Chapter 282: Unspoken Habits

*Ling Yue’s POV*

The glass doors of the office tower slide open, letting in the crisp rush of early evening air.

I step out onto the front steps, unbuttoning the top button of my collar as I roll my shoulders. My back is stiff from sitting at my desk all day, and my eyes ache from staring at numbers and project approvals since eight in the morning.

My eyes drift toward the curb across the street out of an unbidden habit.

Two weeks ago, after our conversation at the cafe, Jin Hao began showing up outside my office every single evening. He never called ahead to demand my time, nor did he ask me to move back to the villa. He simply waited at the curb, took me to dinner or brought me food, drove me home, watched me walk through the lobby, and left.

Day after day, without fail, he made showing up for me a quiet routine.

Until two days ago.

On Thursday evening, the curb was empty. Yesterday, it was empty too. Both nights, I walked straight to the subway station alone, telling myself it didn’t matter. I was the one who insisted on having my own space, who chose to live in my separate apartment and focus strictly on my position as Vice Leader.

Yet, standing on the curb without his car waiting had left a strange void in my chest. In just two short weeks, his consistent presence had woven itself back into my life, and when he vanished for forty-eight hours, I realized I had grown used to him being there.

I take two steps down the entrance stairs, scanning the main street.

The spot where he usually stops is taken by a taxi, but just a few meters down, tucked near the side entrance cutout, sits his familiar black car. He had parked slightly further along the curb today so as not to block the main lobby doors.

A sudden, quiet relief eases the tightness in my chest.

I walk across the pavement, pull the passenger door open, and slide into the interior.

Before I can even settle into the leather seat or close the door, a strong hand reaches across the console, cupping the back of my neck with firm, unmistakable possession.

Jin Hao pulls me toward him without a word, his eyes fixed on mine for barely a second before he leans in and presses his mouth against mine in a sudden, deep kiss.

His lips are demanding, hot and urgent, taking my breath away in an instant. For two weeks, he hadn’t made a single physical move on me—he had kept his hands entirely to himself, maintaining a strict, respectful distance. But right now, the sheer hunger in his touch betrays just how much restraint he has been forcing on himself, and how deeply he missed me over the last two days.

When he finally pulls back, his thumb stays anchored against the side of my neck, his pulse beating steady against my skin.

“I missed you,” he says, his voice low and dark, his eyes searching my face.

The heat from his mouth is still buzzing on my lips, but the lingering frustration from the past two days spills out before I can stop it. “If you were going to miss me so much, why didn’t you come for the past two days?”

The words leave my mouth with an embarrassing, slightly pouty edge that I immediately regret. I pull back slightly, my throat tightening as I turn my face toward the side window.

Jin Hao doesn’t laugh, nor does he tease me. His grip on my neck remains firm, keeping me anchored close to him.

“My father called an emergency family gathering at the main estate,” Jin Hao explains quietly, his thumb slowly stroking the skin behind my ear. “Back-to-back dinners with the elders that went well past midnight both nights. I wanted to call, but by the time I was free, I knew you were already asleep. I didn’t want to wake you or disrupt your work.”

I glance back at him. “You could have at least sent a message. So I wouldn’t expect you.”

“Alright. From now on, I’ll tell you whenever I can’t make it,” Jin Hao says quietly, a faint, almost imperceptible softening touching the corners of his eyes as he gives in to my request without an argument.

He traces his thumb slowly over my jawline once more before leaning in to press another hot, firm kiss against my lips—briefer this time, but no less intense—before finally releasing my neck.

He reaches into the back seat and pulls out a neatly wrapped paper bag, setting it in my lap. “You look exhausted. I bought food on the way over so you wouldn’t have to sit in a restaurant.”

I look down at the warm bag from the small Cantonese kitchen near my old neighborhood, the one that makes the exact medicinal bone broth I always like to eat when I’m stressed.

As I open the container, I glance back over at Jin Hao in the driver’s seat. He has his sleeves rolled up, and subtle shadow lingering under his eyes. For all his dark intensity, he looks far more drained than I do.

“You look more tired than I am,” I remark, taking a small sip of the warm broth as he shifts the car into drive and pulls into the evening traffic.

“Handling the family elders takes more energy than running the company,” Jin Hao replies simply, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while the other rests on the center console, inches from mine.

We ride through the city in a quiet, comfortable rhythm. He doesn’t demand to know everything about my day, yet his presence fills the cabin entirely. He is still the exact same capable man he has always been, but he is actively putting in the effort to earn my trust back, step by step.

Twenty minutes later, the car glides to a quiet stop at the curb outside my apartment building.

Jin Hao shifts into park, but leaves the engine idling. He stays in the driver’s seat, his hands resting on the wheel. He looks toward the front lobby doors, then slowly turns his head back to look at me. His expression is controlled, but a clear, silent reluctance lingers in his dark eyes—he doesn’t want me to go, yet his promise to respect my space keeps him from asking to stay.

I hold the empty food containers in my lap, my fingers tightening slightly around the paper handles.

My hand reaches out, resting flat on the silver door latch. I press it open until the lock clicks quietly in the silence of the car.

I hesitate, keeping my hand on the handle as I turn back to meet his gaze.

“…Do you want to come up for a bit?” I ask softly.

Jin Hao’s hand on the steering wheel freezes. His eyes widening with a sudden surge of excitement.

“Yes please.”