The note read: "[Marry me when we grow up]."
The characters for "when we grow up" were scribbled in a childish, unsteady hand, while the word "me" was written with elegant, firm strokes—clearly the handwriting of two different people.
Lin Ran froze.
Could this have been written by Luo Yao?
No, it must have been written by a man. If it were Luo Yao, it would say "Marry you when we grow up" or "Marry [someone's name]."
But regardless of who wrote it, the fact that Luo Yao kept it as a keepsake—what did that imply?
Did Luo Yao have another "first love" besides him?
And that childish handwriting—it was clearly written when they were young.
Lin Ran was certain he had no memory loss; his childhood recollections were vivid. He had never met Luo Yao before, nor did he even vaguely recall any girl from his past. So, he definitely wasn't Luo Yao's first love. Which meant...
Perhaps that person looked like him. Or worse—he looked like that person.
The thought that he might just be a substitute made Lin Ran's chest tighten with inexplicable pain.
He carefully refolded the note, placed it back into the small bottle, and returned it to its spot.
Sitting in his executive chair, his mind went blank, as if crashing, leaving him speechless for a long time.
Then, a voice came from outside the office.
"President Luo, Mr. Lin is here—he's in your office."
Unsure how to face Luo Yao, Lin Ran closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.
When Luo Yao entered, she saw him slumped in the chair, seemingly asleep.
Her gaze shifted to the small bottle on the desk, then back to Lin Ran. Without hesitation, she scooped him up effortlessly—a surprising feat for someone so petite—and carried him to the restroom, moving with such care as if afraid to wake him.
Lin Ran kept his eyes shut, but his heart gradually settled.
Luo Yao's tenderness, her affection—none of it felt fake. Was he really just a stand-in?
Yet he was absolutely certain he had never known her before.
Feeling her gentle touch, the slight coolness of her fingers against his cheek, Lin Ran's resistance melted away.
If Luo Yao was here with him now, didn’t that say everything?
Even if he was a substitute, he’d play the part perfectly—until the day she no longer wanted him.
It was what he owed her.
But the thought of Luo Yao one day leaving him to return to her first love sent a sharp pang through his chest.
Pretending to stir awake, he found Luo Yao gazing at him intently.
"Sweetheart, did you carry me to bed?"
Luo Yao stayed by his side, her eyes fixed on him as if his very existence in her life was a miracle.
"Yes!"
"Ha! You’re stronger than you look."
Luo Yao flexed her small fist. "I’ve trained for it."
Lin Ran pulled her into his arms, making her lie beside him.
"Ah—!"
A sudden, sharp pain shot through his long-healed wound.
Luo Yao tensed, her hand immediately reaching to soothe the spot. "What’s wrong? Does it hurt?"
The worry in her eyes, the urgency in her voice—none of it could be faked.
"It’s fine, just pulled it by accident."
Luo Yao nestled against him, whispering, "I’m sorry, A'Ran."
"Then you’ll have to make it up to me."
"How?"
"What do you think?"
"But I don’t want you to overexert yourself..."
"I won’t move. Promise."
Luo Yao’s gaze turned sultry, catching Lin Ran off guard.
"Wait, I didn’t mean right now—Mmh!"
Luo Yao cut him off with a kiss. "You started this fire. Now you’ll put it out."
Lin Ran thought, *Good lord, why is the office always the setting for these miracles?*
*And the door isn’t even locked this time, woman!*
Luo Yao couldn’t care less. If anyone dared knock now, they’d regret it.
As they lost themselves in each other, Lin Ran felt the undeniable truth of her love.
What first love? What unattainable ideal? None of it mattered compared to the warmth in his arms.
——
Two hours later, they finally left the office.
Passing through the assistant team’s area, they noticed everyone keeping their heads down—though occasional glances flickered their way.
Instead of returning to the estate, they dined out—at Pan Gu Hotel, owned by Lin Ran himself.
Last time he’d visited, he’d barely eaten. Tonight, he intended to make up for it.
Upon learning the owner and President Luo were dining there, the manager—Ye Lingling, the same woman from last time—personally attended to them.
Polished and well-respected in the culinary world, Ye Lingling rarely appeared unless for VIP guests.
She arranged a private dining room on the top floor, but Lin Ran insisted on a semi-private booth.
Reserving an entire room for just two felt wasteful—especially when the hotel was his. Extravagance didn’t sit right with him.
Even the booths here weren’t for ordinary guests. The restaurant’s hierarchy was clear: standard seating downstairs, semi-private booths above, and exclusive rooms for the elite.
Such was life—some were born in Rome, others spent theirs as beasts of burden.
Seating Luo Yao, Lin Ran caught her gaze—full of nothing but him.
*When someone truly loves you, you can see it in their eyes*, he mused wryly. Maybe he’d overthought things.
Whether in this life or another, Luo Yao’s love had never wavered. No shadows of a past love, no haunting "first love."
"Yao Yao," he finally asked, "why do you love me so much?"
It was a question he’d long wondered but never voiced—until curiosity got the better of him.
Luo Yao’s eyes narrowed playfully. "What? Planning to use the answer to escape me?"
Lin Ran chuckled. "Impossible. If anything, I’m afraid *you’ll* leave *me* one day."
"Then stop worrying. The only way you’re leaving is if I lock you up and devour you piece by piece."
Lin Ran pressed on. "I’m just curious. I’m not exceptionally talented—handsome, maybe, but so are countless others. I’m not rich, nor am I romantic. What’s the reason?"
Luo Yao cupped his face, her voice earnest. "Don’t say that. To me, A'Ran, you’re the best person in this world. Just having you by my side—that’s the most romantic thing of all."
*The most romantic thing...*