In the aftermath of his sudden, predatory awakening, Wǎn Lù's hands remained on him—steady, grounding, unhurried. She rubbed slow circles into his back, her touch a language he was only beginning to learn. The terror of his instinct had faded, replaced by something quieter, stranger. And in that quiet, the weight of two sleepless nights finally claimed her.

  Her head tilted. Touched his shoulder. Rest there.

  The sensation was foreign—warmth, softness, the gentle rhythm of her breath against his skin. Her dark hair spilt across his arm like a river of silk meeting stone. The room fell into a profound, listening silence.

  Jian Zhi looked at her for a long moment. His body, trained to react to every stimulus, remained still. He chose to let her rest.

  [Empress Lóng Yánxīn]: (Internal Monologue) "[A subtle, knowing smile] My bold daughter. I will leave you to your peace."

  [Yìng Wǎn]: (Internal Monologue) "[Shock barely concealed] Is this the same princess who rejected every noble suitor? Who mocked their advances? What does this predatory king possess that makes her so… soft? So calm? Is it enchantment, or something I cannot see?"

  [Empress Lóng Yánxīn]: "[Whispering] Come, Yìng Wǎn. We must prepare for departure." They slipped out silently.

  Moments later, Lǐ Róng and Xuè Lán arrived, drawn by Yìng Wǎn's earlier scream. They stopped in the doorway, their eyes adjusting to the scene within. The Dragon King, rigid and immovable by nature, sat utterly still, bearing the weight of a sleeping princess on his shoulder with an awkward, untrained gentleness.

  [Xuè Lán]: "[A barely audible whisper] Bǎo… we should leave. [A soft, delighted giggle] Aigoo~ Look at our King. Finally, someone has cracked the armour. We might actually get a Queen for this Kingdom."

  [Lǐ Róng]: "[Whispering, his Soul-Sight active] I hope so. But you know him. Still… [He focused on Jian Zhi's spiritual core] Oh. The plant—it has a flower bud now." The couple exchanged a look of pure, quiet joy and retreated, leaving the room to its fragile peace.

  Jian Zhi took a long, slow breath, careful not to disturb her. His analytical gaze traced the contours of her sleeping face, logging data points he had no category for.

  [Jian Zhi]: (Internal Monologue) "Facial structure: uniquely proportioned. Respiratory rhythm: steady, indicating deep recovery sleep. Eyebrows: curved like dark rainbows over eyes that resemble implanted pearls. Lips: tangerine-segment shape, pigmented a soft pastel red. Epidermal quality: jade-like smoothness. Hypothesis: their designation of you as 'celestial' may have an empirical basis."

  An hour passed. He did not move. He simply observed, cataloguing the micro-expressions that flickered across her dreaming face.

  Then she stirred. Shifted. Began to roll.

  Her weight slipped from his shoulder. She was falling—not far, but enough to wake. Before conscious thought could intervene, his **Hún Guāng** reacted. A gentle, invisible force caught her mid-descent, cradling her like a feather and lowering her softly to the bed. The sensation jolted her awake.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "[Disoriented, blinking] Are you okay? Did you heal properly? How long was I out? Where's my mother?"

  [Jian Zhi]: "I am fully recovered. Your vigil was effective. You slept for approximately one hour. Your mother and cousin are preparing for departure. You require more rest."

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Oh. [A quiet pause, her gaze dropping] I see. Good that you're healed. But don't forget our agreement. Your soul belongs to me until the due date. [A soft, teasing smile]"

  [Jian Zhi]: "Why not take a few days in your empire? Rest among your people. Receive the Princess treatment."

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Huh? [A slight, almost imperceptible dip in her voice] You want me to leave? For days? Will you be alright?"

  [Jian Zhi]: "I will manage. If I require your assistance, I will retrieve you. You have earned rest."

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Alright. Finally, my turn for Princess treatment. Someone around here has been getting it nonstop."

  [Jian Zhi]: "Me? When did I receive Princess treatment? I am the King."

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Aigoo~ Look at our Little Princess. Gets waited on hand and foot while unconscious, and doesn't even notice."

  [Jian Zhi]: "That was your collective decision. It does not constitute 'Princess treatment.' Nevertheless… thank you. [A warm, uncalibrated smile crossed his face]"

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "[Her heart stuttered] Huh? [She looked away, flustered] Hey. Did you hit your head? Why are you smiling?"

  [Jian Zhi]: "I was informed that expressing gratitude with a smile is the proper human method. Was that incorrect?"

  [Wǎn Lù]: "[Shaking her head, still not meeting his eyes] No, it's… fine. It just throws me off. Ahem. Come on. Walk with me. Need to make sure your legs remember how to work."

  They rose and walked into the palace gardens.

  (In the Guest Chambers)

  [Yìng Wǎn]: "Think about it. Your Northern Province—rich in gold, iron, and copper—is still occupied by the Albion Dominion. With your power and the empire's army, we could take *this* land instead. He turned a cursed waste into prosperity, yes. But you are more capable. More… humane. Think, cousin."

  [Lóng Liè]: "You're not wrong. But… this is his work. His people. [A heavy sigh] I will only act if I have no other choice."

  The seed of scheming had been planted. The Dragon King walked unaware through his blossoms.

  (In the Garden)

  Cherry blossoms rained around them, soft pink petals drifting on a gentle breeze. The air was thick with fragrance—jasmine, osmanthus, the green scent of spring. Wǎn Lù moved through it as she belonged there, her face lifted to the sun, a smile of pure, unguarded happiness lighting her features. Butterflies danced around her, drawn by some invisible warmth.

  [Jian Zhi]: (Internal Monologue) "Observation: Human happiness can be triggered by simple environmental stimuli. Butterflies: apparently a contributing factor."

  She caught one on her open palm, its wings pulsing gently. With careful steps, she approached him, lifting her hand toward his face. The butterfly's wings brushed his cheek—a touch softer than silk, lighter than thought.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Smile. It's good for you. High positions demand everything—but they don't have to take *this*. [Her smile was warm, genuine.] The little moments. They're yours. No one can steal them. So stop being so rigid. Wake up that inner child. At least… when you're with me. [She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper] I'll keep your secrets."

  A petal drifted down, landing on the tip of her nose.

  She looked up, startled by the ticklish touch.

  Jian Zhi looked at her—the butterfly still near, the petal on her nose, the sunlight catching her eyes—and something in him cracked. A small smirk. Then a sound he had not made in years: a laugh. Low, hesitant, but real. His scarred hand rose, moving toward her face with a gentleness that belied its strength. His fingers brushed the petal from her nose.

  [Wǎn Lù]: (Internal Monologue) "Wait—no—don't look at me like that—AHHH. My heart. Someone. Help."

  [Empress Lóng Yánxīn]: "My dear daughter. We must depart. Can you come?" Her voice, warm but firm, broke the spell.

  [Wǎn Lù]: "Oh! Ah—Mother. I can come, but I need to pack—[She noticed the bags already waiting] Oh. You packed. [A pause, hesitation flickering in her eyes] Okay. [She turned to him] I'll return. Until then: eat. Sleep. No overworking. Understood?"

  Jian Zhi nodded. He raised his hand in a small wave—an awkward, unpracticed gesture.

  She boarded the new locomotive, the steel dragon they had built together. With a whistle and a surge of steam, it carried her away, shrinking into the distance until she was gone.

  (In Jian Zhi's Chambers, Night)

  He stood in the centre of the room, papers scattered across his desk—war strategies, supply lines, deployment formations. His hand reached out automatically.

  [Jian Zhi]: "Princess, give me that scroll—"

  The words died in his throat.

  She wasn't there.

  He looked at the space beside him. The air felt different. Thinner. Colder. He sat on the edge of the bed where she had rested, where her warmth had lingered. His hand pressed to the spot.

  空处余温，尚存掌心。何处来此暖，令我久沉吟。

  (Warmth lingers in the space where her hand once rested. Where did this heat come from, that makes me ponder so long?)

  The thought formed unbidden, not in logic, but in verse. He did not know where it came from. It simply arrived.

  曾不知其重，今方觉其深。一如魂中水，润物本无音。

  (I never knew its weight; now I feel its depth. Like the Water within my soul—it nourishes without sound.)

  He rose, walked to the window. The night sky sprawled before him, infinite and ordered. Every star in its place. Every variable accounted for.

  此身原是铁，未识春风意。春风一度过，始知铁能泣。

  (This body was forged of iron, never knowing spring's meaning. But spring passed through once, and iron learned to weep.)

  He did not weep. But something in his chest ached with a pain that was not injury, not sickness. A new kind of data.

  夜来无别事，独坐数星辰。星辰皆有位，唯她无处寻。

  (Night comes with nothing else—I sit alone, counting stars. Every star has its place. Only she has nowhere to be found.)

  He looked at the empty sky where the train had vanished.

  愿此长夜慢，容我细细品——原来相思字，写就无需吟。

  (Let this long night slow, let me savour carefully—It turns out the word for longing, once written, needs no speaking.)

  A long silence.

  [Jian Zhi]: "Ahem. She left." A pause. His voice, when it came again, was quieter. "I was… used to her presence."

  He did not reach for the war strategies. He simply stood at the window, watching the stars, feeling the phantom warmth of a hand that was no longer there. The Dragon King had built an empire, moved mountains, and conquered death itself.

  But he had never learned how to miss someone.

  He was learning now.