Tale Never Told

It was many years later that Gu Jin Zhao found out the real reason she was never prescribed a contraceptive tonic when coming out of her forced abstinence. Her physicians simply could not bring themselves to tell the venerable Pillar of the State that his wife was likely left barren following her traumatic miscarriage. Instead, they were – once again – silently praying for a miracle, or at least hoping to retire to far away places before the formidable Grand Secretary came demanding medical explanations.

But at the time, Gu Jin Zhao remained safely unaware of these dark prognoses, completely ecstatic with her newfound taste of married life. Following a brief period of total seclusion in their private city residence – a getaway that both Jin Zhao and Yan Yun thought was entirely too short, though the real world stubbornly awaited them – the Grand Secretary relocated his family back to their primary residence across from the Wenyuan Library. He then resumed his state duties with doubled vigor. Being happy and loved will do that to a man.

Gu Jin Zhao, never one to sit back and rest for long, returned to running her vast business empire. There were many days when she questioned – very silently and only to herself – if running the actual imperial state would have been any less exhausting than managing her own books.

Still, she managed, relying heavily on the steady support of her trusted friends and family. Gu Lan ran their expanding network of restaurants; her Er Gege went on with his highly profitable maritime trade – where Gu Jin Zhao also held a hefty share – and it was only her most ambitious venture that kept her slightly alarmed.

The Piaohao draft house she had opened years ago – first in the mountain province of Shanxi, then in the bustling capital city, and later in the wealthy coastal port city of Songjiang to cater to her massive textile and overseas trade – was beginning to flash strong warning signs.

Her capital branch was currently headed by her younger brother, Gu Jin Rong. After a few dangerous run-ins with the shady side of the capital's gambling circles – and a fiercely firm talking-to his brother-in-law had secretly delivered so as not to stress Gu Jin Zhao while she was pregnant with A-Ying – Jin Rong had turned a clear new leaf. He had walked the straight and narrow ever since, prompting Jin Zhao to eventually entrust him with the leadership of this vital branch.

And it was he who finally brought his worrying discoveries to Gu Jin Zhao's attention: three flawless Huipiao bank drafts, each denominated for an astronomical payout of ten thousand taels of silver. It was a staggering sum, but the one that Gu Jin Zhao’s financial network could have easily absorbed, were it not for one small, highly inconvenient detail – the drafts were absolute forgeries.

Physically, they were completely impeccable. The paper was the correct, ultra-thin provincial stock, and the jade master seals carried the exact, microscopic signature flaws unique to the capital branch's genuine stamp. Yet, these drafts were entirely absent from their capital ledger books. They looked so absolutely real that they had easily fooled the less experienced tellers of the Shanxi branch, and would have gone completely unnoticed if it weren’t for the intricate rolling cipher code that the forgers didn’t get quite right.

When a covert audit conducted at the Songjiang branch uncovered two more of the exact same forged drafts, Gu Jin Zhao realized a crisis was brewing that threatened far more than just her personal wealth and standing. It directly threatened her family, her husband, and the stability of the land. Because her bank handled crucial imperial grain imports and the frontier army's payroll, the government regularly checked their vaults for reasons of national security. The bank simply could not be allowed to fail – and if Chen Yan Yun's imperial auditors discovered the missing silver before she found the traitor within her own walls, the Pillar of the State would be forced to tear down his own wife's empire. And that would absolutely not do.

With that thought in mind, Gu Jin Zhao assembled her little army of minds tasked with finding the culprit and the true extent of the forgery ring before it toppled her bank. Her Er Gege, through his extensive connections in the port cities, was looking into large shipments that would warrant high-paying drafts changing hands – this was the way two forgeries had come into the possession of the Songjiang branch, through standard merchant transactions. Her contacts in Shanxi traced the path taken by three separate individuals who had cashed in thousands of taels worth of drafts – where did these people come from, and where did they go in a dangerous northern frontier where it wasn’t safe to travel light, let alone with a convoy of physical silver ingots?

And in the capital, both Gu Jin Zhao and Gu Jin Rong were looking into their own branch employees – the exceptionally tight circle of people who would know both the unique imperfections of the master seals and the secret coding script used for the Huipiao drafts. Gu Jin Zhao didn’t want to bring her husband in just yet, afraid he would be legally forced to report the breach of financial safety before she had enough evidence to prove her bank's innocence. She didn’t want him to have to choose between his duty and his heart, because she knew exactly what choice he’d make and what it would cost him in the aftermath.

But the issue came to a head much earlier than she’d anticipated, and for the most absurd reason.

She fainted.

—— ❖ ——

It was late in the morning, after the breakfast crowd had subsided and the people rushing in for lunch had not yet arrived at Linxia Studio. Gu Jin Zhao and her guests were served refreshments in the secluded, well-protected study at the back of the restaurant. Gu Lan, having made the necessary arrangements and properly chastised their brother for not visiting his nephews often enough, left them to their important discussions.

Er Gege started first. "Not much to report yet, Zhao-mei. I have a list of people who did business with the merchants who traded in those fakes, but, as far as I can tell, there was nothing special about the deals or the merchants themselves. Run-of-the-mill people, have been around long enough to have some reputation to their names, never caused much trouble. The silver they withdrew, they immediately used to purchase different bulk orders, put them on the ships, and sailed off. Now, how they went about getting those high-value drafts in the first place is a much more interesting story – and I’ll know more the moment their ships make port again."

Gu Jin Zhao nodded along – indeed, it sounded more like they needed the story behind how those drafts showed up at the port city, rather than how the money was later spent. Well, they would have to wait for that story, then.

Luo Yongping added his findings from the Shanxi branch. "Two of the people who brought in our fakes were as unremarkable as Er Gege just said – came in, got the silver, spent the silver, and left. But one man was far more interesting. He arrived early and stayed in Taiyuan for a while, doing nothing of notice, at least as far as local street vendors and the servants of the guest house where he stayed could tell. Then he received ten thousand silver taels, loaded them into closed wagons – and vanished completely. Some say they saw a few wagons traveling through the Niangzi Pass shortly after, but why anyone would take such a valuable, heavy cargo through those dangerous mountains, I cannot understand. But I’ll keep searching."

Gu Jin Zhao made a mental note to check for any undocumented cargo caravans entering the capital gates, but thinking was proving exceptionally difficult for her this morning. Her mind felt disoriented, heavy, and floating, as if she hadn’t eaten for days. She tried to reach for the chadian snacks served to them – the assorted plates of boiled tea quail eggs, dried tofu cubes, and water chestnut cakes – but something deep in her stomach protested violently at the mere sight of food. Gu Jin Zhao turned away from the table, temporarily forgoing the idea of food.

Gu Jin Rong looked deeply contemplative, chewing on his lower lip as he pored over the records spread in front of him. Gu Jin Zhao asked softly, "Rong-er, what is it? Have you thought of something?"

Gu Jin Rong raised his eyes to the group. "I have a list of the tellers we employ in the central capital branch – a total of eighteen men, working on a strict rotation. I checked into all of them; I can personally vouch for ten, and I’m still looking into the other eight. But also, there were two we let go about a month ago because they simply were not cut out for the task. We have changed the rolling cipher code since then, but the code on the forgeries is wrong either way, so that doesn't tell us much. The master seals, however, remained the same. And now that I think about why we let them go, and what common thread connects those dismissed clerks, high-paying Huipiao drafts, and Taiyuan... only one thought comes to mind. Gambling."

Gu Jin Zhao’s mind raced. Through the thick fatigue and haze, a realization tried to escape her, but her thoughts were faster! Of course! It was brilliant. This was the perfect way to distribute fake drafts without drawing immediate branch suspicion. They simply gambled with them – here in the capital, in the wealthy port cities, in Taiyuan, and in underground gambling dens across the country. All the real money the conspirators win goes directly to the forgers; all the money they lose costs them absolutely nothing, as they are only losing fake paper! Meanwhile, the innocent citizens who win the drafts in the dens know nothing, completely unaware that they have entered a distribution network for high-stakes forgeries.

But… what is the real business here? How much can they truly win with these fakes to go through all this trouble and risk getting caught by the state? Unless…

"Unless..." The word escaped her lips in a breathless, unconscious whisper as the crucial piece of the puzzle violently slammed into place. Her voice trailed off entirely, her eyes widening. Er Gege leaned forward anxiously. "Unless what, Zhao-mei?"

Gu Jin Zhao’s face turned paper-pale, and a sudden wave of bitter bile rose up her throat. "Unless they want these forgeries to be caught. Unless they are deliberately doing it to my bank, knowing that the grand imperial audit next year will uncover these massive discrepancies, bankrupt the institution, throw treasonous shade at my husband, and completely destabilize the grain trade between the port cities and the capital… I have to talk to San Ye."

Gu Jin Zhao shot up from her seat – and that was the exact moment the world around her went dark. The room tilted violently, and the last thing she felt was a pair of strong hands breaking her fall, and the frantic, echoing voice of one of her brothers screaming for a physician.

—— ❖ ——

I have to talk to San Ye. I have to tell him. He should be ready. He will know what to do. But I have to tell him first. I need to get to San Ye.

“Shh, Jin Zhao, it’s all right. You got to me. You’re safe,” the soothing voice of her husband was beckoning her from behind the heavy darkness, and she fought hard to dispel the fog surrounding her.

The heavy scent of sandalwood and winter frost – his familiar, deeply grounding scent – gradually filled her senses, anchoring her floating mind back to her body. She felt the solid, comforting warmth of his broad chest beneath her cheek, the fierce, protective circle of his arms holding her against his heart.

But as her ears stopped ringing, she realized the soothing voice he used for her was very much in contradiction with the pure fury currently vibrating through his chest. Above her head, Chen Yan Yun was breathing fire.

"If her eyelashes so much as flutter in pain while you touch her, imperial physician, I will personally see to it that your entire bureau spends the next decade auditing grain taxes in the frozen marshes of the northern frontier," Yan Yun growled, his voice a low, terrifying sound that made the wooden floorboards of her private study in Linxia Studio seem to tremble. "You assured me this morning her vital energies were fully restored. Explain to me why my wife is currently senseless in my arms."

"Grand... Grand Secretary, please stave your anger," an elderly, trembling voice squeaked from somewhere near her feet. "The Third Lady's pulse is merely... it is a temporary exhaustion of the Qi brought on by a sudden, severe shock to the mind. We must be exceptionally gentle. No harsh aromatic vinegars, no piercing needles. We must let her spirit return entirely on its own."

Jin Zhao forced her heavy eyelids to crack open, the flickering candlelit view of her private workspace slowly coming into focus.

Directly over her sat the elderly court physician, his face absent of color, his hands visibly shaking as he maintained a light, careful three-finger touch upon her bare wrist, tracking her pulse. He looked as though he was handling a piece of fragile glass, periodically casting terrified glances upward at her husband.

Sensing the slight shift in her weight, Chen Yan Yun’s gaze snapped down instantly. The murderous glare vanished in a moment, replaced by a raw, naked panic that stripped him of all his Grand Secretary grandeur.

"Jin Zhao," he breathed, his hand immediately cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing over her pale skin with a desperate, worshipful touch. "Look at me, beautiful. Are you with me? Where does it hurt?"

"San... Ye," she whispered, her throat dry, her voice sounding incredibly small even to her own ears. She tried to shift, to sit up and address the looming threat of the Huipiao forgeries, but the moment she moved, Chen Yan Yun tightened his possessive hold, pressing her back down against the crook of his shoulder.

"Do not move," he commanded softly, though the tremble in his tone betrayed him completely. "You fainted, Jin Zhao. You are staying exactly where you are."

The elderly physician let out a long, audible sigh of relief, though he kept his fingers firmly pressed against her wrist, his eyes widening slightly as he counted the rhythmic beats. A sudden, knowing stillness washed over the doctor's wrinkled face, replacing his panic with a look of profound, stunned reverence.

"Ah... Heaven protects the house of Chen," the physician murmured, his voice dropping into a breathless, cautious whisper. He slowly retracted his hand, bowing his head all the way to the floorboards. "Grand Secretary... Third Lady... the sudden stagnation of Qi that caused the fainting spell... it was not born of illness. It is the rising of the embryonic pulse. The Qi is slippery and full, like pearls rolling across a smooth basin."

The silence that slammed into the room was absolute.

Jin Zhao felt Yan Yun’s entire body turn to stone beneath her. His hand, which had been gently stroking her hair, froze momentarily. He stared down at her, his eyes unblinking, his calculating, empire-managing brain completely aborted for the second time in a day.

"What did you say?" Chen Yan Yun whispered, the words barely passing his throat.

"The Third Lady is with child, Grand Secretary," the doctor replied softly, keeping his head low to give them privacy. "Roughly a month along... Heaven has seen fit to grant a divine intervention. But because of the recent trauma to her womb, the lineage is exceptionally fragile. She must have absolute rest. No worries, no stress, and no shocks to the mind."

Jin Zhao's hand instinctively flew to her lower abdomen, her heart hammering loudly in her ears as the doctor's words sunk in. A baby. Alive and growing inside her. Her body, which her physicians repeated at every appointment was still far too void of feminine energy to conceive, had chosen to rebuild itself faster, defy all medical odds, and give them another life to cherish and protect. Their little miracle.

But then, her eyes drifted past her stunned husband’s shoulder, landing squarely on the low desk where her younger brother stood frozen. Jin Rong’s face was pale as death, his fingers still tightly clutching the five forged Huipiao drafts that brought them all together this day.

The trap was closing, but the rules of the game had just fundamentally changed.

She was pregnant. Her body was healed enough but still weak, requiring absolute calm and serenity, and a multi-thousand-tael conspiracy was currently sitting on her desk. She had wanted to run to him tonight to warn him, to protect him from the fallout of this scheme. But now, with a tiny life growing inside her, she didn't just want him in on it – she needed him to take the lead and protect them. Her and their miracle child.

Jin Zhao swallowed the dryness in her throat, her hand moving from her abdomen to firmly cup Yan Yun's tightened jawline, forcing his dark eyes back to her.

"San Ye," she whispered, her voice gaining a steady clarity that cut through the stunned silence of the room. "Look at me. Breathe."

His eyes blinked, the fierce, brilliant Grand Secretary slowly assembling himself back together behind his gaze. "Jin Zhao... a child... you... so soon…"

"Yes, a child. A precious one, which means I cannot afford to be stressed," she interrupted softly, offering him a small, loaded smile. She tilted her head toward the desk, her gaze pointing directly at her younger brother. "Which is why you need to look at what Rong-er is holding. I wanted to bring them to you tonight because someone is using our capital master seals to drain the coastal vaults in Songjiang and border vaults in Shanxi. It threatens the grain supply, San Ye. It threatens the frontier payroll."

Chen Yan Yun’s posture shifted instantly. The tender, doting husband didn't vanish, but the sharp, dangerous presence of the Pillar of the State surged to the forefront. His gaze snapped over his shoulder toward Gu Jin Rong, his eyes narrowing into a cold, calculating squint at the mention of the master seals and national security.

Jin Zhao leaned her head back against his shoulder, letting out a long, exhausted breath as she watched her husband's legendary mind immediately lock onto the threat. "I wanted to warn you first, San Ye. Now... I need you to handle it. For me. For our family."

—— ❖ ——

That night, when the children were safely tucked away, Jin Zhao slid comfortably into the chaise lounge that had been moved close to Chen Yan Yun’s heavy chair, the forged drafts spread out before them over a low table under the warm glow of a single beeswax candle.

When he gently asked why she had been so hard-pressed to take this exhausting, undercover investigation entirely upon herself rather than letting the Ministry of Justice officially handle it from the start, Jin Zhao’s gaze hardened with a fierce pride.

Years ago, a dangerous political plot had attempted to frame Chen Yan Yun for a failure to deliver disaster relief grain to flooded areas. Her own father, Gu De Zhao, had been in charge of the capital grain storage back then, and his lazy, spineless negligence had directly allowed the conspirators to swap out the stored imperial grain for useless bran, nearly ruining Chen Yan Yun's rising career.

"The Gu family has already given you enough trouble in this life by being stupid and easily manipulated," Jin Zhao said, her voice dropping to a low, fierce murmur as she looked up from her silk pillows. "I refuse to let a bank carrying my name bleed your ministries, and I refuse to be one of those dainty ladies who leaves a mess for her husband to clear. I wanted to at least attempt to solve this before I brought the problem to you."

Chen Yan Yun looked down at his amazing wife, the sheer depth of his adoration catching tightly in his throat. He dipped a fine calligraphy brush in water, lightly dampening a specific corner of the parchment to reveal the true genius of the forgery to her.

The counterfeiters weren't printing fake bills from scratch; they were washing the ink off genuine, low-value one-hundred-tael drafts using a rare, non-destructive chemical solvent, then rewriting them into ten-thousand-tael fortunes. They kept the authentic paper stock, the real watermarks, and the valid master seals, but they had to subtly alter the intricate rolling poetic cipher to match the higher numbers.

To anyone else, the poem read normally. But Jin Zhao and Yan Yun knew the exact rhythmic mathematics of the Gu Piaohao codes. The forgery ring had made a single, arrogant mistake: they had used a synonym for a specific mountain in the verse – a word that maintained the poem's literal meaning and structural rhyme, but broke the secret mathematical sequence used to calculate the bank's daily liquidity.

"A lyrical substitution," Jin Zhao chuckled softly, leaning back against her pillows with a triumphant smile. "They thought the bankers were only checking the rhyme, not the underlying numbers. It’s an elegant riddle, San Ye. But they forgot that the Grand Secretary practically rewrote the Ministry of Revenue's accounting codes during his reforms."

Chen Yan Yun let out a low, deeply impressed chuckle, carefully rolling up the incriminating scrolls. He leaned forward, checking the dark perimeter of the bedchamber before looking down at her with a mixture of intense pride and soft amusement.

"Were you not the love of my life to be protected at all earthly costs, and currently carrying my child," he joked, his voice dropping to a warm, intimate murmur, "I would recruit you into the Ye Shadow Guards tomorrow for your investigative abilities alone. My black-robed agents could learn a great deal from how you maneuvered past my notice to dismantle a financial conspiracy."

Jin Zhao let out a sharp, breathless laugh, her eyes dancing with mischievous brilliance. "I shall have to humbly decline the honor, Grand Secretary. Black is truly not my color, and sneaking around in the dusty rafters would severely mess with my ability to run my tea-party gossip circles. A lady must maintain her priorities."

"Very well," Yan Yun conceded, his expression shifting from soft amusement back to the concentration that belonged entirely to the Pillar of the State. He did not reach for the official stationery of the Ministry of Justice; instead, he carefully dplaced the forged parchments back into his deep sleeve. "But we will not involve the ordinary courts just yet. The Ministry of Justice is still too clumsy, too public. If someone is washing imperial-grade ink, they have access to state-level materials. I need to know for whatever purpose they are amassing so much wealth. The Ye Shadow Guard will move on this tonight."

Jin Zhao adjusted her posture against the silk pillows, looking up at him with a thoughtful frown. "San Ye, must you unleash the shadow network so soon? It may not be a grand political conspiracy this time. It could very well be a simple, greedy money-making scheme."

"I am not willing to take that risk," Yan Yun cut in, his voice dropping to a low, fiercely unyielding register. "Not with the empire's economy, nor its political stability, nor with..."

He trailed off, his jaw tightening as his dark eyes averted to the shadowed corners of the bedchamber. He didn't finish the sentence, but Jin Zhao knew him far too well to need the spoken words. He meant to say not with our family.

A heavy, ghostly shadow of grief passed through his handsome features – the silent reminder of the agonizing guilt he still carried for his past oversights eight months ago. Jin Zhao had never once faulted him for the tragedy that had sent them to the temple refuge; there was absolutely nothing for her to forgive him for in the first place. Yet, looking at the sudden tension in his broad shoulders, she could only hope that with enough time, he would finally find a way to forgive himself completely.

Jin Zhao watched him, her heart aching at that persistent emotional weight, but she nodded in silent agreement. He would hunt the masterminds through the dark channels of statecraft; she, however, would dismantle them from the light.

—— ❖ ——

The following days were filled with a joyous, yet reserved happiness. The Chen household erupted into way-too-early preparations for a child whose pulse was barely registering on a doctor's fingertips. While Jin Zhao still carried that ominous, lingering anxiety – the distinct fear of being truly happy, lest she invites a bad omen to disrupt her joy – she had to admit she was easily infected by the festive energy flowing freely through the corridors of the Chen Mansion.

Old Madame Chen showed up with the Second Lady Chen in tow to congratulate the newly expecting parents on doing their duty properly and extending the great Chen bloodline into future generations. Chen Yan Yun graciously endured a lecture on the do’s and don’ts of early pregnancy – as if he had not gone through this exact period a few times before – and agreed to all his mother’s recommendations, only to completely dispel them from his mind a moment later. When the Chen Matriarch tried insisting on the third couple returning to the main ancestral Chen Manor so that the heir could be born under its historic roofs, she received a gentle but firm refusal from her son, citing the prevailing need to be closer to the imperial infirmary located just down the street from their city mansion. Outmaneuvered, the Matriarch let the subject drop for now.

Second Lady Chen played her role of an elder sister-in-law with patronizing poise. She congratulated the parents-to-be and subtly insinuated that this pregnancy's success was entirely due to the advice she had previously given regarding Jin Zhao’s "marital diligence." Chen Yan Yun, immediately catching onto the strange, underlying subtext in the exchange between the women, raised a questioning eyebrow at his wife. Jin Zhao merely squeezed his forearm and shrugged, a silent 'no matter' passing between them. Over the last few years, his wife had got much better at relying on his support and refusing to take unnecessary stress onto her own shoulders alone, so Chen Yan Yun trusted her judgment and let the bizarre comments slide. If Jin Zhao wasn’t bothered by it, neither was he.

Once the Chen Matriarch was satisfied with the execution of her wisdom-bestowing duties, she received formal greetings from the children, quickly grew annoyed with the untrained, free-roaming presence of a cat, and left to continue her extended capital itinerary.

Later, Chen Yan Yun learned that his mother had gone completely out of her way to visit her many noble friends and spread the good news – partially to boast, but mostly to relish the faces of the high-born ladies who had previously sent their fake, snide condolences regarding the premature cessation of the third Chen lineage due to an "tragically barren" principal wife.

Suddenly, Grand Secretary became deeply interested in the exact social route his mother had taken. He quietly inquired about specific households who had dared to discuss his wife’s health and family private trauma for their own morbid amusement. The list of names was delivered to his desk later that day, promptly stored away for an opportune moment. Chen Yan Yun wasn’t vindictive per se, but he possessed an impeccable memory, and he did not forgive easily. Not right now, perhaps. But eventually. Later.

For now, it was a time for a quiet, hopeful wait, and his family prepared in their own unique ways.

A-Ying, four-and-a-half years old at the time, instantly went into full big-sister mode. She took to dragging the long-suffering family cat, Baopu, into her quarters to forcefully practice the delicate art of infant swaddling while singing tone-deaf lullabies. Baopu merely glared with wide-eyed, murderous indignation, enduring the tight silk wrappings with the grim patience of a saint.

A-Han, not even three years old, was still a bit too young to understand the gravity of a new family member's arrival. He simply continued on his merry way, hopping through the polished corridors of the Chen Mansion and cheerfully spreading dirt from the garden in all directions. He had become briefly interested in the concept of a new playmate once his brother or sister was born, but his attention span wasn't quite there yet. His excitement lasted only until a particularly colorful butterfly crossed his path – and off he went. Oh, well; he had seven more months to get into the spirit of brotherhood.

—— ❖ ——

But the most unexpected preparation of all came from a direction no one could have anticipated. The young Emperor took a deep, intensely personal interest in Jin Zhao’s condition, a fact he casually announced during yet another completely impromptu visit to their home.

The very next afternoon following the Chen Matriarch's visit, a sudden commotion at the front gates disrupted the bustling administrative rhythm of the neighborhood. Located in the heart of the capital's downtown, directly across from the imposing government quarter, the Chen Mansion sat in a prime location. It was a notoriously short and convenient trip from the Forbidden City – a logistical detail the current ruler of the Dragon Throne had apparently decided to exploit at his leisure.

There had been no prior notice from the palace, no official decree delivered by a breathless eunuch – just the unmistakable, majestic uproar of an imperial arrival.

They really need to put a bell on that young man, Chen Yan Yun mused walking to the main hall to greet their new guest, considering how often the ruler of the empire simply shows up at our front door out of nowhere.

Before the house stewards could even finish adjusting their robes in a panic, a pair of imperial advance guards stepped ahead, throwing the heavy wooden doors open to clear the path. The Son of Heaven himself marched straight into the reception hall. He was bursting with his usual boundless energy, looking around the elegant courtyard with a small, theatrical pout.

"Grand Secretary," the Emperor mused, pausing to smooth the rich silk of his imperial yellow robes. "We cannot help but notice that your family lives so exceptionally close to Our palace gates, practically a stone's throw from the ministries. And yet, We do not recall ever receiving a formal invitation to visit here."

Chen Yan Yun stepped forward, bowing with practiced, effortless court precision. "Your Majesty, the rules of imperial protocol dictate that a subject does not presume to summon the sovereign. Furthermore, the Emperor requires no invitation to enter any home in this state."

And even if Thee did need an invitation, Chen Yan Yun added silently to himself, maintaining a perfectly stoic face, Thee have never once bothered to wait for one.

The seventeen-year-old ruler was a notoriously strong-minded, stubborn individual who treated the boundaries of his own palace with casual disregard whenever he grew bored of his ministers' bickering.

Turning his attention directly to Jin Zhao where she stood beside her husband, the Emperor’s eyes landed on her, and a sudden, endearing awkwardness overtook his youthful features. He cleared his throat loudly, shifting restlessly as he navigated the delicate topic.

"Third Lady," the Emperor began, his voice rising a bit too loudly in an attempt to sound authoritative. "We have... hrm... come to understand that the, ah, foundations of the state are currently in a delicate state of... expansion. Yes. Expansion. As the sovereign, it is Our absolute duty to ensure that the, well, the vitalities of our most trusted families are thoroughly preserved."

He waved a hand in a general, careless direction behind him, where the massive group of imperial retinues had gathered just outside the threshold, currently pouring through the gates in an overwhelming invasion.

"Therefore," the monarch announced with satisfaction, "these exemplary servants will be residing within the Chen Mansion henceforth, remaining by the Third Lady’s side and attending to her every need until the successful... ah... resolution of her current condition."

Gu Jin Zhao blinked, her eyes widening as she stared past the Emperor’s shoulder at the sheer volume of people taking over her main room. It was far more people than the Chen Mansion could ever comfortably accommodate, effectively turning their quiet family home into a heavily fortified imperial outpost. There were elite court physicians, stoic food tasters, and a small army of guards who began taking up positions along the high walls.

She glanced at San Ye, who looked entirely unamused by the unexpected royal ambush, and decided to take the lead.

"Your Majesty’s benevolence is as vast as the heavens," Jin Zhao said, bowing her head gracefully while keeping a perfectly polite smile. "However, this humble subject fears our modest mansion simply does not have enough quarters to house such a formidable group. Surely, so many new people will only cause... a disruption to the very serenity my physicians prescribed?"

The Emperor frowned, opening his mouth to counter, but then he caught the look on his Grand Secretary’s face. Chen Yan Yun hadn't said a word, but his dark eyes were fixed on his sovereign with the silent, heavy gravity of a lifelong mentor who was currently losing his patience.

The young monarch broke under the pressure of The Stare. He let out a distinctly un-imperial sigh, throwing his hands up in defeat. "All of you, out. Leave us. Now."

With a swift rustle of silk and a chorus of hurried murmurs, the massive retinue retreated to the outer courtyard. The Emperor turned to the remaining men in the room – a small squad of elite, black-robed guards who stood like statues against the walls. He raised a finger to dismiss them too, but then paused. Protocol simply would not allow him to be entirely alone, and besides, these were men of the Ye Shadow Guards. Both he and Grand Secretary trusted them implicitly.

Once the doors were shut, the Emperor’s posture relaxed, the upright majesty fading away to reveal the honest young man underneath. He stepped closer to the Chen couple, looking squarely at Jin Zhao.

"Listen to me, Gu Jin Zhao," the Emperor said, his tone suddenly turning incredibly strong, almost stubborn. "The empire absolutely cannot afford anything happening to you, and by extension, to your esteemed husband. When you were in danger eight months ago, Chen Yan Yun was –"

A sharp, lethal glare from the Grand Secretary cut through the air like a flying dagger. Chen Yan Yun’s jaw tightened – a silent warning not to bring up that dark period in front of his expecting wife.

The Emperor caught himself, his stubborn expression instantly softening into something open, almost vulnerable. He looked between the two of them, the boundaries of the monarchy fading for a brief, warm moment. To him, Chen Yan Yun was not just a minister; he was the guiding force of his life, the closest thing to real family he possessed in a cold, calculating court.

"I am not willing to take that risk again," the Emperor said softly, his voice dropping into a sincere plea as he addressed Jin Zhao. "When you were… unwell… the Grand Secretary almost... he was a husk of a man. And I need my Pillar of the State whole. I am asking you, as a personal favor, to endure this protective detail for the sake of the land. I promise you, they will be exceptionally discreet and very helpful."

Jin Zhao looked at the young ruler, her heart softening at the genuine affection hidden under his imperial concern. She could see how much he truly cared for her husband's well-being and his loved ones. But as a merchant heiress, she also knew that a good negotiation always left both sides satisfied.

"Your Majesty's worry touches this subject deeply," Gu Jin Zhao murmured, tilting her head with a small, mischievous glint in her eyes. "But perhaps we can find a balance? For the peace of our household, we shall accept one food taster, two physicians, and four guards to live on the premises. As for the rest of your formidable army? Can they, maybe, attend to me when I am out and about in the capital, or station themselves outside my work studies across the city?"

The Emperor stared at her for a moment, a sudden, amused grin breaking across his face. He looked over at Chen Yan Yun. "Grand Secretary, your wife is bargaining with the Son of Heaven. Is this not a breach of court etiquette?"

"She is a merchant at heart, Your Majesty," Chen Yan Yun replied, the corners of his lips twitching into a subtle smile as he stepped closer to his wife's side. "And a very practical one. I believe her proposal is sound. I implore Your Majesty to consider its merits."

"Very well, We concede," the Emperor chuckled, nodding to Gu Jin Zhao. Then, his expression turned serious again, his eyes darting toward the windows as he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But I must honestly let you know – your family will also be assigned an unofficial Ye Guards protection detail around the perimeter. You should not notice them at all. If you do happen to spot one of them, you must let me know immediately."

"So you can reprimand them?" Jin Zhao asked.

The words slipped past her lips before she could catch herself. A cold spike of fear immediately shot through her, and she froze, her breath catching in her throat. As friendly and almost intimate as this conversation had become behind closed doors, one did not casually question the reasoning of the Emperor.

She opened her mouth to smooth over the misstep with a formal apology, but the young ruler didn't even blink.

"No," the Emperor replied, choosing to ignore her momentary lapse of decorum. "So I can change them out for a different squad. We will keep rotating them until we find the ones who are truly, completely invisible. My shadow network cannot lose its reputation to a pregnant lady's sharp eyes."

Jin Zhao let out a bright, breathless laugh – partly out of genuine amusement, and partly out of sheer relief that the young sovereign had taken her attitude in stride.

The anxious fog that had followed her since learning their happy news finally began to dissipate, replaced by a profound sense of security. She looked at the her Emperor, appreciating the true brilliance behind today’s masterclass in imperial posturing. By sending a literal fleet of attendants to Chen Mansion front gates, the Emperor had just delivered an unmistakable message to the entire capital.

He was publicly drawing a line in the sand around the Chen household. Anyone lurking in the shadows, planning a way to harm her family, would now have to look at that imperial detail and think twice – no, think a thousand times over – before attempting anything untoward. The throne had declared them untouchable.

Even Chen Yan Yun let out a low, genuinely relaxed chuckle beside her. The tensed posture of the Pillar of the State softened as he bowed his head in deep, unvoiced gratitude to the young master of the empire. Here, in the quiet safety of their private quarters, the heavy weight of the crown had vanished. In its place stood a family, fiercely united and prepared to guard their greatest treasure together.

—— ❖ ——

In the Chen Mansion, the months went by in a whirlwind of comings and goings, achieving grand milestones for the empire while cherishing the small, ordinary joys of the family.

If anyone were to show up at court these days and inquire about what was occupying the great Grand Secretary’s mind, they would be handed a long list of ongoing national endeavors. His highest office was kept extremely busy spanning from the critical realignment of the Grand Canal’s southern grain transport barges to the urgent reinforcements of the northern frontier garrisons, and down to the deeply classified, midnight investigations into the washed Huipiao banking forgeries through the Ye Shadow Guards.

Yet, if anyone were to ask Chen Yan Yun what truly troubled him most these days, he would look them dead in the eye and say, "That ridiculous doll."

He was referring, of course, to the birthday gift brought by Ji Yao for his favorite nephew’s third birthday. One day Er Gege showed up to their courtyard with that western wooden monstrosity, teaching both A-Han and A-Ying how to wage war against the "Red Pirate of the Malacca Strait" with bamboo swords. Every time the weighted pirate doll was whacked, it smoothly bobbed back upright, prompting a fresh string of high-pitched battle cries from exited children. Their family evenings were now filled with dramatic, loud reenactments of imaginary high-seas fights and grand adventures. As entertaining as these domestic shows were, it was becoming increasingly difficult to put the children to bed or focus them on their lessons.

Unlike in his tense ministerial briefings, no amount of furrowing his eyebrows or adding a dangerous, gravelly edge to his tone impressed his children. The all-powerful Pillar of the State, apparently, held absolutely no dominion over his own household.

He blamed it entirely on his wife. Jin Zhao had deliberately raised their children to be completely fearless of anyone – especially not him, whom they only ever viewed as their protector.

Well, there went his carefully cultivated image as a force to be reckoned with, sacrificed on the altar of their beautiful family. He wouldn’t have changed it for anything in the world.

Gu Jin Zhao was far less concerned with toy battles and far more concerned with the lack of progress on the forgeries case. The audit of her bank was coming up in four months, right around the time of her delivery, and she did not want this problem to throw shadow over her nursery. Alas, the traces they had few months ago went cold and repeated checks of bank drafts in all three branches did not reveal any new forgeries. It was if the perpetrators caught wind of their investigation and decided to lay low for a while – and Gu Jin Zhao did not have ‘a while’ to spare.

Chen Yan Yun shared his wife’s concern and they have agreed should their off-the-books investigation not yield any results in the next two months, they will bring the issue to the attention of the Emperor and order a formal involvement of the Ministry of Justice – at least, this way their names will be clean of any shadow of criminal connections to the case. The result, however, would still most likely be that Gu Piaohao operations will be suspended for the time of investigation which would effectively mean closing this business for good.

And yet, this was not what concerned Jin Zhao the most and kept her secretly awake at night. This pregnancy… something was different… it felt heavy, difficult, like her energy drained more and more with every passing day… it didn’t feel right.

—— ❖ ——

The heavy, suffocating scent of dried mugwort and valerian root hung low in the reception hall of the Chen Mansion.

Imperial Physician Gao, an esteemed pillar of the Grand Medical Bureau whose white beard reached his mid-chest, slowly lifted his thin fingers from Gu Jin Zhao’s wrist. He closed his eyes, humming an extended note of disapproval.

"It is exactly as I feared," Physician Gao croaked, adjusting his robes with self-important snap. "The Qi is rebellious, the pulse is ragged and shallow, rolling like a pebble in a dried stream. Third Lady, you are severely depleted."

Jin Zhao leaned back against the silk bolsters, suppressing a wave of violent nausea that had nothing to do with the incense. Her face was unusually pale.

"Physician Gao," she began, her voice tight but entirely coherent. "With both A-Ying and A-Han, I passed my early months easily. I managed my shipping ledgers until the very day of their arrival. But this time... it is entirely different. The fatigue is so strong I cannot even walk across the yard without losing my breath, and the morning sickness does not fade with the noon sun. It stays. All day."

Physician Gao let out a sharp, clicking sigh through his teeth. "And why should it not? You are suffering the consequences of absolute recklessness. Your foundations were shattered by the unfortunate loss, yet you chose to enter into childbearing again far too early, forcing a depleted body to nurture a seed it cannot sustain."

Jin Zhao’s eyes flashed with a sudden, dangerous heat. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words trapped themselves in her throat. Chastising me? she thought, a spike of red fury rising in her chest. You, old fossil. It was your own Medical Bureau that cleared my restrictions at the six-month time, so concerned for my husband’s ‘needs’! Not a single one of your 'esteemed' colleagues warned us of a premature pregnancy, nor did anyone cared to prescribe a preventative tonic! The imperial physicians truly possess the short memory of a common pond fish.

Beside her, Chen Yan Yun did not speak. He sat perfectly still, his hands resting flat on his knees. To an outsider, the Grand Secretary looked like a composed marble statue, but Jin Zhao knew him better. She heard the tiny, dangerous catch in his breath. She saw the way his jaw muscles locked so hard a thin vein popped along the column of his throat, and how his broad shoulders were hunched slightly forward – as if he was reading to shield her from an attack.

He was absolutely terrified. The ghost of their lost child still haunted the dark corners of his mind, and the old doctor's careless words had just struck him exactly where he was hurting still.

"What must be done, Physician Gao?" Chen Yan Yun asked. His voice was leveled, but Jin Zhao could hear the raw, suppressed desperation she felt too.

"Absolute containment," Gao declared with a grand, all-encompassing gesture. "The Third Lady must be placed under strict movement restrictions. No managing businesses. No workings of mind – mental exertion drains the Zhongqi. Furthermore, I am prescribing a daily regimen of the Triple-Bitter Black Decoction to force the rebellious stomach Qi downward."

The old doctor paused, clearing his throat awkwardly as he glanced at Chen Yan Yun. "And finally... absolute separation of quarters. Total marital abstinence. The essence of the Grand Secretary’s Jing will only disturb the fragile heat of the womb. You must sleep in separate wings of the mansion until the child is born."

Jin Zhao felt her heart sink. Separate wings? Four more months? She reached out, her fingers catching the edge of San Ye’s sleeve, but her husband’s face had already gone completely blank – the mask he wore when he was executing an unpopular state decree.

"It shall be done," Grand Secretary replied, his voice heavy with finality. "Every restriction. I will personally ensure it."

Jin Zhao squeezed his arm, trying to catch his eye, but Chen Yan Yun refused to look at her. He was already struck by the terrifying duty of keeping her alive, even if it meant locking her in a gilded cage.

—— ❖ ——

Not even a full week later, the air in Jin Zhao’s private study at her downtown commercial office felt blissfully free of Physician Gao’s suffocating rules. She had strictly forbidden Chen Yan Yun from locking her in the bedroom during the day, compromising instead on a "light afternoon" at her desk, located just few houses down the street from the government quarter.

"The northern maritime shipments are balanced," Gu Jin Rong said, smoothly flipping a page of the thick leather-bound ledger. Jin Zhao's brother was moving through the numbers with practiced efficiency. "But these specific drafts from the Taiyuan branch... something about the ink transition looks exceptionally odd. It doesn't match the grand imperial audit templates."

"Let me see," Jin Zhao murmured, her eyes sharp. This was her secret agenda. She had no intention of letting her brain rust, and more importantly, she needed to decipher the exact logistics of the fake Huipiao drafts before the state audit in few months.

Before she could pull the ledger closer, a sudden, sharp knock sounded at the door.

Gu Jin Rong blinked, looking up. "Ah, the courier from the southern wharf must’ve arrived. Give me a brief moment, Zhao-mei, I will fetch the cargo manifests myself."

"Go," she nodded, offering a warm smile.

The moment the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind Rong-ge, leaving her alone in the quiet study, the room walls suddenly seemed to tilt. A wave of icy dizziness washed over Gu Jin Zhao, her chest tightened and a cold sweat broke out across her forehead. Not again, she thought, a spike of genuine fear piercing through her stubbornness. Not this time.

Realizing she needed fresh air, Jin Zhao gripped the edge of the desk and pushed herself up. But the moment her feet took her weight, her knees turned entirely to cotton. The room spun violently. Recognizing her body's limits, she did not fight gravity. Instead, she slowly slid down alongside the desk, lowering herself until she was sitting flat on the polished wooden floor. She took deep, measured breaths, waiting for the spinning to stop. Jin Zhao was entirely conscious, but entirely powerless to move.

Not even three minutes passed before the door to her study didn't just open – it practically flew off its hinges.

Gu Jin Zhao blinked her blurry eyes, expecting to see a panicked Rong-ge or Qing Pu. Instead, a young man in clean, simple medical robes stumbled headfirst into the room. He looked thoroughly disheveled, his official cap knocked sideways, his breath coming in short gasps. Directly behind him, a tall figure in a midnight-black silk robe stood in the threshold. The black guard didn't say a single word. He quickly glanced at Jin Zhao, gave the young doctor a firm, unceremonious shove forward into the room, and then vanished into thin air, leaving the door to swing shut.

Gu Jin Zhao stared, her mind – which was, again, entirely functional – was assessing the ins and outs of this situation. She slowly looked up toward the high, circular window of her study. It was barely open a crack – not even wide enough for a human head. Did someone truly looked after me through that tiny opening closely enough to see me go down? she thought, a small, breathless laugh escaping her lips. The Emperor wasn't joking. Those shadows are invisible and effective.

"Third... Third Lady Chen?" the young doctor asked, still a bit out of breath as he sat next to her on the floor. "Forgive the intrusion. I am Doctor Lin. I am stationed down the street as part of your... ah... city retinue. A very serious, very quiet man literally dragged me out of my pharmacy and practically threw me over your wall."

Before Jin Zhao could answer, the door burst open a second time. Poor hinges.

Chen Yan Yun stepped into the room, his long strides cutting through the space like a winter storm. He had been on his way to pick his wife up for their usual evening stroll, only to receive an urgent report that his wife was attended by the medical practitioner. His face was a mask of pure, unguarded terror as his eyes landed on her sitting against the desk. In an instant, he was on his knees beside her, his strong arms wrapping around her shoulders, his hands trembling slightly as he looked her over for injury.

"Jin Zhao," he breathed, his voice filled with a rare, raw vulnerability. He looked at Doctor Lin, his dark eyes flashing with a dangerous, protective glint that would have sent any normal official running for the exits. "What happened? Did she faint? Did she fall?"

Jin Zhao, her dizziness finally receding, rolled her eyes dryly. She tapped his forearm with her fingers, drawing her husband’s attention from the doctor back to herself.

"I did not faint, San Ye," she retorted, her tone dripping with her usual, deliberate sass. "Nor did I fall. I felt a temporary wave of insufficiency, recognized the structural limitations of my legs, and graciously descended to the floor on my own accord. Thank you very much."

Chen Yan Yun stared at her, the sheer relief making him look momentarily lost for words. A low, exhausted sigh escaped his lips, and he leaned his forehead against hers for a brief second. "You will be the death of me, wife. You cannot be left out of my sight for an hour."

Doctor Lin let out a small, highly amused chuckle. He didn't tremble, nor did he bow to Chen Yan Yun’s domineering presence. The doctor simply waited for the couple to finish their bickering, clearing his throat politely as he extended his hand. "If the Grand Secretary is finished measuring his wife's stubbornness," Doctor Lin said with a pleasant, respectful smile, "may I properly take the Third Lady's pulse?"

Chen Yan Yun gave the young doctor a long, assessing look. Finding a rare, steady resilience in the young man's eyes, the Grand Secretary slowly nodded and assisted Gu Jin Zhao onto a low cushioned chair. Doctor Lin placed his fingers lightly upon Jin Zhao's wrist and tilted his head, as if listening to rather than feeling the pulse under his fingertips. For a long, quiet minute, the study was eerily silent. The doctor's brow furrowed, his fingers shifting slightly, pressing deeper into the skin with intense concentration.

Then, slowly, a genuine, wonderfully warm smile broke across Doctor Lin's face. He let out a soft breath and lifted his hands, bowing deeply from his seat – not out of fear, but out of pure, joyous relief and reverence.

"Congratulations, Grand Secretary. Third Lady," Doctor Lin announced, his voice ringing with clarity. "The Third Lady's body is not failing, nor is she broken from her past hurt."

Jin Zhao frowned, her heart skipping a beat. "Then why do I feel so exhausted and out of sorts, Doctor Lin?"

"Because you are double-blessed," Doctor Lin stated, his eyes shining with delight. "The pulse is not a single shallow rolling stone, Third Lady. It is a split torrent. It is a Shuang Tai – a double pregnancy. You are carrying twins."

The words struck the room like sudden, glorious lightning. Jin Zhao froze, her hand instinctively flying to her abdomen. Twins? Her mind, usually so fast, completely stilled. She looked at San Ye. The great Pillar of the State, the man who handled foreign invasions and financial crises without blinking, looked entirely struck dumb. Chen Yan Yun’s mouth parted slightly, his eyes wide as he stared at his wife’s well-rounded stomach, a mixture of profound shock and overwhelming joy washing over his features.

"Twins..." Chen Yan Yun whispered, the word tasting so foreign on his tongue. His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned forward, pinning the young doctor with an intense, searching gaze. "How sure are you of this, Doctor Lin? If it is a double pregnancy, why has none of the senior court physicians from the Grand Bureau detected it before now?"

Doctor Lin did not flinch under the weight of the Grand Secretary's intimidating gaze. Instead, his smile only widened, entirely comfortable holding his own against the most powerful minister in the state.

"The Grand Secretary's caution is entirely justified," Doctor Lin replied smoothly. "But a twin pregnancy is notoriously elusive in its early stages. In the first few months, the pulses are so tightly intertwined, rushing together, that even the most experienced masters frequently misinterpret the turbulence as a severe deficiency or an illness. These things are usually only clearly detected after the fifth month of pregnancy – which is exactly where the Third Lady stands now. The pulses have finally separated into two distinct, rolling torrents. I simply happen to be the lucky one who was called to her side on the day the truth revealed itself."

Doctor Lin bowed his head slightly, his tone remaining firm. "I am certain of what my fingers have felt, Grand Secretary. But do not take my word alone, you must absolutely verify my findings with the other physicians attending to your wife. Once they lay their hands on her wrist today, they will see the same split torrent I did."

He paused, adjusting his position with an absolute, quiet authority so rarely seen in other people when Chen Yan Yun was around. He had completely taken control of the room, looking directly at Gu Jin Zhao with an assuring, steady gaze.

"In truth, this double blessing explains every single one of your strenuous symptoms," Doctor Lin continued, his voice clear and certain. "Carrying two lives requires double the blood volume and double the resources. Because you conceived only a few months after your loss, your body was already working hard to rebuild itself. The moment the twins took root, your internal energies had to expand too quickly, causing this massive, violent rebellion in your stomach and lungs. It was never a sign of weakness, Third Lady – it is the physical proof of your body working at maximum capacity to sustain them."

Chen Yan Yun stepped forward, his protective instinct instantly flaring. "Then the restrictions... the bedrest? The isolation?"

"Absolute nonsense," Doctor Lin said flatly, dismissing Physician Gao’s entire life's work with a wave of his hand. "If the Third Lady lies in bed all day staring at the ceiling, her Qi will completely stagnate, her blood will turn sluggish, and she will sink into melancholy. She needs fresh air. She needs light, joyful movement with her family. To create new life, one needs to live too."

Gu Jin Zhao felt a massive, invisible weight lift off her chest. She beamed at the young doctor. "And the Triple-Bitter Black Decoction?"

Doctor Lin winced, looking genuinely disgusted. "Why do people insist on it? It is far too harsh for a double pregnancy. I will prescribe a mild soup of red dates, dried longan, and white bird's nest to gently build your blood supply. You do not need to force your stomach down; you need to nourish it with good, light food." He then looked directly at Chen Yan Yun, offering a small, knowing glint in his eye. "As for the separation of quarters... I would not recommend it. The Third Lady needs comfort, stability, and the familiarity of her husband to anchor her mind. While I must advise… vigor moderation regarding full martial intimacy for the next few months to keep the womb secure, you should absolutely share a bed. Hold her, keep her warm, and do not let her stress herself."

Chen Yan Yun’s shoulders finally dropped completely, the cold, arresting tension draining from his body for the first time in months. He looked at Doctor Lin, a profound, unvoiced respect solidifying between the two men. There was still some verification to be done, but from what Chen Yan Yun remembered of his own medical studies years ago, Doctor Lin’s approach was the correct one. It would seem like Chen household has found someone who would tell them the truth, someone who wouldn't cower in the face of the Grand Secretary authority.

"Thank you, Doctor Lin," Chen Yan Yun said, his voice thick with gratitude he rarely showed to anyone outside his immediate group of close friends and colleagues. "Henceforth, I’m appointing you the primary physician managing my wife's care. Figure out who else from the Bureau can attend to her and give me the list. I’ll see to it."

Once Doctor Lin had finalized his prescriptions and departed with a respectful bow, the study fell into a deep, gentle quiet. The heavy doors were shut, the bustling downtown outside felt far away, and even the invisible Ye Shadow Guards in the rafters seemed to hold their breath to give them privacy.

Chen Yan Yun didn't speak; he simply dropped to one knee before his wife, pulling both of her hands into his warm palms. He pressed his face against her knuckles, kissing them softly.

Jin Zhao looked down at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. She gently released one of her hands to cup his jaw, her thumb brushing softly against his cheekbone. A brilliant, radiant smile broke across her face.

"Two, Yan Yun," she whispered, her voice trembling with a newfound joy. "There are two of them in there. No wonder I felt like a pirate ship had run me over."

Chen Yan Yun looked up, his dark eyes shining with an intense tenderness. He reached out, his palm resting flat against her well-rounded abdomen, his fingers spreading wide as if he could already shield both of the tiny lives growing beneath his touch.

"Two," he repeated, a low, genuinely happy chuckle escaping his throat. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms fully around her waist, burying his face against her knees as she held him tightly. Two people waiting to welcome their miracles into the world together.

—— ❖ ——

Turns out, peace of mind was indeed a great healer. Now that Jin Zhao knew exactly what her body needed and why, it was much easier to manage the ever-present symptoms of her double-blessing. She quickly worked out a daily rhythm that suited both her and her little pirates – resting during the severe bouts of nausea, staying active when the dizziness receded, and retreating to the safety of her cushions when the fatigue returned. Her productive hours grew significantly shorter, but Jin Zhao figured that growing two human beings around the clock counted for a lot, so she could easily forgive herself for lagging behind in her usual duties.

In truth, her actual workload had been effectively reduced to only one critical task – figuring out the logistics of the forgery case.

Chen Yan Yun had been strongly against her doing anything remotely dangerous or tiring, but Jin Zhao had argued that her womanly way of obtaining information couldn't possibly be dangerous, unless sheer boredom was considered a medical threat to her sanity.

"You see, my dear husband, it is time for me to enter my Concealment of Conception period, where I will demurely hide my belly from society, as it is apparently improper and scandalous to display nobility in their reproductive state," Jin Zhao had remarked snidely during one of their many late-night negotiations. "The next four months will be dedicated solely to drinking tea, eating my weight in delicate cakes, watching flowers grow, and listening to birds chirping – along with all the other thrilling pastimes allocated to expecting mothers."

Her voice had been positively dripping with sarcastic contempt as she challenged her husband. She was daring him – her exquisitely smart husband, who famously grew bored during state-level negotiations if his opponent wasn't sharp enough – to argue against her right to entertain her mind during these mind-numbing months of tradition-prescribed seclusion. Faced with that razor-sharp glare, Chen Yan Yun had surrendered. His wife was going to do it her way regardless, but through a calculated strategic retreat, he at least retained the privilege of being kept in the loop on her research.

And it wasn't even that Jin Zhao planned any exciting, covert operations. Her method was as old as human society itself. She went hunting for gossip.

Moving through well-attended tea parties, refreshing morning walks in secluded private gardens, visiting important temples, and attending calligraphy workshops at the Academy for Esteemed Ladies, Jin Zhao quietly listened to the ambient chatter of high-ranking noblewomen and middle-tier officials' wives. Within a few weeks, her sharp mind began to notice a peculiar, shallow pattern of consumption across the capital.

A few unassuming families had suddenly turned their lives toward a quiet, unearned opulence. The wife of a low-level clerk in the Ministry of Revenues had overnight acquired rare, southern jade hairpins; the household of a mid-tier magistrate had suddenly replaced their aging servants and purchased a richly decorated carriage, despite having no inheritance or successful estates to explain their sudden fortune. Jin Zhao knew the profit margins of the small textile and grain businesses these families ran – they were barely a drop in the capital's bucket, absolutely incapable of generating this level of sudden wealth.

It was a classic, arrogant display of human nature. These were just the foot soldiers of the forgery ring – the small-time merchants and clerks who possessed enough legitimate trade background to hold ten-thousand-tael drafts without raising suspicions – only to then conveniently gamble away their forged ‘riches’. They believed themselves subtle, but they had completely forgotten that society lived and breathed gossip, however insignificant it might sound to an untrained ear.

When she quietly slipped the list of these newly enriched families into San Ye’s hand one evening in his study, the Grand Secretary let out a low, dangerous hum of absolute satisfaction. The circle was closing.

Yet, there was only one specific name on that list that Jin Zhao asked to handle on her own.

Chen Yan Yun’s immediate, protective instinct was to say "no" and spare his wife a potentially unpleasant, emotional confrontation. But looking at the quiet resolve in her stance, he realized she needed this conversation for her own closure. So, with promise to keep her shadow guards close and her trusted Qing Pu even closer, Chen Yan Yun reluctantly agreed to the upcoming meeting.

After all, this particular thread was family.

—— ❖ ——

The meeting took place in a private courtyard of a small tea house on the northern edge of the capital.

Jin Zhao sat perfectly still by the lattice window, her hand resting casually over her rounded stomach. Across the low table, a charcoal stove purred softly, heating a pot of her favorite afternoon tea.

When the door slipped open, Gu Lian did not walk in so much as she stumbled through the threshold.

The years had not been kind to the second branch’s most spoiled daughter. The haughty, malicious girl who had once gone out of her way to be a nuisance, who had tried to ruin Jin Zhao’s reputation for sheer fun of it, looked completely frayed.

"Zhao-jie," Gu Lian choked out, her voice trembling as she collapsed onto the cushion across from her cousin. She looked as though she might throw herself across the table, but the rigid, silent presence of Qing Pu standing behind her mistress kept Gu Lian anchored to her seat. "Thank heavens you agreed to see me. You have to save us. You have to speak to the Grand Secretary."

Jin Zhao didn’t blink. She poured a single cup of tea, pushing it across the table with a slow, measured motion. Her face was a mask of serene, unbothered calm. She felt no anger looking at the woman before her. The petty rivalries of their youth were a lifetime away, faint memories buried under a mountain of indifference. Gu Lian was simply holding information Jin Zhao needed and that was all there was to this meeting.

"Drink your tea, Lian-mei," Jin Zhao said, her voice leveled and smooth. "And tell me why Yao Wenxiu is peddling counterfeit drafts across the imperial provinces."

Gu Lian flinched at the direct mention of her husband’s name, letting out a sharp, ragged gasp. "He... he had no choice, Zhao-jie! You know what he is like. You know the Yao family – Lord Yao left them with grand titles but empty pockets. Wenxiu went to the gambling dens. He ended up with a debt so massive, the gambling house threatened to take our children, to sell our home! The forgery ring found him when he was desperate. They gave him the drafts. He was just a carrier, not a mastermind! He only did it to keep the debt collectors from our throats."

"And you knew," Jin Zhao observed quietly. It wasn't a question.

"I found them," Gu Lian wailed. "I found a stack of drafts hidden in his study months ago. I confronted him, and he told me they were forgeries. But what was I supposed to do, Zhao-jie? If I reported him, he would be executed or imprisoned, and the children and I would be thrown into absolute poverty! I have two children, Jin Zhao. Two! You are a mother now, too, and you are carrying again – surely you must understand my fear? We are family! Blood flows thicker than water. You cannot let Grand Secretary destroy us!"

Jin Zhao watched her calmly, completely unmoved by the dramatic performance. There was a faint touch of disappointment in her eyes – not at the crime itself, but at how pathetic Gu Lian looked, clinging to a self-appointed grace that had never actually existed.

"Do not invoke my children to justify your husband's crimes, Lian-mei," Jin Zhao said, her tone dropping into a harsh coldness. "And do not speak to me of family now, when your branch spent years trying to cut the ground from beneath my feet. I am not interested in your tears. I am interested in a single answer."

Gu Lian stopped weeping, swallowing hard as she looked at her cousin’s unyielding expression. "A-Anything. Ask me anything, I will tell you."

"Why my bank?" Jin Zhao asked, her sharp eyes locking onto Gu Lian's face. "The forgery ring has the skill to mimic any major financial house in the empire. Why did they target my bank’s Huipiao drafts? Are there any other banks they counterfeit for?"

"No," Gu Lian whispered, leaning forward, eager to trade any secret for a chance of mercy. "No, it's only yours. Wenxiu overheard some discussion at the teahouse… Those people figured that if the forgeries were ever uncovered, your husband would cover up the scandal to protect you. Everyone in the capital knows how deeply Grand Secretary loves you. They knew he would never let a stain touch your name, so they thought your bank was the safest gamble."

Jin Zhao paused. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the soft purring of the charcoal stove.

A faint amused glint touched her eyes, though her face remained entirely cold. It was a classic, spectacular miscalculation of arrogant human nature.

How fascinating, Jin Zhao mused silently to herself. These conspirators managed to notice San Ye’s love for me, yet they completely blinded themselves to his fight for prosperity and law in our state. And why on earth would they think he would have to blame the forgeries on me in the first place, when I am entirely innocent? So, are they smart or are they dumb?

"Wenxiu knows names," Gu Lian pressed on, sensing the shift in the room, her voice desperate and pleading. "He knows the mid-tier clerks who hand off the shipments. He knows the storehouses in the southern district. We will give you everything, Gu Jin Zhao. Just promise me you won't let Grand Secretary execute me. Promise me my children won't be left begging on the streets."

Jin Zhao slowly rose from her seat, smoothing down the front of her silk robe. The air of the room felt lighter now; the final piece in the forgery puzzle had clicked into place.

"You will be escorted home by few of my guards. Write down every name, every location, and every date you and your husband can remember," Jin Zhao commanded quietly, looking down at her weeping cousin. "If the information proves accurate and leads to the arrest of the inner ring, I will speak to my husband about a lenient verdict for your family."

Gu Lian let out a ragged sob of relief, nodding quickly "Thank you... thank you, sister..."

Jin Zhao did not look back as she stepped out of the tearoom, her shadow guards instantly aligning themselves around her as she walked down the corridor.

With the names and locations extracted from Yao Wenxiu, the trap snapped shut quickly. The Ministry of Justice launched a swift and successful investigation into the bank draft forgeries. What followed was a wave of high-profile arrests and seizure of all properties and unearned wealth connected to the ring. From low-level clerks to corrupt regional magistrates, the hidden conspiracy was thoroughly dismantled within a matter of days.

The Yao household was found guilty of state-level financial fraud, but the execution blade never dropped. Instead, through the quiet legal intervention of the Grand Secretary, the family was sentenced to five years of state labor at a reclamation camp in the western territories. It was a hard punishment, but a merciful one: the camp was one of the newly reformed imperial districts where families were kept together, meaning Gu Lian’s two children would still get to attend the regional academy and live a life of relative normalcy while their parents paid their debt to the state.

…

When Yan Yun wrapped his arms around Jin Zhao that evening in their private study, resting his chin on her shoulder as they looked out over the quiet courtyard, he murmured softly against her neck.

"The Yao family has begun their journey west," he said, his deep voice carrying a relaxed, content rhythm. "The children will be cared for. Are you satisfied with the arrangement, wife?"

Jin Zhao leaned back against his chest, letting his familiar warmth anchor her as she placed her hand over his. "Very satisfied, San Ye. They are exactly where they belong."

—— ❖ ——

The last month of the pregnancy was exceptionally difficult for Jin Zhao, for the simple reason that she had gained so much weight. Her legs were swollen like logs, and her breathing was shallow and labored, leaving her constantly feeling as though she had just finished the run of her life. Doctor Lin assured her that it was perfectly normal for a twin pregnancy, but his reassurance didn’t make it any easier to move around while feeling like a loaded Fujian Fuchuan – a comparison Er Gege had so helpfully provided when he last visited their home a few weeks back.

Jin Zhao had seen these heavy, deep-hulled vessels in the port cities; the state used them both as massive grain transports, and heavily armed war-junks to smash pirates. They didn't roll or tip; they simply plowed straight through the waves by sheer weight. Gu Jin Zhao too felt like she could move through any terrain by simply flattening it straight. Still, she missed being able to stand up on her own. She missed seeing her toes. These kids couldn’t come fast enough.

The delivery, when it finally arrived, was a grueling affair that stretched past a full day and night. For a twin birth, the ancient protocols of the Chan Fang were strictly enforced: windows were blinded with heavy silk to block out the sun, and the room was considered ritually unclean. No man, let alone the Grand Secretary of the Empire, was permitted to enter the room, for it could place a dark omen over his political career and great lineage. The Chen Matriarch absolutely insisted upon this.

Pacing a trench into the stone veranda outside, Chen Yan Yun felt pushed to the brink of madness by his wife’s muffled cries. Sensing the Grand Secretary's desperation, Doctor Lin briefly stepped out of the delivery chamber to bring him word.

"Calm your heart, Lord Chen," Doctor Lin murmured, his voice a steady anchor for Chen Yan Yun’s panicked thoughts. "The Third Lady is exhausted, but she is fighting magnificently. If her strength truly fails and her life requires your presence, I will come get you myself – and all traditions be damned."

An hour later, the agonizing wait finally ended as two healthy, robust cries pierced the morning air. Standing in the quiet corridor, the young physician offered the new father a deeply respectful bow, a proud smile touching his lips.

"You chose an extraordinary woman, Grand Secretary," Doctor Lin said softly. "There is no medicine in the empire that could match the stubborn willpower your wife displayed today. Come, join your family."

Jin Zhao had delivered a healthy boy and a beautiful girl, in that exact order, before sinking into a deep, motionless sleep that lasted an entire day. Yan Yun watched over her with concern, afraid she had slipped into a coma, but Doctor Lin assured him she was merely spent. True to her resilient nature, the moment Jin Zhao opened her eyes, she loudly demanded two things: her babies, and a very large bowl of food.

Once the heavy shadows of the Baoxian Temple finally lifted, Gu Jin Zhao returned to social circles slowly, starting with exclusive evenings held one-on-one with her closest friends and family, sharing good tea and good gossip.

With her sister Gu Lan, they discussed the workings of opening another restaurant, alongside the novel idea of creating a separate inner courtyard room where the children of patrons could play and socialize – leaving their mothers to enjoy a rare moment of quiet. This subject was intimately known to the Gu sisters, who shared five children between them. As much as they adored their little ones, the truth was that collectively, the group could quickly dissolve into pure chaos.

With Xue Qinglan, she debated the foundation of their Academy for Esteemed Ladies. Gu Jin Zhao knew her friend simply wanted an excuse to bring together a group of like-minded noble girls and grant them a venue to be free-spirited, like herself. But Jin Zhao saw no harm in teaching young ladies something beyond the standard boundaries of embroidery, calligraphy, and household management. Xue Qinglan successfully argued that in uncertain times, horse riding and archery would prove highly useful. Gu Jin Zhao threw in lessons on grain trade and abacus ledger-keeping for fair measure – and the idea took root.

Sometime later, their Academy would briefly be met with ridicule from the overly conservative matrons of the capital. However, a few cleverly executed social power plays on Gu Jin Zhao’s part swiftly silenced the unenthused. The Grand Secretary’s wife did not tolerate narrow-mindedness, especially when her long-term plan of subtly shifting the landscape for women was in play. With no overt opposition left in sight, the Academy flourished.

With Lady He, the wife of the Minister of Personnel, Gu Jin Zhao made fast friends. Their bond was born out of the close camaraderie their husbands shared in the Grand Secretariat, strengthened by the familial burden of being powerful wives in a rigid court society, and solidified by a shared appreciation for fine cuisine. With Lady He, it was less a matter of lukewarm tea parties and more a sequence of private food-tasting evenings that brought them together over and over again. Every time Gu Lan uncovered a new competing eatery in the fast-developing capital, she would convene their private guild of critics and send an extensive dinner order to the Chen Manor for Gu Jin Zhao and Lady He to taste, seeking recommendations to improve the menu at Linxia Studio.

It was on one of such evenings when Gu Jin Zhao and Lady He, joined by Second Lady Chen, were enjoying their after-dinner sweets – periodically interrupted by the children chasing a white cat through the main hall – that the topic of discussion shifted to Gu Jin Zhao’s least favorite subject.

Her husband.

Not to be misunderstood, Gu Jin Zhao absolutely loved hearing people praise the Grand Secretary’s work for the nation, his dedication to the path of reform, and his brilliant maneuvers to outwit the stubborn court factions intent on preserving old ways. Her Pillar of the State was a formidable political force, and it filled her with intense pride and admiration to hear the capital acknowledge him as such. To be completely honest with herself, it also filled her with a very specific, wicked sort of warmth – thinking of just how exquisitely brilliant and cunning her husband could be. As much as Yan Yun’s body excited her in the dark of night, his formidable brain was by far the most alluring part of him, and she would never tire of learning how it operated.

But that was about his intellect, his statecraft, and his unyielding drive. Hearing her husband brought up in casual conversation regarding his manly attributes was something Gu Jin Zhao detested with absolute viciousness.

Chen Yan Yun was her husband. No other woman in the capital had any rightful business discussing the silver streaks in his dark hair, his domineering posture, his piercing eyes, or the low, resonant baritone of his voice – or whatever else the noble ladies of the city were swooning over these days! Since when had the Pillar of the State started moonlighting as a romantic fantasy for the inner quarters? It was ridiculous, truly.

Gu Jin Zhao couldn't entirely begrudge the ladies their taste in men; her husband was undeniably good-looking. Physical appearance was not the basis of their relationship, but she had to admit that all his authority, presence, and strategic genius were wrapped in an exceptionally handsome packaging. At thirty-five, he was in the absolute prime of his health, strength, and masculine beauty. Short of causing mass blindness, Jin Zhao simply had to learn how to live with the constant barrage of hushed giggles, provocative glances, and sensual sighs thrown at him every time they appeared in public. And that was with Gu Jin Zhao standing right beside him; she could only imagine what occurred when she wasn’t around.

Some months ago, Jin Zhao had tried to carefully address this issue during a late-night conversation in their chambers, but she had chosen an entirely wrong moment for such conversation. As it turned out, tracing feather-light touches across one's husband's neck, shoulder, and chest – listening to his breath catch in response and seeing his spine arch into her palm – is not a great opening for a harmless question like: "Do you even notice that many court ladies are half-mad for you?"

The way Yan Yun’s eyes had shot open, followed by a sharp, aborted swallow as if he had suddenly been submerged in an icy river, was almost comical. Jin Zhao had to stifle her laughter. His gaze had been utterly incredulous as he searched his beloved’s face, trying to discern if she was bringing this up so nonchalantly at this exact moment purely for dramatic effect – which she had certainly achieved! – or if there was a deeper insecurity at play.

Something in the subtle tension of Jin Zhao’s shoulders and the way her smile hadn't quite reached her eyes told him all he needed to know; it was serious for her. Having had his own brutal brush with jealousy in the past, Yan Yun knew that while it was irrational and completely unfounded in their marriage, it could still hurt both of them deeply if left unchecked. He had sat up immediately, leveling his gaze with her quickly averted eyes.

Yan Yun had spoken in a soft, unshakable voice: "I am aware of the court's whispers. But I care nothing for whatever affections are placed on me by anyone but you. My wife is the only person I see as a woman in this world, and all my love and desire belong only to you. And you know this."

It wasn’t a question, but she had nodded anyway. She knew. Her brief flash of insecurity had been born entirely out of their recent tragedies, the lingering feeling that her body did not yet belong to her, and, most importantly, the fact that the imperial physicians had prescribed a full six months of absolute "marital calm" to allow her body to heal. This forced separation – while still sharing a bed, wrapped in his tender, possessive embraces and the intoxicating, mind-numbing scent of his warm skin – was becoming an exquisite form of torture for her. Jin Zhao knew it was just as difficult for him; she was a married woman and knew precisely how to read when her husband desired her carnally, which didn't make the dry spell any easier to endure.

What also didn’t help was that to her irritated mind, it looked as though every woman in the vicinity was perfectly willing to keep her husband company while she was "indisposed." The audacity! She wasn’t dead! Yet, it didn’t stop even the most dignified social circles from whispering offensive suggestions regarding what the Grand Secretary ought to do next.

“What if the Third Lady Chen can no longer bear children? Surely, the Grand Secretary must take an auspicious secondary wife to secure the lineage! And what of his masculine needs? In such an esteemed household, it is unseemly to place all expectations on the wives; it is high time he takes a few refined concubines to ease the burden on Lady Chen as she heals.” On and on, the whispers went.

Every time these ideas reached her ears, Jin Zhao flinched. Not because she feared it was a remote possibility in their marriage – she knew with absolute certainty that her San Ye would never entertain the thought of another woman, for any reason. Everyone in the capital knew of his fierce devotion to his wife; the Grand Secretary went to great lengths to make his stance known, never shying away from displaying his affection, respect, and protection of Gu Jin Zhao in plain view of the society. What surprised her most was that the social circles universally acknowledged his devotion, yet still viewed it as perfectly normal -even expected – for him to share his bed with someone else simply because that was how things were done.

Thankfully, her husband couldn’t care less about societal expectations, remaining the most singularly attentive, touch-obsessed, and hungry man whenever he was near her. Their private life was unphased by the outside noise. For the most part.

Unfortunately, some of the noise was now originating from inside the house.

Take, for example, this very evening. Gu Jin Zhao was actually in extremely high spirits. She had the excellent company of Lady He, wonderful southern dishes from the newly opened market restaurant, and, most importantly, at today’s appointment with the imperial physicians, she had received a stellar report. Her Qi was restoring beautifully, her vital energies were flowing strong, and she was officially cleared to "resume her wifely duties" – a phrase her physician had uttered while turning so violently red in the face that Jin Zhao was genuinely concerned for his own internal circulation.

Jin Zhao briefly wondered if this clearance was granted strictly in reflection of her physical health, or out of deep, collective concern for her husband's long-strained needs. Because if she was indeed entirely recovered, why did the physicians continue to withhold her usual contraceptive tonic, citing the need to "restore balance" and "not overwhelm the kidney Qi"? If her body was not yet strong enough to safely conceive – another crimson-faced medical scholar had confidently assured her it would take another half a year to fully stabilize her female vitality for such an act – how was it healed enough to engage in "wifely duties"? And why did everyone place such heavy emphasis on the word duties?

Either way, Gu Jin Zhao was not about to argue the finer points of medical theory with the imperial scholars, lest they change their minds and extend her sentence for another few months. Her husband, who unfortunately couldn’t join the consultation this time, would undoubtedly receive a full report from the medical bureau anyway; he always did. And San Ye always followed healing recommendations to the absolute letter, torturing both himself and her in denying them much-needed pleasure. But not anymore. Today was a good day, and it was soon to get much better.

Soon after this tea, at least. This tea and the conversation that had somehow managed to drag her husband into the discussion. Not the Grand Secretary, not the brilliant statesman, not the Pillar of the State – but her husband, the man. And, of course, it was none other than her esteemed sister-in-law, Second Lady Chen.

The click of her porcelain teacup against the rosewood table sounded remarkably like a small, domestic gavel about to strike an unpleasant verdict. She smoothed the front of her embroidered satin robes, her posture shifting into the comfortable, slightly heavy dignity of an elder sister-in-law. Although the imperial court ranked Gu Jin Zhao far higher as the wife of the Pillar of the State, within the invisible hierarchy of the Chen family inner quarters, Second Lady Chen still held the seniority of age. And she would never let anyone forget it.

"Third Sister," Second Lady Chen began, her voice dripping with an affectionate, yet distinctly domineering warmth. She reached across the small table, her fingers briefly patting Jin Zhao's sleeve with a patronizing, instructive pressure. "You have been back from the temple for months, yet you still look a fraction too pale. You must not exhaust yourself with these tasting parties. But more importantly..."

She sighed, a deeply performative exhale that immediately drew the attention of Lady He and Second Lady Chen's own surrounding maids.

"We must look to the kitchen. These southern delicacies are fine for a light evening, but they do nothing for the master of the house. I shall speak to the head chef tonight and have them prepare a daily rotation of double-stewed sea cucumber and black-bone chicken tonic for Yan Yun."

Jin Zhao’s hand froze mid-air, her fingers tightening around fragile porcelain cup.

Yan Yun.

The title slipped from her sister-in-law’s mouth with a casual, familial intimacy that scraped violently against Jin Zhao’s nerves. To the rest of the capital, he was Lord Chen, the Grand Secretary, or the Pillar of the State. Within family home, he was Third Master, San Ye – the name even Jin Zhao called him casually, both in and outside of their chambers. Yan Yun was the name Jin Zhao whispered against his skin in the dark; it was the name that belonged to her territory. Hearing Second Lady Chen claim it under the guise of sisterly care felt like a subtle, calculated intrusion – one Jin Zhao would not tolerate. And the fact that Lady He let out a soft, barely audible gasp, told Jin Zhao that this slip was not a figment of her imagination and she was correct in thinking it inappropriate.

"Poor San Ye has been in such dreadfully low spirits lately," Second Lady Chen corrected herself subtly and continued, shaking her head with a look of concern and pity. "His shoulders are practically weighed down to the floor when he walks through the courtyard. Of course, he carries the burdens of the state, but we all know that your long confinement and recent... misfortunes... have taken a heavy toll on his spirits. He is a man in the absolute prime of his life, Jin Zhao. If only he chose to take better care of himself! But he is simply too dedicated to the realm, and to this family, to care for his own needs."

Jin Zhao opened her mouth, a razor-sharp, perfectly polite retort already forming on her tongue to firmly remind her sister-in-law exactly who managed the private needs of the Grand Secretary.

But Second Lady Chen was already pressing forward, raising her hand to gently cut Jin Zhao off before she could properly utter a single word.

"Ah, do not look at me with such a stiff face, Third Sister. I only speak of this because I am older and far more experienced than you in navigating the hidden currents of a grand household. It takes a certain womanly wisdom to see these things clearly before they turn into actual neglect."

Second Lady Chen paused, offering a knowing, self-satisfied smile to Lady He, who remained carefully neutral over her sweet bean curd. Jin Zhao appreciated her friend’s poise in the face of such blatantly indecent conversation – pretending they were all ‘good old friends’, her sister-in-law chose to bring Jin Zhao’s marital bed into their afternoon tea discussion! The nerve on that woman!

"Take my own situation, for example. While I am here in the capital, dutifully managing the family estate and overseeing the children's tutors, my own master is far away in Shaanxi Prefecture, managing the family’s ancestral lands and commercial fortunes. An extended separation like that would undoubtedly ruin a man's health and fracture his focus, if it weren't for a capable wife anticipating his needs."

She leaned in slightly, her tone dropping into a stage-whisper of smug expertise.

"Which is precisely why, many years ago before he departed for the provinces, I personally vetted and secured two trusted, soft-spoken concubines to accompany him by his side. It is exactly what any good, dutiful wife of an esteemed lineage would do to ease the physical burdens of her husband. A man of status cannot be left entirely to his own devices when his principal wife is... otherwise occupied. It keeps the household harmonious, preserves his manly essence, and ensures he always looks back toward the capital with gratitude."

The silence that settled over the study was sharp enough to cut silk.

Beside them, the white cat leaped down from a carved stool, its soft paws making no sound as it vanished into the shadows of the corridor, leaving Jin Zhao facing the remarkably clear, expectant gaze of her elder sister-in-law. On the back of her mind, Jin Zhao mused that it was probably one of the first times in her life when she simply couldn’t find words. And not because there were no words – oh, she had many! – but because all the angry, harsh words that rose up her throat congested there to the point she was struggling to breathe. So, she processed in silence.

Years ago, when Jin Zhao had first joined the Chen household, and her new sister-in-law gave her a bit of a cold shoulder, the newly married Third Lady Chen had dismissed it as a simple power struggle for the right to manage the household inner quarters. The Chen Manor was a place of immense prestige and wealth; managing such an estate gave a woman status and the reverence of the capital's social circles. Luckily for all – as Jin Zhao had thought back then – she had no interest in either of these things, so she was perfectly comfortable letting things continue as they were. Problem solved.

As things progressed, Qin Xianlan’s attitude towards her shifted to a more lenient, though still somewhat distant relation of a senior lady of the house, punctuated by the occasional jab about Jin Zhao’s lack of propriety or an attempt to school the openly affectionate behavior of the newlyweds. At one point, when Chen Xuanqing's treasonous actions became known to the family elders during the tense discussion on whether he should be removed from the ancestral family tree, Second Lady Chen had even slipped in a few comments regarding Jin Zhao’s ‘unfortunately free behavior that led to this.’ The look of barely restrained, lethal rage on Chen Yan Yun’s face had been so loud that Second Master Chen had immediately sent his wife out of the room and promptly exiled her back to their provincial estate. Qin Xianlan had stayed away for mere days, until Jin Zhao herself called her back when she had to leave the capital in search of Chen Yan Yun. The events that followed had brought them together for a while, joined in shared sorrow and the political struggles that shook their family to its foundation. And yet, when the sun shone again over the capital, Second Lady Chen had gone right back to her poised indignation, pressed lips, and judgmental smirks.

Maybe it was about Jin Zhao’s relaxed upbringing, or her lack of high noble status, or perhaps a deep-seated jealousy that despite all her so-called shortcomings, Jin Zhao had still managed to gain the highest rank in the family and the personal respect of the Emperor. But lately, with her eyes newly attuned to the romantic admiration her husband was evoking around the capital, Jin Zhao had started to wonder if there was perhaps something more. That maybe Second Lady Chen didn’t think Jin Zhao was simply not good enough for their name, or their family, or their lineage… maybe, in the eyes of her sister-in-law, the Third Lady Chen was simply not good enough for him. For Chen Yan Yun.

To her credit, Jin Zhao didn’t honestly think Second Lady Chen was consciously entertaining these thoughts – there was far too much rigid propriety in that woman to ever consciously consider marital infidelity of such a scandalous scale. And yet… with the way her longing stares followed San Ye around the courtyard, the softly spoken words greeting him in the evening, and her flushing smiles whenever he focused his eyes on her a little too long… it seemed rather obvious that Qin Xianlan harbored a minor, very innocent, and not entirely recognized romantically-inclined affection for Jin Zhao’s husband. Yet another thing Jin Zhao had to learn to live with.

Jin Zhao was rather successful in tuning out the attention the ladies across the city were giving to her husband – including the ladies of the house – as long as those ladies did not cross the line. The line Second Lady Chen had crossed just now.

…But, since justice is not always promised in this world, Second Lady Chen was saved from Jin Zhao’s immediate wrath by a servant appearing in the main hall, announcing the arrival of Third Master Chen and Lord He, who were requesting their ladies to join them for an evening stroll through the lantern-lit streets of the city. Second Lady Chen, seeing that her name was not among the list of invited, graciously bid her formal farewells and left Jin Zhao and Lady He to gather their thoughts.

Lady He softly whispered, offering a reassuring smile as she reached for Jin Zhao's hand, "Just breathe. It will pass. Just breathe."

Jin Zhao nodded, promising herself she would not faint today from sheer hyperventilation. She was entirely adamant not to give San Ye any reasons to be worried about her health tonight.

She had plans.

—— ❖ ——

Much later that evening, when the strict city curfew had already silenced the streets, the Chen couple entered their private residence in the heart of the capital. They had sent a word back to the main Chen Mansion to inform the family elders that they would spend the night in the city center, citing the long traveling distance and an exceptionally early imperial audience the following morning. Their personal assistants had exchanged quiet, understanding glances among themselves as this verbal note was given, promptly retiring for the night and leaving Chen Yan Yun and Gu Jin Zhao to the care of only a few trusted house servants.

The city residence had not been lived in much over the last six months, occupied only for a few scattered nights here and there whenever Chen Yan Yun’s duties forced him to stay overnight to attend pre-dawn court assemblies. Yet, Gu Jin Zhao found herself honestly looking forward to returning here with their children – to reclaiming their private, little family space away from the suffocating noise, judgment, and domestic drama of the main Chen estate. Yes, there was a quiet sorrow lingering within these walls – the sealed-off room where their unborn child should have lived these days – but there were also happy memories, new hopes, and shared dreams. It was their home.

The servants quickly kindled the hearth fires in the master bedchambers, lighting numerous candles across the room until the space was bathed in a soft, mysterious golden glow. Jin Zhao, having finally been relieved of her heavy silver hairpiece and richly adorned outer robes, sat down gracefully on the edge of the bed.

Chen Yan Yun stopped near a low table in the room’s alcove, his gaze dropping to a parchment containing an unfinished ink painting. His manservant attended to Yan Yun’s heavy outer robes, folding the silk neatly – and unnecessarily slowly. Gu Jin Zhao tracked San Ye’s movements, hoping to catch his eye. Eventually, he raised his head to ask her a question, only to stop short the moment he caught her expression.

Even in the dim, flickering candlelight of the chamber, Jin Zhao could see how the depths of his eyes darkened instantly, his gaze turning predatory, heavy, and intensely hungry. He dismissed the servants with a short, clipped command. Not even waiting for the heavy doors to slide fully shut behind them, he crossed the distance between them in a few wide, urgent strides.

He stopped directly in front of the bed, his arms raised at his sides, his tone low and suggestively rough. "Well, wife… will you take care of your husband tonight?"

She knew this play well, and she knew precisely why he played it. Years ago, when she was still stealing hesitant glances at her dreamy new husband, and he was still learning how to ask for her undivided attention, this had been their way to each other. And tonight, when they both desperately desired to re-learn how to be together – how to allow themselves the absolute vulnerability and openness of physical touch – this was also their way back.

Jin Zhao rose and walked slowly around her husband, her fingertips lightly tracing the fine hem of his inner robe. When her fingers found the tightly knotted silk strings at his hip, she pulled and tugged with a practiced ease, letting the layers part to reveal the soft, dark silk of his undershirt and trousers, already tented noticeably in the front. Jin Zhao raised a questioning, mocking brow at her husband.

He replied with a daring, unblinking look of his own.

Already?

Always.

Jin Zhao tugged the silk strings she was holding once more, letting his heavy robes slide entirely to the floorboards, not bothering to pick them up. She placed her bare palm directly over the center of his chest, feeling his heart hammer violently against her hand in a rapid, quickening beat. Jin Zhao pushed gently, and Yan Yun stepped backward, obedient to her command. When the back of his knees met the soft cushion of a chair, he sat down, never once breaking eye contact with his wife.

She smiled down at him, leaning forward until her lips ghosted across his, whispering, "Yes, Yan Yun. I will take care of you."

A low, involuntary groan escaped from the depths of his throat, and he closed his eyes tightly, trying to contain the sudden, agonizing wave of desire that flooded his body. His chest rose and fell rapidly beneath her hand, his fists clenching hard at his sides as he fought a losing battle to rein in his most primal instincts. Jin Zhao – ever the dutiful wife, wanting to grant him a moment of breathing space – stepped away from the chair, returning promptly with a silver-backed hair comb in hand.

She stood directly behind his back, doing her absolute best to ignore the pooling warmth spreading rapidly through her own lower abdomen. Was it that the servants had built the hearth fire too large for such a mild spring night? Or was it that her husband – her deeply wanted and wanting husband – was burning like a furnace beneath her touch? One of those things, Jin Zhao was entirely certain.

But the night was still young, and Jin Zhao wanted to savor their connection across every level of her soul. She gently pulled apart the remaining silver pins and carved pieces of the intricate hairpiece worn by the Pillar of the State. She brushed through his long, dark hair slowly, gently, tracing her bare fingers across the tense lines of his neck and shoulders, massaging the knots of court tension away. Jin Zhao could feel his shoulders gradually relaxing into their natural, heavy position; she didn’t think he even realized how much weight he carried daily until she forced him to let go of it. This little ritual of theirs wasn't merely a prelude to marital intimacy – it was their way of shedding titles, honors, and the heavy responsibilities of the empire, returning entirely to their truest selves: Yan Yun and Jin Zhao.

Long moments into the soothing routine, as Yan Yun’s hair began to glisten and flow like a dark river of silk through her fingers, Jin Zhao realized that the low, rhythmic vibration humming against her palms was coming from her husband. It was a soft, barely audible sound of pure contentment. He felt safe, and he felt happy – her Yan Yun.

Jin Zhao smiled at the sound, feeling the desire in her own body, which had been simmering comfortably beneath her skin, suddenly joined by a much deeper, intoxicating emotion: absolute confidence.

It was she who gave this strong man a home. It was she who had dragged him back from the brink of self-inflicted despair. It was she who possessed the power to make him feel soft, unguarded, and entirely real. No one else in this vast land ever got to see him smile like that, with his eyes closed and humming contently against her skin – this sight belonged exclusively to her.

So did he. The rest of the world could fall to its knees at his feet, and he wouldn’t even notice; he had eyes only for her.

As if sensing her thoughts, her Yan Yun opened his eyes and looked up at her, a deep adoration and love shining brighter than all the candles burning in the chamber. He caught her hand as it traced the dark locks of hair on his shoulder, drawing her fingers to his lips to kiss them one by one, slowly and deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world to worship her.

Their quiet reverie was interrupted by the sharp clatter of the jade comb falling onto the floorboards – apparently, she’d forgotten to hold it properly. Yan Yun tracked the sound to the floor and then looked back up to Jin Zhao’s face, which had rapidly flushed rosy with embarrassment.

Yan Yun’s expression filled with a tender, deeply understanding amusement. "Beautiful, look at your face," he murmured, his voice roughened by a promising undertone. "You must be exceptionally hot in those heavy layers. Let me assist you."

He rose from the chair, his hands moving with such seamless, fluid efficiency that it felt as though her intricate inner robes possessed no fastenings or ties at all. Jin Zhao could swear her husband practiced some form of magic; only that could explain his terrifying efficiency with her clothing and how the temperature in the room suddenly spiked to a blistering heat the moment her outer garments hit the floor. Or perhaps that last shift had something to do with the heavy, suggestive way he called her beautiful…

Get a hold of yourself, Jin Zhao, she scolded herself fiercely. You have been a married woman for years! You are no longer a blushing maiden to be completely undone by a few intimate words! Focus!

It was far easier said than done. It wasn't just his words – Yan Yun’s actions grew exceedingly more intimate by the second. His fingertips drew light, agonizing shapes over her bare neck, traveling across the swell of her breasts over the thin, translucent layer of her light inner robe, before trailing lower still to the cotton sash of her white silk trousers. Only three ties – two at the front of her inner robe and one at her waist – held the distance between his touch and her skin. It was a distance she had endured for six long months, and one she did not intend to endure for another single breath.

Jin Zhao moved backward, her heels catching on the edge of the mattress as she reached the bed in a few careful steps. Yan Yun followed her instantly, refusing to let his hands drop from her skin, his tender exploration continuing along her exposed flesh. Jin Zhao got onto the bed, kneeling on the silk sheets, and pulled her husband down to join her.

The heavy gauze curtains of the bedframe fell closed behind him, circling them within a private, semi-transparent tent. His hands were warm, trembling only slightly as he untied the final knots of her inner robe. She shifted her shoulders subtly, letting the fabric fall away to pool around her knees.

Yan Yun’s gaze went entirely disoriented, trying to consume every inch of her at once, his hands hovering over her naked upper body as if paralyzed by the sheer weight of where to touch her first. Jin Zhao leaned in, bridging the gap until his palm landed squarely over her breast, her nipple hardening instantly against his long-desired touch.

At last.

His other hand circled her waist, pulling their bodies flush against one another. Unfair, Jin Zhao thought as the feeling of his cool silk undershirt pressed against her heated skin, and she immediately went about divesting her husband of his remaining, completely unnecessary garments. Yan Yun let out a low, breathless chuckle at her desperate, frantic war with his inner robes, but his laughter was cut short, rewarded with a sharp, possessive bite directly to the sensitive junction between his neck and shoulder.

He hissed aloud, a sudden onslaught of raw need surging violently through his body, demanding he bury himself hilt-deep within her hot, perfect depths immediately.

No, Yan Yun, you must control yourself. She deserves better than that.

His wife, however, seemed to have absolutely no reservations about what she deserved. She unceremoniously yanked his silk trousers down far enough to capture exactly what she wanted. Her palm was incredibly soft and warm, her movements deliberate and her aim unmistakable – she was actively, single-mindedly trying to drive him insane.

Yan Yun bent over her, his lips caressing her sensitive earlobes, her long neck, her bare shoulders, and everywhere else he could possibly reach. Where his lips were not, his hands took absolute ownership – lightly teasing her tight nipples, squeezing the fullness of her hips to press her body harder into his own hardness. As much as Jin Zhao’s loud, honeyed moans were a testament to her pleasure, Yan Yun knew he would lose this race entirely if he did not stop her from driving him over the edge.

"Mercy, wife," he rasped out, his breath hitching.

Jin Zhao, through the heavy haze of desire hammering violently in her veins, heard the desperation in his voice and leaned back slightly, momentarily halting the movement of her hand – but refusing to let him go entirely.

"Why?" she breathed out, her eyes heavy. "Are you feeling…?"

"…Too good," he confessed, his voice a broken whisper against her skin. "I am feeling far too good, my beautiful Jin Zhao, and it will be over before I have the chance to do everything I have dreamed of over these last six months."

Even now, with his wife holding him in the most sensual, provocative manner imaginable, she still managed to blush at his raw confession. She bit her lower lip, causing his focus to snap instantly to her plump, perfectly shaped mouth. He wanted to bite those lips himself, to suck on them, to invade her completely, and to lick her loud screams straight off her tongue.

Yan Yun was so utterly lost in his own dark fantasies that he nearly missed the playful, teasing question passing those desired lips: "Oh, really? Is there truly that much on your mind?"

Teasing. His mesmerizing, seductive, brilliant woman was actively teasing him.

"Yes, wife, there is. I have an extensive list," he growled softly. "Do you wish to know what sits at the very top of it?"

And before she could utter a single word, his hands gripped the back of her knees and pulled sharply, dropping her flat against the silk sheets beneath her. Yes, being on top of her was at the absolute top of his list. A man could dream – and he had dreamed of it, agonizingly often, through the long, cold nights.

Jin Zhao let out a small squeal at the sudden movement, immediately trying to squeeze her hand between their flushed bodies to regain her hold – and her control – over him. He didn't stop her, because where he was going, her hands wouldn’t be able to reach.

Yan Yun slowly, with absolute, agonizing intention, began his descent along his wife’s ravishing body, marking his progress with deep kisses, sharp bites, and the wet, burning trail of his tongue. Jin Zhao shivered violently beneath him, her back arching off the mattress under his knowing touch, her fingers clutching at the sheets as she urged him to give her more. He would give her everything.

And then, he found his true destination. A soft mound, glistening and entirely inviting. That mind-blowing, intoxicating scent that belonged only to him, only ever his. And the taste… oh, the taste. Yan Yun was a man starved on a sacred mission, abandoning every ounce of his restraint, guided entirely by her loud screams and the urgent, fierce tugs of her fingers tangled desperately in his hair. He couldn’t even tell if she was trying to pull him away or force him deeper into her – he didn’t care, and he couldn’t have stopped either way. She was here, she was alive, and she was entirely his. That was all that mattered; that was all that existed in this infinite universe of love and lust, as Jin Zhao screamed his name into the quiet room.

"Yan Yun! Nnnn… please… aaaah, right there, yes! Yaaa… Yunnnnnn… more! Yes! …Please… please… Yannnnnnn!"

She seized completely for a fraction of a second, her body stilling at the absolute peak of a perfect, rigid arch – and then erupted into violent, convulsive waves of pleasure. Her nails dug into his scalp painfully, her screams becoming entirely soundless now, as if her lungs had completely forgotten how to push air out. Yan Yun held her close, kissing her, cherishing her through the lingering aftershocks, thanking Heaven with every fiber of his being for the ability to give this to her. With how much pain he had brought into her life, he was forever grateful that he could bring her this pleasure too. His Jin Zhao. His wife. His everything.

Her hoarse, breathless voice drifted down from above. "How…?"

Yan Yun shifted upward, rising onto one elbow, careful not to place too much of his heavy weight onto her tender, overly sensitive skin. "How what, my love?"

Jin Zhao’s dark eyes – shining and full of happy, unshed tears – turned to meet his. "How does it feel so much… more? I mean… we have… before… what changed?"

Yan Yun kissed her lips – tenderly at first, then with a growing, desperate urgency, trying to convey the larger-than-life emotions consuming his soul all at once. But just in case his kiss wasn't articulate enough, when they finally broke apart for air, he pressed his forehead against hers, whispering against her mouth.

"I changed. You did. I love you more than I ever thought humanly possible, Jin Zhao. And I will spend the rest of my days giving you more and more of everything. I swear it."

His vow was solemn, and her answering, searing kiss was a promise too – one he got utterly lost in, happily willing to stay within its bounds forever… until his wife used their new position to renew her firm hold of his achingly hard manhood, making Yan Yun’s brain instantly scatter like a chessboard overturned in the dark. The cool, calculating power that managed the empire was instantly reduced to a mass of tangled silk threads, every thread tightening around a single, blinding awareness of her palm.

This time, she wasn’t moving her hand. Jin Zhao used her hold of him to gently but firmly guide him on top of her, aligning him between her inviting thighs. Yan Yun’s jaw clenched tightly, his muscles locking, as he tried to control an urge so ancient and powerful it threatened to move his body completely outside of his conscious will.

His wife brought her fingers to his tight jawline, caressing the rigid muscle suggestively. "It’s all good, Yan Yun. The imperial physicians have spoken. We can."

Yan Yun shook his head slightly – no, there was more preparation to be done. He didn't need to go all in the first night together; she was so fragile, his beloved, he could…

Jin Zhao hushed his unspoken, frantic turmoil with the most powerful words he had ever heard in his life. "Shh, Yan Yun. I want this. Please."

There was nothing in this world Yan Yun could deny her. Nothing.

He fell into her, the most natural power in the universe guiding him directly to his personal center of gravity: his Jin Zhao. She was incredibly hot, tight, and so welcoming, her body squeezing the remaining traces of doubt and fear straight out of his mind. He felt as though he was floating, suspended in a perfect, flawless sensation that everything in his life was finally right.

And then, she raised her hips subtly, urging him to move. He tried – he truly tried – to be slow, gentle, and considerate. But one honey-laced gasp from her lips, one desperate "please, Yan Yun" whispered into the darkness of their bed, and his last remaining reservations dissolved into nothingness. He made way for pure need, pure want, moving deeper and harder and more again!

Jin Zhao held his body impossibly close, anchoring him securely into herself with the tight hold of her legs locked around his hips. Yan Yun’s movements were shallow but intense; simply rocking his weight into her was more than enough. Her desperate bites on his shoulder were enough. Her nails digging deep into the skin of his back were enough. Her screaming his name at the absolute peak of her ecstasy was enough – and he exploded into a million tiny, blinding specks of light. It was bright, hot, entirely new, and eternal all at the same time.

And, as always, as the pieces of his soul came back together to reassemble Chen Yan Yun once more, he felt reborn once more. She did this to him. Only ever her.

…Time flowed past in the comfortable, heavy silence of their bedroom, interrupted only by their unsteady, ragged breathing and the soft rustling of the silk sheets. The two lovers, both rejuvenated and thoroughly exhausted by their lovemaking, looked at one another as if discovering a completely new world.

Jin Zhao found her voice first. "So, husband… feeling taken care of?"

She sounded far too innocent and nonchalant, considering said husband was still resting heavily on top of her, and inside her – a tactical point Yan Yun chose to make by slowly arching a single eyebrow.

"Well, wife… I would say it is a very good start."

Jin Zhao’s eyes shot wide open, looking up at him incredulously. "A start?"

Yan Yun tried to shrug – which was an impossible movement given his current position over her body – as he murmured against her neck, "I believe I explicitly mentioned… I have a list."

Yan Yun supported his answer with a slow, deep roll of his hips against her inner thighs, revealing to his wife that he was, in fact, fully planning on executing the rest of that list tonight.

Jin Zhao let out a sharp gasp of surprise, her silent, breathless question written clearly across her face.

Already?

Always.

—— ❖ ——

… in the early hours of the morning, when the first pale blue light began to bleed through the paper window lattices, Chen Yan Yun felt himself drifting into a heavy, well-deserved sleep. He was held back from the precipice of unconsciousness only by the soft weight of his wife laying across his chest, diligently attempting to tickle his face with a loose lock of her unpinned hair.

Jin Zhao was already wearing her silk night robes – not out of any sense of fake modesty, which had absolutely no place within their marital bed, but merely to avoid entirely scandalizing the house servants who would show up within a shichen to start their masters’ morning routine. Chen Yan Yun was fully prepared to dismiss them on sight, but for that, he first had to catch sight of them before they breached the inner chambers – hence, the necessity of the robes.

Jin Zhao, entirely unaware of her husband’s quiet plans to sleep in, was doing her absolute best to power through her own exhaustion and not fall asleep just before dawn. Hence, the persistent tickling.

Though the tickling quickly proved to be an unsuccessful tactic for keeping her husband awake – the man was boringly, frustratingly non-ticklish! – Jin Zhao pivoted her approach, attempting conversation instead. Her husband never walked away from a conversation with her.

"San Ye… was it…"

And right there, her bravery suddenly ran out. She really had not thought through the reality of having to say the rest of this particular sentence out loud. In the silent confines of her mind, the question had felt incredibly exciting, a guaranteed way to startle her husband awake. But now, faced with the immediate need to put that scandalous thought into spoken words in front of her calm, seemingly unphased husband, she found herself completely paralyzed. She simply couldn't.

Chen Yan Yun’s eyes cracked open into a narrow, heavy squint, still deeply adamant about retaining as much sleep as he humanly could. "What is it, Jin Zhao?"

Seeing how desperately San Ye was grasping his precious sleep with both hands, Jin Zhao threw caution to the wind and marched blindly onward with her initial plan. "Was it… how you imagined it would be? I mean, the list and all…"

That got his attention.

Yan Yun shot up instantly, rolling them over with a sudden twist of his torso until he ended up semi-laying directly on top of his wife. He searched her flushed face, his sharp gaze deciphering whether this question was born of mere feminine curiosity or something far deeper and more fragile.

He offered a completely open, honest answer. "Yes. That, and far more. But…"

"But?" It was Jin Zhao’s turn to bolt upright – or at least try to, as Yan Yun’s solid weight still pinned her securely to the silk mattress.

He interrupted her rising, angry spout with a firm kiss – and he kept kissing her passionately until she stopped struggling against him, a highly effective tactical trick he had learned from his clever wife long ago. When they finally separated, he expanded on his answer, his voice dropping into a serious, low tone. "You felt… urgent tonight, Jin Zhao. Sometimes, almost angry. Are you all right, my love?"

Jin Zhao’s thoughts flashed back to the vivid crimson streaks currently lining her husband’s back and shoulders – deep nail trails and possessive bite marks that would be very hard to conceal, even with the high, stiff collars of his formal imperial robes. She remembered her desperate, unyielding hold on him, her never-ending hunger to have more, to claim every single piece of him…

Was she angry?

She asked in a small, suddenly hesitant voice, "Did I… did I hurt you?"

Yan Yun looked down at her, a perfect mix of profound tenderness and absolute incredulity washing over his handsome face. He let out a low chuckle. "If ever I refer to our lovemaking as 'hurt,' Lady Chen, you must immediately call for the imperial physicians and hide every sharp object in this manor, for I will have officially descended into absolute insanity."

Jin Zhao’s fingers traced one particularly deep trail on his shoulder, the skin a dark red where tiny droplets of blood were already clotting. "But the nails… I must have broken the skin…"

Once more, Yan Yun caught her hand, pulling it gently away from his shoulder. He kissed her short-trimmed nails – the very ones that had caused her flash of indignation just now. "Shh, my amazing woman. I promise you, you have not hurt me – at least, not in any way I did not immensely enjoy. Everything that happened between us tonight was absolutely haven. And if it weren't for the fact that your loyal Qing Pu will walk through those doors at any given moment – and you would be entirely mortified over it – I would happily show you right now exactly how much I enjoyed our time together."

Jin Zhao buried her burning face directly into his scratched shoulder, still completely unaccustomed to this unbridled, playful, and openly wanton version of her San Ye.

Yan Yun’s low voice cajoled her out of her hiding place, repeating his question with disarming softness. "Tell me, wife. Are you all right?"

They were, after many bitter trials and the long, painful ghosts of their past silences, an openly communicating couple. There was no longer any merit in hiding things from one another, for secrets could easily fester and poison their lives, just as they had before.

And so, Jin Zhao offered her embarrassing confession. "I may have… been in a mood… to lay claim to my territory tonight."

Yan Yun’s intense, waiting silence prompted her to press forward with the embarrassing confession. "All those conversations drifting around the capital… I do not actively seek them out, but I hear them nonetheless. Whispers that you have needs I cannot satisfy… all those ladies who would gladly step forward to keep you company…"

"Stop. I beg of you, stop."

Yan Yun sat back on the bed, his expression instantly shifting into something fiercely protective. He helped Jin Zhao lean back against the propped-up silk pillows, so she sat directly facing him. He took her hand, holding it palm up, his smile incredibly gentle and filled with love.

Yan Yun kissed her open palm and pressed it flat against his cheek, briefly closing his eyes to savor the pure warmth of his wife. When he opened them, his gaze was calm, steady, and entirely sure. He searched Jin Zhao’s eyes, asking softly, "After tonight… do you possess a single question regarding my needs? Not theirs, not anyone else’s in this world. Do you have any doubt regarding my absolute happiness in your bed?"

Jin Zhao did not need to think it through. The answer was already written across his serene, profoundly happy face. His true Yan Yun face.

"No questions," she murmured, a soft, confident smile finally landing on her lips. "You are happy with me. I make you happy." She nodded firmly for good measure.

Yan Yun nodded in return, kissing her palm once more. "Never doubt that, Jin Zhao. And if the heavy weight of court rumors and mindless gossip ever grows too heavy for your shoulders again, you must tell me immediately. I will do everything within my power to remind you exactly who owns me, and who holds my entire happiness in her warm hands."

His burning gaze seemed to print permanent lines of security directly into her mind, healing her frayed nerves and completely divesting her of any remaining echoes of jealousy. And just as Jin Zhao made the sudden, reckless decision to throw all caution to the wind and remind them both exactly who owned her husband one more time – the sharp, diligent knock of Qing Pu announced the arrival of the new day.

In the early hours of the morning, in safety of their bedroom, she was different.

Once she woke and went about her day, Chen Yan Yun could see it in real time – how her defenses came up gradually, piece by piece. She wore no armor at all when she leaned down to kiss their children a soft "good morning," but her shields were fully raised and ready to take on the world by the time she went for the formal morning greetings with his mother. He knew her armor was never meant to keep him out, but he also knew those walls had been built through a lifetime of heartbreaks. Every time he watched them slide into place, his soul constricted in a quiet sorrow for every pain his wife had to endure. It was now his absolute privilege and a sacred duty to protect her and their family – a vow he took with a terrifying, unyielding seriousness.

But now, in the soft morning glow, he was free of those heavy concerns. Her features were still unguarded, soft, and entirely peaceful. She slept.

…Until she woke.

"San Ye, I want osmanthus cake. Do we have any around?" Jin Zhao mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, not even bothering to open her eyes.

Yan Yun let out a low chuckle at his wife’s early morning priorities, leaning over to admonish her lovingly, "Shouldn’t you at least sit up before you attempt to eat cakes?"

"I’ll consider this," she retorted instantly, her tone solemn as if he had just given her a profound state policy to ponder.

Jin Zhao raised her arms above her head, stretching languidly against the silk sheets. On their way back down, one of her arms caught naturally on his shoulder. Her fingers tangled into his loose, unpinned hair – a fluid, effortless movement practiced over years of sensual intimacy. As her hand continued to comb through his black tresses, ever so often scratching his scalp with a teasing, familiar pressure, her eyelids finally fluttered open. Her dark eyes immediately found his.

The breath caught sharply in Yan Yun’s throat, and he had to swallow hard just to restart that rather important bodily function. She was radiant.

Almost ten years ago, when he had first met her in the Ji Manor, she had already been beautiful. Yet, back then, her looks hadn't been what caught his eye; her beauty had merely been something he acknowledged while trying to figure out this unusual, sharp-witted person who had suddenly disrupted his life. But sometime later – and ever since – the man in him had become acutely, overwhelmingly aware that Gu Jin Zhao was, in fact, a stunning woman. He still remembered drawing her portrait for the very first time, unconsciously attracted to her natural glow and tender elegance, utterly surprised when his brush revealed an emotion his mind was only beginning to realize.

"You are staring," Jin Zhao murmured. She tried to sound stern but failed completely, her voice still filled with the residual warmth and calm of a peaceful night's rest.

Yan Yun smiled, his eyes filling with a soft adoration that he made no effort to hide. He caught her hand, pressing a soft kiss into her palm before quoting a classic verse in a low, morning-roughened voice:

"The cloud thinks of her clothes, the flower of her face; the spring breeze brushes the balustrade, and the dew is thick."

He let the poetry hang in the quiet air between them before speaking his own heart. "I am staring, and I have no intention of stopping. Looking at you has long been my favorite morning pastime. There is an old piece of wisdom that says looking upon true beauty grants a man beautiful thoughts. And I need beautiful thoughts these days. Thus, I need your beauty."

Jin Zhao’s cheeks tinted pink and she blinked a few times, checking if she was still asleep – such open, unabashed compliments were rarely spoken by her reserved husband out loud, though she always knew his love for her was deep and all-consuming.

Jin Zhao moved her palm to touch his cheek in a careful, supportive gesture, asking, "Why? Troubles at court? Is it that General Baian again?"

Yan Yun nuzzled into her warm, comforting touch and then responded, "Should I be alarmed that my wife, with whom I decidedly never share court troubles, still knows entirely too much, enough to operate on a name basis? How do you know, Jin Zhao?"

His wife sat up properly on the bed and made a long pause, readjusting the silk pillows behind her. Once she was comfortably seated, she responded with regal grace, as if such a trivial matter as acquiring state secrets were too mundane to discuss. "Well, you know how it is – people talk. Some officials talk to their wives and share their work burdens, unlike someone I know… And then those wives continue the circle of talking, and talking… in restaurants, at tea parties, at textile shops… until it inevitably reaches my ears. I just have good hearing, I guess."

Jin Zhao shrugged as if to say not really that impressive, but her husband – who operated his own sophisticated shadow network of information circulation – was thoroughly impressed nonetheless.

Instead of complimenting her awareness, which he knew she would dismiss, Yan Yun chose to address her earlier comment. "You know why I don’t want to bother you with this. Between the Chen household, the children, and your businesses, you already have too much to handle. I don’t want to put what is my job on your shoulders." And before Jin Zhao could interject with something along the lines of but I want to help, Yan Yun added his final argument by placing his hand gently on her midriff. "And there’s also this."

Both their gazes fell to her belly, beautifully rounded with their third child in its sixth month of growing safely inside her.

The expecting mother sighed and covered his hand with hers. "You know I’m not trying to meddle just for the sake of it, right? I’m just worried about what that envious man will plan against you. You take on too many responsibilities as Pillar of the State and with the new reforms. And then there’s the Ye Army and General Baian’s opposition, and I just…"

Yan Yun silenced her with a quick, chaste kiss, murmuring right across her lips, "I’m thinking some people in my court need a quick visit from the Ye Shadow Guards to remind them how to keep silent about the inner workings of the palace, lest their talkativeness becomes a fresh batch of tearoom gossip."

Jin Zhao knew what he was doing. And she knew he knew what he was doing. They had been through this twice already; that hot, primitive desire to be with each other, heightened during these months of pregnancy, was all too familiar. And very easily ignited. But two could play this game.

Jin Zhao bit her lower lip a little, immediately drawing her husband’s attention to her mouth. She exhaled slowly, letting her chest rise and fall, and a low hum escaped her bitten lips. Yan Yun’s nostrils flared, and his fingers flexed possessively against her skin. Before he could move any further, Jin Zhao ghosted her words across his lips in the exact same mocking tone: "And I’m thinking someone is trying to change the subject of discussion."

Yan Yun’s breath arrested for a moment and then he laughed, eased and amazed at how well his beloved knew him – and how confident she was to manipulate him even in this. Ah, this woman! Yan Yun surrendered the answer she was seeking. "Yes, there are still troubles regarding the finishing touches on the servitude reforms. And the restructuring of the Ye Army did not sit well with many who were planning to power-grab that force… but I am dealing with it. For now, take your time getting up before you go about conquering your day."

Yan Yun landed a quick peck on Jin Zhao’s lips and made a motion to rise – then froze midway.

There, under the loving touch of their connected hands, came a definitive, well-known, and yet always magical push from inside her belly. Then a little roll across the surface, followed by another push. Yan Yun’s eyes lit up, and he raised them to look at Jin Zhao’s face, finding her equally mesmerized.

Jin Zhao gently rubbed the spot where the movement had come from. "Someone is stretching too. Good morning, little one. I’m about to send your dad to his Pillar-of-the-State things, and then we’ll go find us those osmanthus cakes, shall we?"

Another soft kick confirmed that the plan was very much approved. Yan Yun, giving his own gentle rub against the silk-covered warmth, said his own farewell. "Love you, little one. Be good."

And like this… it was easier to be the Pillar of the State and the man everyone in the government approached with their problems. Because like this… he also got to be his best self, husband and father: Yan Yun.

—— ❖ ——

Ever since they had moved to the new Chen Residence across the street from the Wenyuan Library, it didn’t take long for Chen Yan Yun to get to his duties. Sometimes he truly treasured those few ke of rhythmic jostling in the carriage to gather his thoughts before the court demanded he broadcast them for the benefit of the empire. Today, he had a great many things to weigh, balancing delicate foreign diplomacy with a resolute stand on the domestic reforms his government was enacting.

The dawn of the new imperial era had brought immense prosperity to the capital, marked by milestones that should have anchored the Chen family in long-lasting joy. Soon after the birth of their son, the young Emperor officially came of age and assumed full sovereignty of the Dragon Throne. As his first act of absolute rule, the monarch formally elevated Chen Yan Yun to the revered rank of Pillar of the State – a grand testament to years of wise guidance, but also a promise of one too many headaches. One of those headaches was the legacy of the late Ye family.

Truth be told, Chen Yan Yun had not been particularly thrilled to inherit the leaderless Ye Army. Ye Xian’s bittersweet farewell letter to Jin Zhao didn’t exactly qualify as a legally binding imperial testament, and the Grand Secretary already carried an immense burden of state affairs. Furthermore, imperial armies were not personal property to inherit; having one was precisely what had gotten Marquis Chang Xing destroyed in the first place.

Yet, a heavy sense of responsibility weighed on Yan Yun's conscience. He had been the one to ask Ye Xian to rally the remnants of the Ye troops for that final, desperate stand. Because of that fateful choice, and because he deeply desired that legendary army to continue serving the exact same noble goal the late Marquis had dedicated his life to – the enduring peace of the land – Chen Yan Yun refused to let them dissolve into obscurity.

Using his immense authority as Grand Secretary, he skillfully navigated the rigid bureaucracy to split the Ye legacy into two elite, separate branches. The strong, twenty-thousand-man military force became the Ye Sword Guard, a renowned frontier legion funded directly by the imperial treasury and led by trusted, seasoned officers who had trained under the Ye command. In the capital’s dark underbelly, the sharpest investigative minds of the old Mystic Flame Guards were forged into the Ye Shadow Guard – whispered about in court corridors as the ghostly Night Shadows – a five-hundred-man secret service answering exclusively to the Emperor and Chen Yan Yun to hunt down internal enemies of the state. The Grand Secretary had turned a leaderless regional military into the Emperor's twin blades.

But where there is light, shadows grow.

At the Ministry of War, General Feng Baian fumed in the dark. As the commander of the regional conscript garrisons – a massive, bloated force of poorly trained farmer-soldiers – he held high rank but possessed none of the military weight or political prestige he desperately wanted. It wasn't military glory he aimed for; commanding an army was merely a means to an end. General Baian came from an impoverished noble family that nonetheless carried a strong military legacy. He had moved up over decades of unmemorable promotions, using his position to quietly build a private empire of supply trades and production lines. His true ambition was to steer profitable imperial military supply contracts – for iron armor, grain distribution, and frontier weapons – directly toward his own shadow businesses.

To do so unimpeded, he needed a force that would make the rest of the court too terrified to look closely at his record books. The Ye Army was the force he had his eyes on. General Baian didn't want to just dismantle the late Marquis's legacy; he wanted to steal it. If he could absorb those legendary troops into his own regional garrisons, he would instantly gain formidable military backing and force everyone to look the other way.

Yet, Chen Yan Yun’s quick, transparent military reforms had absolutely derailed his path to ill-gained wealth, trapping Feng Baian's corrupt enterprises behind a wall of strict imperial audits. By the time the Grand Secretary discovered the corrupt practices happening under the General’s command, the man had already managed to unite quite a few disgruntled nobles who had similarly been stripped of their old privileges. In Chen Yan Yun, they did not see a visionary statesman; they saw an obstacle that needed to be bleeding on the floor.

Upon discussing the matter with the young Emperor, they both realized the empire’s new government was still a fragile thing; it could collapse if too many high-ranking tiles were pulled out at once. Thus, they resorted to cutting off the smaller pieces of the growing conspiracy, waiting for a better time to purge them once and for all. But as nefarious factions go, when you cut off one head, two more grow. The progress was slow, and perhaps it should have been handled with more immediate violence. But they had found out about it too late.

—— ❖ ——

Today, Chen Yan Yun was held up at the office again, managing only a few bites of food between meetings. Even the osmanthus cakes he ate all the time these days – a gentle habit born of a husband’s strange, empathetic cravings that mirrored his pregnant wife's own tastes – were left untouched on his desk. Not wishing to waste the aromatic pastry, and anticipating that Jin Zhao might appreciate a resupply, he picked up the delivery box and went home to rejoin his family.

By the time he arrived, the children were already asleep, and the household was preparing for rest. Yan Yun met his wife in her study, where she was busying herself with letters that had arrived from the Ji Manor earlier. When she saw her husband, Jin Zhao excitedly waved a piece of thin parchment.

"If my calculations are correct, Grandmother Ji is arriving tomorrow! She plans to visit a few merchants who work under her, but I’m guessing the real reason for her arrival is to catch Er Gege before he escapes her to his Western maritime expedition yet again!"

Ah, yes, the Ji family drama. While it was Jin Zhao who had originally planned and repeatedly announced her intentions to remain unmarried to dedicate her life to commercial endeavors, it turned out it was her older cousin and the heir to the Ji family name who ended up being stubbornly unattached. Old Madam Ji was miserable about the situation, but Ji Yao himself held no strong emotions regarding marriage; he was simply too busy. The Ji family had recently engaged in extensive commerce with several Western companies, trading lucrative mechanical clockwork and rare optical glass for the Ji family's premium southern silk fleets. It was a massive, high-stakes venture that kept Ji Yao constantly moving between the southern coastal ports and the capital, leaving him with absolutely zero time to entertain his grandmother's frantic matchmaking schemes. First Master Ji remained completely unphased by the family designs for him; he was merely twenty-six years old and still had time.

Chen Yan Yun agreed that finding the right partner – be it in politics, business, or personal life – should take time and not be rushed by societal or familial pressures. He himself had married at thirty. Even if he still occasionally regretted not recognizing his feelings toward Jin Zhao earlier, he had to admit there was no guarantee that his feisty wife would have agreed to an earlier marriage, especially considering her strict mourning period back then. It had all worked out well for them, and he wished similar happiness for Ji Yao, whenever the man decided to seek it.

Yan Yun’s wife, however, was of a completely different mind. She was absolutely certain that a young girl from her social circle, Miss Shen Qiaoxi, would be perfect for her Er Gege. She was already conspiring with her grandmother to bring them together during the upcoming Spring Festival. Chen Yan Yun knew the father and two older brothers of the Shen family well; two worked in the Ministry of Revenues and one at the Maritime Trade Bureau. Yan Yun briefly wondered if there was a calculated connection between the Ji family’s sea trade and Jin Zhao’s sudden interest in building ties with the Maritime Trade Bureau. But every time the girl’s name came up, his wife simply got excited about how perfect Miss Shen and Er Gege would be for each other, citing their shared love of adventure, navigation, and shipbuilding. Apparently, Miss Shen Qiaoxi was famous for quite the unusual set of hobbies and an eclectic knowledge base. Considering she had been introduced to Jin Zhao’s close circle by Xue Qinglan – another notorious troublemaker – Yan Yun did not doubt that First Miss Shen was a spirited lady well-matched to the character of First Master Ji.

All scheming aside, he greeted his excited wife with a tender hug and a deep, thorough kiss that left Jin Zhao weak in the knees, forcing her to grab his sleeve for stability. Yan Yun sat her back down at her table and deposited the delivery box on the side table where the teapot was steaming hot.

"I’m glad you’re enjoying your day and your plans for the festival. What else have you been doing today? How are our children behaving?"

Jin Zhao went on to tell him about the day's affairs in crisp, practical, yet exciting detail, her lighthearted mood evident. They then moved on to Chen Yan Yun. As much as he preferred to keep work talk to a bare minimum at home, he had to admit he had lost the battle of who-was-better-informed regarding the daily workings of the court. He simply let the thoughts swirling and tangling in his mind flow out, finding peace in her understanding and non-judgmental acceptance.

The night was drawing nearer when Qing Pu came in with a quiet knock on the door frame. "Lady Chen, the herbs for your bath are ready in the clean room." She trailed off at the end of the sentence, looking at Jin Zhao’s scrunched-up face.

The lady of the house let out an exasperated sigh and rose obediently, complaining in a dramatic whisper, "Honestly, I smell like a medicine counter with all the herbal infusions I take in and all over my body!"

Yan Yun caught her hand and kissed her knuckles, prompting Qing Pu to quickly look away, and said, "You smell amazing, my dear, but go take your bath. I don’t want you going to bed too late; you must be tired already."

Jin Zhao smiled at that, her mood elevating slightly. She nodded toward the delivery box wafting with the unmistakable soft, sweet smell of a sun-warmed autumn orchard – her favorite osmanthus cakes. Qing Pu took the hint immediately, picked up the box, bowed to San Ye, and walked out behind her mistress to attend her in the adjoining Jing Shi.

Yan Yun smiled, watching his wife wobble slightly on her way out, and then left for his own study to finish a few matters of official correspondence. The Grand Secretary felt inspired after conversation with his wife; he knew exactly how to draft the upcoming imperial responses.

The next sichen passed in a comfortable silence of rustling parchment and ink grinding against stone… until he heard the whistle.

Jin Zhao’s danger whistle.

—— ❖ ——

The sharp, piercing sound came directly from their bedchambers. As he sprinted down the corridor, he saw Qing Pu running frantically from the servant quarters – his wife must have retired to bed and dismissed her maid for the night, leaving her entirely alone. Terrified thoughts flew through his mind – what could possibly have breached the safety of their home?

The sight that met him was a vision of pure horror, one that would return to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

Jin Zhao was on the floor, clutching her belly, her face as white as ritual ash. Her white silk bedgown was heavily stained in a deep, expanding crimson red, the pool growing larger with every passing second. She raised pained, tearful eyes to him and croaked, her voice hoarse, "San Ye… the baby –"

Her body went entirely limp before he even hit the floor beside her. He scooped her into his arms, his voice thundering in a raw, unhinged roar. "Imperial physicians! Now! Wake everyone!"

Qing Pu sprinted from the room, screaming commands at the other servants who were rushing toward the commotion. People entered the room, asking questions, offering to help… but Yan Yun could only hold tight to his wife, paralyzed by the terrifying cold taking over her body and the barely perceptible whisper of her breath.

This could not be happening. Not his Jin Zhao. Not the lively, beautiful woman who held life by the leash and brought light wherever she went.

But it was happening...

The frantic ringing of the estate’s alarm bells eventually faded into a suffocating, clinical silence. Inside their bedchambers, the air grew heavy with the sharp, bitter tang of boiled medicinal herbs and the metallic scent of blood.

Only that morning, her beautifully rounded belly had been a source of quiet, celebratory anticipation, the faint, fluttering kicks of their unborn child – a promise of the future. Now, she lay drowning in a sudden, violent fever, her skin translucent and her breathing shallow. Tremors shook her body every now and then, but between them she lay unnaturally still.

Chen Yan Yun felt as though he had stepped into a nightmare designed specifically to strip him of his will to live. The unshakeable Pillar of the Empire was entirely gone, replaced by a man hollowed out by sheer terror. When the chief imperial physicians had arrived in a flurry of silk robes and silver needles, they had offered smooth, practiced words of reassurance, vowing they would do everything within their power to steady her pulse. Blinded by desperation, Chen Yan Yun had simply nodded, pacing the corridor like a caged animal.

Hours bled away, and she only grew worse. Her skin turned a bruising gray, and the tremors stopped – but it wasn't a peaceful development; it was the look of a body that no longer held the energy to fight the agony of pain.

"San Ye."

A low, gravelly voice broke through the buzzing panic in his mind. Old Madam Ji, who had been summoned in the dead of night, stood before him. Her old hands were trembling, but her sharp eyes were bright with a fierce, protective focus.

"Please, demand to know what remedies they are using," Grandma Ji whispered, casting a dark look toward the inner chamber. "I only heard them whispering about Bao Tai… and leaving the rest to Heaven's will. They won’t tell me more. Something is wrong."

Chen Yan Yun raised a tired gaze to Jin Zhao’s grandmother, forcing his mind to focus. Bao Tai – the traditional approach of protecting the fetus. He knew this. Years ago, when he had learned everything there was to know about childbirth to protect her, he had read of this rigid adherence in the medical texts. "Protecting the Mother and Retaining the Child" – was it truly the best they could do for her now?

The fog of panic instantly lifted from Yan Yun’s mind, replaced by a cold, lethal clarity. He strode into the chamber, his presence so imposing that the lower-ranking medical apprentices instantly fell to their knees. He cornered the chief physician by the mixing table.

"What exactly are you giving to my wife?" he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous vibration.

The old doctor swallowed hard, bowing deeply. "My Lord, the poison is highly aggressive. We are currently administering a milder, stabilizing treatment. We are attempting to harmonize her Qi in the hope of saving both the mother and the precious noble seed within her."

"Is it working?" Chen Yan Yun’s eyes narrowed, his hands clenching into fists beneath his wide sleeves. "Look at her. Is your mild remedy stopping the bleeding?"

The physician shifted his weight, his eyes darting away. "The dual pulse of a pregnant woman is incredibly complex, Grand Secretary. We are doing what we can, but ultimately... there is still the power of prayer. We must hope for a miracle from Heaven."

"A miracle?" Chen Yan Yun’s voice cracked, a terrifying flash of fury breaking through. "You possess the most advanced medical knowledge in the empire, and you are relying on hope instead of a direct anti-poison cure while my wife bleeds to death before you?"

The chief physician dropped into a full kowtow, his forehead pressing hard against the floorboards. "Grand Secretary, please understand! A more direct, aggressive antidote exists – but it is a violent purging formula. It will instantly flood her womb with heat. It will surely destroy the child. And looking at the shape of the Madam's pulse... it may very well be a son."

The implication hung heavily, suffocatingly in the air. To the traditional court physicians, a potential male heir – a continuation of the grand Chen lineage – was worth the gamble, even if it meant risking the woman’s life on the fragile whim of a miracle. To them, a wife could be replaced; a great statesman’s son and heir could not. They were too cowardly to sign the death warrant for an unborn male child of a Pillar of the State, so they had chosen to risk his wife’s life instead to protect their own necks.

"We cannot make a decision of such cosmic weight, My Lord," the physician mumbled into the floorboards. "It is up to the Grand Secretary to seek the guidance of the gods and ancestors."

Yan Yun looked from the cowering doctor to the bed where Jin Zhao lay, a fragile, fading silhouette against the heavy silk drapes.

There was no need to seek the guidance of the gods. There was no calculation to be made, no lineage to consider, no political weight to balance. There was nothing to think about at all.

Grandma Ji stepped up beside him, her hand coming to rest firmly on his slumped shoulder. Her voice was solemn, carrying the heavy, practical wisdom of a woman who had survived generations of family tragedies. "One must care for the living first, San Ye," she urged softly, her eyes resting on her granddaughter. "Childbirth is a perilous journey even in the best of times. You already have two beautiful children in the nursery. A-Ying and A-Han need their mother far more than this family needs another heir."

Yan Yun closed his eyes, a profound wave of gratitude washing over him for the old woman’s fierce, steady support. Yet, the truth was, he didn't need arguments to choose Jin Zhao. If the world required him to sacrifice his own soul to keep her breathing, he would do it without a second thought. He had never needed a reason. He needed her.

The agony tearing through him now wasn't born of indecision; it was the suffocating reality that his choice would give her a better chance to wake up – only to be crushed by the unbearable, physical heartbreak of what he had done. They both would have to live with the knowledge that he had ordered the destruction of the child they had both lovingly anticipated, the child whose movements he had felt against his own palm just this morning. To save her life, he had to inflict the deepest wound her mother’s heart would ever experience.

When he opened his eyes, the absolute, chilling authority of the Pillar of the Empire returned to his gaze, cold and unyielding. He looked down at the cowering physicians, his voice dropping to a sharp, frozen command that allowed absolutely no defiance.

"Save my wife."

—— ❖ ——

For Chen Yan Yun, the next two days were a descent into a helpless, waking hell. He stayed by her bed for hours, suspended in pain and terror, until the frantic physicians finally stepped back and the room fell into a heavy silence.

Jin Zhao lay perfectly still upon the mattress, pale and motionless, her fragile hands folded neatly over her stomach – resting over a hollow, bandaged ache where their child should have been. The image struck a devastating chord in Yan Yun’s memory. Years ago, it had been him lying broken on a bed, pale and bandaged, while she watched over him. Now, the roles were cruelly reversed.

Leaning forward with a trembling breath, Yan Yun covered her cold hands with his own. He lowered his face, resting his cheek heavily against their joined fingers. The crushing weight of the past days finally broke through his cold facade. Silent, hot tears rolled down his face, spilling over his eyelashes to fall steadily onto her skin.

The warmth of his tears seemed to reach her across the dark threshold. Slowly, agonizingly, Jin Zhao’s eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze was distant at first, but as it focused on his tear-stained face, a ghost of her familiar, strong spirit returned to her eyes.

"What's with all the crying?" she whispered, her voice barely a scratch against the silence.

Yan Yun lifted his head, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at her. With trembling fingers, he reached out to gently cup her pale cheek. Jin Zhao leaned slightly into the warmth of his palm, her eyes holding his with the absolute, fierce promise that had always held their family together. She was a woman forged in many fires who refused to let tragedy claim her life.

"Don't worry," she breathed, forcing a weak but certain smile to her lips as she looked into his shattered soul. "I won't die."

The exact words pierced through his grief, carrying a sudden, sharp clarity that made his heart arrest. He remembered. After the staged assassination attempt years ago – a dangerous ploy Chen Yan Yun had orchestrated himself, yet it had still nearly cost him his life – he had woken to her tears in this exact manner. Now, as she lay pale and bleeding from a tragedy she had never asked for, her repetition of those exact words was both a tender reassurance and a quiet reprimand. She was reminding the Pillar of the Empire that they had survived the worst of political gambles thrown at them, and she would survive this pain, too.

—— ❖ ——

For her recovery, they moved from their central capital residence back to the old Chen Mansion, as it allowed for more seclusion from prying eyes and more space for Jin Zhao's physical treatments. Jin Zhao pulled through, and her life was again a blessed certainty, but the light had left her eyes, replaced by a hollow, crushing depression.

Seeking peace and a reprieve from the suffocating whispers of the capital, Chen Yan Yun took an extended leave from his high office. The Emperor took the highly unprecedented step of visiting their household in person, arriving entirely unannounced so as not to burden the grieving family with protocol and preparations. Old Madam Chen almost fainted on the spot when the arrival of the imperial retinue at their main gate was announced, but the Grand Secretary merely straightened his simply adorned house robe and went to meet the guest of the highest esteem.

After offering formal greetings and expressing his deep wishes for Jin Zhao to regain her strength and life spark, the Emperor requested a separate, private audience with his Pillar of the State, leaving the residence swiftly thereafter. The news of the Emperor’s personal visit spread fast and wide across the capital, heightening the Chen family's status beyond that of mere statesmen to that of personal friends of the Dragon Throne. No one was surprised when Chen Yan Yun’s peaceful retreat with his family was formally announced. The Pillar of the State taking a glorified medical sabbatical was highly irregular, especially since it was decreed over an illness affecting a family member rather than the lord himself. Yet, a chosen few, including the Emperor himself, knew that Chen Yan Yun was in no state to govern. In the state of mind the Grand Secretary was in, his governance might turn exceptionally dangerous, exceptionally fast.

Chen Yan Yun didn’t actually feel destructive at that point in his life. But that was exactly what the Emperor needed to hear to release him from his duties temporarily, so that was what the Grand Secretary had told him during their private audience.

He moved his family to their secluded estate near the Baoxian Temple, where the air was thick with incense, prayer, and the quiet rustle of ancient pines. There, surrounded by the shining, unbridled love of her children and the quiet devotion of her husband, Jin Zhao began the agonizingly slow process of stitching her soul back together through meditation and spiritual refuge.

There were long walks alongside the riverbanks as the earth woke to the arrival of spring… the xun’s melancholic, deep sound telling their sad story to the wind… Yan Yun holding Jin Zhao through nights of silent weeping, until her tears ran completely dry… careful, gentle touches that carried warmth and acceptance but asked for nothing more. And most importantly – love. A love that connected them across the threshold of death and allowed them to hold each other toward the light.

And Jin Zhao… however impossible it had felt to her months prior… was healing. She began arranging flowers in vases again. Choosing her outfits for the morrow. Giving instructions to Qing Pu to be delivered to her various businesses when situations demanded interaction. Telling bedtime stories to her children. Holding her husband’s hand and enveloping him in tight, soul-deep hugs. Being there, being with them, being herself.

—— ❖ ——

One day, a few weeks into their seclusion at Baoxian Temple, an unassuming figure in black arrived at their doorstep, carrying a single, short message: “It was the osmanthus cakes. We have everything ready. Awaiting your command.”

That night, once the children were safely tucked away and Jin Zhao was reading historical texts – which seemed to calm her mind – Chen Yan Yun entered their room fully dressed for travel, complete with a sword strapped to his hip. Jin Zhao looked up at him questioningly.

He bent a knee before her. In his hands, Yan Yun held a familiar wooden box, offering it to his wife.

"When we wed, I promised you freedom – from me, should you ever want it, and from my deeds, should you ever need it. Now, in return, I am asking you for a freedom of my own. Just this one night, release me from being the man you deserve – an upright, honorable statesman – and let me be the man I need to be tonight." He bowed his head, not daring to look at her.

Jin Zhao could have asked questions. She could have forbidden him from going. He would have answered her questions, and he would have obeyed her command. Instead, she looked at him with absolute trust.

"Go. As long as you promise to come back to us, go."

Yan Yun stood up, nodded, and left the room without looking back. The time for destruction had finally arrived.

—— ❖ ——

Utilizing his vast, shadowy network of the Ye Shadow Guards, Chen Yan Yun unraveled the thread of the conspiracy with terrifying, razor-sharp efficiency. He tracked down every single hand involved in the plot, from the wealthy noblemen who financed it to General Feng Baian himself.

Before the bloodbath began, Yan Yun knelt before his seventeen-year-old sovereign. He placed his official seal of office upon the imperial desk, offering his formal resignation so that the incoming storm would never stain the reputation of the crowned Emperor or the dynasty he ruled. For he could not allow the conspirators the mercy of a public trial. He needed to end them himself.

The young Emperor, who was always wise beyond his years, looked upon his shattered, fiercely loyal mentor. He reviewed the gathered evidence, finding not just a domestic poisoning, but a treasonous coup in the making. The Emperor knew that a public execution would serve as a grand, chilling warning to the rest of the court, but it would never bring closure to the bleeding soul of the man who held up his empire.

Rejecting the resignation, the Emperor slid the jade seal back into Chen Yan Yun’s hands, accompanied by a secret, golden scroll – an Absolution Edict. A mandate of heaven authorizing the Grand Secretary to carry out a secret verdict of execution by any means necessary.

The vengeance that followed was quick, silent, and absolute.

Chen Yan Yun did not use diplomacy; he did not use honest politics. Armed with the supreme authority of the Dragon Throne, he unleashed the Ye Shadow Guard, transforming the elite capital investigators into an unholy instrument of retribution. Moving through the midnight streets like the Night Shadows they were, the black-robed agents systematically sealed the estates of the conspirators, cutting off escape routes and slitting the throats of watchmen before a single alarm could be raised.

Yan Yun himself moved through the night carnage like a shadow reaper, staining his own hands with the blood of the men who had dared to touch his wife. When the last throat was cut and General Feng Baian's entire faction was completely erased from the mortal world, the Grand Secretary reported back to his sovereign. He buried his blood-stained robes, dismissed the shadow guard back into the darkness of the capital, and returned to the temple retreat as if he had never left.

He never spoke a word of the slaughter to Jin Zhao.

Yet, Jin Zhao was no ordinary noblewoman. Months later, as her spirit healed and she began to quietly check the capital’s records of social gossip, she noticed the sudden, simultaneous "accidental deaths" and "sudden fatal illnesses" that had wiped out Feng Baian and his entire circle during her absence. She looked at the timeline, looked at her husband, and understood everything.

She never questioned him.

Instead, she simply watched him in the quiet afternoons at the temple. She saw the heavy, dark violence that now seeped out of his soul, manifesting in the sharp, turbulent brushstrokes of his ink paintings. She knew that this naturally peaceful man would be haunted by the blood he had spilled, but she also knew exactly why he had spilled it.

With patience, love, and a deep, unspoken understanding, Jin Zhao hoped to reach into the dark to pull her husband back, hoping beyond reason that his soul was reaching back to her as well.

—— ❖ ——

The days were getting longer and hotter, yet her husband always came home only when darkness completely shrouded the corridors of the Chen residence, and his side of the bed would be long cold by the time Jin Zhao woke. If it weren’t for Qing Pu's quiet reports, Jin Zhao would have thought her husband had not slept in their bed at all.

But he did. He would come home late, spend time watching their children sleeping peacefully in their chambers under the watchful eyes of their attendants, and then slip into their marital bed to hold his wife’s warm body through the night – only to retreat before Jin Zhao had a conscious chance to return the embrace. It was like years ago when heavy court work kept him away – no, the reason now was far too complicated and difficult to solve by simply buying a neighboring house. No amount of property could lift the mountain of guilt Yan Yun was carrying, and Jin Zhao was getting desperate.

She tried arranging for his favorite foods to be sent to his daily meals, hoping to spark his appetite; the delivery was returned barely touched. Jin Zhao left him short notes detailing their children’s daily antics; he responded with polite, detached words. She tried to meet him at his late-night arrivals and seduce him into her waiting touch; he remained respectful, profoundly loving, but still distant.

Having exhausted all her usual feminine methods and subtle tricks, Jin Zhao resolved to the last remaining option. She knew it would be painful, but a momentary shock was nothing compared to the self-inflicted penance San Ye was forcing upon their family.

The next day, a box arrived at the desk of the Grand Secretary directly from his private residence. His secretary suggested that it must be more sweets from the Linxia Studio, but the Grand Secretary only pressed his lips tight and dismissed his staff with a silent wave of his hand. He knew this box all too well.

It took another ke for the Grand Secretary to storm through the gates of his home and directly into his wife’s study. He dismissed the staff as he passed through the inner doors, ordering everyone to not disturb his conversation with his wife for anything short of a foreign invasion or a natural disaster of country-wide proportions. The maids and attendants bowed respectfully and hurried away, fearful of this highly unusual display of anger from their usually collected master.

But Yan Yun was far from collected now. Once he entered his wife’s study and closed the doors tightly shut, he all but slammed the box onto her table, hissing, "A Letter of Harmonious Separation? Again, Jin Zhao?!"

Jin Zhao looked up calmly from her ledgers and shrugged. "Well, it seems to be the only means of communication that secures me an audience with the Grand Secretary, so…"

"You sent me a signed document of separation just to get me to talk?" Yan Yun continued fuming, his breath ragged.

His wife stood up and relocated to the sofa by the windows overlooking the inner garden. She looked outside, collecting her thoughts. She had practiced what she wanted to say, but in this moment, her planned speech abandoned her, leaving only raw hurt and loneliness.

Jin Zhao looked back at her husband. His face was ashen with an exhaustion he forced upon himself, his body noticeably leaner, his robes in slight disarray. She wanted to remain angry with him, but she couldn’t. Not when San Ye was so much more furious with himself than she ever could be.

Jin Zhao’s broken whisper finally brought him back from the brink of despair. "You promised. You asked me to let you go – and I did. You promised to come back to me, to us – and you didn’t. Why, San Ye?"

Why? Why?! Yan Yun approached and stood frozen in front of her sitting figure, his gaze averted to the floorboards as he replied, "Because I do not deserve you. I know it pains you to look at me, for my very presence reminds you of what I did, what I let happen…"

"I couldn’t care less about what happened to those conspirators and what –"

"Not them," Yan Yun interrupted, his voice dropping to a harsh, cracked whisper. "Him. What I did to our son."

The silence that followed was deafening as they both processed what had finally been spoken aloud. After many agonizingly long moments, Jin Zhao stretched out her hand in a firm command, leaving Yan Yun no room to disobey. She dragged him down to sit beside her on the sofa, though he still did not dare to meet her eyes. Her imposing, all-powerful husband looked completely folded in on himself, and it physically hurt her to see him like this – so defeated, so entirely lost.

Jin Zhao held his hand tightly, sensing it was the only anchor connecting them right now. She tried to offer him more. "San Ye, our son… was not your fault. You cannot blame yourself for his loss."

He responded weakly, "It was I who told them to save you… and not him."

Jin Zhao immediately retorted, "And it was I who ate those osmanthus cakes. I did think they tasted slightly different, but I assumed it was because everything smelled of herbal infusions around me and I –"

Her husband finally raised his voice, turning to her. "You didn't know!"

"And did you know?" she parried instantly, her gaze piercing. "Were you certain that their mild Bao Tai concoctions would save both of us? Years ago, when Yun Xiang was poisoned, my father requested the physicians to save his unborn son at all costs – and he lost both the mother and the child in the end. Would you have risked that gamble with my life?"

The blood froze in Yan Yun’s veins, and a tremor passed through him as he encountered the ghost of that specific memory. He remembered that long-ago investigation that had first brought them together – the poisoning of her father’s concubine, a woman who had bled out and died from the exact same calculated cruelty. How was that even a choice?

"No, I would not have allowed it," Yan Yun admitted hoarsely, his jaw tightening. "But you see, Jin Zhao, that is exactly why you must hate me. Every danger that has darkened your life is because of me. Every loss and every pain you have experienced since you agreed to become my wife is because of me. In our early discussions of the pros and cons of our marriage, I failed miserably to let you know how your life would be filled not only with rigid court rules and social limitations, but also with this. My negligence in recognizing Feng Baian's threat for what it was cost us our son. I do not think you should have me as your husband. You were right to sign the separation paper."

Yan Yun turned away to withdraw his hand, but Jin Zhao refused to let him go. She realized his pain and guilt ran far deeper than she had initially estimated; it had seeped downward, tinting every single trouble they had ever faced as a failure entirely on his part.

Ultimately, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Seeing how his parents had placed the crushing burden of the Chen family onto the shoulders of a barely grown boy and let him carry that weight for the rest of his life, San Ye had developed an overly agonizing sense of responsibility, far too quick to claim every fault as his own. That simply would not do.

"San Ye, look at me. Please," Jin Zhao asked softly.

Incapable of denying her almost anything, her husband complied. His dark eyes were pained yet intensely resolute. Yan Yun was fully prepared to cast himself out to spare her further danger – and to punish himself for his failure to keep that danger away.

Jin Zhao stood up and picked up the wooden box he had thrown onto the floor earlier. The corner was cracked and the opening latch was stuck from the impact, so it took her a moment to force it open. Yan Yun’s eyes followed her every movement, carefully assessing.

Finally, having retrieved the piece of crumpled parchment containing the He-Li Shu, Jin Zhao moved toward the bronze copper hand-warmer standing on her desk. She removed the pierced lattice lid, dropped the document of their separation directly onto the glowing fruitwood charcoal, and snapped the lid shut. The parchment vanished into gray ash silently, with zero visible flame escaping the metal box.

Jin Zhao walked back to him in slow, careful steps, as if approaching a wounded animal. And he was one.

"San Ye, I made a conscious choice to marry you. A choice to bear our children. And as many pieces of that damned separation nonsense as you send my way, I will use every single one of them to light the fire and keep us warm. I do not fault you for the perils of your office, for I know the work you do is for the safety and prosperity of our country – but also for our family’s future. I am far too smart to pretend I didn't know what I was marrying into. I saw the scars on your body years ago; I saw you eliminate the enemies of the state – I knew. And I need you to know, and to trust me, that I chose this. I chose you. I chose us."

Yan Yun’s eyes shone with unshed tears, but something else broke through the darkness. Hope.

He made one last, valiant attempt to shoulder the blame. "But… our son…"

Jin Zhao placed her fingers gently over his lips, silencing the self-imposed penance. "Our son was the victim of cruel, terrible people. The gods will take care of his soul. I am at peace with that, and I wish, more than anything, that you can find that peace too. Please, San Ye, come back to us. We need you far more than the darkness you carry with you. Let it go. Come back."

With that, the dam of sorrow finally broke. Yan Yun collapsed against the side of the sofa, burying his face into her welcoming embrace as he wept his pain away. Jin Zhao held him tightly – this brilliant, grieving Pillar of the State and the father of her children – whispering kind words of love and forgiveness into his hair, kissing his forehead, and stroking his back in a soothing, rhythmic motion. She willed her own life force back into him, feeling him respond as his hold around her waist tightened more and more.

By the time the first rays of the morning sun announced the arrival of a new day, her husband had finally found his way back home.

In the days to come, through the quiet, ordinary art of their shared life, the dark spirits slowly faded away. The man who returned to the court was, once more, entirely her loving husband and the father of their children.

—— ❖ ——

The Wenyuan Library was supposed to be a sanctuary of imperial history – both the past already recorded and the one currently in the making, a place of great endeavors executed in the name of an even greater nation. Alas, tonight the Grand Secretary, Chen Yan Yun, was less concerned with the affairs of said great state and far more preoccupied with using the space to hide from unsolicited interference. Specifically, the urge to commit direct physical violence against any number of his so-called esteemed colleagues.

Chen Yan Yun sat beneath the dimming candlelight of his private study, massaging the bridge of his nose. Spread across his mahogany desk was an official scroll from the Ministry of Rites and Clan Affairs. As Grand Secretary of the Hall of Central Extreme, the entire imperial bureaucracy fell under his duty of care, yet he felt a distinct sense of his shortcoming for having failed to imprint any semblance of professional integrity onto his subordinates. Specifically, those overseeing the seemingly simple, scholastic task of suggesting names for newborns. Specifically, his own newborn son.

When A-Ying was born, the Chen family had followed the standard, time-honored approach: officially informing the Ministry of their joyful news and humbly requesting their guidance to select a name that befit the stature and history of their lineage. Be it by divine intervention or sheer luck, the Ministry had returned with Chen Xinying – a beautiful, hopeful name, perfectly fit for the miracle of her birth following the darkest period of their lives. Chen Yan Yun had accepted the offering with genuine gratitude and happily added his firstborn to the family tree.

But in the months and years that followed, something changed imperceptibly – and most likely, it was entirely Chen Yan Yun’s fault.

For one, he had ascended to Grand Secretary of the Hall of Central Extreme and Grand Preceptor to the Crown Prince. Those who worked alongside him, and even those who worked against him, recognized that these titles were forged from Chen Yan Yun’s relentless hard work and merit. But those looking into the dimly lit world of court politics from the outside saw only the most obvious veneer: that he was the youngest person on record to hold such high office. To them, it was a blatant sign of the Emperor’s supreme favor, marking him as a man destined to rise evermore in power and influence. It was not at all clear to Yan Yun what further power he could possibly hold when the only individual above him was the Emperor himself – and he certainly did not want that job. Still, a palpable cloud of envy and sycophancy followed him wherever he walked, and he simply had to live with it.

The other blameworthy factor was the sheer scale of the reforms his office had launched across the empire, backed by the full support of the Emperor and like-minded ministers. Lessons carved from previous political failures and the meticulous records left by Fu Hai Lian had taught them that certain surgical changes had to be executed all at once, sparing the nation the prolonged, gradual pains of a drawn-out transition. Thus, the master plan of reform unfolded like a wide, colorful fan, sweeping through trade guilds, production lines, land rights, harvest taxes, and even foreign diplomacy.

Naturally, this required an immense mobilization of government manpower. At its peak, officials were reassigned overnight because their specialized skills were desperately needed elsewhere – and no one knew if the next sudden directive would land on their own desk tomorrow. It had been an administrative nightmare for Chen Yan Yun, but after countless sleepless nights spent over personnel records – complemented by insightful advice from Jin Zhao, whose vast experience running skills-based enterprises proved invaluable – he had made those chaotic organizational charts make sense.

The dust had finally settled over the government quarter. The brain drain was still glaringly obvious in certain ministries, but the Grand Secretary hoped those structural gaps were merely temporary, destined to be filled naturally by the fresh crop of young scholars emerging from the next round of imperial examinations.

Apparently, he had been overly optimistic. Either the crop was exceptionally thin, or the Ministry of Rites and Clan Affairs had taken it upon themselves to recruit individuals skilled in one discipline alone: servility.

Either way, as the man who had caused the mass exodus of seasoned officials to more critical posts – and the one who had created that structural need in the first place – Chen Yan Yun knew the blame for this current absurdity would land squarely on his shoulders. His fiercely intelligent wife would undoubtedly connect the exact same dots. Therefore, he needed to neutralize the situation before it ever reached her courtyard. With how fast she’d acquired information, he had precious little time to do so.

The emergency at hand, which kept the Grand Secretary huddled in his private study long past midnight, was his newborn son’s name. This should have been a standard academic exercise for the Ministry: providing an elegant, traditionally compliant name for the male heir of a noble house. The task had gone without a hitch the first time, had it not?

Oh, no. Not this time.

From what he could gather from the scrolls unrolled across his desk, the court scholars – desperate to secure favor with the most powerful man in the dynasty besides the Emperor – had turned a sacred cultural tradition into a circus of shameless flattery.

Chen Yan Yun looked down at the list of proposed names and winced. Chen Tianyou, which translated grandiosely to "God-Given Savior of the Nation," implying the infant was a divine messiah dropped from the heavens to rescue the realm. Rescue it from what? Next was Chen Shengde, or "Paragon of Supreme Virtue and Divinity," a name so aggressively righteous it read like an inscription on a living temple monument. And finally, Chen Guodong – "The Divine Pillar of the Realm's Destiny."

"He is two weeks old," Yan Yun muttered to the shadowed rafters, his voice dripping with dry exasperation. "Currently, his exploits are limited to crying, sleeping, and soiling his swaddling clothes. Then repeating the cycle. He is not a divine monument."

The absolute hypocrisy of these people! Disgruntled scholars who whispered to anyone willing to listen that Chen Yan Yun was 'too young' to carry the weight of the nation – defining 'too young' by the fact that Chen Yan Yun, at thirty-two, was the same age or younger than many of his subordinates – now wished to burden his infinitely younger infant son with the cosmic responsibilities of a 'paragon,' a 'pillar,' and a 'savior.' The irony was staggering.

Refusing to let his son become a political caricature before the boy could even lift his own head, Chen Yan Yun pushed the ridiculous scrolls aside. He called out to his personal manservant, ordering a steaming bowl of bird’s nest soup laced with imperial ginseng, to be followed by a fresh pot of whisked Wuyi rock tea and the jujube and walnut cakes his wife had introduced to him years ago. That particular combination of high-energy sustenance caffeine ought to carry him through the dawn. He had a war to wage. If the bureaucracy refused to provide the diligence and meaning he required, the Grand Secretary would simply outsmart the bureaucracy.

Chen Yan Yun dipped his brush into the fresh ink, pulled a stack of classical poetry texts toward his ledger, and went to work...

This was not the first time the Chen household had been forced to deploy high-level tactical maneuvers for the sake of their nursery. In fact, the precedent had been set two and a half years prior, only a month after the birth of their daughter, A-Ying.

At the time, Chen Yan Yun had been urgently summoned to the northern borders to command a semi-military campaign aimed at eradicating the volatile, lingering remnants of the Chunyuan Sect, which had managed to rally its strength one final time. Normally, such an expedition would not require the personal deployment of a high-ranking civil official – as his wife kept reminding him in a thoroughly disgruntled tone, with heavy emphasis on the word 'civil' – but it was a specially delicate political crisis. Because Chen Yan Yun held the vital intelligence required to safely neutralize the rising threat, he had no choice but to manage the frontier containment personally.

Before his departure, Yan Yun had promised a worried Jin Zhao repeatedly that he would return in one piece, emphasizing that this frontier excursion carried none of the mortal dangers of their past. Eventually, she conducted her own overt intelligence gathering to verify the threat level and the support level – and Qing Pu was immensely pleased to confirm to her mistress that Lord Chen had the full, crushing might of the newly minted Ye Sword Guard at his back. This elite twenty-thousand-man legion was the reformed, fiercely loyal heart of the old Ye Army, meticulously rebuilt by Yan Yun to honor the late Marquis's military merits and ensure his former rival's ultimate battlefield sacrifice was never forgotten by the empire. Reassured by their strength, Jin Zhao finally made peace with the deployment and sent her still-very-civilian husband off to his military campaign. She silently wondered if there would ever come a day when she could stop cataloging new scars on his gorgeous body. Oh, well... at least her San Ye would permanently eliminate the danger, ensuring their daughter would never grow up in a world where her future and freedom were left unpromised.

Poor, naive Jin Zhao.

Little did she know, the true danger was lurking much closer to home. It did not take the shape of a grand political conspiracy (boring), a cut-throat business battle (bring it on!), or even the standard domestic malice of evil-eyed concubines (of which their loving monogamous estate had none). No, this time, the threat emerged from within the inner courts – from her very own mother-in-law.

As San Ye had honestly told her soon after their wedding, his mother was fundamentally not a bad person. Snobbish, yes; prone to excessive gossip to dispel her aristocratic boredom, definitely; but malicious, no. However, he had conveniently forgotten to mention that she was also a shameless cheat at the mahjong table (and a terribly clumsy one at that), an impossibly picky eater, and resolutely not a morning person – why the woman insisted on mandatory morning greeting rituals when they clearly pained her more than anyone else in the family remained entirely beyond Jin Zhao’s comprehension. Above all else, the Dowager Madam Chen was exceptionally fragile in the face of societal expectations, high-society trends, and rigid traditions. Sometimes her obsession manifested as a sudden journey to a fashionable new tea house for ginseng cakes she wouldn't even eat; other times, it involved resurrecting an obscure, long-abandoned ritual simply because Lady Wu, a great friend to the Empress Dowager, was practicing it. And it was always demanded 'just because I said so – and immediately!'

Jin Zhao usually made a conscious effort to indulge the Chen Matriarch, out of profound respect for the woman’s lifelong friendship with her own Grandmother Ji, and out of deep love for San Ye. But this time, Madam Chen had crossed a sacred boundary. She had crossed the nursery line.

Four days after San Ye departed for the north, Jin Zhao woke to a beautiful, crisp morning in an exceptionally bright mood, having managed to sleep for two consecutive shíchén – a rare, absolute luxury for the mother of an infant. A-Ying’s nǎimā was performing her duties flawlessly, keeping the night feedings quiet and efficient, yet Jin Zhao’s maternal instincts always pulled her awake at the softest stirrings of her baby so she could rock her back to sleep whenever possible.

Jin Zhao dressed swiftly with the assistance of her lady's maid, right in time for Qing Pu to arrive with the latest correspondence from the frontier. San Ye’s letter was brief – likely scribbled during a hasty recess to water the cavalry horses – but it was filled with warmth, a deep longing for his favorite ladies, and firm promises to remain safe and return swiftly. Thoroughly satisfied, Jin Zhao kissed her sleeping beauty, gathered a few trade records she intended to review after her formal duties, and walked toward the Matriarch's central reception hall, making sure to arrive well before Madam Chen herself.

To her utter surprise, the Matriarch – the most notoriously not-a-morning-person Jin Zhao knew – was already seated in the main hall. Furthermore, she was joined by an unfamiliar lady seated prominently at the head of the room, directly beside Madam Chen. In the absence of the Chen masters, that specific seat of honor was legally reserved for the next highest-ranking family member: Jin Zhao. The fact that her designated seat had been casually offered to this stranger signified that the guest either possessed an immense imperial rank or shared a long personal history with the Matriarch. Given that Jin Zhao was intimately familiar with every powerful clan in the capital, the second option was far more likely – this was an old friend who had arrived in the ungodly, early hours of the morning.

Madam Chen was chirping away excitedly, entirely missing Jin Zhao’s entrance until the younger woman approached the dais to perform her filial bow and offer the morning tea. The Matriarch inclined her head regally, accepting the teacup only to set it aside without taking a single sip. A pity, Jin Zhao thought, it was an exquisite vintage recently procured for Linxia Studio.

"Gu Jin Zhao, pay your respects to Madam Lin," Madam Chen announced in a tone far too cheerful for the hour. "She is my oldest, most trusted confidante! Madam Lin, this is my daughter-in-law. The Grand Secretary married her nearly a year ago now."

Jin Zhao bowed with flawless etiquette, presenting a fresh cup of tea to the guest. Madam Lin nodded in tepid appreciation, her calculating gaze systematically inspecting Jin Zhao’s appearance.

"Pray tell," Madam Lin inquired, her high-pitched voice grating slightly against the morning quiet, "which of the Gu gentlemen is your father? I do not believe we have met, and I pride myself on knowing every noble lady of standing within the capital walls."

Before Jin Zhao could offer a measured reply, the Matriarch interjected with an almost apologetic wave of her hand. "Gu De Zhao is her father. Her maternal lineage is of the merchant class; she was not residing in the capital when you departed for your temporary seclusion and peaceful study in the mountain temple last year. She is... new."

Madam Lin nodded slowly along with the introduction, letting out a non-committal, throaty hum paired with a distinctly disappointed downward turn of her lips. Jin Zhao was entirely unaccustomed to being inspected like a prize filly at a horse market rather than a peer, but she chose to maintain her composure. She was still recovering from childbirth and recognized that her emotions were high-strung; perhaps she was merely hunting for contempt where none existed.

Taking her seat nearest to Madam Chen, Jin Zhao waited for the daily household instructions. The elderly women, however, paid her no further mind, diving back into a year’s worth of high-society gossip. As their conversation dissolved into useless blabber, Jin Zhao’s mind began to grow numb. She entertained herself by mentally drafting her daily to-do lists, eager to return to the nursery to hold her daughter, who had likely awakened by now.

Just as Jin Zhao prepared to rise gracefully to excuse herself – having remained for a highly respectable duration to satisfy the laws of filial piety – Madam Chen turned to her with renewed excitement.

"Madam Lin encountered many esteemed scholars and holy ascetics during her quiet cultivation," the Matriarch said smoothly. "She has offered to recommend a highly sought-after master to cast a fortune reading for Chen Xinying, so that we may share the auspicious charts with our social circle. Madam Lin stresses that it is absolutely necessary we execute this immediately, so we may ascertain what omens your daughter brings to our lineage, and determine if we must commission protection rituals for the estate. She notes that firstborn daughters frequently carry a highly volatile, difficult destiny for a noble clan – quite unlike the stability ensured had you managed to produce a male heir."

Jin Zhao nearly dropped back into her chair, held upright only by a sudden, seizing bolt of cold fury. This arrogant vixen actually dared to imply to her foolish, impressionable mother-in-law that newborn A-Ying might be a harbinger of doom simply because she was not born a boy? And Madam Chen was actually considering subjecting San Ye’s cherished firstborn to the archaic, predatory practice of birth-chart fortune telling – the very same corrupt custom that had nearly cost Jin Zhao her own future and freedom?

Madam Lin nodded assertively, smoothing the heavy silk of her sleeve. “As you well know, my dear friend, I have been blessed to grant my husband three sons, each of whom has brought honor to our line and carried our ancestral name with absolute dignity. Lest some unseen misfortune befall your own household in these uncertain times, I would be utterly devastated to know it was within my power to steer you right, yet I remained silent. Therefore, I must insist you allow me to introduce certain trusted masters to your courtyard. They will ensure your home is cleansed of stagnant energy, and firmly ward off any ill destiny that may already be lingering upon your threshold.”

She cast a pointed, lingering look at Jin Zhao, making it entirely clear to the room that the 'bad destiny' currently occupying the threshold was none other than the merchant-class daughter-in-law and her female child.

Jin Zhao was seeing absolute red. Behind her chair, Qing Pu let out a low, warning whimper; by all accounts, metaphorical smoke was practically billowing from her mistress's ears. For a brief, glorious moment, Jin Zhao considered throwing decorum to the wind and smacking the smug, patronizing expression right off the old woman's face – and Jin Zhao was historically famous for her remarkably effective slaps. However, the image of her husband’s high office and the profound dignity of the Chen name made her hesitate. She refused to grant this woman the satisfaction of proving her toxic assumptions right regarding Jin Zhao’s upbringing.

She was vastly superior to this woman and her entire mediocre clan. If her memory served her right, all three of the Lin masters, despite their maternal boasting, were utterly stagnant, unremarkable figures within the imperial bureaucracy. And this was the stellar template of 'good fortune' this old woman dared to brandish? The sheer audacity!

Jin Zhao exhaled slowly. Once. Twice. Three times. By the fifth exhale, when the two older women began to glance at her with a flicker of unease, Jin Zhao rose with picture-perfect grace, inclining her head by a fraction of an inch – the precise, calculated angle befitting the true lady of a Grand Secretary's household. She addressed her mother-in-law, ignoring the guest entirely.

"Mother, I must excuse myself to oversee the morning household accounts and return to my daughter. I shall attend to you during afternoon tea, where we may discuss the parameters of the fortune-reading ceremony. I shall require your wise guidance, as this is my firstborn and I admit I am entirely unfamiliar with the nuances of the custom." (Other than being cast out of my ancestral home because of it, Jin Zhao added silently and bitterly.)

Madam Chen blinked, slightly puzzled by her daughter-in-law’s entirely serene, compliant demeanor – she had clearly been bracing for a dramatic opposition, or at least some semblance of it. She inclined her head, dismissing her. Jin Zhao did not grace Madam Lin with a farewell glance, turning smoothly on her heel and exiting the hall.

The moment they reached the privacy of the outer corridor, Jin Zhao fired off a string of rapid, quiet instructions. Qing Pu nodded sharply, sprinting down a side corridor to set the gears of a counter-strategy into motion. Reaching the nursery doors, Jin Zhao paused, practicing a final breathing exercise, letting the sight of the familiar ornate wood calm her racing pulse. Her daughter, whom she had sworn to protect above all earthly things, was the only priority. For A-Ying, Jin Zhao would remain unshakeable, poised, and radiant. Calling up a warm, genuine smile to her lips, she slipped into the room to shower kisses onto the plump, rosy cheeks and tiny fingers of her beautiful child. Within these walls, life was perfect.

Seven days later, deep within the harsh confines of the northern frontier guard station where the imperial detachment was encamped, Chen Yan Yun received a confidential dispatch from his personal advisor. He had tasked the man with monitoring his estate – both through open administration and covert surveillance – to ensure no domestic hardships befell his family during his deployment. Chen Yan Yun knew Jin Zhao was more than capable of commanding an empire on her own, let alone a household, but a primal part of his soul required the tangible reassurance of a written report.

This time, his paranoia proved entirely justified.

According to Jiang Yan’s report, his mother – manipulated by an old friend who had recently emerged from who knows where and for who knows what reason – had proposed an immediate fortune-telling ritual for his daughter to ward off an imaginary threat of family misfortune. Appallingly, his mother had even utilized his current border deployment as leverage, arguing that the ceremony was desperately needed to protect his life from frontier dangers.

Yan Yun shuddered, an icy wave of anger washing over him as he realized the intense psychological pain this scheme must have inflicted on his wife, given her traumatic history with birth-chart manipulation. His brave, brilliant sunshine of a wife did not deserve to be forced into the trenches with the demons of her past entirely alone while simultaneously shielding their newborn – yet again.

He wanted, with a fierce desperation, to materialize beside her, to draw his power against this superstitious idiocy, and to lock his ladies safely within his arms. But geography was a resolute enemy; the courier scroll had taken seven days to reach his tent, and even if he rode his finest chargers to death, skipping sleep entirely, the return journey would require five days minimum. By then, it would be nearly two weeks since his mother had effectively authorized a ceremony to condemn his innocent child to the cruel imaginations of court charlatans. For a rare moment in his life, the Grand Secretary felt entirely useless.

The sole beacon of light in the text arrived in the final, single sentence penned by his advisor: “I believe, My Lord, that Your Lady has a plan.”

Despite the lingering worry, a slow smirk spread across Yan Yun’s face. His lady was on the field. If Jin Zhao could successfully mobilize the Great Dayan Army to aid his past campaigns, she could easily hold the line against his mother and every fraudulent star-reader in the capital. Jin Zhao simply did not know how to lose.

The tactical conversation between Chen ladies regarding the fortune-telling ceremony transpired the following afternoon within Madam Chen’s private quarters – and this time, the Matriarch actually drank her tea.

Jin Zhao entered carrying a stack of wood-bound texts and official registries, laying them out seamlessly before her mother-in-law. Madam Chen cast a curious, slightly weary look at the dense texts and raised a questioning brow, silently demanding her daughter-in-law explain the documents rather than forcing her to squint at the characters. In truth, Jin Zhao’s calligraphy was exceptionally crisp and beautiful, but the Dowager Madam fiercely refused to acknowledge that her eyesight was failing with age, consistently rejecting the use of reading glasses in public.

Maintaining a mask of picture-perfect poise and deferential obedience, Jin Zhao unrolled the first registry. "Mother, I took it upon myself to thoroughly investigate the most recommended fortune-telling practitioners within the capital, compiling their records for your esteemed review. This master," she indicated a character with a delicate finger, "was commissioned by the noble Gao clan to read their grandchild's destiny two weeks ago. And this master was personally selected by your dear friend, Lady Wu, to divine the fates of her three grandchildren..."

Jin Zhao continued to drone on, her tone rhythmic and entirely clinical as she listed names, dates, and familial lineages. As precisely engineered, with every consecutive reference added to the list, Madam Chen grew visibly restless, her fingers anxiously twisting the silk tassels of her robe. Eventually, her rising discomfort caught the attention of her head maid, who quietly stepped forward to offer a fresh cup of tea. Waving the servant away, the Matriarch leaned forward, her voice dropping to an anxious whine.

"Perhaps... could we not simply employ the specific master who cast the birth charts for Madam Lin’s sons? She gave him the highest praise and assured me he would attend our courtyard immediately upon her personal request."

Jin Zhao executed a flawless display of subtle distress, her eyes widening slightly as she leaned in closer, adopting a conspiratorial, hushed tone. "I have personally investigated that individual's history, Mother. With all due respect to Madam Lin’s recommendation... I am deeply concerned that our clan cannot afford to be associated with the types of fortunes he divines." She let out a heavy, theatrical sigh.

Madam Chen swallowed the gossip bait instantly, her eyes lighting up with alarm. "Why? What is wrong with his readings? She boasted that he guaranteed excellent fates for all three of her boys. The eldest is a civil official, is he not?"

Jin Zhao nodded solemnly. "Ah, yes. The First Master Lin is indeed a civil servant of the sixth rank, holding the post of Deputy Director of Bureaucracy within the Ministry of Rites. I am certain his career will stabilize... the moment the current scandal settles." She purposely left the sentence hanging in the air.

The Matriarch gasped. "A scandal? What manner of scandal?"

Jin Zhao pressed her lips together, mimicking profound sympathy for the Lin family's hardship. "Gambling, I’m afraid. He has accumulated a staggering mountain of debt."

Jin Zhao exaggerated the parameters slightly; while the eldest Lin son had indeed lost a substantial sum of silver at the tables, such vices were common among the capital's elite and rarely led to ruin. However, given his official capacity within the strictly moral Ministry of Rites, the unseemly nature of the debt made it a potent weapon.

Madam Chen let out a series of disapproving clicks against her teeth, her expression souring as she pressed further down the lineage. "And what of the other sons? Do they not enjoy the magnificent destinies Madam Lin spoke so mightily about?"

Jin Zhao smoothly supplied the intelligence Qing Pu had unearthed over the course of a single night. "Well, the Second Master Lin has achieved a commendable rank, serving as the fifth-rank Vice Magistrate of the Capital Prefecture. Regrettably, his demanding administrative duties leave him with no time to manage his private quarters. His wife is notoriously bored and has taken to entertaining a rotating court of handsome young gentlemen within her inner courtyard."

Jin Zhao felt a fleeting prickle of distaste for exposing the laundry of the unfortunate Vice Magistrate, but these were dire circumstances. The infidelity within the Lin estate was an open secret among the capital’s high-society inner circles; she was simply stunned her mother-in-law, the self-appointed chief gossiper of the quarter, had failed to connect the dots herself.

At the heavy pause, Madam Chen’s face flushed with sudden realization as she recollected the whispers she had previously dismissed. She swallowed her next question entirely.

Jin Zhao was relieved she didn't have to fabricate any ill reports regarding the final sibling; the Lin family had managed to raise one genuinely decent man despite his mother's disposition. "The Third Master Lin is a vanguard officer within the imperial cavalry. He commands immense respect from his superiors and has fought valiantly on the northern frontiers for years."

The Matriarch nodded slowly. A military career was undoubtedly honorable, but she knew all too well that a vanguard officer’s life expectancy was incredibly brief, hanging by a thread with every nomadic skirmish. It was a perilous, terrifying fate – one she would never wish upon a son of her own bloodline. It hardly qualified as the 'flawless good fortune' Madam Lin had advertised.

Jin Zhao seamlessly steered the conversation back to the ledger spread before them. "Therefore, Mother, which of these alternative masters do you propose we invite into the estate? Perhaps the one recommended by Lady Wu?"

Forced to confront the choices directly, Madam Chen lowered her voice to a shamed, anxious whisper. "I think... I am uncertain. But rumors suggest Lady Wu paid that particular master a massive bribe to manufacture an auspicious reading for her grandchildren. We cannot possibly trust the integrity of his sight."

Jin Zhao feigned a look of comedic, aristocratic horror. "Heavens! That is truly unseemly. Then should we consider this master?" She pointed to the next name. "Is he known for his virtue and clear sight?"

Madam Chen squinted at the ink, her lips quivering with immediate disgust. "Absolutely not. That charlatan presented himself at the Chao Residence and all but demanded a hefty tribute. He openly threatened that if they did not meet his price, he would publish a catastrophic, cursed reading for their newborn son throughout the capital's tea houses! Five hundred silver taels for his silence! Outrageous extortion!"

This time Jin Zhao didn’t have to fake it; she was genuinely surprised by that piece of data. Financial transactions regarding fortune tellers were nothing new to her – she routinely hired them to circulate auspicious rumors regarding feng shui to ensure her new commercial properties attracted wealthy clientele and steered public opinion to her benefit. That was a perfectly legitimate use of the trade, but she had not realized the baseline rate for aristocratic blackmail had risen so sharply. You live, you learn.

The Matriarch chewed her lip, her anxiety mounting as she looked for an escape. "Perhaps... could we not simply incentivize one of these holy masters ourselves? That is to say, with our resources..."

Jin Zhao closed the trap with utmost precision. "Oh, Mother, we cannot possibly entertain such a risk! If a whisper of such bribery ever leaked to the censorate, think of what would become of San Ye’s spotless political reputation. To be caught purchasing a fraudulent birth chart for his own daughter? The Ministry of Justice would have his head. No, it absolutely will not do."

In reality, the court would hardly blink if the wife of a Grand Secretary threw silver around to secure household peace. But the older woman looked thoroughly terrified, which was the exact psychological state Jin Zhao required. She delivered the final blow: "And what would we do if these charlatans returned year after year, demanding endless blackmail to maintain their silence?"

Madam Chen hung her head, completely defeated. "Oh, the unending trouble of it all..." Then, a desperate spark returned to her eyes. "But she is merely a daughter! We can afford to take the risk. How catastrophic can a female reading truly be? We can always commission warding rituals after the fact!"

Jin Zhao’s teeth clicked together, her voice dropping to a low, icy hiss that cut through the room. "In my own youth, when my father’s concubine paid a corrupt practitioner to attach a dark omen to my birth chart, I was banished from my ancestral home and sent to live in isolation with Grandmother Ji. Years later, it had required a grueling investigation to uncover the bribery before I was permitted to return to society."

She intentionally altered the chronological sequence of her past trauma for maximum dramatic effect, driving the emotional dagger home. Yet, instead of the maternal empathy one would expect following such a heavy confession, Madam Chen merely offered a dismissive, calculated response "Yes, but our lineage is vastly more secure than the Gu household. I am certain our family could easily manage Chen Xinying's relocation if the charts demand it."

To a Matriarch operating purely on the cold mathematics of clan survival, an isolated daughter was a minor, entirely acceptable sacrifice to preserve the wider peace. But, as a mother to her son, she should have known better. She should have known that San Ye would sooner tear the imperial capital down stone by stone before allowing his family to be fractured by the figments of a charlatan’s imagination. Jin Zhao realized, not for the first time, how fundamentally different the emotional landscape of the Chen family was compared to the unconditional love she had known under the Ji roof. San Ye had never been truly cherished in his youth, and she was fiercely resolved to provide him with a family that would fight to remain by his side – even if that meant fighting his own mother.

Suppressing her profound disappointment, Jin Zhao pivoted, offering a new, terrifying trajectory to the narrative. "And what if such a precedent is set now, Mother? What happens when I bear our future sons? What then?"

Madam Chen dismissed the notion immediately. "Impossible! No practitioner would ever dare assign a malignant fate to the male heirs of the Grand Secretary!"

Ah, there it is, Jin Zhao thought. The classic, unshakeable Madam Chen snobbery.

Playing along seamlessly, Jin Zhao widened her eyes in deep anxiety. "But Mother, San Ye’s high office is precisely why I am terrified! His political rivals within the court would pay an absolute king's ransom to attach a dark omen to our sons' lineages, or simply spread whispers that our bloodline carries a curse. No matter how deep our vaults are, we cannot outbribe the capital wealth."

Madam Chen chewed her lip raw, her confidence evaporating. "Perhaps... perhaps we shall simply skip the ritual for your future sons entirely..."

Jin Zhao immediately blocked the exit, her voice heavy with manufactured despair. "That would violate all decorum, Mother. If we hold a grand ceremony for A-Ying now, high society will surely anticipate and demand an even grander reading for any sons I bear. The sons of the Grand Secretary – the entire court will be watching with bated breath."

To sell the performance, Jin Zhao allowed her hands to tremble, looking down at her lap with a fragile, broken posture. She bit her lip and sighed heavily, though she failed to summon actual tears. "I must practice my theatrical flair in the mirror later", she noted internally.

While Jin Zhao calculated her future acting endeavors, Madam Chen was locked in a fierce internal conflict. Finally, slamming her hand onto the table, she made her final decision. "I have decided! We shall skip the ritual entirely. No, we shall make it a public point of pride that the Chen clan skips such archaic practices, entrusting our family’s destiny directly to the gods above, rather than earthly star-readers! Yes, that is the path we will take! I have decreed it!"

Jin Zhao expertly masked her victorious smile behind a look of profound, filial awe. "Oh, Mother, what a remarkably elegant, wise resolution. I am incredibly fortunate to have your brilliant mind to steer our household right. With your permission, I shall ensure this directive is appropriately circulated across our elite social circles immediately, squashing any expectations of a ceremony before the gossip can take root."

In truth, high society gave absolutely no thought to whether the Chen family held the ceremony; San Ye was famously a man of modern rationality who despised superstitious clutter. But the narrative felt perfect in this moment, so Jin Zhao ran with it.

"As for Madam Lin’s advice..." Jin Zhao added softly.

The Matriarch cut her off with a dismissive, regal hand gesture. "I shall deal with Old Lady Lin myself; do not trouble your mind, child. Attend to your duties, and ensure someone delivers those delicious date cakes from Linxia Studio to my chambers. I find myself craving their sweetness fiercely this morning."

Jin Zhao withdrew with a deep, respectful bow, immediately instructing the servants to fetch her mother-in-law a spread of refined, naturally honey-sweetened delicacies that would satisfy her cravings without agitating her health – hoping the food would silence her 'brilliant' ideas for at least a week.

Crisis thoroughly averted, Jin Zhao returned to her daily duties, her daughter, and her vast responsibilities as Lady of the Chen estate. Ah, life, she thought, so beautifully unpredictable, yet so remarkably entertaining. She felt an immense urge to write a letter to the northern garrison and recount this entire battle of wits to San Ye, for he was the only man capable of truly appreciating the strategic brilliance of her maneuvers. But she quickly checked the impulse. Her husband’s relationship with his mother was built on a fragile foundation of detached filial piety, and she had no desire to strain it further. Better to let her Grand Secretary focus on his frontier campaign; Jin Zhao would command the home front. She had this completely under control.

Back in the quiet, candle-lit depths of the Wenyuan Library, Yan Yun let out a soft, echoing laugh at the memory of his wife’s historic victory. He finished tracing the final stroke of his chosen characters, blowing gently across the pristine parchment to dry the fresh ink.

He had chosen Chen Yihan. Yi for resolute, unyielding fortitude; Han to contain a quiet, broad-minded ocean of wisdom. It was a name of true, unshakeable substance – a perfect reflection of the unique, natural partnership that governed their household, completely absent of the hollow flattery manufactured by the capital.

At his core, Chen Yan Yun was a peaceful man who preferred to secure his goals through proper diplomacy and quiet politics. He had no intention of storming into the Ministry of Rites to brand them a collection of undignified fools; he was simply going to take a page from his wife's playbook and employ absolute finesse. She would undoubtedly label his planned approach as 'tricks,' but Yan Yun was not hung up on vocabulary. Whatever worked, worked.

The following morning, during a brief intermission between intensive court sessions, the Grand Secretary casually adjusted the heavy silk of his official robes and walked past a cluster of trustworthy, highly strategic officials within the naming ministry. With a practiced, invisible flick of his long sleeve, the small slip of paper containing his researched characters was seamlessly slid into the correct hands.

A day later, the Ministry of Rites officially and "impartially" presented the name Chen Yihan to the throne during a formal assembly with Chen Yan Yun in attendance. The Emperor praised the poetic elegance of the text and the sheer cosmic alignment of the characters. Chen Yan Yun graciously stepped forward, accepting the bestowed name with a perfectly straight and humble face.

When the official imperial decree was brought back to the estate, the easily swayed Madam Chen was utterly charmed by the sublime beauty of the characters. She immediately seized the scroll and carried it directly to her elite tea circles, loudly boasting to the noble ladies of the capital regarding the immense ancestral virtue of the Chen clan – arguing with absolute conviction that their family's cosmic merit was so vast, the Ministry of Rites had been divinely inspired to produce a flawless masterpiece of a name on their very first attempt.

In the peaceful, sunlit courtyard of the Chen estate, little A-Han slept soundly within his cradle. Nearby, two-and-a-half-year-old A-Ying ran joyful circles around the garden pond, chasing spotted butterflies, entirely safe from political sabotage. Jin Zhao stepped out onto the wooden veranda, handing her husband a freshly sliced, crisp pear as he watched their children play.

"San Ye," she murmured, her eyes dancing with mischievous, brilliant amusement. "I dare suggest the Ministry of Rites is exceptionally proud of their independent, unprompted wisdom."

Yan Yun took a small bite of the fruit, a rare, boyish smirk breaking through his usually impenetrable Grand Secretary facade. "The imperial bureaucracy works with absolute perfection, my love. One simply has to provide the proper guidance."

In the quietness of his study, Chen Yan Yun painted. It has long been a habit of his that went beyond scholarly requirements or even vanity need to exercise one’s talent. For him painting was about connecting to the part of himself that he keeps hidden and protected inside of him, to cajole it back to the surface for he is safe here, home.

His paintings told him what worried him, what excited him, what he needed and what he wanted. Not the Grand Secretary of the Dayan Empire, not the de-facto head of Chen Family, not the all-powerful and oh-so-looked-upon pillar of the nation… but him, Yan Yun.

Today’s painting was a waterfall. A cascade of dark, heavy ink that dropped from a great height, seething and churning at the basin with an almost angry, violent energy. And yet, beneath that chaotic surface, a quiet undercurrent seemed to guide the rush; after a short distance, the roaring torrent smoothed out, the fierce ink bleeding into a calm and majestic river that flowed peacefully between banks of lavish green hills.

Was it a metaphor for how his life has been so far and a promise of a better future? Hopefully, but doubtfully still – his life did not have an indication of getting calmer and easier any time soon. The court was as tumultuous as ever, and even with every new ally he made, and even with occasional blessing of a friend looking at things the same way as he did, the climb to nation’s peace and prosperity was still steep and treacherous. Emperor’s Edict about eradication of Chunyuan Sect have been well received and it only took few years to truly rid the country of that plague – but securing the acceptance of new reforms among noble and military families proved far more elusive. Chen Yan Yun dreaded that a part of this reluctance was on him. Many people didn’t take it easy when he rose to the highest political position in the country – the one previously occupied by his old mentor – within a year of his return from Northern Borders. He was instrumental in eradicating enemies from outside and within, he was one of very few people the Emperor truly trusted and he was very much fit for this position with his vision and energy – and yet, in eyes of many, all of this still did not cover for the fact that he was just too young. In private conversations, the Emperor mused that he was also too young to rule the nation and bringing changes to the old set ways should be a job for the young – but in open court every idea and every proposition was not won by aspirational speeches, but by facts, evidence and the sheer power of will.

And it was dangerous, nerve-racking and tiring. And in the last two years since he was appointed Grand Secretary of the Hall of Central Extreme and Grand Preceptor of the Crown Prince it has not gotten easier. So, the green hills and calm waters of his career were still far away. If he was lucky to live long enough, such calmness would only arrive with his retirement.

But the waterfall painting was still there, so alluring in its promise. Maybe it was not about before, now and after. Maybe it was about… just today? Because today, and every today for the past three years, he got to leave the vortex of the court, the dark dangerous waters of political games behind, and come back home. To his own personal peace and safety.

Chen Yan Yun smiled at the thought. For all of his life, his home was a place of responsibility, where his duty of care to Chen family, their safety and happiness, though never his own. His happiness was never a part of a plan his parents laid out for him, and with all his strong will and many life aspirations, this was the part he didn’t argue about and didn’t care much about. He married when he was supposed to marry and whom he was supposed to marry, he lived his married life comfortably unattached and carried his mourning period with appropriate grace and dignity. That is, until Gu Jin Zhao stole his lantern and lit a great fire that has consumed him ever since. Did he fall in love with her then, her being so full of life and rebellion and independence? Or during her coming-of-age ceremony when she played people around her – including him – like a dizi and he recognized her unusually sharp mind for the kindred spirit it was to his? She pushed, and pulled, and bickered, and begged, and demanded – and somewhere along the road his mind and heart attached to this unusual bright soul and refused to let go! And, thankfully, he never had to. Jin Zhao, his wife, his love and the only thing he ever wanted just for himself – she made his house a home, a safe place with calm waters.

Chen Yan Yun stood up and set aside his brush. The painting will stay on the table to dry and tomorrow he will paint something new. Now was the time for bed and he left his study turning towards their bedchambers only to be stopped by the light glowing through the paper windows across the yard – lady of the house study. And where there’s light, there’s her. Changing his course, Yan Yun approached slowly so as not to disturb the silent night that has already descended upon the city. He dismissed his manservants earlier, so it was only him in the dark corridors of Chen residence as he approached his wife’s study.

She, however, was not alone. In the quietness of her study, bent over record books, Jin Zhao was discussing something with Qing Pu in a low undertone. Their conversation was unintelligible, but Yan Yun wouldn’t have listened in even if he could hear properly – his wife’s business was hers alone and he learned years ago not to meddle unless invited. The curiosity was strong but not so much for the exact details of this late-night conversation as much as for how his wife’s mind worked, what information she processed and what schemes – small and big – she was cooking up for days to come. If there was a day when he no longer would be surprised by his wife ability to navigate a cut-throat business world with her usual smile and nonchalant attitude, with her willingness to apply her wit and connections to enrich lives of people around her – that day hasn’t come yet. Chen Yan Yun doubted it will.

The door to the study was opened, which usually meant to signify that no knocking was necessary. Chen Yan Yun walked in, sat down at the side table and helped himself to some tea. It was barely warm but still very pleasantly aromatic so Yan Yun didn’t mind the temperature, especially since he could pair his tea with osmanthus cakes that were everywhere in their house as both Jin Zhao and Yan Yun loved them dearly. As Yan Yun was pouring his second cup, Jin Zhao raised her head alerted to his presence by Qing Pu’s diplomatic cough. Jin Zhao’s face lit up like a lantern, with her rosy cheeks and vibrant smile, and she said ‘San Ye, give me few more moments, I’m almost done’. Yan Yun nodded and raised his cup to her – he was in no rush, really, and he would not be retiring to sleep without his wife anyway so he might as well wait. 

His new position closer to her table allowed him a better vantage point to look at her – but also listen. Jin Zhao did not hush her tone after his approach, so he assumed he was privy to this discussion after all. Her instructions to Qing Pu circled around letters to be delivered to Gu Lan with instructions on merchant agreements for a fourth restaurant they were opening soon. Gu Lan turned out to be a skilled caretaker for restaurant business, and with support from her husband’s family, she proposed to expand the Linxia Studio to other locations in the capital and other big cities. The restaurant they were discussing these days was to be located in Yangquan province, where Mu Zhi Di was from, to give them a reason to visit his childhood home more often.

Chen Yan Yun was not sure how to classify the relationship his wife shared with her sister. They were trusted business partners, and Jin Zhao stopped auditing the record books a long time ago, only doing occasional checks upon Gu Lan’s request. They were good friends when discussions were centered around living in big powerful families or life in the capital in general – Yan Yun would sometimes catch them giggling about one thing or the other coming out from Linxia Studio after one of their tea parties. A few times, their new-old friend Xue Qing Lan joined them for an outing, as long as there was some friendly competition involved! Having lived in the capital all her life under very privileged circumstances, Qing Lan provided the best commentary about the city's who-is-who. And though her aunt and uncle had met with a disastrous ruin, none of that shadow fell on her own head – Yan Yun and Jin Zhao had personally made sure of it.  

While the Gu sisters saw eye to eye on the subject of their own father, who was long ago demoted and transferred to the rural provinces where nobody missed him one bit, things were different regarding their mothers. When it came to this subject, both walked on eggshells, with no expectations for reconciliation any time soon. Probably, not all wounds can be healed with time. Or, maybe, it takes much more time – Yan Yun simply didn’t know.

Gu De Zhao did make an attempt to come back to their life once Chen Yan Yun was appointed the highest office in the country, expecting himself to receive a better position in the capital as well. Jin Zhao quickly dispelled his ambitions with one strong conversation about how her husband is not going to give out any favors to relatives and would only seek to appoint his office on the basis of merit and aspirations. Jin Zhao just happened to – of course, completely accidentally – have this discussion in a very public spot and using her very public voice ensuring that this conversation became the hottest gossip topic all over the capital by the end of the day. Chen Yan Yun was sure someone made a record of this performance verbatim and shared it around in writing – otherwise, how else would he have gotten three separate reports from his network that matched it with such flawless precision? Regardless of the means of distribution, this public declaration effectively dismissed his father-in-law’s promotion schemes – as well as any other expectations of favors from numerous relatives and friends of the family they suddenly had from far and wide. It also won him a couple of political points with his colleagues coming up to him to discuss their staff appointments, considering him to be some paragon of unbiased virtue. Chen Yan Yun didn’t mind the notion, but it did add to his workload somewhat until all offices were properly staffed for reforms that were slowly unfolding in the country.  

Chen Yan Yun tried to tell his wife that she should moderate her praise of him to the realistic level to which Jin Zhao deadpan replied ‘I am. If I were to tell it like it is, people would think you’re a deity, and I don’t want to seem blasphemous. There was something about humility and modesty in Four Books for Women and I’m trying to abide as best I can’. Chen Yan Yun did not try to tell his wife what to tell people about him anymore. After all, he lived this long because he was smart and tried not to make the same mistake twice.  

Lost in the memory of his father-in-law's public (and brilliantly orchestrated) schooling, Yan Yun didn't realize how far his thoughts had drifted until the soft murmur of Jin Zhao’s voice across the room completely faded into a background hum. His mind’s wandering was suddenly interrupted by her turning directly toward him, pitching a question into the silence: ‘What do you think about it?’  

Yan Yun’s mind raced trying to recover whatever conversation was playing in the background of his thoughts and which was apparently relevant to this question. Jin Zhao, feeling that pause may get uncomfortable for her usually collected and ever-knowing husband, mercifully reiterated her question in full ‘I’m thinking of expanding Secretariat Wives’ tea parties to include wives of senior officials. This way we will have more women from different walks of life, and I’d be able to gleam the mood in the middle level of power, as they are the ones who actually do a lot of things you, higher-ups, come up with. What do you think?’

Chen Yan Yun thought for few long moments as his wife never appreciated a simple ‘yes, dear’ and even less appreciated ‘no, dear’ responses. Jin Zhao expected a thought through answer that met the merit of the question. She was, after all, a wife of Grand Secretary and a formidable political power of her own – and a businesswoman who had no patience for half-baked opinions. 

Yan Yun considered pros and cons of the proposal, while Jin Zhao waited patiently, with that comfortable smile she had just for him. Before he could get lost in that forever moment, Yan Yun said ‘I think it is a good idea in the long run. But, as with any good ideas, there would be those who would oppose it on principle. Because it would shift the balance of power since ‘tea party club’ has been very exclusive circle up till now. Because it would require all the noble ladies to rub shoulders with merchant ladies and military wives… But once you succeed, it would be eye-opening for them and, hopefully, for husbands as well. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.’ Jin Zhao tapped at her lower lip with one slender finger, her look pensive and calculative. Then she’d concluded ‘They have to survive my being a merchant daughter, few more won’t kill them. And you are right, it would help them to broaden their horizons, which is exactly what I’m aiming for!’. Jin Zhao clapped happily and turned to Qing Pu to rattle out more instructions that pertained to this idea taking shape. Chen Yan Yun had to admit he did not completely grasp ‘the woman’s way’ approach his wife usually took, but from what he could tell, Jin Zhao’s instructions were partially about tea party venue arrangements, and partially about influencing few noble wives to ‘come up with this idea on their own’ so that Jin Zhao  then can then graciously champion their proposal and praise their brilliance and open-mindedness. If this works out, she had a very good chance to ensure her initiative had a successful start and smooth sailing and Chen Yan Yun made a mental note to figure out how to apply this tactic to his own court struggles. If he can’t figure it out – he’ll ask Jin Zhao.

Eventually, with few more candles burning out around her, his wife noticed the flow of time and with a determined nod closed all the books in front of her. Jin Zhao rose from her seat and stretched, swaying her body a little to activate stiffened muscles. Chen Yan Yun eyes fixed at that movement, suddenly acutely aware of one too many people being with them in the room. Jin Zhao noticed his keen interest and smiled – that knowing, feminine smile she’d uncovered soon after their wedding night. His wife knew for sure what her mere presence did to him, and when she deliberately added a bit of sensual movement to the mix, it was a kind of assault Chen Yan Yun had no defenses against. Nor would he want to have any defenses, not against her, not against this.

Jin Zhao dismissed Qing Pu and the girl basically dissolved into thin air – that or Chen Yan Yun’s side vision was starting to fail him as he completely missed the assistant walking out of the room with how focused he was on his wife. Yan Yun offered his lady a hand and led her to the bedchambers, comfortable in the silence that stretched between them. They always had many things to say to each other, but they didn’t have to rush. With their entire lives spanning ahead of them, they had time for conversations – and time for silence.

The room was dimply lit with few candles left burning by housemaids before they retired for the night. There was no routine to their nights, and they would sometimes require maids’ help for washing up or brushing hair or taking care of clothes – and sometimes it would be just them, serving each other in ways that were too private to share. Like tonight.

Here, in the quietness of their bedroom, Jin Zhao took off his outer robe, and he helped her do the same. After quickly washing up and changing into their nightware, Yan Yun led Jin Zhao to sit at the low chair in front of the mirror. His nimble fingers made a quick work of pins and decorations embedded in his wife’s hair and she sighed with relief when heavy wave of hair cascaded down her back. Yan Yun would almost feel sorry for the troubles her gorgeous hair gave his wife – if it weren’t for immense pleasure of tangling his fingers in the thick dark tresses and tugging her face towards him for a kiss. Luckily, his wife never seemed to mind this way of handling her, if her soft sigh and passionate response was anything to go by.

There was no satiation with her – not with one kiss, nor with the next one, or the one after that as they blended into continuous feeling of connection and hunger for more. Yet, even through the haze of desire, Yan Yun minded the awkward angle of her head, loath to let her neck grow stiff against the strain. So, he offered Jin Zhao a hand to guide her toward the bed. His wife moved gracefully, but a few steps short, her foot caught; she stumbled, gripping him tightly for support. Yan Yun gathered her close to steady that slight frame, whispering soothing words against the top of her head. Surprisingly, no worries crossed his mind then, and he knew for a fact that Jin Zhao wasn’t sick or even fatigued – she’d slept in today, and had her afternoon nap, and overall had an endurance of a trained soldier. Jin Zhao was, however, with a child. And her dizzy spells, and her irregular sleeping schedule, and her munching on osmanthus cakes at all times could all be attributed to this condition.

He knew all that because they’d been through this before, when Jin Zhao was pregnant with their first child, a daughter…

As Yan Yun held his half-asleep wife close in the shadows of the bedroom, his mind drifted back to the desk across the courtyard, where the dark ink of his waterfall painting was still drying. Looking into that imagined torrent, the current of his memory broke free, sweeping him backward into the most tumultuous, terrifying years of his life.

Their daughter was born eight months after Yan Yun saved Jin Zhao from Fu Hai Lian and it would always bring bone-deep chill to Chen Yan Yun to think that his wife – his beautiful, resilient, brave wife – had risked her life while new life was already growing inside of her. He never faulted her for recklessness because Yan Yun saw the devastation on her face when the doctor told them the great news and Jin Zhao paled at the memory of holding a poison vial and offering her life for his. She simply did not realize she was pregnant at the time, attributing the delay in her monthly cycle to the shocks and pains of that period of their lives. Jin Zhao mentioned that such delays had happened before – when she fell sick in her youth, when she lost her mother – so she wasn't yet alarmed and, honestly, paid little attention to such matters back then. All of these discoveries were followed by four weeks of agonizing wait before three different doctors confirmed that their child was developing as expected and all the stress endured at the early stages must’ve been taken on by the mother alone with none of it endangering the child. And that knowledge that his wife shielded their child with her strength while fighting to shield him too – if there was a bigger love, it was truly reserved for gods because no human man could ever love his woman as much as he loved Jin Zhao then – and even more every day since!

But that difficult – hopeful and terrifying at the same time – period did teach Yan Yun that he knew criminally little of the way a woman’s body worked and what he should be aware of so that Jin Zhao gets to live a long and healthy life. He called upon the most esteemed physicians of women's health in the country – yes, it was established that Chen Yan Yun was not above throwing his weight around when the situation called for it! – and requested the most advanced texts to be delivered to him. His tutors even carefully joked that with the way he was progressing with his ‘wifely studies’ he’d be able to replace them when the birthing hour came. For a while, Chen Yan Yun gained a weird kind of fame at the court with some people giving him snarky remarks and making commentary about his ‘manliness’ to be interested in such subjects. While Chen Yan Yun was perfectly fine ignoring these narrow-minded fools, his Emperor chose this moment to deigned to interpose, making it very clear that he considered the education of any subject to be the root of virtue, and that taking care of one’s family, wife, and child was a sacred responsibility of a good man – and the empire needed good men above all! That effectively silenced all the negative gossip across the city and even brought a few expecting fathers seeking advice to the doorstep of Chen Yan Yun’s office.

Chen Yan Yun did not make it home in time for the delivery. He had been locked in a fiercely contentious debate over import taxes, and very few stewards dared to breach the imperial hall when the ministers were in such an uproar. It took his advisor, Jiang Yan, practically breaking into the room to deliver a dramatic whisper, warning the Grand Secretary of the Dayan Empire that he was needed at home ‘or else.’ There was only one person in the world who was both Yan Yun’s ultimate strength and his greatest weakness, and the all-powerful man shuddered to think what that ‘else’ might entail. Yet, no matter how frantically he hurried, he still arrived too late – ironically, because Jin Zhao’s labor had been so incredibly swift and uncomplicated that it caught even her doctors by surprise, given her history.

By the time Yan Yun showed up to the Chen residency in the early hours of the day, he was presented with a tiny swaddle of constantly moving limbs and a dissatisfied wrinkly face that announced baby's discontent with the bright cold morning very resolutely. She was perfect, their daughter, just like her mother! They named her Chén Xīnyǐng, 'a breath of fresh air' for their family.

And now, almost two years later, they were getting ready to welcome a new child, a new hope. Jin Zhao insisted that it was her duty to deliver an heir to the Chen second branch and to San Ye's great political legacy, so she now expected a son. Yan Yun was happy to be blessed with the child at all and secretly he’d always wanted a girl – someone as lively and as lovely as his wife. Or, maybe, not so secretly because Jin Zhao was absolutely confident it was him who willed their child’s gender into existence. No matter that different ladies in their social circle in one voice predicted that their first would be a girl – based on the shape of Jin Zhao’s belly, her eating habits, her ‘waning beauty’ (if you ask Yan Yun, that was a ridiculous notion as his wife never looked as mesmerizing as when she was carrying their child!) and other ‘completely confirmed signs’. No matter that, as per all the texts he’d read on the matter, the child’s gender was decided upon conception and was willed by gods – and did not change upon parents’ wishes. No matter all that, as soon as A-Ying came to this world screaming and kicking, Jin Zhao immediately announced that it was San Ye’s fault for making her look bad and disappointing her mother-in-law by not delivering the heir! Yan Yun couldn’t find it in his heart to be even a little disappointed and, considering their daughter was healthy and happy little bundle of unending energy, Jin Zhao quickly admitted that little A-Ying was truly a gift from gods and it was not upon her to argue such destiny. One day Yan Yun found his beloved ladies in a nursing room, Jin Zhao bent over a crib and kissing A-Ying little fingers while whispering ‘Don’t worry, precious one, your mommy and daddy will make sure you grow up with all the opportunities and rights a boy would have, and you would get to shape your own life the way you want. Your life will be a better one, I promise. And just so that it would not be lonely for you, your mommy and daddy will give you more siblings, brothers and sisters, and we will teach you to be smart and honorable, and to be a family, so you can support one another and be stronger together.’ And in the quietness of that nursery, Yan Yun silently repeated the same vows – to his wife, to his daughter and to all the future children they’d be blessed with. 

It scared him sometimes, the all-consuming feeling of love he held for his new family, growing with every new addition. Chen Yan Yun, the infallible statesman who was primed as an example for conviction and devotion to the nation’s cause, was beginning to realize that there was indeed something he would not sacrifice even for his country. Or, rather, someone – and then multiple someones. 

One night, when A-Ying was sated and tucked away for the night, Yan Yun shared this fear of wavering loyalty with his beloved – in the safety and tenderness of their marital bed, hoping that darkness around them will keep his secrets. And, as many times before and after that, Jin Zhao comforted him and promised to keep the light lit on his path. Little did he know, his wife did more than that – in ways big and small.

Like the calm, quiet undercurrent of the river in his painting, she had set her grand plans into motion long before the water ever smoothed out. Thinking back on it now, Yan Yun still tried to retrace her steps, searching his memories for the exact moment she had begun untangling the snares of their circumstance. It must have started around the time A-Ying was five months old, right when his life became immeasurably busier with his new appointment as Grand Secretary of the Hall of Central Extreme and Grand Preceptor of the Crown Prince. More and more often, he had to remain overnight at the Wenyuan Library. Even though the journey home was under half a shichen and he held a special token to override the city curfew, he would still arrive too late – long after his daughter had drifted off, and his wife lay fast asleep, exhausted from managing the vast Chen family estates. Yan Yun couldn’t bring himself to wake either one of them just for the happiness of their company – and yet it hurt him to realize that his life, his very own personal life, the one he fought so hard for was happening without him. He could see, standing there by the ornate rocking bed where his daughter slept, making little bubbles with her mouth opened in perfect O, how she was growing, how her hair was getting longer and changing color to what he hoped would be deep sandalwood with tresses of lighter amber, the same her mother had. Jin Zhao would leave him little notes about how their A-Ying was doing, how the household and their extended family faired, what occupied her days and thoughts. One of the notes he remembered in particular – it was about A-Ying eyes changing color from slate-grey she was born with to dark tea color – and he couldn’t even see them as his daughter was always asleep by the time he’d come back home! These notes, as precious as they were to him, hurt immensely. He felt like he was losing himself, Yan Yun, the husband and the father, to Chen Yan Yun, the Grand Secretary. His life grew lonely and aimless even surrounded by people and great deeds yet to be accomplished. 

Capital city was bustling with life, more people moving in from trade cities to participate in tax reform discussion that were partially open to the public. Refugees from war torn northern territories who travelled as far as the capital in search of work and opportunities, were rebuilding their lives and growing the city. The life was happening all around the Imperial Palace and Wenyuan Library so it was no surprise to anyone when a new construction site appeared behind the walls of the governmental quarter. First the demolition of all unused guest house and then a new house designed for comfort and prestige yet dignified in its splendor. Yan Yun was secretly irritated at the prospect of yet another arrogant noble family moving close to lobby the court. Just what he needed on top of everything else! 

His inquiries into new neighbors were answered quickly and surprisingly, when Chen Yan Yun was invited for the new house blessing ceremony where he was expected to… host! Jin Zhao just informed him in one of her overnight notes that tomorrow is the ceremony for their new property and the address is – yes, that big new house across the street from his office in Wenyuan Library. Never has Yan Yun been so tempted to shake his wife awake and ask for a little more information on the fact that his family was apparently moving houses and he was not aware of it at all! And yet he didn’t, to allow her to rest and him to cool down. And next day he dutifully attended his new house blessing ceremony, nodded along to his guests praise and barely-contained envy, toasted to well-wishers and shot lightnings from his eyes to all those daring to whisper about benefits of having a rich wife. It’s not that the house was that expensive, many noble families owned bigger and more opulent buildings in the city, but the speed with which it was completed told everyone that someone thrown quite a bit of extra money to get things done quickly. Turns out, that someone was his wife, Gu Jin Zhao!

Later, in the quietness of his new home, Yan Yun did ask – in a very practiced and measured tone – about what exactly possessed his rich wife to spend a small fortune (and more than he made in a year even as Grand Secretary) to build this house and move their newborn daughter to the street where every protest, and every funeral, and every wedding was marching daily! And Jin Zhao, in her infinite female grace and wisdom, completely ignored his very much not measured tone, as well as implication that she somehow was supposed to ask for parenting permission from the person who was parenting everybody in this nation (including the Emperor) but his own daughter and said ‘Well, San Ye, this solved the biggest household dilemma we had so far – you spending your life here and us waiting for you there! This way you can come home to us for lunch or supper or breakfast – even with how busy you are, you still eat, don’t you?’. Yan Yun averted his gaze to that question and Jin Zhao stepped forward, her voice becoming deceptively calm and gaining that dangerous undercurrent he learned to appreciate. She said ‘Because I happen to know that Grand Secretary has been skipping meals for the last month or so and it’s threatening to pull on his health. And we cannot afford this great disservice to the nation if he, gods forbid, succumbs to illness. If necessary, I’m willing to come before the Emperor and implore him to grant you leave of absence so I can nurse you back to health and back to your full potential!’. Yan Yun’s shoulders slumped at this fake threat wrapped in the real concern and care that her words carried. He was indeed bone-tired from in-city travel and missing out on his family. He did indeed appreciate how his wife took it upon herself to find the solution and absolved him of having to do anything on top of his daily duties. Yan Yun, upon closer inspection and a tour of his new home, also very much appreciated how thoughtful the layout and interior was – it bordered just on the right side of ‘expensive-but-not-in-your-face’, and the design spoke of duty and functionality for the office of the Grand Secretary of a great state. The house had an expansive study with a separate entrance, and a courtyard so not only would he be able to bring home his work but also invite his colleagues for continued discussions. There was a large room to entertain guests and few guest rooms for his friends to stay over. And, most importantly, the private quarters where his family would reside, was separated from all of it, tucked away in the back of the house, overseeing exquisitely beautiful garden with a little playground for their growing child. There, stretched out on a sun-warmed stone bench, Baopu was found keeping a lazy, watchful eye over his new domain. The private side was different in colors and décor and even the flowers chosen for the vases – it truly felt like he was stepping into a different space even thought he was merely stepping over one threshold. This was a space for him to be just Yan Yun, and for them to be together.

Then and there Chen Yan Yun fully committed to finding a way to be more present with his family, to find a balance that his life needed to stay committed to that initial goal: ‘For people’s benefit, regardless of personal gain and loss’ – a motto now fixed atop the entrance to his study in this new home. His beloved, Jin Zhao, did promise to light his way, so that he wouldn’t lose his course, no matter his fears and his competing loyalty and love for his family.

This didn’t happen overnight… But after yet another threat to beseech the Emperor and the court to ‘allow the Grand Secretary time to come back to his husbandly duties’ (Yan Yun completely choked on his tea at that moment and very resolutely reminded Jin Zhao in oh-so-passionate details that he never neglected his husbandly duties!), things took a turn for the better. Chen Yan Yun would carve out time to take at least one meal with his family, and he would almost always come back home for the night to be met with tinkling laughter of his girls, dancing away in the garden to their hearts’ content. More and more often these images featured in his paintings, and his dreams, and his hopes. And now, with the impending arrival of yet another person to love, and to cherish, and to protect, Yan Yun felt truly blessed beyond measure. His path was the right one as it brought him here, to this place, to this family, to this happiness.

***   ***   ***

He hated that part of himself so much! That part that didn’t know how to communicate this powerful, all-consuming need to have her, and hold her, and protect her and make her happy! Words! He needed words and the ones he had would always end up stuck in his throat or come out twisted. Nanase would startle, her eyes wide with worry, apologize in a deep respectful bow and get very quiet for a while. And he could almost see how she’d make yet another note in her mental notebook called ‘How not to upset my perfect husband, Volume 7 out of XX’.

Kairi Tendo, brilliant cardio surgeon, all around smart guy, was so dumb when it mattered the most! He vowed to himself so many times to hold his temper, to leash his arrogance and treat her better than that… but it was so damn hard! That stupid advice from long ago – to let life and work mix up and enjoy the chaos – was finally bringing results and not the ones he’d hoped for! Nanase was his wife, the most precious person whose smile and kind heart was vital to his survival – and yet she was also his nurse, quite promising and quickly improving specialist who cared too much, meddled enough, sometimes stood in the way and ever so rarely made mistakes. Teaching her, even reprimanding her, was a part of his job. And his personality was well suited for this, for being brutally honest and quick to judge. But Kairi couldn’t shake off the feeling that the same way Nanase brought her love and care for him to work – he’d bring his ‘sensei mode’ back home.

***   ***   ***

He yelled at her this morning. She was taking off the night shift, he was taking on the day shift, they’d cross paths only for her to update him and his day nurse on couple of critical post-op patients they had in the ICU. She’d stumbled with couple of overly-scientific words, took few moments too long to find the blood work results – and before he could catch himself, the devil in him called Tendo Nanase stupid. Out loud. In front of people. For real, this time.

She flinched, bowed, finished her report quickly and left. Without raising her eyes to him. And it hurt so much! And the fact that Nanase avoided his eyes because she believed to have disappointed him hurt that much more!

He was a demon indeed! Now he understood! Vile creature redeemed only by the fact that he had an angel for a wife… Whatever has he done in his previous lives to deserve her? Because Kairi was confident he did nothing significant enough to deserve her in this one! Or, alternatively, what could she possibly have done to deserve him as a punishment? Probably, not the case – Nanase was too bright of a soul to work off any past sins. She was light. And he was the monster.

***   ***   ***

At lunch hour, the nurse brought in a package. With his lunch box and a note from his wife. ‘Hope you’ll like this omurice, sensei. I promise to strive to be a better nurse… and a better cook. Remember to take care of yourself as you are very important to your patients and to me. Love, Nanase’. She’d also doodled little hearts and a smiling kitten. His ever-so-positive wife was trying to cheer him up.

Omurice was ok, but considering Tendo didn’t have breakfast this morning, it was amazing! While chewing on the chicken fried rice, he though absentmindedly that Nanase didn’t know how to cook omurice not so long ago. She must’ve added it to the long list of things she needed to learn in order ‘to be a better wife’ after he’d complimented the omurice they had at the restaurant this weekend. His wife would spend every waking moment free of studying or cleaning on googling recipes – for whatever reason Nanase believed it was her wifely duty to keep their home tidy and her husband well fed. Or, rather, she believed these were the skills she could master enough. For the rest of her ‘wifely duties’ Nanase was genuinely and heartbreakingly grateful to Kairi for ‘settling’ and ‘accepting her inexperience, clumsiness and shyness’. And it bugged him to no end how utterly wrong she was in this particular aspect! Of all the things! THIS was not him ‘settling’ for her, THIS was what surprised him the most straight from the beginning, how it’d hit him like a truck and knocked the breath out of him and he still couldn’t make sense of how MUCH and how OFTEN he couldn’t see straight and function properly because his body was filled with the NEED for his wife!

***   ***   ***

It wasn’t always like this for him. Kairi was never shy or anything but natural arrogance prevented him from developing deep enough connections for them to become physical – up until his university days. When you’re dealing with life and death on daily basis, things like ‘long-term’ and ‘waiting for the right time’ become less meaningful and less constricting. Sex becomes causality, something people do to relieve stress and have a bit of hormone rush. That is not to say Tendo Kairi was mundane about it – he took time and effort to become exceptional in it too, if not for anything other than being efficient and considerate of his partners.

But after Minori… he just didn’t care enough about life in general, other than lives of patients in his care. His physical excretion was dedicated to jogging and his hormones were forced to take a really long vacation.

Up until the point he’d met Sakura Nanase for the second time in his life.

Kairi couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment when his general aversion to her antics turned into mild curiosity, then to soft appreciation and then, out of nowhere and all of a sudden, into majestic rainbow of feelings and emotions. And the least one Kairi expected was desire. Primitive, possessive, gut-wrenching lust for a little shy virgin with baby deer eyes and all the trust of the world shining in them! Nanase was so far away from his type that, as he ran towards her, his ‘type’ got lost behind the horizon and all that was left was her. Her forever-blushing cheeks, her soft hair, her clean scent… and his need to possess all of it, day and night, just him and always more!

***   ***  ***

Tendo Kairi was a practical man and once he’d realized that his girlfriend, Sakura Nanase, was ‘it’ for him – he’d accepted it and moved on. He never argued with himself regarding his ‘type’ and ‘standards’, never looked for faults in her appearance or tried to compare her with anyone from his past. He was forever grateful to Nanase for waking him up and proving he wasn’t dead inside – and that included his male drive.

However, that awakening soon proven to be too much to handle for normally cold-blooded and composed doctor. His naïve and inexperienced girlfriend knew she drove him mad with her mishaps and quirks… but she had no idea she drove him up the wall with desire just by being present!

It was so hard when they’d started dating…

That first time he’d kissed her and felt his entire body respond to her closeness… and how he stood behind her door thinking of the reasons to come in and do more ‘medical treatment’ kisses all over her skin… but then… Nanase was so pure, so innocent, so shook with all the events of that day… and so he waited.

The time she got jealous of Miori and tried letting him go… and he wanted to kiss her tears away… lock her in his arms and dispel her worries with the heat building up in his body…

And then hotel room… Her innocent plea to be gentle for her first time… Kairi held his breath when he felt Nanase approaching him… he prayed fervently… for her to do something, ANYTHING, to give him an excuse to respond… but also for her to keep her distance because he wasn’t sure he could be gentle with so much fire burning inside of him. So, when Nanase wished him ‘good night’ and felt asleep immediately after, Tendo was somewhat relieved… and hugely disappointed. And the chaste kiss he gave her that night did nothing to quench his thirst… again.

These moments were piling up and up and up… Until one day, about a week after Sakura was discharged after her accident… they played Jenga.

***   ***   ***

Jenga was supposed to be innocent enough game, something to keep Tendo focused on something else other than the girl beside him. That fresh-out-of-the-shower, wearing-loose-sweater-over-sports-bra girl with her hair still slightly wet and her skin still slightly flushed from hot water. She smelled of soap and happiness and that scent was making Kairi light-headed and heavy in the same time. The way she was biting her lower lip when she’d focused on her next move… the tilt of her head and dreamy expression when she was watching him… how was any of that not intentional, Tendo didn’t know!

Right before he was about to take out another risky block, Sakura tagged on her sweater to wipe out droplets of water rolling down her collarbones and sighted:

-          I probably should dry my hair after all…

Kairi refocused his gaze on her fingers sliding across the collar of the sweater. He opened his lips to respond and realized his mouth was too dry to talk. Sakura’s palm traveled back to the back of her neck and she’d stretched, swaying a bit in her sitting position. She looked at him and asked:

-          Sensei, please, wait till I’m back before you make your move, I need to see which one you took.

He nodded still not capable of coherent sounds. Nanase stood up and made half a step towards her bathroom when her knees buckled and she felt back down, landing inches away from him. She tried to break her fall by grabbing Tendo by the shirt but only ended up bumping their foreheads together. Sakura yelped and rubbed her forehead quickly, all while chattering her apologies:

-          Ah, sensei, did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, my leg fell asleep and I stumbled and I..! I’m so clumsy, sensei, it was all my fault!

Her eyes were fixed on his forehead, assessing the damage she thought she’d caused. Sakura looked back into his eyes, her voice a little raspy with worry:

-          Do you have a headache? Feel dizzy? Loosing focus in your vision?

Tendo noticed her eyes searching his face – his little nurse was assessing him for signs of brain trauma. He was about to make a comment that her head, no matter how hard, could not have damaged him that much… and then a memory crossed his mind. He did the same thing tree weeks ago… searched her eyes for pupils dilation, checked her pulse… she assured him she was fine back then… and he trusted her… and almost lost her…

Barely visible scar on her forehead will soon fade and be concealed by the hairline. She was back to work already and perfectly healthy. Yet, he couldn’t shake off the dread that broke into his chest and froze over his heart. He could have lost her. Not a single doctor in their hospital told him ‘It’s going to be ok’. Because he would know they were lying. And none of them was sure enough to tell him the truth. He could have lost her.

Stark contrast between cold spreading through his limbs and her warm presence so near him made Tendo shiver. Nanase noticed and took her fingers off his forehead:

-          What is it, sensei? How can I help?

The sincerity, the plea in her voice, so gentle, so honest, so in love… broke the ice that was binding him. Tendo grabbed her by the waist and hugged her tight to his chest, making her straddle his thighs. Nanase stilled for a second and then instinctively tried to pull away, too embarrassed by this new closeness to male body. Kairi didn’t let go, instead borrowing his face into crook of her neck, inhaling deeply her sweet, pulsing scent. So intoxicating, so alive!

-          Shh, Sakura, please…

The girl in his arms stopped struggling and he felt her feather-like touch hugging him around the waist. She whispered softly:

-          Tell me, what do you need?

Kairi turned his head and planted soft kiss just behind her ear, eliciting half-sight, half-moan out of his beloved captive. He did it again, tracing kisses down her neck, feeling her chest rise and fall quickly as her breathing became quick and shallow. Sakura’s fingers clutched his shirt from behind, digging into his back and injecting his nerves with electricity and short-circuiting his muscles. Tendo clenched his teeth before he could bite the tender skin on her shoulder and said in barely audible voice:

-          Please… just… please…

Sakura brought one of her hands and rested in between his shoulder blades, patting his back a little. That was probably supposed to be reassuring and calming motion but seeing how it flushed her body against his and she was still straddling his thighs – it was anything but! Nanase, still frustratingly oblivious to the storm she was wrecking with her innocent movements, asked him again:

-          What? Sensei, did you say something?

Kairi straightened and caught her face in his palms, locking her eyes – her deep, baby-deer-big eyes – with his. There was no fear in them or discomfort – just trust and love, so, so much love! Kairi said in low steady voice, making sure she understood everything this time:

-          Stay. With me. Tonight… be mine.

She knew what he’d meant. Tendo felt her body stiffened as Sakura stopped breathing and her eyes shot even bigger than before. Something flashed across her face, something shy and scared. Kairi kissed her cheek, then the other, feeling her small form relax into his embrace. Her eyes were still worried though, so he asked softly not to spook her:

-          Do you… not want to?

It couldn’t be it, right? She tried to seduce him before, for God’s sake! But maybe… maybe it wasn’t the night? What if it wasn’t that ‘right time’ girls like her romanticized so much in their virgin dreams about Prince Charming? Or was it him… not being Prince Charming enough?

Nanase swallowed hard and Tendo’s heart stilled anticipating her answer:

-          I don’t want to, - Sakura bowed her head, averting his gaze and Tendo felt his blood stopping in his veins, - …disappoint you.

Tidal wave of relief almost knocked Kairi over and all the tension that was holding him in place escaped with a groan. He grabbed Sakura by the shoulders and shook her a bit, making her look at him again. It was still there, the fear he saw in her eyes! But his shy virgin girlfriend wasn’t scared of him or being with him this way – she was scared of herself! Of her inexperience… and her disappointing him.

To be honest, Tendo never engaged with younger women before specifically for this reason – he didn’t want the responsibility of being ‘the first one’ because of all the expectations and all the awkwardness attached. But with Nanase… his fragile and strong sakura flower… he cherished the honor of being the first one! And passionately hoped for the privilege of being ‘the only one ever’ in the future to come! To have her give herself only to him, to find his home inside her body and soul, to have and to hold… his Nanase, only his, his first and only Nanase!

Containing so much desire and love was getting too much for Kairi and he began to tremble. He closed his eyes, listening to blood thundering and beating like a drum in his head – his body’s demand to do something, ANYTHING, before he combusted!

Only then he looked at Sakura, realizing he still hasn’t said anything to her confession. She was biting her lower lip and glancing back and forth between him and the floor, waiting for some sort of judgement on her adequacy. ‘Am I not… sexy enough?’, his memory supplied. Why?! Why, oh, why would she ever doubt it? Did she not feel his body burning underneath her? Did she not hear his blood singing under her fingertips? Did she not see the hunger in his eyes, the primal need to devour here and now?

No, she didn’t. On the back of his mind, Tendo registered a snarky remark that experienced nurse was supposed to know the tell-tale signs of male arousal – especially, since he was showing all of them at once – but the bigger and smarter part of his brain shushed the demon away and supplied the answer – she really didn’t know! She wasn’t his nurse right now – Nanase was his girlfriend, young inexperienced woman he loved so much and wanted so badly his bones hurt! It would take some time for her – and some considerable effort from him – to show her just how sexy she was to him and how there was absolutely no way she could displease him in any way!

Tendo said, his voice hoarse and strangled:

-          Sakura… my, my Sakura! You can never, ever disappoint me!

-          But… um… sensei…

Tendo pressed a finger to her lips, momentarily transfixed with sensing her wet mouth under his touch. He rushed into the kiss, possessing her with unreserved passion, swallowing her surprised moan. Nanase swayed – not away from him but into him – and circled his neck, locking them into the frenzied kiss for as long as they could survive without air. Her lips parted in sigh and Kairi took the opportunity to taste her, to caress her tongue with his, inviting Sakura to respond. Her first movement was unsure, even lost… but Sakura was nothing if not persistent and eager to learn! She took her cues from Tendo’s labored breathing, groans rumbling deep in his chest – and soon she’d danced the dance too, meeting Kairi half-way, touch for touch and kiss for kiss!

Tendo broke away first, heaving like crazy and willing himself to release her hair – he must’ve left bruises on her sculp with how tightly he held her. But then again, she didn’t complain… Would she complain if he caused her pain?

Tendo shook his head to chase away this ugly thought and looked at Nanase. Evening settled around them and her face was only lit by the dim light of a nightstand lamp. Even so, Tendo could see that Sakura was bright shade of red and trying to blow some cool air down her chest without him noticing. Oh, he noticed! And no matter how proud Kairi was to bring her to this state over a short period of time, he was not about to cause his girlfriend a heat stroke on their first night together!

Kairi proposed tenderly, almost shyly, tugging on the hem of her sweater:

-          May I? Take this off, I mean…

He felt like he needed to add this little explanation as Nanase may think a whole range of things including him asking her to borrow the sweater. Tendo chose to be very specific about wanting to undress the woman in front of him and waited patiently for her to respond, still tagging on the sweater.

Nanase closed her eyes for a moment, her shoulders bunching in defensively… but when she’d opened them again, Tendo saw her determination to brace the challenge, as she nodded and raised her hands above her head. Kairi chuckled silently – his little hero was getting ready to be judged by him on the merits of her body and it probably took a lot to go for it like this – and he was more than ready to unwrap the gift he waited for since forever.

His hands dove under fabric to touch the warm skin. He started from the waistband of her sweatpants, palm tracing up the sides of her body, slowly, very slowly. Kairi tried to commit to memory the look on her face when he caressed her stomach with his thumbs… the way her eyes rolled a bit when he draw lines around the sides of her breasts… how Sakura leaned into him when he was tugging the sweater over her head… and then she was free. And he was doomed.

She was perfect. Sakura, his woman-to-be, was perfect. She wasn’t too thin, so no bones were sticking out anywhere – instead, soft curves of her belly immediately gave Tendo all kinds of biting fantasies and an urgent desire to mark her that way. Then he’d noticed she had a scar – just under the left collarbone – and Kairi made a mental mark to ask Nanase about it later. Her breasts, still clad in sports bra, were not too big and just the right size to fit into his palm – they teased him to check the fit right away with how they were dancing under his unblinking gaze and with Sakura’s nervous breathing. His hand twitched uncontrollably but stilled in the air. There was something he had to do before that… right? What was it?

Tendo looked at his hand suspended between them, looked at Sakura’s waiting face, noticed how she’d pressed her lips together as if trying to keep some words from spilling out – and it dawned on him. He exhaled, putting all the conviction and passion in his body into this answer to her unspoken question:

-          You are so beautiful, Sakura. And you are so sexy, I am… it’s hard to breathe…

His hand came back to his body, clutching the front of his shirt, trying to untie the knot of nerves and anticipation tangled in his chest. He looked back at Sakura, trying to see whether she’d believed him earlier – but she was looking at his chest, her eyes squinted, as if considering something. When Sakura met his gaze again, Kairi raised an eyebrow questioningly – was she really checking for some another symptom regarding his problems with breathing? Now?!

Sakura surprised him by touching her fingers to the top button on his shirt:

-          May I?

The problem with breathing may well kill him seeing how he’d stopped doing that altogether! Nanase… wanted to… undress him! Kairi nodded, both his hands falling to the floor beside him to ground in for the tornado spiraling around.

Sakura unbuttoned his short meticulously, practically, tugging a bit to get to the buttons hidden inside his suit pants. When the shirt finally split in the middle, she touched her right hand to Kairi’s throat, softly tracing the veins, the hollow, down the middle of his chest, circling the bellybutton – until she touched the belt buckle. Sakura followed the same path again, this time with both hands on his body, splaying her fingers wide to touch as much of him as she could. She didn’t go far for when her nails grazed his nipples, Tendo hissed and launched towards her. His vision was blurry, his body taught as a bow string – and his virgin seducer looked at him with almost scientific interest! Tendo licked her mouth and sucked in the lower lip, making Sakura dig her nails into his chest again. She whimpered in protest when Kairi released her but then he’d whispered into her lips:

-          Do it again.

Sakura tried kissing him but Kairi leaned back. She caught him by the neck, and he resisted still. He wanted something of her – and Sakura gave in:

-          Do what again?

Tendo unclenched her arms from around his neck and brought her hands to his chest. He leaned in, his lips brazing her shoulder, his voice low and needy:

-          Nails… again… please…

Instead, Nanase pushed him back so she could look at him and he could look at her. She crooked her head as if thinking something over, her fingers flexing ever so lightly over his flamed-up skin. Sakura bent her head, her lips trembling, and kissed one of the red marks on his chest, making Tendo throw his head up and moan loudly. He forgot all about his previous plea – wet sloppy kisses worked too, yes, please, more!

Sakura kissed him again, and again, and again… Tendo’s fingers grabbed shabby carpet so tight his knuckles became white – he was trying so hard to control himself when all he wanted was to throw her down on the floor and consume her whole, make her fall apart under his body, claim her!

His control was running out and Sakura was not making it easy for him – her touches, her kisses, wet traces she left with careful licks of his skin were leaving invisible marks all over his chest, exquisitely pleasurable marks of her claim over him! Not able to hold off any longer, Tendo let go of the carpet – and was stopped midway by his lover’s uncertain voice:

-          Will you… teach me?

Tendo shook his head to clear it up, looking incredulously at his amazing temptress – was she still doubting her ability to turn him on? He rushed to answer before Nanase took his gesture the wrong way:

-          There’s only one rule to his game, Sakura. I’ll teach you… but you will also teach me, ok?

The look of surprise and confusion would’ve been comical… if Tendo could see past the fact that she was half-naked and in his arms. Nanase asked, focusing on her palm laying on his chest:

-          What can I teach you? I don’t…

Tendo quickly bent his head to snatch the rest of whatever ridiculous statement she was about to make with a kiss. He said just as quickly to stop this line of self-doubt:

-          Teach me about yourself, Nanase. If I do something you like – tell me. If I do something you don’t like – absolutely tell me, immediately! Promise me!

Nanase raised her head and looked at him. Not saying anything. Kairi pressed on:

-          Sakura, please, promise me! I need to learn how to be with you so I can teach you how to be with me… Please…

And then Sakura smiled. And that wasn’t her shy smile, her humorous smile or even her happy smile. It was the one Tendo haven’t seen before… Sakura’s first woman’s smile. Mysterious and knowing and seductive as hell! If only she knew how much power she held over him!

Sakura said with a nod:

-          I promise. And…

-          And?

-          Sensei, all the things we did earlier… I liked.

And that smile again. Kairi wondered if she was using it deliberately already, commanding spasms all over his frenzied body at will. If she knew, she was damn good at it! If she didn’t know – she was a natural!

 Then Sakura did something unpredictable, yanking her bra off in one quick, practiced move and tossing it aside. Tendo bent in half as if from the gut punch and froze, his eyes fixated on her naked breasts perking up at him invitingly. His hands reached out automatically and stopped so close… so close he could feel magnetic pull of her flash on his fingertips, like static charge.

-          May I? – he asked, his voice hopeful, pleading.

Sakura answered simply but with so much weight in her voice, leaning into his touch and closing the short distance:

-          Yes, please…

That touch felt like a shot of strong alcohol, spreading liquid warmth from his fingers directly to his neither regions, making all the throbbing and tension in his pants even more painful and urgent. Tendo grinded his teeth, adamant to not let his primal male brain take over – but it was near impossibility with Sakura’s tender flash so close to him, so willing, so responsive! She arched into his palm, her head thrown back in a deep moan when his fingers squeezed her pebbled nipples and tugged a little. Her hands shot up and Sakura grabbed his shirt collar for leverage, making Kairi loose his balance and drop on top of her, pressing her to the floor. Nanase gasped when their bodies touched, feeling tingling sensation sparkling all over her skin. Tendo detached for just a second to yank off his shirt making Sakura whine at the lost of his intoxicating presence over her body. She reached out to him:

-          Sensei…

Kairi came back, laying between her bent legs, cradling her head with one hand and searching all the soft and sensitive spots he could reach to with the other. He explored with abandonment, lost in his own world built of Sakura’s trembling and crushed whispering. Sometime through the haze of desires, each one more demanding that the other, he’s heard Sakura call out to him:

-          Sensei…

He breathed out:

-          Yes?

-          Sensei… teach me…

She placed her hands over his shoulders and tentatively followed the outline of his back muscles, digging her nails in just a little, the way he liked it before. Tendo bit into her shoulder, buckling into her body and seeing sparks behind tightly shot eyelids. He growled:

-          Sakura… later… I won’t… last.

She stilled underneath him, still holding him tight in her arms. Her felt her lips brush over his chest when Nanase whispered:

-          Then… what? Do I…

-          Trust me.

-          Always.

Her answer was immediate even though he didn’t form it as a question. He would never ask her that for Kairi knew that his little brave angel trusted him unequivocally, beyond any doubt and reason. Still, this admission of her purest love for him made something shift in him, cooling him off in a good way, giving him enough clarity to hold on just a little longer.

Kairi licked over the bite mark on her shoulder, tracing down along her collarbone, kissing her openly and hungrily. Her breasts tasted so sweet, her cherry-stone nipples so sensitive under his tongue and fingers – Tendo drank in her cries, her hopeless pleas for more, and more, and more… The way she’d grabbed his hair and pulled down to bring his lips to her wanting body… The way her hips grinded against his erection making Tendo almost cry with pain and pleasure…

Kairi made his way down her body excruciatingly slow, making sure to taste every piece of it, savor every spasm and every incoherent sound she’d make, every convulsive tug of his hair… When he finally reached the waistband of her sweatpants, Tendo looked up at Nanase – her lips swollen, eyes hooded, her expression dazed. Before he could ask yet another ‘May I?’, Sakura raised her hips and let go of his hair, placing her hands of the floor for balance. Tendo worked her sweatpants together with her underwear off, not taking his eyes off her face, looking for any glimpse of fear or confusion. There weren’t any. Nanase looked at him with trust… and anticipation… and challenge… and that smile again.

Tendo’s nostrils flared. Predator in him, primal male creature, detected new scent, something to be hunted till the end of the Earth. He finally looked down, to the little arrow of dark-brown curls contrasting so fine with her pale skin. Her legs were slightly apart, just enough of an angle to see where this arrow was pointing to… little droplets of moisture glistening in the dim lights of the room. That was the scent. Her scent that was only for him!

Gods, have mercy on him! The need to taste her and drink her up battled with equally strong need to be inside her right now, to get lost in her, to never come back… need to conquer, to own, to mark! Sakura, his Sakura, only his!

Sakura… the saving thought dropped on him like a handful of snow… his needs would wait! Her needs were more important now… they were more important always.

Kairi touched his hand to the dark triangle, enjoying the soft feeling of tight damp curls under his fingers. He pressed with his thumb down in the middle and when Sakura’s hips jerked, Tendo knew he’d found what he was looking her. He circled the little nub of nerves, teasing her with pressure and then almost letting go. Sakura covered her mouth with her palm, trying to muffle screams reverberating through her body – but Kairi took it away, repositioning himself lay to the side of her, hoovering over her face, whispering his words into her trembling lips:

-          Don’t, Nanase. Let me hear you.

Her circled her clitoris again, and again, flicked it – and Sakura moaned into his mouth:

-          Sensei… inside…

With her right hand Nanase yanked him down into feverish, all-consuming kiss, threatening remnants of Kairi’s self-control. Her left hand pressed on the lower part of her belly, trying to squeeze out that nagging feeling of something burning inside of her. The feeling increased with every touch of Tendo’s smart fingers, every circle he made added another rotation on a spring winding deep in her body. That spring was connected to every nerve, every muscle, every thought and every emotion within her, jumbling everything up in a fiery pit between her legs, making her cry out and into him.

Kairi knew the feeling. He knew what was missing inside her. That part of him that was missing also knew that, fighting its way out of constricting pants and into her eager body. But for now – Tendo was stronger!

Answering Sakura’s non-verbal pleas, Tendo touched two fingers to her entrance, pushing them inside slowly, knuckle by knuckle. He could’ve started with one, but she was so wet already, so wet! Her walls pulsed around his fingers, while he explored more with pressure, curling his fingers experimentally. At one point, Nanase sucked in her breath and bit her lip – and so Tendo stayed there, pressing on, learning the inside of her body like an instrument. He knew he could’ve done it quicker and more effective with his tongue between her legs, but that would robe him of a sight – and Sakura was a sight to behold! Tendo wanted – ney, he needed – to remember her right now, the first ever time he brought her pleasure, the beginning of her journey as a woman. His woman! Sakura’s eyes were open, but he didn’t think she saw anything… She’d stop breathing and start again with a throaty inhale… her lips moved but sometimes he couldn’t hear a sound… and sometimes only her sounds existed – her ‘ahhh’ and ‘yeeeees’ and ‘pleeease’ and ‘more’… Kairi’s favorite was ‘more’. She trembled and thrashed in his half-embrace… and then she’d stilled in half-raised arch… The spring reached its limit and unwinded with thunder rocking her body, replacing every cell of her body with a speck of light! And the feeling was so foreign yet so natural, it broke her in pieces and healed her, leaving her with numbing buzz! She suddenly felt so tired… so spent… yet she still wanted more!

The sound from above made Nanase open her eyes – Tendo looked at her victorious… and smug… and he was sucking on his fingers… and then Sakura remembered where those fingers were just now. She squeezed her eyes shot and slammed her thighs together – and heard Kairi chuckle:

-          Too late, baka… I already know what you taste like!

Sakura shook her head vigorously denying this thought from entering her mind – this was too scandalous to think of! Too intimate… too hot… she wanted it too much! And Tendo was too good at giving her ideas:

-          Next time you invite me to the ‘cream party’, we’re skipping directly to desert…

Nanase moaned, feeling heat pulling in her abdomen again, collecting traces of pleasure lingering in her body. She opened her eyes bravely and caressed his chest, tracing the outlines of his abs down to the ridge of his pants. Kairi tensed at the touched and hissed at his lover:

-          Sakura, wait…

-          Why, sensei?

-          Because… um… Oh, for fuck’s sake!

He sat up, dropping her hands off his body and groaned in frustration, yanking his hair with both hands. Nanase set up too, covering her breast shyly with one hand and reaching out to him hesitantly:

-          What is it, sensei? Did I do something…?

Tendo didn’t let her finish and take blame for his own stupidity – he caught her hand, opened it and planted a kiss to her palm, cradling his face in it. Nanase felt he was burning up, tremors shaking his body in waves – yet he tried breathing deeply to calm down. Why?

-          Sensei?

Barely audibly he said, apologetically:

-          I didn’t take any condoms… it was just a Jenga game… And Ryuko is home, I can’t go there like this…

By the end of it Kairi was almost crying, letting go of fantasies of her body around him. Until she took his face in both her palms and raised it to look at him:

-          Sensei, we’re both healthy, we’d just had our medical checkups and…

-          Nanase, it’s not only for…

-          … and I’m on a pill.

Tendo gulped, his eyes widening with found possibilities. Nanase took it as a question and rushed to explain:

-          It’s the hormonal treatment for…

-          I don’t care, - Tendo fell onto her, knocking her to the floor and swallowing the rest of her explanation with a deep searing kiss.

He did care. Kairi made a mental note to check on her medical condition later, consult with doctor Akai, their hospital’s top gynecologist, on whether it was the best treatment plan for whatever ailed her… but not now… now he was unimaginably grateful for this stroke of luck because it meant he didn’t have to stop now.

Kissing her felt different now. Now Tendo knew what she tasted like and could feel the notes of her intimate taste all over her skin. The scent of her arousal, tangy and spicy, tickled his nostrils, making his head spin as if he was drunk. He was drunk, actually – drunk on her naked body, splayed so openly beneath him, drunk on her hands drawing patterns on his skin, drunk on her touch when Nanase reached out and took hold of his belt buckle…

-          May I? – she whispered, mirroring his words from before.

Tendo buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply and trying to calm the frenzy ranging in his chest. Was he ready for this? For her hands so close to where he wanted them the most? Would he be able to take it?

Having decide to test himself, Kairi stood up, taking Sakura by the hand to help her rise up. Sakura kneeled before him, sitting back on her heels, her hand reaching out to his belt again. Tendo nodded.

Sakura unbuckled the clasp, slightly surprised how smooth her movements were, as if she wasn’t shaking head to toe from the anticipation of what she was about to uncovered. Maybe, it was her medical training – she did undress people before, many times – or maybe she was already in the eye of the hurricane, where everything was deceptively calm and only whistling sound in her ears reminded her that she is about to be snatched off the ground into dangerous whirlwind of their combined passion. Shaking her head to focus on the task at hand, Sakura repeated Tendo’s approach from before, easing both his pants and underwear off his hips and letting them drop, pooling around his ankles. Kairi stepped out slowly and shoved the clothes aside – and stilled again. Sakura followed that movement and then raised her eyes up, slowly, admiring her sculpted calves, thighs and then…

Sakura saw naked men before; she was a nurse after all. But not anyone who was beautiful… and so visibly wanting. His male member throbbed and jumped a bit under her gaze, vain bulging alongside its very impressive length. Nanase suddenly felt her mouth watering just thinking of what it would taste like… if she were only to taste a little… just a tip…

Tendo’s hands, clenched in tight fists, were glued to his sides, stopping him from touching her. He waited for Sakura’s inspection to be over, giving her time to get used to him like this. But when he saw Nanase licking her lips, reaching out to him, to that part of him – he intersected her hand immediately! Sakura looked at him questioningly, her voice sounding from afar, as if she was lost in some hypnotic trance:

-          Why? I thought it was my turn…

Kairi saw a white light furiously flashing across his sight and his knees almost buckled. Her touch – he wanted it so much! But… but…

-          Because I would die, Nanase. I’ll explode…

She bit her lip, not sure what to do next. Tendo leaned in and raised Sakura by the waist, making her sit on the bed. Crouching before her, he kissed her lips, her arms, taking more time to thoroughly lavish her breasts in licks and kisses and bites – until her body relaxed from the disappointment of his refusal and she leaned back inviting him to continue. Tendo said softly, in between covering her skin with imprints of his mouths:

-          This time… I will… love you. Next time… you can… if you want to… love me.

Sakura didn’t quite understand that suggestion but was willing to go with whatever – as long as it meant this tension inside her kept rising as it did now… and long as his body was melting into hers like it did now… as long as his kisses were getting closer and closer to…

-          Agh… sensei… unnnn… what… aaaah… are…

-          Shh, Nanase… all of you… is mine.

Her taste was stronger than before, more vivid – it was burning him with white fire, bringing him pleasure he didn’t know was possible on the giving end of this play. Her fingers, lost in the trusses of his hair again, flexed in unison with her body movements, instinctive waves of her hips to press into his mouth. Tendo hummed and the vibrations translated into Sakura’s scream, broken and commanding:

-          More!

And this time, he had more! Kairi gave her one more wide lick and then covered her body, pressing Sakura into bed. Her legs circled his hips, aligning them perfectly, and they both felt when his hardness found an entrance to her wet softness. Tendo slowed down to a glacial pace, savoring the feeling of her body enveloping him, tugging him in, inviting… until he reached that resistance barrier, natural protective layer of her virginity. He tried warning her:

-          Nanase…

She nodded immediately and raised her hips as much as she could being weighted down by his body:

-          Come.

-          Nanase… it will…

-          I know.

-          Nanase… I can…

-          Kairi… come!

He wanted to say he could wait a little longer, letting her adjust to him. But hearing Sakura say his name, for the first time… exhaling it with so much love and tenderness… undid him. Tendo fell into her… her deep, waiting, accepting body, her warmth and passion… her whole self. His Sakura, his.

She jerked and he heard her whine. Something hot and wet touched his cheek, Tendo tuned and caught a glimpse of a single tear rolling down the side of her face before she looked away. Guilt took a squeezing hold of his heart for he has hurt the woman he loved, though it could’ve not been avoided. He pleaded, showering her face, her hair, her neck with kisses:

-          Nanase, my precious one, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… please, forgive me, please…

Tendo felt her arms enveloping him in embrace and rubbing soothing circles on his back – Sakura was consoling him! She smiled at him and he could almost believe that smile, if it wasn’t for the tension in her jaw from biting back the pain. Sakura said in overly calm tone:

-          Shh, sensei, I’m alright… it just… stings. I will be alright…

-          What can I do?

-          Move.

He was ready to be still for the rest of his life even if it killed him – so Tendo wasn’t expecting her command to move! He checked:

-          But wouldn’t it..?

-          It would… but it stings either way… and before… I liked it when you moved.

He needed no more invitations and permissions than that – instinct took over and lead him into rhythm, as old as time itself, picking up the pace when he felt Sakura respond to his thrusts with her own. At that moment only her body attached him to life, only she held the power to turn all of his pent-up frustration into pure blinding energy that drove him further, deeper, faster! He marched to the drum of pulse beating in his temples and to the sound of her cries, chanting his name with every breath… everything was there in his name falling off her lips – the urgency, the love, the explanation, the miracle… ‘Kairi… Kairi… Kairi… Kai... Kai... nnnnnn... Kai... ahhh... Kai... ohhhh... Kai... reeeee...'. And then he felt her tighten around him, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. So tight, so, so tight! Pulsing, wet, gliding, velvet… He should’ve stopped, should’ve waited – but then she commander again in the sweetest of commands:

-          Kairi… come.

One dive… another one… he heard her teeth rattle… another one… her nails dug into his asscheeks urging him to thrust impossibly deeper… one more, hard…  her bed shaking dangerously under his rush… and another, and another… And lightning struck through his spine! ..and the world seized to exist, and only blazing hot stream of energy rushed through his body, collecting everything he was to give to her! To press it into her, again and again, so he could stay in her forever, and be lifeless and alive in the same time! And be hers!

-          I love you, Sakura Nanase! I adore you, I worship you, I live and breathe you! Thank you… Oh, Nanase, thank you so much!

Her response was of a warm hug and a kiss to his chest. Few moments later her grip loosened and Tendo heard her breathing softly, evenly – his newly-made woman fell asleep. He carefully stood up, brought a warm wet cloth from the bathroom and cleaned them both up. Sakura didn’t even stir when Kairi freed the covers and blanket from underneath her. He chuckled softly at his sleeping beauty and joined her in that tiny bed of hers where two people would have to snuggle really tight not to fall off at night. Tendo was fine with that – he wasn’t planning to let her go anyways. Ever.

***   ***   ***

Tendo turned the corner and stopped, leaning against the wall. He closed his eyes, fighting off tangles of headache creeping up his skull. Today wasn’t that difficult from the work perspective, per se, his patients were going well all things considered, two new came in and preparation for scheduled surgeries was on the way. But something… something was just off.

He knew that the reason was Nanase. The fact that he’d upset her this morning and she’d ran away before he could apologize… The fact that she’d sent in his lunch with a sweet and cheerful note, but didn’t want to come personally… Kairi was obsessed with seeing her again to the point that he hallucinated her walking on the other end of the corridor – but when he ran up to the spot, she’d disappeared in the thin air, like mirage.

He hasn’t seen her in five days. Nurse Sakai got sick and Nanase agreed to change her shifts for night ones to help out. So, the only time they saw each other was during morning and evening check-ins, in the hospital, with other staff present.

Kairi missed her so much! Missed holding her small frame through the night, missed the smell of her hair, the brightness of her smile… His wife’s silly songs she’d made off recipes and were singing during cooking… Color pencils scattered on the floor and handmade brochures she prepared for her patients with post-surgery care routines lying around the apartment… Kairi missed her curious button nose that would get into anything he was reading and then Nanase would ask him a million distracting questions... but he also missed her attentive and proud eyes when she was listening to his responses. He missed her one-of-a-kind mind, her forgiving soul, her optimistic heart… his wife, Tendo Nanase.

And he’d also missed her body. The slopes and ridges, the depth of it, the taste, the scent… Just thinking of it made his body tense and his pants become uncomfortably tight. It’s only been five days… and they’d been married for five months… but there was no saturation with her, no ‘enough’, no ‘slowing down’ or ‘marriage routine’. Every day with her was a new handwritten page of happiness, every night was a study of passion and abandon. Kairi was addicted to his wife, and blissfully so. If was as if she was a hormone that his body wasn’t producing and was lacking all his life even without knowing. And then Nanase broke in, forcefully, with stubborn conviction – and his life finally tilted towards the happiness. She reminded him how to laugh, helped him to find his own heart and challenged a man in him. The challenge was to love Nanase so much that her first man would always be her only man – and she wouldn’t miss out on anything! And Kairi missed the challenge for five days now! In a row!

The first night when he came home, on Monday, Kairi realized Nanase wasn’t sleeping in their bed but rather on the couch. He called her up to ask for a reason… and his wife told him the bed was too big for her without him… and couch cushions smelled like him… because this is where he read. Kairi bit his lip and moaned silently, feeling his groin getting heavier and hotter. Later, he slept in their bed because sheets smelled of her, of her tangled dark hair that covered his face like a canopy when she rode him the night before, of her screams and bites, her uninhibited desire for him…

But now… he was losing her scent in their apartment… the sheets were too cold.

And tonight was her last night shift. Tomorrow was a weekend for both of them. Nanase will come home and he will wake up to the sound of her cooking or singing or both. And he will hold her in his arms and inhale her and everything will be all right again. Kairi just needed to survive till then.

***   ***   ***

Kairi looked at his watch – 5 pm. Two hours till the end of his shift, one hour till Nanase comes in for evening check-in, fourteen hours till she comes back home after her shift. He could make it because he would get to see her in an hour… just one hour.

Or not... Reacting to the screams and gurgling sounds in the nearby room, Tendo rushed in to find Nanase struggling to contain a male patient trashing on the bed. Two nurses quickly ran in past him, one adjusted patient’s IV drip, other injected something into his shoulder – and things quieted really quickly. Nanase let go of patient’s arms and turned to the chief nurse, not noticing Tendo standing behind her:

-          I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened! I was giving him his dinner and…

The fact that she was feeding the patient was very evident seeing how Nanase was covered in pieces of vegetables and stains of fruit tea that were served for dinner today. Chief nurse rushed to calm Nanase down, side-eyeing Tendo suspiciously because he still hasn’t announced his presence to his wife:

-          It’s ok, Nanase-chan, it’s not your fault, his anti-seizure meds weren’t adjusted yet, we’re waiting for Doctor Kisugi to come in later and do that. You should go and clean up before your shift starts. Why did you come so early anyways?

Nanase looked at the floor shyly and said:

-          It’s a… personal matter. I thought I’d help with dinner first and then go find Tendo-sensei and…

That’s when Kairi took his que and grabbed his wife by the forearm, tugging her towards him. Nanase looked up and shy delight crossed her face, leaving unmistakable blush behind. She bowed to him demurely:

-          Tendo-sensei, I’ll be at the evening check-in as soon as…

-          You have broccoli in your hair…

-          Yes, I’ll go take a shower and be back when…

-          I’ll take care of it. Come.

Tendo dragged his wife away from two nurses, smirking at him with knowing smiles. Nanase tried arguing, while almost running behind him to keep up with the pace:

-          Tendo-sensei, we have shower next to the nurses’ station, I can be back very quickly, I don’t want to impose on doctors’ premises.

-          That’s not where we’re going…

Nanase looked at him incredulously but Tendo paid no attention to her surprise while continuing to their destination, using the most inconspicuous of paths to avoid meeting more colleagues and more questions. As they walked, Nanase started to recognize the halls of this secluded and posh wing – and her suspicions were confirmed when Tendo opened and closed behind her a door to one of VIP suites. Nanase spooked and tried to rush out of the door:

-          Sensei, we can’t use VIP suites for showers! Mariko-san will not allow it! Nurses are sent to this wing only by assignment!

Tendo caught her by the shoulders and pressed her against the door. Nanase looked up, her mouth open to protest more – and all her protests drowned in the deep, hungry kiss her husband landed on her. Humming noise in the back of his throat vibrated through her body, making her weak in the knees – and if she weren’t being held up against the door by his strong hands, Nanase would probably have dropped. Something in her mind that was responsible for manners and propriety switched off, giving way to the wave of familiar anticipation. She moaned into his mouth, biting his lower lip a little and hearing him respond with sharp inhale. With visible difficulty, Tendo tore himself off his wife and rested his forehead on the door above her shoulder. He said, short of breath:

-          You aren’t here as a nurse… it’s still one hour till your shift… you’re here as my wife… and I have a privilege to come here whenever I wish to.

Nanase peeped from around his back and looked around the room. Tendo stepped away to give her a better overview, while trying to do some calming breathing exercises himself – while Nanase was technically not at work yet, he was and he needed to go back to his patients soon enough, before Koichi-kun comes in to change him.

Nanase walked around the room and noticed all the things that made this room different from lavish suites for VIP patients. First of all, it wasn’t all that lavish – furniture was much simpler than she’d remembered, fewer decorations, much smaller TV set and no vases with live flowers. The bed wasn’t one of the standard motorized hospital beds but rather simple-frame queen-size bed with few extra cushions. Overall, the room looked like a mix of a hotel room and an office, the office part represented by a big desk near a window which was obviously used by doctors since it was covered in piles of folders and X-ray files.

Nanase asked:

-          What is this room? Some… doctors’ lounge?

Tendo chuckled:

-          Not exactly, no. When this wing was refurbished for VIP suites, this room was deemed too small for the high standards of VIP patients, so hospital’s management decided to keep it for the doctors in charge. Today that’s me. We use it occasionally to work, research, take a shower or sleep, if time allows.

Nanase looked around and noticed the door that led to the bathroom. She suddenly remembered how silly she must look with patient’s dinner displayed all over her and started towards the door – and then stopped. Her eyes darted between bathroom and exit door and back. Tendo asked:

-          What? You don’t have to worry, nobody would walk in, it can only be open with our badges. There’s also a latch on the bathroom door, if you want to use it…

-          That’s not it… My spare uniform is in my locker, I need to go take it.

Tendo nodded but stopped Nanase when she tried to walk out:

-          You go take your shower, I’ll bring your things and get back to my patients. There is shower gel and shampoo on the stall, towels are in the cupboard by the door. I’ll be back soon!

And with that Kairi landed a quick chaste kiss on his wife’s forehead and left the room, covering the distance in wide strides to come back faster. Nanase sighted with a tinge of disappointment – she was hoping for more time with her husband when she came to work earlier, but, alas, her unfortunate incident derailed her plans. She made a quick work of undressing, folding her uniform neatly and going into bathroom. The shower stall was a standard edition for medical facilities, with sturdy railings on two levels and spray nuzzles from top to bottom for stimulating massage, if needed. And while Nanase wouldn’t mind a massage this time to relieve her of coiling tension inside, she didn’t want to overstep the hospitality of this secret lounge. Her shower would be quick and efficient!

Meanwhile, Tendo thought along the same lines – that his wife will be in and out in a split second – so he rushed to get her things before she had to come out of the shower… draped in a towel only… warm and wet… focus, Kairi!

Easier said than done! Images rushed through his mind, offering all the ways he could help her shower, to make sure that all her hidden spots were well taken care of and…

-          Tendo-kun! Just the man I was looking for!

Kairi turned around and stumbled upon seeing Koichi’s smiling face, while his fellow doctor approached to greet him. Tendo responded automatically, still trying to focus his gaze and shake off the effects of feverish daydreaming. He looked at his watch and said:

-          I need to take Nanase’s spare uniform and then I’d be back to brief you about…

-          Yeah, I know, Kaori-san valve repair prep and Nakoishi-san pacer implant surgery. Mariko-san already gave me all the charts, I’m fully up to speed! So, unless there’s something else you want to tell me… you’re off duty as of now!

And he winked at Kairi. He winked at him! Tendo frowned and stepped back, as if from a blow… Was he THAT obvious? Did the entire hospital know that he was a horny idiot obsessed with his wife? Was there a conspiracy to get him laid?!

He was supposed to be offended at that prospect, outraged even! But at that moment, all he could hear was ‘it’s still an hour till her shift starts… and she’s still in the shower… shower…’.

Tendo nodded, rushed to grab Nanase’s clothes and flat our ran back to the VIP wing at full speed. He thought he’d heard a choir of chuckles and quiet laughs from nurses’ station – but he couldn’t care less! His image be damned – he was, after all, horny idiot obsessed with his wife!

***   ***   ***

Nanase was absolutely planning to get out of the shower any minute now… but the hot water was so soothing and energizing in the same time, massaging her stiff shoulders with high-pressure streams. She’d heard her husband come into the room again and cried out to him:

-          Sensei, I’ll be out soon! Please, leave my uniform and get back to your patients! I’ll be fine here!

She stretched, checking how her muscles relaxed, and rinsed her hair once again. Nanase turned her head to face the water, her eyes closed and her lips smiling – she just loved hot showers very much. She’d found the faucet by touch and before she could turn it off, a strong hand stopped her, other circled her waist and pressed her to the obviously naked male body and a familiar voice whispered to her ear:

-          Don’t. I need a shower too.

Her rational mind reminded her about time, schedules, something-something… But her female body swayed into him, feeling him grinding back into her. Tendo let go of her hand and caught one of her nipples between his fingers, tuning it up to the sensitive aroused state. His whisper came between bites of her neck and shoulder:

-          You know, personal hygiene is a very serious matter in medical profession. I do need to make sure that you are clean here… - he followed the outline of her breast, then the other, - … here… - his hand trailed back down, his nails sliding across her wet skin, - and here too…  - Tendo’s fingers split the hair in the apex of her thighs and slipped in, circling, teasing.

Nanase grabbed the railing in front of her with one hand and Tando’s wet hair above her with another and held on for the sensual assault. Her lover knew what he was doing – his exceptional mind, when focused on her body, was inventive, generous and wicked! Nanase felt dizzy and inflamed and this time it had nothing to do with a fog of hot air around her and water running down her body. One last rational thought escaped almost involuntary:

-          Your shift…

He buckled into her, making Nanase lose balance and stumble forward, almost hitting the metal railing she was holding. Kairi held her back, using the hand that was buried knuckles deep into her body to anchor her back to him. Nanase cried out and he repeated the motion again, and again. When he hissed his answer into her hair, Nanase was too far gone past remembering her question at all:

-          Another doctor already took over. We have time…

Something flashed inside Nanase, an understanding, a memory… There was something she liked doing when they had time. A reckoning…

Nanase took all of her will power – and physical strength – to push herself off the glass wall in front of her. She unclutched Tendo’s hands holding her in place, whining momentarily on the loss of the fullness and heat his fingers provided. Nanase turned around and faced him, her gorgeous demi-god husband, built of steel and velvet… and desire. She pushed back, and back – until Tendo stopped at the opposite glass wall, awkwardly placing his elbows on the upper railing. He looked at her surprised, but aroused and willing to go wherever this was leading to. Nanase smiled – her special smile that meant so many things now – and told him, touching her fingers to his upper arms:

-          Hold on. Don’t let go.

He nodded automatically thinking of what she may be planning – and then there was no thinking possible! Nanase’s lips landed everywhere on his skin, licking off droplets of water, biting across sensitive spots, soothing bite marks with wide strokes of her tongue… Her hands caressed his body, explored with soft touches, marked with red lines, loved him, worshiped… When Nanase went down on her knees, Tendo groaned and threw his head up, feeling heat wash over him from inside… and when she took him into her mouth and sucked in the whole length of his shaft… Tendo saw stars! Her wet lips, the perfect pressure, just the right rhythm… his body was no longer his, coiling numbness was taking over, turning off circuits in his body and his brain… He missed her so much!

With the last tendrils of sanity escaping him, Tendo begged:

-          Nanase, please…

She released him with a plop and asked, kissing his thigh and continuing her rhythm with the palm of her hand:

-          Yes, anata?

Kairi bent over and grabbed her by the waist, turning around and hoisting her up on the lower level railing. She circled her legs around him and locked them behind his back, catching Kairi and tugging him close to her body. He kissed her, hungrily, urgently… then begged again:

-          Say it…

-          What, anata? What should I say, Kairi?

And there it was – those special words that drove him crazy! Because he knew how many barriers had to melt in Nanase’s mind for her to call him by the name, to address him as ‘husband’… and he did this to her! She was his – ripe, willing, ready to be taken, ready to take him too!

Invitation was so close… Unmistakable scent that was not washed away by shower but only amplified by the steamed glass compartment… slick wetness where their bodies longed to be connected… her lips and her whimpers on the base of his neck… and her searching hands, digging nails into his asscheeks to bring him home.

-          Kairi, please…

He plunged deep, reaching the core of her female self in one go! Plunging in and out with a force that could easily shutter the tempered glass behind her back – for every night he’d spent without her, for every time his fingers flexed to find her body in the darkness and didn’t, for every time he couldn’t remember her scent… There were many, many times like this and so he worked them all out into her, into her accepting body, her unreserved screams, her ‘more’ and ‘harder’!

It was too much too fast for him! He waited for so long! Numbness took over again, flowing from where their bodies connected to the outsides of his body and beyond. Kairi cried out her name and heard her whisper ‘five’. Four… three… two… one!!! His wife convulsed around him, froze for a moment and then fell apart with a low, almost pained scream! Her body sucked him in… three… two… one!!! And he followed! Ignited nerves exploding, heart jumping out of his chest and everything around him turning into blissful darkness, filled with her satisfied humming and the sound of running water…

***   ***   ***

When his vision cleared, Kairi found himself sitting on the shower floor, his wife still circling his hips, smiling at him mischievously. Nanase kissed his nose and said:

-          Anata… long time no see!

Kairi groaned – his wife would be the death of him! But, on a plus side, he’d die a very happy man! His usual cold-blooded demeanor creeped back into steamy bathroom and he said:

-          Only you would joke like that in this situation! Baka!

Nanase waved him off and stood up carefully, holding the railing not to slip up on the wet floor. She picked up the shower gel and washcloth and handed them to Kairi:

-          Since you here, you can help me wash my back, I couldn’t reach it before…

Her voice was so seductively nonchalant, Tendo chuckled. He loved these short periods right after lovemaking when his wife was still riding the hormone rush and her inhibitions and self-imposed limits didn’t apply. With time, these periods became longer, and his wife was getting bolder with him, going as far as calling him by the name even outside their bedroom! That only happened few times but Kairi was willing to put in whatever effort it took – especially considering he enjoyed the effort itself beyond comprehension! His favorite treatment plan ever!

Kairi helped Nanase wash up and she did the same for him, taking time to be tender and soft with each other, sharing smiles and small kisses. When they came out, Nanase changed into her spare uniform and went to the fridge to fish out some water. She brought him a bottle too and made sure he drank up all of it. While dressing up, Tendo noticed that something changed in his wife’s demeanor – something awkward, uncertain… reserved?

His morning behaviour came to mind and Tendo opened his mouth to apologise – when Nanase dragged him by the sleeve to sit on the couch.

-          Kairi, we need to talk.

He dreaded this talk, but it was necessary. He just hoped that her responsiveness before meant she would forgive him soon.

-          Nanase, about today, I was wrong, I shouldn’t have…

Tendo tried to speak fast, to get as much of his apologies out before his wife’s too-forgiving heart will absolve him of all sins, as she usually did. But that wasn’t what she’d interrupted him with.

-          It’s not about today. I mean, it is, in a way, but it’s not your fault, it’s mine. Well… yours too, but mostly mine.

She nodded and stayed with lowered head, observing her hands clutched together. Tendo sat closer, taking her hands into his and kissing them, knuckle by knuckle.

-          Nanase, I should not have scolded you. I upset you and made you run away from me.

His wife raised her head and looked him in the eyes, her expression perplexed. She looked up, as if remembering something, then back at him with a smile:

-          Ananta, it’s not why I ran away. I just didn’t want you to see me get sick, I didn’t feel well this morning.

-          Sick? Nanase, what’s wrong? How are you feeling? Have you been to the doctor? Should we go now?

-          Shh, I’m fine. Yes, I’ve been to the doctor, today, when I brought you lunch.

So, he did see her in the corridor today, it’s wasn’t a hallucination! But… but…

-          Why didn’t you come see me right after? What did the doctor say?

Nanase smiled again and kissed his fingers wrapped around her hands.

-          I wanted to come, but first there was an appointment with Akai-san, then blood tests, then ultrasound… When I was done, I came here but you were already in the OR so I left to prepare for my shift.

Tendo huffed with irritation:

-          Nanase, the timeline was clearly not the most important part of my question! What did Akai-san say? Is your hormonal treatment not working? What were the blood tests about? What should I know? Say it already!

Nanase chewed on her lower lip and looked away – her tell for immense insecurity – and then took something out of her pocket and handed it over to Kairi.

Kairi unfolded few sheets of paper with hospital header on them – blood test, diagnosis, ultrasound results… On top of it all, attached by the staple, there was a small rectangular picture with classic ultrasound triangle. With shades, and echos… and one unmistakable white dot. Numbers ran in front of his eyes… sizes, estimated gestation period, heartbeat rate… His little white dot has already had a heartbeat!

Papers spilled out to the floor and Tendo didn’t even notice. He looked at his wife with unblinking eyes and whispered hoarsely:

-          Are you… pregnant?

Nanase nodded, her pale face looking so lost and guilty now! She rushed into explanation:

-          I didn’t think it was it, I thought that was just aftereffect from switching to new treatment! Sensei, I know, you didn’t plan for this, I didn’t want to put you in this position…

-          Treatment…

-          Yes, Akai-san said it’s practically impossible that such treatment could result in pregnancy but then…

-          No, Nanase, listen! – Kairi shook her by the shoulders, his voice frantic, - did you cancel the treatment? You were taking it this whole time! Can it harm our baby?!

-          Our… baby?

Nanase looked at him, his worried eyes, his trembling lips – and realization dawned on her! Her smile rose above them like a rainbow, happy, unreserved, eternal! She touched her fingers to his furrowed brow and asked:

-          So… you want it?

Tendo brows furrowed further but this time with different question in mind!

-          Do I want it? Nanase, you loveable idiot! Of course, I want our baby! How could you possibly think anything else?!

-          Well, we haven’t discussed it… and it wasn’t in your plan…

-          What plan, Nanase? There was no plan before you! You are the plan! And whatever comes from you, around you and for you – it is my plan!

He hugged her to his chest tightly and Nanase heard his heart thundering in his chest in unison with quickened breathing. His lips whispered something into her hair, but she couldn’t make out the words. Then Kairi tore her away from him again and ask anxiously:

-          The treatment? Will it harm the baby?

Nanase smiled and bent over to pick up the scattered papers. She found the right one and showed it to her husband:

-          According to this, our baby is a fighter! If treatment did not deter the consumption, then the treatment would have no effect on early gestation, especially, since I stopped it already. The baby is fine, Kairi, all the results are normal for our 6-weeks old sweet pea!

Sweet pea! Their baby had a size and a heartbeat, and it was fine and healthy and growing inside the woman he loved! Kairi hugged her again, sitting her comfortably on his lap, because he wasn’t planning to let her go for a long time, her shift and schedule all but forgotten! He wanted to talk to her… ask her about morning sickness that she was apparently hiding from him… if she had any cravings yet because Kairi wanted her to have them so he could satisfy the littlest of her needs… if she wanted a boy or a girl – but he already knew Nanase would say ‘as long as it’s healthy and happy’… they needed to discuss buying a house because they weren’t raising a family in his old bachelor apartment!.. he wanted to talk baby names…

Kairi wanted to keep them safe and comfortable in the protective shield of his body, to let Nanase know how much he loved and cherished her and their baby – his two 0,0001% impossible miracles! As they set there, him whispering soft words of love into her smiling lips, Tendo saw in her bright eyes how his life was expanding, to encompass him and his wife and all the possibilities and surprises, and all the promises he was about to make, and all the changes he was so looking forward to right now! And all thanks to her, his shining wife, little brave hero who fought her way through his darkness and thorns – to give him acceptance, hope, happiness, and, eventually, life!