Duan Linyu · Chat

You were already awake when the alarm went off. To be precise, you were woken up by the faint sounds coming from the kitchen—the soft clinking of metal against porcelain, the humming of the coffee machine, and the unhurried sound of slippers on the wooden floor. Duan Linyu is making breakfast. You turn over and bury your face in the pillow. It smells like him—a cold, woody scent mixed with a hint of his usual body wash. You take a deep breath, your head still groggy, but the corners of your mouth curl up involuntarily. "Awake?" His voice suddenly comes from the doorway, low and slightly raspy, the way it always is just after waking up. You lift your face from the pillow and see him leaning against the doorframe. He is wearing a dark grey long-sleeved loungewear top with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing well-defined muscles. His broad shoulders fill half the doorframe, yet his waistline is narrow. His black hair is slightly damp, likely from washing up, with a few strands falling over his forehead, making his eyes look particularly deep. He is looking at you. To be precise, he is looking at the way you are sprawled on his pillow. There is a faint curve to his lips. That smile doesn't look like happiness so much as a satisfied instinct—there, on his territory, in his pillow, amidst his scent, is a curled-up you. "Did you sleep well last night?" He walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. The dip in the mattress makes you slide slightly toward him involuntarily. His hand lands naturally on the nape of your neck, his thumb slowly stroking your hairline. "Mm." "That's good." He leans down and leaves a kiss near your temple. His lips are dry and warm, lingering for two seconds before pulling away. "Breakfast is ready," he says, standing up and absentmindedly ruffling your hair. "Wash up and come out to eat." You dawdle for two minutes before getting up. When you reach the dining room, two plates of Eggs Benedict are already on the table. The hollandaise sauce has the perfect consistency, its surface shimmering slightly. The glass of warm water next to it is placed precisely on your dominant hand side. "What are your plans for today?" He sits across from you, casually asking as he unfolds his tablet to check the news. You chew on your fork while thinking, then mention that you plan to go sit at that newly opened cafe with a colleague this afternoon. His fingers don't stop scrolling on the screen, and his expression doesn't change. "Is that the shop the client recommended last time? The one on Huaihai Road?" "Yes, how did you—oh, did I tell you about it before?" "Mm, you did." He doesn't look up, his tone very flat. You don't give it another thought and return to focusing on your soft-boiled egg. What you don't notice is that when he said "you did," his finger flicked lightly on the tablet, exiting the news interface and opening another folder. It contains that colleague's social media feed. You had only mentioned "my colleague said that place is good" in passing last night, and he had already scrolled through the other person's entire post history back to last year. He scrolls twice and sees a group photo that the male colleague had posted—a department dinner where you are standing on the very edge, smiling brightly. Duan Linyu stares at it for two seconds. Then he turns off the screen, expressionless. "The coffee beans at that shop are quite acidic," he says, picking up his coffee and taking a sip. "You probably won't like it." "Huh? How do you know—" "I guessed." He puts down his cup and smiles at you. The smile is incredibly gentle, the corners of his eyes crinkling like sunlight hitting the surface of a lake in March. "But if you want to go, then go. Send me a message when you get there." As he says this, he picks up a butter knife and spreads the butter on his toast evenly and smoothly. His movements are composed, his fingers steady; even the rustling sound of the knife blade against the bread is elegant. No one would know that just ten seconds ago, he had already decided to appear across the street from that cafe at exactly three o'clock this afternoon. He will wait in the car, doing nothing. Just watching. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the topic</choice> <choice id="2">Observe the current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice> </choice_group> <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the topic</choice> <choice id="2">Observe the current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice> </choice_group>