10. Decrescendo

Pei Yu stood frozen in place for a moment before striding after her. He took one step, while Chen Shu Yin took ten. The distance between them grew in this uneven pursuit.

The living room’s layout split the light and shadows into two opposing halves, and the dividing line isolated Pei Yu, leaving him concealed in shades of black and gray.

She had always had an endless temper with him—ever since the day they met, it had never ceased. But she never got angry at others and rarely spoke with them. He was the only one she engaged with.

Pei Yu once thought that, at the very least, this meant they were friends, even if their way of getting along was full of chaos and far from the usual warmth of normal friendships.

Besides, at this point, they were far from just “friends.”

Over time, their emotions had deepened. Judging by the way she looked at him—after years of scrutinizing emotions on screen—he was certain: she loved him.

How could she just say she didn’t love him anymore?

No matter how cold she acted, there had to be a reason for her anger.

Pei Yu remained patient, reflecting on himself as he stepped out of the shadows. The few steps he took felt as deliberate and composed as a model striding across a galaxy-lit runway, closing the final bit of distance between them.

As she turned away in frustration, he timed his move perfectly—grasping her waist and pressing her against the wool tapestry on the wall, his gaze melting into liquid depths.

Chen Shu Yin gasped, locking eyes with his ink-black pupils.

Confusion, bewilderment, and helplessness—all emotions she never thought she’d see in the arrogant, imperious Pei Yu—now flickered in his eyes.

They stared at each other, wide-eyed, as she slowly realized: his usual calm was crumbling. Like a hurricane pulling everything into its vortex, he was dragging her in with him.

“Lo—” The word got swallowed back.

“Yin Yin, did I do something wrong? Did I upset you?” The chandelier’s crystal reflections cast diamond-shaped light on the floor, darkening his already deep eyes.

“No.” Chen Shu Yin bit the soft flesh inside her lip and looked up, her watery eyes sharp as if she were about to draw a gun on him. “Actually, yes. You’ve never not upset me.”

The warmth at her waist vanished instantly.

“Tell me, and I’ll change—one thing at a time.” Pei Yu no longer carried the casual swagger of his younger self. His hands, usually shoved in his pockets, now hung quietly at his sides. He stood tall before her, yet all he projected was sincerity and remorse.

“Telling you wouldn’t make a difference.” Chen Shu Yin scoffed, anticipating his rebuttal. “The biggest problem between us is that we find each other unbearable.”

Yes, she knew she couldn’t stand him. But who said that dislike had to be an unbridgeable hatred?

Since getting their marriage certificate, the times she’d said she loved him had already outweighed the years of resentment.

“You hate me again?” Pei Yu clenched his fists, his eyelids lowering slightly.

His furrowed brows and high-bridged nose only emphasized his striking features.

Chen Shu Yin wanted to nod, but then she remembered the promise she’d made in the fire—that she didn’t hate him anymore. Holding her grumbling stomach, she stubbornly shook her head.

“Then your point doesn’t hold.” Pei Yu pulled out a chair for her. “I’ve never gotten tired of you.”

“Hey!” Chen Shu Yin snapped. He always said things just to provoke her.

That line sounded eerily like a declaration that he’d haunt her for the rest of her life.

“I’m giving you permission to get tired of me,” she muttered, gnawing at the rim of her cup.

“Ridiculous.” Pei Yu heard her stomach growl again, snatched her cup away, and replaced it with a bowl of freshly steamed egg custard. “Feed your stomach first.”

Chen Shu Yin didn’t argue—she never held grudges against good food.

She scooped up a spoonful and placed it in her mouth. As the rich scallion aroma and silky egg flavor spread across her tongue, an unexpected sourness welled in her chest, reaching her eyes.

Before she could even swallow, her spoon slipped from her grasp, landing in the custard with a soft plop.

“Too hot?” Pei Yu set his own bowl down with a crisp clink and reached to gently pinch her cheeks, shaping her lips into an “O.” “Stick out your tongue, let me see.”

Chen Shu Yin shoved him away, ignoring him. “Where did you learn to make this?”

Pei Yu blinked at the unexpected question. “From your grandma. I learned back in high school.”

She let out a disappointed “Oh.”

“Who did you think taught me?” he asked, tilting his head.

“It tastes just like the one from a shop I loved as a kid. My grandma used to take me there whenever I was feeling down.”

Few could replicate the shop owner’s signature custard—rich with the scent of milk and a perfectly smooth, sweet texture.

Chen Shu Yin continued eating heartily. “My grandma’s version never tasted quite like this. Why did you ask her to teach you?”

Pei Yu saw her finally opening up and smoothly sat beside her. “Curious? What will you trade for the answer?”

She put down her half-eaten bowl. “Bargaining makes it less fun.”

Pei Yu scooped another spoonful for her. “Trade me for another bite, then.”

He had actually met Grandma Fang before meeting Chen Shu Yin.

That summer, Pei Yu had wanted to quit acting. His family was wealthy; they didn’t need him to work himself to the bone. But when he brought up canceling his contract, his agent—his aunt—struck a devastating blow.

His once-pampered aunt, who never had to worry about money, had fallen in love with a broke entrepreneur. The Pei family opposed the relationship, even cutting off her credit cards to pressure her.

In retaliation, she took every cent Pei Yu had earned since his debut and ran.

His father left work to find her—only to disappear himself.

His grandfather fell gravely ill from the shock. With the Pei family on the verge of collapse, rumors spread that their fortune was up for grabs, sending their stocks plummeting.

Pei Yu had to fight through the legal mess his aunt left behind and work solo for two years to rebuild everything.

By the time he finally tracked her down, her new husband sent thugs to beat him up.

That was when Grandma Fang saved him.

She found him curled up, shielding his face, begging them not to hit him there.

She didn’t ask questions, only brought him home, patched him up, and made him a bowl of steamed egg custard.

That night, he left without a word. But months later, when he transferred schools, he returned to that alley—only to see her scolding a petite girl in a plaid school uniform, fixing her crooked collar.

The girl pouted, bickered, and ran off. A breeze lifted her short hair, revealing the name printed inside her book cover—Chen Shu Yin.

At that moment, he had one thought:

To reach out, brush the breadcrumb off her lips, and ask if she planned to save it for breakfast.

He imagined her reaction would be quite something.

Now, seeing her pout at his laughter, Pei Yu smirked.

“What’s so funny?” she huffed.

“Just a memory.” His grin deepened as she glared. “It’s about your grandma, not you.”

“Yeah, right.” She kicked him under the table.

Before she could retract her foot, he caught it, pressing his palm against her sole in a touch that sent a tingle up her spine.

“If we had met differently, would you have still hated me?”

“No ‘what-ifs.'” She pulled her leg back, but he tightened his grip.

“Then why not try starting over?” He dragged her closer.

She shivered.

Their marriage had been impulsive.

But was it really a mistake?