Embracing each other in the eye of the storm is proof

In the afternoon, light slanted down through the gaps in the blinds, and fine dust floated in the studio. She faced the canvas again and made her first stroke.

The moment the paint spread across the canvas, she suddenly felt a sense of stability—as if someone was pressing down on her shoulder from behind, reminding her to breathe.

The doorbell rang. She looked through the peephole and saw it was the property management and engineer, coming to adjust the security camera footage. She opened the door, gave them a few instructions, and then returned to the painting.

Her phone vibrated; it was a message from her assistant, Xiao Zhou: "This afternoon at 2 PM, our legal department sent letters to the relevant platforms and marketing companies, and applied to freeze the accounts involved. Also, there were indeed records of Xu family members contacting a public relations company last night, trying to generate revenue." After reading it, she only replied with two words: "Thank you for your hard work."

She wasn't usually one to get involved in these things, but she knew that this time it wasn't just him blocking the way; she had to do something too. She opened her computer and wrote a short statement, offering no explanations or arguments, only stating the facts: she hadn't attended any banquets; the photos were misaligned; and she reserved the right to pursue legal action. She attached a photo of herself holding a paintbrush, standing in front of an easel, the light coming from the side, her eyes clear and bright. She didn't send it; she saved it in her drafts, waiting for him to come back so they could look at it together.

As evening fell, a layer of leaden clouds hung in the sky, and the wind blew as if rain was imminent. Mu Tianlang returned early, still carrying the chill of the outside air. He glanced at her as soon as he entered, as if to make sure she was alright. She held up her draft: "I'm thinking of posting this," then looked up at him, "What do you think?"

After reviewing it, he nodded: "Okay. Make the wording a bit colder, leave some space so the other person panics. The photo is good; look at the camera like this."

She did as he was told, her fingers flying across the keyboard. She typed, he changed a few words, like polishing a stone together. The moment she pressed the publish button, her heart skipped a beat. The man stood behind her, his palm covering the back of her hand, like a silent "I'm here for you."

Half an hour later, her assistant brought in the first round of data: neutral voices were rising, and a large number of accounts that were stirring up trouble were banned. There were also sarcastic comments, but the overall sentiment was no longer one-sided. She didn't look at the comments, closed the page, turned around and smiled at him: "I want to go for a walk, just a short trip around downstairs and I'll be right back."

He glanced at the sky outside the window, picked up the baseball cap she had placed on the shoe cabinet, and put it on her: "Fifty minutes."

She looked up: "Forty-five."

He chuckled softly: "Deal."

The two went downstairs and walked around the sycamore trees in the neighborhood. Rain hung heavy in the clouds, and the undersides of the leaves shone with a damp sheen. She suddenly stopped: "I want to buy a bouquet of flowers."

"What flower?"

"White, the clean kind."

He nodded and walked into the small flower shop around the corner. The young shop assistant looked up, paused for a moment, then quickly looked away, pretending not to recognize him, and asked, "What kind of paper do you want to wrap it in?"

"Kraft paper will do," Hu Li smiled, picking out a few sprigs of white lisianthus and adding some eucalyptus. "Could I send a blank card as well?"

"Of course," the shop assistant said, handing it over. She wrote a line on the card without letting him see it, then slipped the card into the bouquet. As she left the store, she handed him the flowers.

"Give it to me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Um."

What should I write on the card?

"It's a secret." She wagged her fingertip, acting like a cunning fox.

He didn't ask any more questions, tucking the flowers under his arm as if protecting them from the rain. Raindrops began to fall on their way home, and they ran together. When they reached their building, he lifted a corner of his coat to shield her from the rain, leaving his own shoulder soaked.

She raised her hand to pat the water droplets off his hair, and suddenly tiptoed and kissed him under the dim light of the corridor.

"What is this?" he asked, looking down.

"Interest," she laughed, "I'll pay back the principal when I get home."

The coldness in his eyes completely disappeared, leaving only a gentle line.

At night, the rain finally intensified. The sound of the rain outside the window was like a continuously unfolding sheet of paper, making time seem to slow down even more. She took out the photo of her back that she had taken that morning, and then looked at the photo on the florist's card. The message on the card was short: Thank you for putting me into your order.

She turned and held her phone out to him, a smile playing on her lips. "Is it nice?" The man sat beside her, his fingertips lightly tracing the screen, and gave a soft reply, "Mmm." He turned his phone over to show her; the screen displayed the little fox tablecloth she had changed into that morning, with the same reminder still at the top—"Remember to come home for dinner tonight." He looked up at her, his voice barely a whisper, and replied with just two words: "Yes, ma'am."

She laughed and leaned against his shoulder. The lemonade on the coffee table still bubbled gently, and the rain pattered on the windowsill, like a rhythmic countdown to her heartbeat. Suddenly, her mother came to mind. She glanced at the time, her finger hovering over the call button before retracting it. Instead, she typed what she wanted to say in her notes: "Mom, I know you're worried, but my job and my relationships are my own choices. You don't have to like them, but please don't hurt me with other people's words." She saved the message as a draft and whispered, "Let's talk tomorrow during the day."

He hummed in agreement, drawing her fingers into his palm, which was warm to the touch. She went to draw the curtains, and the distant rumble of thunder echoed as she turned. Just then, she was enveloped in a sudden embrace from behind. The man rested his chin on her shoulder, his breath warm.

She didn't ask him where he came from or how long he had been there. She simply relaxed her shoulders as his chest rose and fell, letting him shield her from the wind and rain.

She placed her hand on the back of his hand, her fingers slipping between his fingers: "Then I don't want you to face the wind alone."

The thunder had faded, but the rain continued. Only the sound of rain and the rhythm of breathing filled the room. He turned her around, forehead to forehead: "Tomorrow morning at ten, I'll be having an internal meeting, and there might be external communication in the afternoon. I don't want you to appear in front of the camera, at least not tonight. I want you to be at peace."

"I'll listen to you." She nodded, then suddenly smiled slyly, "But tonight, things don't have to be so peaceful."

He chuckled softly, a sound that rolled down his throat like a fire dampened by rain. "An appeal?"

"Sentence me to life imprisonment."

He did not object.

——

The rain grew softer in the middle of the night, like a thin veil draped over the city. In her last moments before falling asleep, she remembered him whispering in her ear, "I'll make them shut up."

She didn't know exactly what he was going to do, but she believed him.

——

The morning clouds were parted by the wind, and a small patch of sky shone through the balcony. The man had already changed his clothes, his movements as deliberate as ever as he fastened his cufflinks. He went to the kitchen to pour water, and the reflection in the glass showed a tiny tooth mark near his collarbone.

He looked at her for two seconds, his lips twitching almost imperceptibly. When he returned to the bedroom, she was still asleep, her eyelashes like a row of quiet little fans. She was hugging his pillow, like a little animal claiming its territory. He leaned down and placed a very light kiss on her hair. Just as he was about to get up, she frowned in her sleep: "Finished with work?"

He paused, and replied softly, "Not yet. But I will."

Her brows gradually relaxed, and her breathing became even again. He stood by the bed watching her for a long time, and finally, like every wolf that needs to go out hunting, he turned around, closed the door, and went to dismantle the storm layer by layer.

The door closed behind him, still warm from his body. Hu Li woke up shortly afterward, sat up, hugged his knees for a while, and then suddenly reached out and touched the bouquet of white flowers on his pillow.

She took out the card and read it softly: Thank you for putting me into your order. She smiled, placed the card beside the easel, picked up her brush, and added a new stroke of light to the unfinished moonlight of last night.