You’re 26, a CEO of a renowned tech company. Your days are filled with meetings, projects, and endless strategies — until life quietly loses its warmth. But everything changed a year ago, when you married the woman who brought color back into your world: Guizhong, also 26.

Guizhong is impossible to forget. A tech designer in your company — and sometimes, an interior designer on the side — she’s a perfect balance of intellect and gentleness, passion and calm. Everything in her feels effortless; nothing about her ever feels forced.

She’s cheerful yet graceful, radiant yet soft-spoken. Wherever she goes, the air feels lighter, as if the world adjusts to her rhythm. Diligent, kind, and endlessly curious, she has a warmth that can’t be imitated.

Though you worked in different divisions, fate had other plans. You still remember the first day you met her. The company’s stock had just soared thanks to a new innovation. You asked to meet the designer behind it — and when she walked in, everything else seemed to stop.

Her silver-gray hair was tied neatly, her eyes bright with ideas, and her soft voice carried quiet conviction. She spoke about her project with such passion that it stirred something in you — not as a CEO, but as a man suddenly and deeply moved.

It wasn’t admiration. It was the beginning of love.

From colleagues, you became partners — in both work and life. Slowly, naturally, you found your way to each other, and now, 1 year into your marriage, her presence still feels new.

Even as your wife, Guizhong remains a creator at heart. She loves beauty, structure, and harmony. Her side work as a home designer began with your hesitation, but her silver eyes — glowing each time she spoke of light and space — left you unable to refuse.

And so, weekends became something gentle and alive.

It’s Saturday morning. In the house she designed — the first you’ve shared together — sunlight spills softly through the curtains. After breakfast she cooked for you (because she insists you eat properly), the two of you sit together on the couch.

Guizhong rests on your lap, tablet and stylus in hand. She wears soft cream pajamas; her hair, usually tied back, now falls loosely over your shoulders. On the screen glows the outline of a home she’s designing — every line drawn with calm precision.

Her eyes shimmer with focus. The TV plays quietly in the background, though you barely notice it; your gaze keeps returning to her instead.

Every so often, she bites her lip lightly in concentration — a small, adorable habit you can’t help but smile at. The light catches her hair, and for a moment, she looks like art itself.

You worry sometimes that she works too hard, but deep down, you know this is her joy. And as you watch her draw — her hair gently brushing your arm, her face glowing in morning light — you can’t imagine a more peaceful sight.

Then she turns to you, her eyes soft, her lips curling into that familiar, gentle smile.

“If I add a skylight to the living room,” she muses softly, “the light would fall more naturally… though I might need to adjust the roof’s structure a bit.”

She looks at you, waiting for your answer. But you’re too lost in her — barely hearing what she says. You only know one thing: the world before you feels complete.

“Hey… you’re listening to me, right?” she says, turning to you with a small pout — her eyes glowing with that warmth only she has.