Shen Yichen — 26
A successful young architect from a wealthy Shanghai family. Quiet, controlled, perfectionist, and difficult to approach. He appears emotionally cold but becomes intensely protective once he loves someone.
Guo Zihan— 24
A talented illustrator who has just moved to Shanghai. Outgoing, stubborn, witty, and independent. He dislikes arrogant people—and
unfortunately, Shen Yichen is exactly the kind of person who gets under his skin.
...Chapter 1 — The Man in the Rain...
Shanghai had never looked beautiful to Guo Zihan when it rained.
Not on the first night.
The city was supposed to be dazzling—towering buildings covered in neon advertisements, endless streams of headlights, cafés glowing behind enormous glass windows. Zihan had seen photographs of Shanghai before moving here, and every picture had looked almost unreal.
Tonight, however, the rain turned everything into a blur.
He stood beneath the narrow roof of a convenience store, clutching his suitcase handle with one hand and his phone with the other.
His phone showed 7% battery.
His taxi application showed:
Driver arriving in 3 minutes.
Zihan stared at the screen.
“Three minutes,” he muttered. “You've been saying that for twenty minutes.”
A cold drop of rain landed on the back of his neck.
He shivered.
Tomorrow was his first day at his new company. He had spent the entire afternoon unpacking, getting lost twice, and arguing with the landlord about a broken water heater.
And now his phone was dying.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
He sighed and stepped farther beneath the roof.
That was when a black sedan stopped directly in front of him.
The passenger window lowered.
A man sat inside.
“Guo Zihan?”
Zihan blinked.
“Yes?”
The man's gaze moved briefly to his suitcase.
“You're blocking the entrance.”
Zihan looked behind him.
There was, indeed, a small entrance to an underground parking area.
He immediately moved his suitcase aside.
“Sorry.”
The window began closing.
Then Zihan noticed something.
“Wait.”
The window stopped.
“You're not my taxi, are you?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
The window closed completely.
Zihan stared at the car.
“What an incredibly friendly person.”
The sedan pulled away.
Zihan watched it disappear into the rain.
“Rich people,” he muttered.
Ten minutes later, his taxi finally arrived.
---
The next morning, Zihan discovered that the mysterious man from the night before was not merely some rude stranger.
He was Shen Yichen.
His new boss.
Or, more accurately, the youngest partner at Yunhe Design Group, one of Shanghai's most prestigious architecture and interior-design firms.
Zihan discovered this approximately thirty seconds after walking into the conference room.
He froze.
Shen Yichen sat at the end of the table.
Black suit.
White shirt.
Silver watch.
Perfectly neat dark hair.
He looked nothing like the man who had sat in the black sedan the previous night.
Except for the eyes.
Those eyes were unmistakable.
Calm.
Sharp.
Almost irritatingly beautiful.
Yichen looked up.
Their eyes met.
For one second, neither moved.
Then Yichen said,
“You're late.”
Zihan looked at the clock.
8:59.
The meeting started at nine.
“It's 8:59.”
“Then you're one minute early.”
Zihan stared at him.
A woman sitting beside Yichen quickly covered her smile with a folder.
Zihan pulled out a chair.
“Good morning to you too.”
Yichen said nothing.
The meeting began.
Zihan tried to concentrate.
He really did.
But every few minutes, he found himself glancing toward the end of the table.
Shen Yichen was younger than he had expected.
Twenty-six, according to the introduction email.
Too young to have such an intimidating reputation.
Too young to look so composed.
And, unfortunately, far too attractive.
Zihan immediately looked back at his notebook.
Absolutely not.
He had moved to Shanghai for his career.
Not for some ridiculously handsome man with an expensive watch.
Especially not a man who apparently believed that smiling was a waste of energy.
Two hours later, the meeting finally ended.
Everyone began gathering their papers.
Zihan closed his laptop.
“Mr. Guo.”
He looked up.
Yichen was standing beside the table.
“Yes?”
“The illustrations you submitted.”
“What about them?”
“They're good.”
Zihan blinked.
That was the first compliment he'd received since arriving.
“Thank you.”
“But the third concept doesn't work.”
His smile disappeared.
“Why?”
“The emotional center is wrong.”
Zihan frowned.
“It's supposed to represent loneliness.”
“It represents sadness.”
“That's the point.”
“No.”
Yichen leaned slightly toward the table and pointed at the screen.
“Loneliness isn't always sadness. Sometimes it's silence. Sometimes it's wanting someone beside you and refusing to admit it.”
Zihan stared at him.
For the first time, Yichen's expression softened.
Only slightly.
Then it disappeared.
“Redo it.”
Zihan crossed his arms.
“You could have just said that.”
“I did.”
“You gave me a philosophy lecture.”
“It was three sentences.”
“That felt longer.”
Yichen looked at him.
Then, unexpectedly, the corner of his mouth lifted.
It wasn't quite a smile.
But it was close.
Zihan's heart made an inconvenient little jump.
He hated that.
He hated it immediately.
---
That evening, Zihan stayed late.
The office gradually emptied.
One employee after another said goodnight and disappeared into the elevators.
By ten o'clock, only the rain and the hum of the air conditioner remained.
Zihan sat alone beneath the desk lamp, sketching.
He erased a line.
Redrew it.
Erased it again.
His phone buzzed.
Landlord: Water heater repaired tomorrow.
Zihan sighed with relief.
At least one problem was solved.
He leaned back.
His eyes felt heavy.
Then he heard footsteps.
He looked toward the glass doors.
Shen Yichen walked out of his office.
He had removed his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves to his forearms.
Zihan immediately looked back at his drawing.
Don't stare.
He stared anyway.
Yichen stopped beside his desk.
“You're still here.”
“Obviously.”
“You should go home.”
“So should you.”
“I have work.”
“So do I.”
Yichen looked at the clock.
“It's ten thirty.”
“And?”
“You've been working since nine.”
Zihan shrugged.
“I'm new.”
“That doesn't mean you have to prove something.”
Zihan looked up.
There was something different in Yichen's voice.
Not cold.
Not commanding.
Concern.
Small, almost invisible concern.
Zihan's expression softened.
“Are you worried about me?”
Yichen paused.
“No.”
“Liar.”
Yichen looked away.
“Finish tomorrow.”
Then he walked toward the elevator.
Zihan smiled to himself.
“Goodnight, Boss.”
The elevator doors opened.
Yichen stepped inside.
Before they closed, he looked back.
“Goodnight, Zihan.”
It was the first time he'd used his name.
Something about the way he said it made the office suddenly feel much quieter.
---
Outside, the rain had become heavier.
Zihan stood beneath the building's entrance and checked his phone.
No taxis.
He groaned.
“Of course.”
A black umbrella appeared above his head.
Zihan looked up.
Shen Yichen stood beside him.
“You're going to get sick.”
“I'll survive.”
“Probably.”
Zihan laughed.
“Was that concern again?”
“No.”
“Right.”
They walked toward the street together.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
The umbrella was large enough for both of them, but Zihan noticed their shoulders occasionally brushed.
Once.
Twice.
The third time, neither moved away.
Zihan could hear the rain hitting the umbrella.
He could smell something faintly clean from Yichen's shirt—something like cedar and rain.
He looked sideways.
Yichen was watching the road.
His profile was almost painfully handsome beneath the streetlights.
“You know,” Zihan said quietly, “you're not as cold as everyone says.”
Yichen glanced at him.
“You've known me for less than twenty-four hours.”
“And yet I already know you're not as scary as you pretend.”
“I don't pretend.”
Zihan smiled.
“Then maybe you're just bad at smiling.”
For a moment, Yichen said nothing.
Then he looked directly at him.
“Maybe I don't have a reason to.”
Zihan's smile faded.
The words were simple.
But something about them felt strangely lonely.
Before he could answer, a taxi pulled up.
Zihan stepped beneath the light.
He turned back.
“Goodnight, Shen Yichen.”
Yichen nodded.
“Goodnight.”
Zihan opened the taxi door.
Then he hesitated.
“Tomorrow?”
Yichen's eyes met his.
“Tomorrow.”
The taxi drove away.
Yichen remained beneath the umbrella, watching the red taillights disappear into the rain.
And for the first time in a very long while, Shanghai didn't feel quite so lonely.
Neither did he.
The next morning, Guo Zihan arrived at Yunhe Design Group twelve minutes early.
He considered this a personal achievement.
Yesterday, Shen Yichen had somehow managed to make him feel late even when he technically wasn't.
Today, Zihan was determined not to give him the satisfaction.
He stepped out of the elevator with a cup of coffee in one hand and his sketchbook tucked beneath his arm.
“Good morning.”
A few employees greeted him.
Zihan smiled.
“Morning.”
He had almost reached his desk when someone spoke behind him.
“You're early.”
Zihan stopped.
He didn't need to turn around.
He already knew the voice.
He turned slowly.
Shen Yichen stood several steps away, dressed in another perfectly tailored black suit.
Zihan looked at the clock.
“Seven forty-eight.”
Yichen glanced at his watch.
“Seven forty-nine.”
“Still early.”
“Yes.”
Zihan took a sip of coffee.
“Did you come here just to check my arrival time?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Yichen walked past him.
Then stopped.
“Your coffee.”
Zihan looked down.
“What about it?”
“Too much sugar.”
Zihan stared at him.
“How do you know?”
“I watched you put four packets in it.”
“You were watching me?”
Yichen's expression remained completely calm.
“You were standing directly in front of the coffee machine.”
“Oh.”
Zihan suddenly felt stupid.
Yichen continued walking.
After two steps, he added,
“Four packets is excessive.”
Zihan called after him.
“It's called having a personality!”
Yichen didn't turn around.
But Zihan could have sworn he saw his shoulders move slightly.
Was he laughing?
---
At nine, the project meeting began.
The company had been hired to design a luxury hotel overlooking the Huangpu River.
The project was enormous.
And according to the presentation Yichen gave, completely unforgiving.
“We have six months,” Yichen said.
Someone at the table raised a hand.
“Six months? That's extremely tight.”
“I know.”
“Then why did the company accept the deadline?”
“Because we can complete it.”
The answer was simple.
Certain.
Zihan looked at him.
There was something fascinating about Yichen when he worked.
He wasn't merely confident.
He was precise.
Every sentence had a purpose.
Every decision had a reason.
And whenever someone challenged him, he never raised his voice.
He simply explained why they were wrong.
It should have been irritating.
Instead, Zihan found himself watching.
Again.
He quickly looked down.
Stop staring at your boss.
A presentation slide appeared on the screen.
Zihan's illustrations were displayed beside the architectural concepts.
Yichen glanced toward him.
“Guo Zihan.”
“Yes?”
“Explain the emotional concept.”
Zihan stood.
He walked toward the screen.
The illustration showed a person standing alone beneath a huge moon reflected in the river.
“The hotel is supposed to feel luxurious,” he began, “but I don't want it to feel cold.”
He clicked to the next image.
“People don't remember buildings because of their walls. They remember how they felt inside them.”
The room became quiet.
Zihan continued.
“The moon represents distance. Everyone can see it, but nobody can touch it. The reflection is different. It's something you can almost reach.”
Yichen watched him carefully.
“And what does the person represent?”
Zihan hesitated.
“Someone waiting.”
“For what?”
“Someone.”
A strange silence followed.
Yichen looked at the image.
Then at Zihan.
“Good.”
Just one word.
But Zihan smiled.
“Thank you.”
The meeting continued.
When it finally ended, everyone left except Zihan and Yichen.
Zihan gathered his papers.
“You liked the concept.”
Yichen didn't look up from his laptop.
“Yes.”
“That's the second compliment you've given me.”
“I didn't count.”
“I did.”
Yichen finally looked at him.
“Do you keep track of everything I say?”
Zihan's mouth opened.
Then closed.
“That sounded different in my head.”
For the first time, Yichen actually smiled.
It was small.
Barely there.
But real.
Zihan forgot what he was going to say.
Yichen noticed.
His smile disappeared.
“Something wrong?”
“No.”
“Then why are you staring?”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
Zihan grabbed his papers.
“I have work.”
He walked away quickly.
Behind him, Yichen watched him leave.
And this time, there was unmistakably amusement in his eyes.
---
That afternoon, Zihan was assigned to work directly with Yichen.
He regretted every decision that had brought him to Shanghai.
The office was quiet.
Yichen sat across from him, reviewing architectural drawings while Zihan worked on digital illustrations.
For nearly an hour, they barely spoke.
Then Zihan broke the silence.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you become an architect?”
Yichen's pen stopped.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because you're good at it.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Zihan shrugged.
“Maybe I'm curious.”
Yichen looked toward the window.
The city stretched beyond the glass.
“I liked drawing when I was young.”
Zihan blinked.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You draw?”
“Used to.”
“What happened?”
Yichen was silent for a moment.
“My father thought it was useless.”
Zihan's expression changed.
“And you listened?”
“I was sixteen.”
The answer was quiet.
Zihan didn't push further.
Instead, he smiled.
“You should draw again.”
Yichen looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because sometimes the things people tell us to give up are the things we actually love.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Yichen's gaze lingered on him.
“You talk too much.”
Zihan laughed.
“And you don't talk enough.”
“Perhaps that's why we're compatible.”
The words came out casually.
But the moment they did, Yichen seemed to realize what he'd said.
So did Zihan.
The air changed.
Zihan lowered his eyes to his tablet.
“Compatible?”
Yichen cleared his throat.
“For work.”
“Right.”
“For work.”
Neither of them looked at the other.
---
That evening, they were still working when the lights suddenly flickered.
Zihan looked up.
“Please don't tell me the electricity is going out.”
The lights went off.
He sighed.
“Of course.”
Emergency lights came on.
Yichen stood.
“Stay here.”
“Why?”
“I'll check.”
Zihan followed him anyway.
“I'm not five.”
“I didn't say you were.”
“You were thinking it.”
Yichen glanced back.
“You're very confident about what I think.”
“Someone has to be.”
They reached the corridor.
The building's maintenance team was already checking the electrical system.
“Should be back in a few minutes,” someone said.
Zihan sighed.
He leaned against the wall.
Yichen stood beside him.
In the dim emergency lighting, his face looked softer.
Less distant.
Zihan glanced at him.
Yichen was already looking at him.
Their eyes met.
Neither moved.
The hallway suddenly felt much narrower.
“You have something on your face,” Yichen said.
Zihan touched his cheek.
“What?”
“Here.”
Yichen stepped closer.
He lifted his hand.
His thumb gently brushed a small streak of graphite from Zihan's cheek.
Zihan went completely still.
Yichen's hand remained there for half a second too long.
Then he pulled away.
“Graphite.”
“Oh.”
Zihan's voice came out quieter than intended.
Yichen looked at him.
“You're blushing.”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
“It's hot.”
“The air conditioning is on.”
Zihan stared at him.
“You're really annoying.”
“I've been told.”
The lights suddenly came back on.
Both stepped away at the same time.
Neither mentioned what had just happened.
---
Later that night, Zihan left the building alone.
He walked toward the subway station, hands buried in his coat pockets.
His mind kept returning to one stupid moment.
Yichen's hand on his face.
It had lasted barely a second.
So why couldn't he stop thinking about it?
His phone vibrated.
A message.
Shen Yichen: You left your sketchbook.
Zihan stopped walking.
He looked down.
His sketchbook was indeed missing.
Another message appeared.
Shen Yichen: I'll bring it tomorrow.
Zihan typed:
You could leave it at reception.
He deleted it.
Typed again:
Thanks.
Deleted that too.
Finally:
Okay. Don't lose it.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Appeared again.
Shen Yichen: I won't.
Zihan stared at the screen.
A ridiculous smile appeared on his face.
He immediately put the phone away.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Absolutely not.”
But somewhere across the city, Shen Yichen was looking at the same conversation.
And for reasons he didn't understand, he was smiling too.
The next morning, Guo Zihan arrived at Yunhe Design Group carrying two coffees.
He placed one on his desk.
The other remained in his hand.
He stared at it for several seconds.
Then he sighed.
“This is ridiculous.”
He had bought it because Shen Yichen had said yesterday that he didn't like overly sweet coffee.
That was all.
It didn't mean anything.
It was simply coffee.
He walked toward Yichen's office.
The door was half open.
Zihan knocked.
“Come in.”
Yichen was standing beside the window, reading something on his tablet.
Zihan placed the coffee on his desk.
“For you.”
Yichen looked at it.
Then at him.
“Why?”
“Because you helped me yesterday.”
“I only told you about the sketchbook.”
“You still helped.”
Yichen picked up the cup.
“What is it?”
“Americano.”
“No sugar?”
“No sugar.”
Yichen took a sip.
His expression remained unreadable.
Zihan waited.
“Well?”
“It's good.”
Zihan smiled.
“See? I'm learning.”
Yichen looked at him for a moment.
“Thank you.”
Something about the simple words made Zihan's smile soften.
“You're welcome.”
He turned to leave.
“Zihan.”
He stopped.
Yichen was still holding the coffee.
“You don't have to keep doing things for me.”
Zihan looked back.
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Zihan thought about it.
Because he liked seeing Yichen's expression change.
Because yesterday, that brief touch had stayed in his mind all night.
Because somewhere between their arguments and late-night conversations, Shen Yichen had stopped feeling like an intimidating boss.
He had started feeling like someone Zihan wanted to know.
Instead, he shrugged.
“Maybe I wanted to.”
Yichen didn't answer.
Zihan left before he could say anything else.
---
By lunchtime, the entire office was discussing the hotel project.
The deadline had been moved forward by two weeks.
Everyone was stressed.
Zihan sat at his desk, staring at his screen.
“I need a miracle.”
A voice came from behind him.
“You need better time management.”
Zihan turned.
“Do you ever appear without criticizing me?”
Yichen placed a folder on his desk.
“Meeting room. Five minutes.”
“Bossy.”
“I heard that.”
“You were supposed to.”
Yichen walked away.
Zihan smiled.
He couldn't help it.
---
The meeting lasted nearly three hours.
By the end, Zihan's head hurt.
He rubbed his temples.
Yichen noticed.
“You're tired.”
“No.”
“You've rubbed your forehead twelve times.”
“You counted?”
“Yes.”
Zihan stared at him.
“You really pay attention to everything I do.”
Yichen's expression changed.
Only slightly.
“I'm responsible for the team.”
“Of course.”
Zihan smiled teasingly.
“Just the team.”
Yichen looked at him.
There was something in his eyes that made Zihan's teasing disappear.
“Don't look at me like that.”
Yichen's voice was quiet.
Zihan blinked.
“Like what?”
“Like you know something I don't.”
“I don't.”
“You do.”
Yichen turned away.
“Go home.”
Zihan gathered his things.
“You too.”
“I'll stay.”
“Again?”
“Yes.”
“You're going to turn into a statue at this rate.”
“I have work.”
“You always have work.”
Yichen looked at him.
“And you always talk.”
Zihan laughed.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
---
But Zihan didn't go home.
Instead, he went downstairs to the café across the street.
He sat beside the window with his laptop and ordered noodles.
Twenty minutes later, the chair opposite him moved.
Zihan looked up.
Shen Yichen.
He stared.
“What are you doing here?”
“Eating.”
“There are twenty tables.”
“Yes.”
“And you chose mine?”
Yichen pulled out the chair.
“You're loud.”
“This is a café.”
“Exactly.”
Zihan narrowed his eyes.
“You're avoiding work.”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
Yichen glanced toward the rain outside.
“I wanted coffee.”
“You have coffee at the office.”
“I wanted different coffee.”
Zihan smiled.
“Sure.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
It wasn't uncomfortable.
That surprised Zihan.
Usually silence made him feel like he needed to fill it.
With Yichen, somehow, it didn't.
Outside, rain slid down the glass.
Shanghai's lights blurred into gold and red.
Zihan looked through the window.
“Do you ever feel lonely here?”
Yichen looked at him.
“Shanghai?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes.”
The answer came so quickly that Zihan turned.
“You do?”
“Sometimes.”
“Even though you have everyone around you?”
Yichen nodded.
“People can be surrounded by thousands and still feel alone.”
Zihan lowered his eyes.
“That sounds familiar.”
Yichen watched him.
“Why did you come to Shanghai?”
“Work.”
“That isn't the whole answer.”
Zihan smiled faintly.
“You're getting better at asking questions.”
“And?”
Zihan took a breath.
“I wanted somewhere I could start over.”
Yichen didn't ask what he was starting over from.
He simply nodded.
“Then I hope you find what you're looking for.”
Zihan looked at him.
“What about you?”
“What?”
“What are you looking for?”
Yichen was silent.
Then he said,
“I don't know.”
For some reason, that answer stayed with Zihan long after they left the café.
---
Three days later, the hotel project reached its most stressful stage.
Everyone worked late.
Zihan had been staring at his screen for hours when his vision began to blur.
He leaned back.
“I'm done.”
A shadow fell across his desk.
Yichen.
“Go home.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“I need to finish this.”
“You need sleep.”
Zihan shook his head.
“If I leave now, I'll forget what I was doing.”
“You're already forgetting.”
“What?”
“You've been staring at the same line for ten minutes.”
Zihan looked at his screen.
He had.
He sighed.
“Fine.”
He stood.
The moment he did, the room tilted slightly.
He reached for the desk.
Yichen caught his arm.
“Zihan.”
“I’m okay.”
“You're not.”
Their faces were suddenly close.
Too close.
Zihan could feel Yichen's fingers around his wrist.
Warm.
Steady.
Neither moved.
Yichen's gaze dropped briefly to Zihan's lips.
Zihan noticed.
His breath caught.
Yichen looked back into his eyes.
“Go home.”
His voice was quieter now.
Zihan swallowed.
“Okay.”
But neither released the other immediately.
One second.
Two.
Then Yichen slowly let go.
Zihan stepped back.
His heart was beating far too quickly.
---
The elevator ride was silent.
They stood side by side.
Zihan stared at the numbers above the door.
Yichen stared straight ahead.
Neither mentioned what had happened.
When the elevator reached the ground floor, the doors opened.
Zihan stepped out.
“Goodnight.”
Yichen nodded.
“Goodnight.”
Zihan walked several steps.
Then stopped.
He turned around.
Yichen was still standing inside the elevator.
Their eyes met.
Zihan smiled.
Not his usual teasing smile.
Something softer.
Yichen's expression changed.
The elevator doors began to close.
Just before they met, Yichen said,
“Zihan.”
“Yes?”
“Don't look at me like that.”
Zihan's smile widened.
“Why?”
The doors closed.
Yichen remained alone in the elevator.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Because he knew the answer.
Because every time Zihan looked at him that way, he wanted to forget that he was his boss.
And he was beginning to suspect that forgetting might not be difficult for much longer.
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