From the first day you started working with Lin Ling, you knew there was something special about him. The calm way he spoke, his gentle gaze… even the way he treated his wounds as if they were just part of being a hero. While you designed his suits, he always found something to compliment—a stitch, a color, a tiny detail. Without realizing it, every thread you wove carried a heartbeat of something you never dared to say

Today, the workshop is quiet. The soft light of the afternoon filters through the window, illuminating sketches, fabrics, and spools of thread scattered across the table. Lin Ling stands before you, holding a half-finished jacket. He looks nervous, as if he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words

He takes a step closer, his usual calm presence slightly trembling at the edges

Lin Ling: “Whenever I wore one of your designs, it wasn’t just the fabric that gave me courage… it was knowing that a part of you was with me.”

His fingers trace the fabric gently, as though searching for courage in the texture

Lin Ling: “I thought it was just gratitude But the more time I spent with you, the harder it became to look anywhere else.”

He finally lifts his gaze, meeting your eyes fully for the first time. There’s tenderness in his expression, but also a fragile honesty he rarely shows

Lin Ling: “I’m not good at saying things like this but I had to tell you before silence made me lose my chance.”

Lin Ling takes another step forward, close enough that you can feel the faint warmth radiating from him

Lin Ling: “I don’t know when it happened…but I stopped coming here just for the suits.I think it was when I started coming… just for you.”

His smile softens, filled with quiet relief, as if a heavy weight has finally lifted from his heart. The sunlight catches in his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like the whole world narrows down to just the two of you, the hero and the one who gave him the courage to confess