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Yang Liu, Han Chen, and Han Wei gathered in the studio, their first time attempting to paint together. None of them really knew what they were doing, standing awkwardly around the canvas, brushes in hand. The room was quiet, filled only with the sounds of shuffling as they set up the paints and easels. Han Wei, always the one to break the silence, spoke up with a big grin on his face.

"I want a painting of the three of us," he said excitedly, looking between Yang Liu and Han Chen. His eyes sparkled with anticipation, as if he could already imagine the finished piece.

Yang Liu couldn't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. "That's a great idea," she agreed, her smile softening as she looked at the two of them. Something about the idea of them all in one painting tugged at her heart, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why.

She took a deep breath and sat down, taking charge of the main painting, while Han Wei and Han Chen hovered nearby, ready to help. They passed her brushes and added their own small touches, all the while chatting and laughing as the picture began to take shape. Time seemed to slow down as they worked together, the air filled with lighthearted conversation and the occasional splash of color. Han Wei's laughter rang out whenever he made a messy stroke, and Yang Liu couldn't stop smiling, absorbed in the moment.

After what felt like hours, Yang Liu leaned back, examining her work. She wiped her hands on a cloth and said, "It's finished."

Han Chen and Han Wei stepped closer, their eyes fixed on the painting. Han Chen's breath hitched for a second, caught off guard by how much it affected him. It wasn't just a simple painting—it was a portrait of the three of them, standing together as if they really were a family. His heart thudded in his chest, and for a brief moment, a thought passed through his mind: *We look like a real family.* It was a thought that unsettled him, but he couldn't deny the warmth that came with it.

Han Wei, on the other hand, was bursting with joy. His eyes lit up as he took in the painting, unable to contain his excitement. "Mom, it's beautiful!" he shouted, bouncing on his heels. He immediately threw his arms around Yang Liu, hugging her tightly, then kissed her cheek. "I'm going to show Butler Ling! He has to see this!"

Before Yang Liu could even say a word, Han Wei had already dashed out of the room, his small feet pattering down the hallway. Yang Liu watched him go, her heart swelling with warmth. She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head at his boundless energy.

As the room grew quiet again, Han Chen's gaze remained fixed on the painting, but it wasn't the artwork that held his attention anymore—it was Yang Liu. She stood there, still smiling softly, her hair a little messy, and a smudge of paint stained her cheek. He didn't say anything, just walked over to her, his hand moving almost on its own. With gentle fingers, he wiped the paint from her face, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

Yang Liu blinked, startled by the sudden contact, her eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, she didn't know how to react, her heart racing a little at how close he was. But then, the mischievous side of her kicked in. She grinned, her eyes glinting with playful intent.

Without missing a beat, she grabbed a brush from the table, dipped it in black paint, and before Han Chen could react, she smeared it across his cheek. "Now you match me," she teased, laughing as she stepped back to admire her work.

Han Chen froze for a second, processing what just happened. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Oh, you want to play like that, huh?" he said, grabbing a brush and dipping it into white paint. "Fine by me."

Yang Liu saw the look in his eyes and immediately took a step back, laughing nervously. "Don't you dare!" she warned, holding her hands up defensively.

But Han Chen was already on the move. He lunged at her, and Yang Liu shrieked, darting across the room. "Stay away!" she yelled, her voice mixed with laughter as she tried to dodge him.

But Han Chen was faster. In a few quick strides, he caught her around the waist, pulling her back against him. "Gotcha," he said, his breath warm against her ear as he brought the brush up to her face.

"No, no, no—!" Yang Liu squealed, wriggling in his grip, but it was no use. Han Chen laughed, smearing white paint all over her face, leaving streaks in her hair and across her nose.

"You started it," he said teasingly, his voice light and filled with amusement as he held her firmly in place.

Yang Liu, still laughing, squirmed in his arms, but the more she struggled, the more paint he added to her face until she was completely covered. "Alright, alright!" she gasped, barely able to breathe through her laughter. "You win!"

Han Chen stepped back, grinning proudly at his handiwork. "Now that's what I call a masterpiece," he said with a wink, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Yang Liu gave him a playful glare, her face red from both the exertion and the embarrassment. She grabbed the nearest container of paint, ready for payback. But in her rush, she tripped over Han Chen's foot.

With a yelp, she stumbled forward, and before either of them could react, she fell right into his arms. Han Chen caught her, but the momentum carried them both to the floor, with Yang Liu landing on top of him.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Yang Liu's hands were pressed against Han Chen's chest, their faces inches apart. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palms, strong and steady. When she looked up, Han Chen's eyes were locked onto hers, his usual playful expression replaced with something deeper, more intense.

The air between them shifted, the playful atmosphere fading as something unspoken passed between them. Yang Liu's breath hitched, her body suddenly acutely aware of how close they were. Han Chen's gaze was unwavering, his eyes tracing her features as if seeing her for the first time.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. And in that moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them, lying there on the floor, covered in paint, their hearts pounding in unison.