The basement branch was already quiet, too quiet for a Friday night. The last customer left half an hour ago, and the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above rows of neatly folded clothes. I stood behind the counter, tapping numbers into the register while the automated shutters slowly lowered at the entrance.

I was the only one assigned to closing shift tonight. Manager by title, but in truth, just another overworked guy trying to pay off a debt nobody knew the full story of. The smell of fabric softener and cardboard clung to my jacket, and my feet ached from standing all day.

I double-checked the lock schedule on my phone and tried not to think.

But the silence made thinking too easy.

That article… no, rumor, was still stuck in my head. Tian Xuning and some girl named Xhia. "New girlfriend," the post claimed, accompanied by photos I didn't bother opening. I had told myself not to believe it, not to care.

But it hurt anyway. Stung deep enough to reach the ribs.

I shut off the main lights and left only the entryway lamp on so I could mop the floor. My phone sat screen-down on the counter. I'd muted Tian's contact weeks ago, not because I didn't want to see his name light up, but because I couldn't handle it if it didn't.

I took a deep breath, but it felt heavy in my chest.

Almost done. Just close up, lock up, go home. Forget.

I picked up the mop bucket and headed toward the front glass doors—

And froze.

Because standing just outside, framed under the dim light of the corridor past the stairwell—

Was Tian Xuning.

Not glaring. Not impatient. He stood there with his hood up, hands tucked loosely in his coat sleeves, shoulders slightly hunched like he'd been there a while. His gaze wasn't sharp, but unwavering… steady, quiet, and almost soft. The kind of look someone wore when they had rehearsed a hundred things to say but swallowed all of them.

My grip tightened on the mop handle.

I didn't move. Didn't speak. Pretended not to see him. Instead, I turned away, forcing my pulse to steady as I carried the bucket back toward the stockroom.

I told myself it wasn't real. That Tian would walk away like he always did when logic won over impulse. Like I told him to.

But my phone buzzed once on the counter.

Then again.

Then again.

I ignored it.

Until the fourth buzz came with a preview of the message. One line, blunt but not loud. Controlled, but aching under the surface:

[YueYue. Open the door. Don't make me do something stupid.]

And then a second message, quicker, tighter, the desperation barely masked:

[I'm serious. Don't pretend you don't see me.]

I stood still, breathing shallowly, heart climbing into my throat.

I didn't know if I wanted to run or open the door.

My pulse thudded.

I unlocked the door panel but didn't pull it open yet. I cracked it one inch, enough for my voice to pass.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked quietly, not looking him in the eye.

Tian didn't answer directly. His voice was low, tender, coaxing, like he was trying to reach me through the walls I'd built.

"Please… open it," he murmured.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Ziyu," Tian said softly, each word deliberate, careful. "Just… open the door for me."

I hesitated. "It's after hours. I'm closing."

"Then close it after I'm inside," Tian whispered, a quiet plea threading through the words.

My throat worked. "Why? You have a girlfriend to go to, don't you?"

That landed. Tian's expression tightened with guilt, frustration mixed with something desperate and tender.

"Open it," he said again, voice low, coaxing, almost aching.

I could feel the spiral starting. My hand moved on its own, unlatching the secondary lock.

The moment the gap widened enough, Tian didn't wait. He pushed the door open with his palm, stepped inside, and locked it behind him without breaking eye contact.

I backed a step. "What part of 'don't come'—"

Tian stepped forward slowly, closing the distance one careful breath at a time. I could feel the warmth of him even before we touched.

"You're still angry," Tian said quietly, searching my face. Not defensive. Not scared. Just… raw.

I looked away. "I'm working. You need to leave."

"I will," Tian murmured. "But not until I see you. Really see you."

His fingers brushed my wrist… not grabbing, just touching. But there was something unmovable in the way he held that light contact, like he dared me to pull away first.

"You blocked me," Tian said, voice soft but edged. "You didn't answer a single call. You think I wouldn't come find you?"

My throat tightened. "You shouldn't be here."

"And yet," Tian whispered, eyes never leaving me, "I'm still here."

The mop sat between us, awkward, out of place. Tian nudged it aside with the side of his foot to clear some space. Then he lifted his hand slowly to my jaw, barely touching, waiting for me to pull back.

I didn't.

Tian's breath trembled just slightly as his thumb traced the edge of my cheek, gentle but desperate in the smallest, quietest way.

"I didn't come to argue," he said. "I came because I can't stay away from you."

And instead of crashing into me, he leaned in slowly, giving me every second to escape, before pressing his mouth to mine, soft but painfully hungry, like he'd been holding back the need for weeks.

My hands came up to push him off.

But they didn't.

Not yet.