When I opened the door, the first thing I saw was her.
Li Bingqing stood by the dining table, sleeves slightly rolled up, a soft light falling over her figure. For a moment, I just stood there, watching.
She was beautiful in a way that didn't feel loud or overwhelming—it was quiet, refined. Her skin carried a pale, almost translucent quality, like untouched snow. Her long dark hair fell neatly down her back, and her features were delicate, almost too perfect to be real.
Bingqing.
Even her name meant "ice clear."
And to me, she had always been just that—pure, calm, untouched by anything ugly in this world.
"You're home," she said softly, turning toward me with a gentle smile.
"Yeah," I replied, slipping off my shoes. "Smells good."
"I made your favorite," she said.
I smiled. "Then today must be a special day."
She let out a small laugh, but something about it felt… lighter than usual. Not quite reaching her eyes.
I noticed.
But I didn't question it.
Instead, I walked over, naturally placing a hand on her shoulder as I passed. It was a small gesture, something I'd done countless times before. She didn't pull away—but there was the faintest pause, like her body reacted a second too late.
"Long day?" she asked.
"The usual," I said. "Meetings, reports… Hao being annoying."
That earned a more genuine smile. "That sounds about right."
"And you?"
"Nothing special," she replied, turning back to the table. "Just the usual things at home."
We fell into our routine easily after that.
Dinner was warm, quiet, comfortable. The kind of silence that didn't feel empty, but familiar. We talked about small things—work, errands, a new restaurant that opened nearby. Normal conversations, the kind that build a life together piece by piece.
But tonight, something was different.
Bingqing spoke less than usual.
More than once, I caught her glancing at me, like she wanted to say something. Each time, her lips would part slightly… and then close again.
"Is something on your mind?" I asked finally.
She froze for just a fraction of a second before shaking her head.
"No… it's nothing."
Her answer came too quickly.
I studied her for a moment, but she lowered her gaze, focusing on her food.
If it were anyone else, I might have pressed further.
But this was Bingqing.
If she wasn't ready to say it, then there was a reason.
So I let it go.
After dinner, we moved to the living room like we always did. The TV played some random show neither of us was really watching. The room was dim, lit only by the screen and the soft glow of a lamp in the corner.
She sat close to me on the couch.
Closer than usual.
At first, I didn't think much of it. I rested my arm along the back of the couch, and she leaned slightly into me. It was natural. Familiar.
Comforting.
But then I noticed it again—that hesitation.
Her fingers moved slightly, brushing against mine before pulling back. Then again, lingering just a little longer this time.
"Bingqing?" I murmured.
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she turned toward me slowly, her expression softer than before… but there was something beneath it. Something uncertain. Something that felt like a decision finally made.
"Wuji…" she said quietly.
"Yes?"
She looked at me—really looked this time, her eyes searching mine as if trying to find something.
Or maybe… say goodbye to something.
Then, without another word, she leaned closer.
Her hand found mine, this time not pulling away.
Her head rested lightly against my shoulder, her breath warm and steady. It was a simple gesture, one we had shared countless times—but tonight, it carried a weight I couldn't quite explain.
I wrapped my arm around her instinctively.
For a moment, everything felt normal again.
Almost.
But as I looked down at her, at the woman I had always believed to be as pure and untouchable as ice…
I couldn't shake the feeling that something had already begun to melt. I couldn't understand why i was having this feeling.