The first snowfall of the year had come unexpectedly early.
Soft flakes drifted down through the gray afternoon sky, coating the roofs, trees, and sidewalks in a delicate white hush. Lin Nian'an stood by the tall windows of the arrival hall at City International Airport, her slim fingers gripping the handle of her suitcase. The wheels of it had long stopped moving. Like her.
She had returned.
After six years of studying abroad, traveling between art schools and exhibitions, and building a quiet name for herself in Paris, Lin Nian'an was finally back in the city where everything began—and ended.
She had told herself countless times that she wouldn't come back unless she had a reason. Tonight, she had many.
The press conference was in three days. Her art studio had secured its first international collaboration with a prestigious East Asian gallery, and the exhibition would be held in this very city. It should have been a triumph. Instead, it felt like standing at the edge of something much older than success.
With a soft exhale, she adjusted the lapel of her cream-colored coat and stepped outside. The winter wind nipped at her cheeks, sharp and unforgiving, just like the memories she had buried under the illusion of distance.
A black Bentley was already waiting at the curb. The driver, wearing a neat uniform and white gloves, quickly stepped out to help with her luggage.
"Miss Lin, welcome back. Chairman Gu arranged for your transport," he said respectfully.
She gave a faint nod, her voice soft. "Thank you."
As she settled into the back seat, the car pulled away from the curb, gliding into the maze of city streets she once knew by heart. The familiar skyline loomed in the distance—steel, glass, and ambition. Nothing had changed. And yet, everything felt different.
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a slightly wrinkled envelope.
No name. No address.
Just her handwriting.
It was a letter she had written years ago but never sent. The words inside still burned in her memory, sharp and bittersweet:
"If one day you turn around and I'm no longer there, I hope you'll understand that it wasn't because I stopped loving you. It was because I couldn't keep waiting for you to choose me."
Her heart clenched.
She had written it the night before she left the country, after hours of crying into a pillow, trying to silence the ache in her chest. But she had never sent it. What was the point? He wouldn't have come after her anyway.
She placed the letter back into her bag as the city lights blurred past the window.
The Gu residence was quiet when she arrived. Despite its grand architecture and sprawling garden, it held a stillness that only the truly wealthy could afford—nothing unnecessary moved, nothing was out of place.
"Miss Lin, your room has been prepared," the housekeeper greeted her warmly. "Young Master Gu is currently in a meeting. He'll return late."
Nian'an nodded, offering a gentle smile. "That's alright. I don't plan to stay long."
The housekeeper hesitated. "He… was very happy when he heard you were returning."
Nian'an didn't answer.
She headed upstairs, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. In the room prepared for her, everything was exactly as it had been six years ago. The same ivory curtains. The same shelf of books. Even the little ceramic rabbit on her nightstand remained untouched.
She sat on the edge of the bed, feeling like a ghost haunting her own past.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
A text.
From a number she hadn't seen in years.
Gu Chenyan:
"Welcome home, An'an."
Her breath caught.
He still remembered the name only he ever called her.
Years ago, when they were just teenagers, Gu Chenyan had been everything she wasn't—cold, reserved, brilliant beyond his years. But to her, he had always been gentle. Especially when the world turned too sharp, he had been her quiet place.
She remembered their rooftop talks in high school, their whispered dreams of going abroad, of becoming something greater than the expectations forced onto them by their families.
They had been inseparable.
Until everything changed.
The next morning, she woke early.
Snow had stopped, but the sky remained overcast. She slipped into a long beige wool coat and headed downstairs to find a small breakfast waiting. She was quietly sipping tea when the front door opened.
She didn't need to look to know it was him.
Footsteps approached—slow, purposeful.
And then his voice: deep, calm, familiar.
"You're still a morning person."
Lin Nian'an turned, her heart strangely still.
Gu Chenyan stood tall in a tailored dark gray suit, his silver hair styled neatly, his tie flawless. There was a sharpness to his presence now, like the edges of a blade finally honed. He had always been handsome, but now—now he was striking.
"I see the rumors weren't exaggerated," she said lightly.
He raised a brow. "Which rumors?"
"That you became a tyrant in the business world."
His lips curved into a faint smirk. "Only when necessary."
Their eyes met across the table.
It had been six years since they had last spoken. Six years since she had walked away from him. Six years of silence.
And yet, standing here, it felt like no time had passed at all.
"I kept your room the same," he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"I noticed."
"I hoped you'd come back one day."
She looked at him, voice low. "And if I hadn't?"
"I would've found you."
There it was—the confidence, the quiet dominance, the promise in his tone. He had always spoken like the world bent to his will.
But she wasn't the same girl anymore.
"I didn't come back for you," she said softly.
"I know."
There was a pause.
"But now that you're here, I'm not letting you go again."
Her eyes widened, caught off guard by the raw certainty in his words.
Before she could reply, he stepped closer, his voice a whisper.
"You can stay in any city, any country. Build your empire, chase your dreams. But wherever you go… I'll be there. Waiting. Because no matter how far you run, An'an—"
He leaned in, his breath warm against her temple.
"—you'll always be mine."