The mont their lips were barely apart, Zhao Yan stilled.
His breath was shallow, the warmth of her skin drawing him in like an irresistible pull.
She was right there.
So close.
All he had to do was close the distance, and he would finally taste the softness of her lips—the lips he had been wanting to claim for himself.
For the first ti, he could feel her presence so intimately, the space between them nearly nonexistent.
If he just moved a little more...
Just a fraction of an inch...
All of his desires would be fulfilled.
He had imagined this mont countless tis, envisioned what it would feel like to have her completely his.
But now that she was in front of him, fragile and still recovering, sothing in his heart told him—not yet.
---
Zhao Yan’s eyes drifted upward, drawn to her delicate face.
Her lashes were trembling.
Her hands were clenched into small fists against his chest.
Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing uneven, and her brows were furrowed just a little, as if she were... anticipating sothing.
Or perhaps, afraid.
Zhao Yan let out a low chuckle.
Instead of claiming her lips, he tilted his head slightly and pressed a warm, lingering kiss onto her forehead.
The touch was soft, careful—almost reverent.
Beneath him, Hua Jing’s lashes fluttered.
Her eyes slowly opened, wide with surprise, confusion, and sothing else.
The mont their gazes locked, ti seed to pause.
Zhao Yan searched her face, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed her beautiful features.
She looked...
So innocent like this.
So different from the feisty, sharp-tongued woman who had constantly challenged him.
This wasn’t the Hua Jing who bickered endlessly with him, nor was it the Hua Jing who threatened to throw a dagger at him whenever he annoyed her.
This was a different version of her.
A calr one.
And strangely, he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
---
A soft blush crept across Hua Jing’s cheeks, deepening as she noticed the way Zhao Yan was looking at her.
His dark eyes held sothing unreadable, sothing too intense to put into words.
Her ears burned, and she turned her face slightly, as if to hide from him.
But Zhao Yan, of course, noticed.
He smirked.
Her ears had turned bright red.
How adorable.
He had half a mind to tease her about it.
To say sothing about how flustered she was—
But he stopped himself.
Because despite the amusent curling in his chest, he knew this wasn’t the right ti.
She was still weak.
Still recovering.
The Hua Jing he knew wouldn’t be this calm.
She was always so full of life, full of fire.
Seeing her like this—so quiet, so vulnerable—it unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
Perhaps she was still half-dreaming.
Perhaps she was still hallucinating from the pain she had endured.
And sohow, that thought pained him.
---
Zhao Yan’s arms tightened around her.
Even now, after everything, she still felt so small, so delicate in his embrace.
He didn’t want to let go.
He wouldn’t let go.
Not after what had just happened.
Not after seeing her in that state.
For the first ti, he allowed himself to accept the truth.
He had always known that Hua Jing was special.
But after what they had gone through, after the life-and-death battle on their honeymoon, after watching her risk her life for him—
She had beco more than just special.
She had beco his everything.
The woman who had occupied his mind for days, for weeks.
The woman who made him laugh, infuriated him, challenged him.
And now, the woman who had been branded into his soul.
---
Zhao Yan exhaled, his hand gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
He had made many mistakes in his life.
But at this mont, he knew his greatest regret.
He regretted marrying his other consorts.
At first, it had been for political power.
A ans to secure alliances, to strengthen his position.
But now—
Now, it felt like a mistake.
If he had known that Hua Jing would co into his life...
If he had known that she would beco the one person he couldn’t live without...
He would have never married the others.
---
Hua Jing’s voice broke through his thoughts.
"You must be tired..." she murmured.
"Sleep."
Zhao Yan hesitated.
She must have sensed it because she softly added,
"When you wake up... all of this will be over."
For a long mont, he simply stared at her.
Then, with a sigh, he pulled her closer.
Wrapped her in his warmth.
And for the first ti in a long ti, Zhao Yan allowed himself to rest.
A rare mont of peace, shared only between the two of them.
And as they drifted into sleep—
Their hands remained tightly clasped together
...
While Zhao Yan and Hua Jing remained wrapped in each other’s embrace, their breathing slow and steady, their warmth lting into one another—chaos reigned outside.
The imperial harem was in complete disarray.
The first consort’s quarters were the worst of them all.
Inside, furniture had been overturned, fragile porcelain lay shattered on the floor, and the servants stood trembling as the first consort paced back and forth, seething with frustration.
Her hands were clenched into tight fists, her nails digging into her palms, her expression twisted with barely restrained panic.
This was not how things were supposed to go.
She had seen an opportunity—the perfect chance—to get rid of Hua Jing once and for all.
She had never expected this level of backlash.
She had never expected Zhao Yan to react like that.
Or for the emperor to suddenly doubt her.
She had underestimated how much Hua Jing ant to him.
Now, she had no idea what would happen next.
And the worst part?
Zhao Yan’s parting words still echoed in her mind, filling her with a sense of doom.
"I will demand answers soon."
His tone had been chilling.
His gaze had been cold, filled with quiet fury.
She could feel it—retribution was coming!
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