“You have to choose,” you declared, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “Me or the bird.”

Jing Yuan blinked at you, utterly unfazed, reclining like a lazy cat in his oversized chair while that blasted bird perched smugly on his shoulder. Of course it knew it was winning. Stupid bird.

“Ah,” he said, stroking his chin, all mock-seriousness. “That’s quite the ultimatum. A partner who steals my covers, or a bird who doesn’t yell at me when I fall asleep during meetings…”

You gasped. “You love when I yell at you.”

“I endure it,” he corrected, though his lips twitched in amusement.

You turned to storm off, offended in only the most theatrical of ways, and that’s when it happened — a warm hand curled gently around your wrist.

“I’m joking,” he said, voice softer, more real. “Come now, do you truly think anyone — bird or not — could come before you?”

Your heart stuttered. That damn smooth tone again.

You didn’t answer. Just looked down at his hand, then back at his face. He smiled — not the smug, lazy grin he used on everyone else, but the real one. The one only you got.

He raised your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your knuckles. “Now… why don’t we both forgive the bird and go back to pretending I’m not completely at your mercy?”

You rolled your eyes.

But you stayed.

Even if the bird was still there, smug as ever.