Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Moved?

A woman in a white tracksuit stood in the doorway, framed by morning light. Youthful. Bright.

Like a ray of sunshine that had decided to step into someone else’s quiet world.

Fu Yan Shi’s gaze held on her for half a beat too long.

Qiao Qing Yan walked in as if she belonged to the light, carrying breakfast boxes in both hands.

“Awake?” she repeated, casual as if she’d found him napping on her couch in the most normal way imaginable.

She set the boxes down with a soft click. “Eat. Pick whatever you want.”

Then, without waiting for an answer, she added, “I’m going to take a shower.”

She had already turned away when his voice caught up to her.

“Wait.”

Qiao Qing Yan paused at the bedroom door and glanced back. “What is it?”

He stood near the balcony doors, silent.

There were too many things he wanted to ask. Too many things he didn’t know how to say without stepping over some invisible line between them.

Scenes from last night replayed relentlessly in his mind.

The moment he recognized her voice, he’d known she was at the gala. And even after he left that private room, he hadn’t left the charity auction.

He watched her every move.

He saw her lean close to another man. Saw the way her smile could look soft enough to melt, while her eyes stayed clear and calculating. Saw how she played the room—bold, precise, fearless.

And when the auction ended, he watched her climb into that man’s car, wearing a simple-colored qipao, moving with a grace that made the air feel quieter.

In the end, he couldn’t restrain himself.

His old condition flared without warning. So he let himself collapse beside her—part test, part desperation. Test himself. Test her.

And after that…

He slept more deeply than he had in a long time.

Qiao Qing Yan’s eyes stayed on him for a moment, calm and unreadable.

“Think it through first,” she said lightly. “When you’ve thought it through, talk to me after I come out.”

Then she closed the door.

A moment later, the sound of running water filled the apartment.

—

[Master, I think the Child of Fate has a lot of questions for you. Why didn’t he ask?]

Qiao Qing Yan stood by the window, drying her hair with a towel. Outside, the landscaping in the complex was almost too carefully arranged—every angle designed to look artistic.

Even in the burning heat of midsummer, the green stayed lush.

Leaves stirred as the breeze passed. Light and shadow slid over them like water.

[Master, do you want the Child of Fate’s profile?] Little Tabby Cat asked, timid.

Somehow, it felt like its master was… different today.

Last night, she had clearly used needles—or else the Child of Fate couldn’t have slept so well.

But today…

“I met your master last night.”

The words were gentle. The chill beneath them wasn’t.

Like a winter blade laid softly against skin.

Little Tabby Cat jolted, eyes darting, its whole body tensing as if the wrong breath might give it away.

[Master, don’t we see each other every day?]

Qiao Qing Yan lowered the towel. Her gaze swept over it, light and casual, yet the indifferent coldness in her eyes made the air feel heavier.

Little Tabby Cat’s dread spiked.

“Master…” it started, voice thinning.

Then it forced out, [Master, we’ve been here so long that my system needs an upgrade. Anyway, master doesn’t need me for now, so I’m going to upgrade.]

It didn’t dare look back.

It turned into a string of data and vanished.

Qiao Qing Yan stayed by the window, staring at the deep blue sky and the rising sun. A faint, unreadable smile curved at her lips, as if none of it mattered.

—

“Why aren’t you eating?”

Fu Yan Shi turned his head.

And for the second time that morning, Qiao Qing Yan looked like something that didn’t belong to the world around her.

She wore a short white loungewear set. Simple. Clean. Casual.

But the way she walked made it feel like she was stepping through light instead of air—graceful, effortless, quietly magnetic.

The skin exposed at her collar and legs looked like snow warmed by sunrise. Her long black hair hung loose down her back, still carrying the fresh scent of shampoo.

Her gaze moved calmly, unhurried. Those eyes—so clear, so airy—looked as if they held no dust at all.

Behind her, sunlight poured into the room like a path laid at her feet.

Fu Yan Shi didn’t answer.

He just stared.