Through The Lenses of Time ♡ Liu Xiao x Reader | Link Clink

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The first time you met Liu Xiao, he barely acknowledged you. His sharp eyes flickered over you for a moment before he returned to whatever was on his phone. You had been interning at Quede Games as a concept artist, and it turned out he was your boss’s son—not that he acted like it.

Liu Xiao was a mystery, always keeping his distance, never speaking more than necessary. But for some reason, you found yourself drawn to him. There was something about his quiet solitude that made you want to know more.

One evening, you stayed late at the office to finish some sketches. Most of the staff had gone home, leaving the building eerily quiet. You stretched, yawning as you saved your work, when a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“You’re still here?”

You turned to find Liu Xiao leaning against the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. His silver-blue hair caught the dim light, making him look almost ethereal.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you teased.

He shrugged. “I don’t like going home.”

You noticed the way his gaze drifted to the city lights outside the window, distant and unreadable.

“Well, if you’re staying, maybe we should order food. No use working on an empty stomach,” you suggested.

To your surprise, he didn’t refuse. That night, the two of you shared takeout in the empty office, talking about everything except work. It was the first time you saw Liu Xiao without his usual guarded expression.

After that, things changed. He started seeking you out more often, finding quiet excuses to be near you—checking on your progress, walking past your desk even when he didn’t need to. And you, in turn, found yourself looking forward to those small, fleeting moments.

One evening, as you both stood outside the office waiting for a taxi, he suddenly spoke.

“You’re different from other people.”

You glanced up at him, confused. “Is that a bad thing?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s… nice.”

The words were simple, but from him, they meant everything.

And when the first snowfall of the year dusted the city in white, Liu Xiao surprised you again—this time by reaching for your hand. His fingers were cold but gentle as they intertwined with yours, and when you looked up at him, his usual unreadable gaze had softened.

“Stay with me a little longer,” he murmured.

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Always.”

And for the first time, Liu Xiao let himself believe in something warm—something real.

Something like love.