Crown Prince’s Private Chambers – That Night

The moon hung high, full and heavy, casting silver shadows over red silk. The air inside the chamber felt warmer than the season allowed—charged with something unsaid.

Shen Lianhua stood at the center of the room, still dressed in the formal robes from court, the imperial decree newly inked and sealed.

She hadn’t removed a single ornament. She didn’t have to.

Because when Li Shenzhao entered and shut the doors behind him, he didn’t see his wife.

He saw his equal.

His empress-in-waiting.

And the woman who just silenced every voice that dared doubt her.

“You looked like a flame today,” he said, his voice low.

“Then why do you look like you’re about to be burned?” she replied.

He crossed to her in two steps, and with one gentle pull, let her golden hairpin fall.

Her hair spilled down like molten silk.

“Because I’ve never wanted to be consumed more,” he whispered.

She reached for him, untying his sash as he kissed her—fiercely, then slowly, then like he couldn’t bear not to be touching her.

Their lips barely parted as he guided her backward toward the bed.

The silk pooled at her feet. His robes followed. They shed titles like garments—until there was nothing between them but skin and promises they hadn’t yet made out loud.

“Do you know what I thought when father gave that decree?” she breathed against his mouth.

“What?”

“That no one will ever doubt me again. Not the court. Not my enemies.”

She kissed him then, and pulled him down with her.

“Not even you.”

“I never did,” he said. “I just hadn’t caught up to how powerful you truly are.”

They moved like tides—sometimes gentle, sometimes urgent, always in sync.

There was no hesitation anymore.

Not in her hands as she drew him closer.
Not in his lips on her skin.
Not in the way they whispered each other’s names like vows far deeper than tradition could offer.

When they collapsed into stillness, tangled in each other, the room smelled of heat, sandalwood, and belonging.

She rested her head on his shoulder, fingers tracing idle circles against his chest.

“Do you still see me as a weapon?” she asked sleepily.

“No,” he whispered. “I see you as the reason I win every war.”