Chapter 5 Part 1: Sundays and Subtle Looks

Sunday, 7:45 AM

"I need to stretch out the shame," Lin Yue muttered as she reached for her toes.

Maybe if I fold myself in half, my dignity will come back.

She moved into her morning stretches with exaggerated determination. Inhale, arms overhead. Exhale, slow and controlled. Normally, this kind of movement helped clear her head.

Not today.

Today, her brain served flashbacks on a rotating carousel: his voice, low and breathy...

Stay.

His fingers gliding up her thighs—

No. Stop. Block it. Breathe.

She flopped onto her mat and groaned into her knees. "Why am I built like this?"

By the time she reached her final spinal twist, she was bargaining with the universe. I swear, if I can go one day without mentally replaying that dream like a forbidden romance trailer, I'll start journaling again. With bullet points. And stickers.

8:10 AM
Breakfast was next. One soft-boiled egg, steamed mantou, warm almond soy milk. Simple. Grounding. The exact opposite of her subconscious.

She poured the soy milk and muttered, "Just tofu and carbs. Nothing sexy about that. No collarbones. No thighs."

Her phone buzzed.

[Hao is the Eldest group chat]
Lin Hao: If no one brings dessert, I'm not coming.
Lin Yue: You're not even the youngest. You're just the most spoiled.
Lin Hao: Incorrect. I am the most underappreciated culinary genius in this family and I demand snacks.

A faint smile crept in. Typical Hao. Loud, dramatic, and surprisingly effective at dragging her out of her own spirals.

9:30 AM
Her Sunday routine continued. Laundry folded, clothes steamed, outfits lined up by color and silhouette. But her mind betrayed her at every turn.

She paused mid-fold, fingertips brushing over a blouse. His hands skimming her waist. His breath at her ear.

Her cheeks flushed. She threw the blouse into the basket like it had personally offended her. "Focus. You're ironing a blouse, not reliving a sensual fever dream."

She threw on a cardigan like it might shield her from her own brain.

12:10 PM
By midday, her tote was neatly packed with stacked trays of almond pudding and sesame rice cakes.

She changed into a soft, muted lavender sundress. Fitted at the waist, the hem skimming just above her knees. Feminine. Subtle. Riskier than usual.

Reflexively, she added a beige cardigan, as if that could tone it all down. But the dress still clung to her skin, moved too easily when she walked.

She caught her reflection in the hallway mirror. Poised. Polished.

But underneath?

Still thinking about his hands under her dress.

She sighed. "Get it together. You're going to dinner. Not to reenact a dream sequence."

2:00 PM
She took a cab figuring Lin Liang would bring his car anyway. Better not to trust herself behind the wheel when her brain was still playing sensual reruns.

The streets blurred in a wash of sun-dappled gold. The warmth outside didn't help. Her skin already tingled with too many memories, too much tension beneath her calm exterior.

She clutched her tote tighter.

Just dinner. Just family.

2:20 PM - Lin Family Residence
The Lin family residence stood proudly under the afternoon light, tall, elegant, composed. Just like its daughter tried to be.

She stepped out of the cab and spotted Lin Liang's car already in the driveway.

The front door was open. From inside: unmistakable chaos.

"Hurry, pudding!" Lin Hao's voice rang before she could even close the door behind her.

He launched toward her tote bag like a scavenger on a mission. "Bless your culinary soul!" he shouted, raising the pudding container like a sacred relic.

"May your hands never grow calluses, my virtuous sister."

"May your mouth never stop being dramatic," she said dryly, pulling the rest of the containers from the bag.

Lin Hao sprawled on the couch, pudding in one hand, grinning. "This is my resting pose of appreciation. I'm at least fifty percent respectful."

"You tore into my bag like a reincarnated famine ghost," Lin Yue muttered.

"I'm a misunderstood culinary genius," he corrected.

She flicked pudding off his collarbone. "You're a grown man. Comb your hair like one."

"With what?" he replied. "The ancestral breeze of the Lin family spirit?"

"You look like a steamed bun that rolled under the table."

"A poetic insult," he said proudly.

Before she could reply, the door opened again.

Chen Rui stepped in.

2:30 PM
Chen Rui enters

Light coat draped over one arm, sleeves rolled neatly, shirt pressed, slacks casual yet refined. Every inch effortless.

He removed his shoes and walked toward the kitchen.

Comfortable. Familiar. Natural.

But it was the way he looked at her that confused her.

"Color," he said as he passed her. His gaze flicked over her dress. "It's unusual for you."

"What?" she blinked.

"The dress. Not your usual palette."

"It's not that bold," she said.

"It's purple," he replied.

"Well... muted purple."

"Still purple," he said with a small smile.

She pretended not to notice the flutter in her chest, or how that smile lingered in her head far too long.

Dinner
The rhythm of the house resumed. Mother Lin floating between garden renovation plans. Lin Hao dramatically narrating imaginary love affairs in the office. Lin Liang kicking him under the table without looking up.

Chen Rui's presence was steady, unobtrusive—except when he looked at her.

That look again. Not intense. Just lingering.

A soft pressure beneath the skin. Like his thoughts were more dangerous than his words.

"If anyone's writing anonymous poetry to Lin Yue, I'd be curious to read it," he teased.

Her eyes shot toward him sharply. He raised his teacup innocently.

Later, when the table was cleared and everyone dispersed, Lin Yue curled into the corner of the sofa with her coffee. Chen Rui stood nearby, adjusting a cushion without reason, his fingers fidgeting.

She glanced at his hands.

You were slower in the dream, she thought—and flushed, hard.

Outside, Lin Liang sipped tea in the garden. Through the glass doors, he watched the two of them from a distance.

The glances.

The silence.

That look on Chen Rui's face.

And now... even she was starting to see it too.
—

Note:

Thank you for reading!

If you've made it this far, you've witnessed Lin Yue's attempt to survive her Sunday with grace, dignity... and a haunted memory she'd really rather forget.

Pft.

But there's still more ahead.

I hope you enjoy!