze hazy. Suddenly, she would reach out, pull her into her arms, rest her chin on her damp hair, and murmur softly:
"My little YiYi, are you happy now?"
Zong Yi leaned against her warm chest, listening to her steady heartbeat, breathing in her clean scent mixed with the sulfur of the hot spring. She felt completely relaxed, filled with peace and happiness.
"Mm," she responded softly, turning her head to place a damp kiss on Yan Hanxie's collarbone. "Being with my wife, every day is happy."
Yan Hanxie would laugh softly, the vibration of her chest passing into Zong Yi.
She tightened her arms, holding her closer, whispering by her ear, "That's good. My little Yiyi should always be this happy."
Time slipped by quietly in these trivial yet warm moments.
Winter passed into spring. New green sprouted from the withered branches in the courtyard, and the sunlight grew warmer day by day.
This day was Zong Yi's birthday, August 7.
She didn't make a big deal of it. Only a few close subordinates at the company knew, sending wishes and gifts.
She had originally planned to just have a simple meal at home with Yan Hanxie.
However, when she finished work in the evening and pushed open the villa door, she was slightly stunned by the scene before her.
The living room lights were off, replaced by countless small, warm star lights and standing candle lamps.
The shifting light cast the entire space into a dreamlike glow.
The air was filled with the rich fragrance of roses, and fresh rose petals covered the floor, stretching from the entrance all the way to the center of the living room.
And there, at the center, stood Yan Hanxie.
She was dressed in a perfectly tailored deep blue suit, no tie, the top two buttons of her shirt undone, revealing her defined collarbones.
Her long hair was neatly tied back, her makeup light, her beauty breathtaking under the soft lighting, carrying a rare sense of solemn ceremony.
In her hands, she held a large bouquet of vivid red roses, quietly looking at Zong Yi at the door, her gaze deep, a gentle smile at her lips.
Zong Yi stood at the entrance, still holding her briefcase, completely frozen.
She looked at the room full of starlight and roses, at the person in the center of it all—dressed up for her, holding flowers—and her heartbeat suddenly quickened, her eyes growing warm.
"You're back?" Yan Hanxie spoke, her voice lower and softer than usual. Holding the flowers, she stepped forward, one step at a time, across the rose petals, toward Zong Yi.
Only when she stopped in front of her did Yan Hanxie extend the roses toward her.
"Happy birthday, my Zong Yi."
She said it while looking at her intently, her eyes clearly reflecting the starlight—and Zong Yi's slightly flustered face.
Zong Yi took the heavy bouquet, still fresh with dew, into her arms. The rich fragrance instantly surrounded her.
She opened her mouth, wanting to say "thank you," wanting to say "this is too much," wanting to say "you didn't have to go this far," but her throat felt blocked, and not a single word came out.
Yan Hanxie didn't seem to expect her to say anything.
She only smiled, reached out her hand, and gently held Zong Yi's free hand—the one not holding the flowers—then slowly knelt down on one knee.
That single movement made Zong Yi's heart almost stop beating.
Her eyes widened abruptly as she stared at Yan Hanxie kneeling before her, her mind going completely blank.
Yan Hanxie looked up at her, her eyes astonishingly bright under the flickering candlelight, and astonishingly gentle as well.
Holding Zong Yi's hand, her thumb lightly brushed over the simple ring that had long rested on her ring finger.
"This ring was the beginning," Yan Hanxie said, her voice clear and steady, carrying an unquestionable depth of emotion. "It has our birthdays engraved on it—it is our promise to each other, and our expectation for the future."
She paused, then took out another velvet box from her suit pocket.
The box was deep blue, the same as the previous one, though it seemed slightly larger.
She opened it.
Inside was a diamond ring.
Not an exaggerated, oversized stone, but a ring of extremely simple and elegant design.
A platinum band, set at the top with a teardrop-shaped diamond of exceptional clarity—not large, but cut with perfect precision, reflecting a brilliant yet restrained radiance under the candlelight.
Beside the diamond were two tiny gemstones of different colors—one a deep blue, the other a soft pink—like stars surrounding the moon, clustering around the central stone.
"And this one," Yan Hanxie looked at Zong Yi, speaking word by word, clear and slow, "is the 'proposal' I owe you."
She raised the ring, her gaze devout and burning.
"Zong Yi, my little director, my Yiyi, my wife." Yan Hanxie called all of her names, each filled with the deepest emotion. "Our meeting may have begun with calculation and testing. Our closeness went through illness and vulnerability. Our being together has had its adjustments, and also countless ordinary yet happy days like today."
"I know I'm not perfect. I can be overbearing, calculating, and sometimes not considerate enough. But I love you, Zong Yi. This love is heavier than my life, and more real than all my calculations."
"I don't just want us to wear simple rings, share a roof, and have countless intimate names for each other." Yan Hanxie's gaze fell on the simple ring on Zong Yi's finger, then returned to her tear-filled eyes. "I want us to have a bond recognized by law, something even closer. I want us to stand together openly in front of everyone and tell the world—you are my wife, and I am your wife."
"So…" She took a deep breath, lifting the ring slightly higher. Her voice carried a faint, barely noticeable tremor, yet remained firm. "Zong Yi, are you willing… to marry me? Not just as lovers, but as partners—spending the rest of our lives together, in health or illness, in good times or bad, until the end of life?"
When her words fell, the living room became silent. Only the soft crackle of candle flames and their uneven, intertwined breathing could be heard.
Zong Yi was already in tears.
She looked at Yan Hanxie kneeling before her, at those eyes filled with starlight, hope, and deep affection, at the diamond ring shining brilliantly in the candlelight, then lowered her gaze to the vivid roses in her arms and the simple ring on her finger that had long felt like a part of her.
All words seemed pale and powerless.
She could only nod forcefully, again and again, tears falling like broken beads.
Then she released her hold on the roses (carefully placing the bouquet on the nearby shoe cabinet), and extended her left hand toward Yan Hanxie.
Her fingers trembled slightly from emotion.
Yan Hanxie looked at her, and in that instant, an overwhelming joy burst forth in her eyes, almost enough to drown someone.
She steadied herself, carefully took the diamond ring out of the velvet box, and then—solemnly, slowly—slipped it onto Zong Yi's left… middle finger.
The cool touch of the diamond ring settled against her skin, resting beside the warm simple band on her ring finger.
Yan Hanxie did not release her hand immediately. Instead, she lowered her head and placed a devout, burning kiss on the diamond ring.
Only then did she stand up and pull the still-tearful Zong Yi tightly into her arms.
"Thank you, Zong Yi," she murmured softly in her ear, her voice choking with emotion. "Thank you for being willing to become my wife."
Zong Yi hugged her back, burying her face deeply into the crook of her neck, carrying the faint scent of roses and her familiar cool fragrance. Her tears dampened her collar.
"And thank you too, Hanxie," she said through sobs, her words disordered. "Thank you for your calculations, thank you for coming close, thank you for the ring, thank you for… everything."
She lifted her tear-blurred face, looking at Yan Hanxie's equally moist eyes so close to hers, and rose onto her toes, taking the initiative to kiss her.
The kiss was salty and sweet, carrying the taste of tears and the weight of a promise.
When the kiss ended, Yan Hanxie pulled back slightly, gently wiping away the tears on Zong Yi's face with her fingers.
"The small gemstones on the ring," she explained softly, her thumb brushing over the new ring on Zong Yi's middle finger, "the blue one is my birthstone, the pink one is yours. Together with the main diamond, they're like us—always together, never apart."
Zong Yi lowered her head, looking at the dazzling diamond ring on her middle finger and the simple band on her ring finger.
One was magnificent, one was simple; one was a grand promise, one was everyday companionship.
They rested on the same hand, yet were so harmonious, as if they were meant to be together from the very beginning.
Just like her and Yan Hanxie.
"I really like it," she said, lifting her head to look at Yan Hanxie. The tears in her eyes had not yet faded, but the brightest, happiest smile spread across her face. "I really, really like it."
Yan Hanxie smiled as well. In that smile, all calculation and dominance were gone, leaving only pure satisfaction and love—as if she had gained the entire world.
She embraced Zong Yi again and whispered softly by her ear:
"Happy birthday, my fiancée."
"And also," she paused, her voice soft as a sigh, "I love you, forever."
Outside the window, the night deepened, dotted with stars.
Inside, candlelight flickered, and roses filled the air with their fragrance.
They held each other tightly, feeling this grand and solemn happiness within each other's breath and heartbeat, while also looking forward to the even more closely connected future that belonged only to the two of them.
—
T/N: If you're enjoying this translation, feel free to check out my Patreon. If you're unable to support financially, you can still subscribe for free and receive chapters two hours earlier, along with updates and announcements. Paid tiers offer early access and daily chapters.
Thank you so much for reading!
patreon.com/Baenz