196: Embracing in the West Wing

Situ Jun sat quietly for a moment, the worry in his heart still pressing down like a heavy stone, weighty, refusing to dissipate even a shred of coldness.

It wasn't until his gaze inadvertently swept past the window lattice and caught sight of the Crabapple tree in the courtyard, its branches bent low by the morning dew, that the crystalline droplets rolling down the petals added a touch of fragility.

The icy coldness gripping his heart strangely loosened—a soft figure quietly emerged before his eyes.

Shen Xingwan.

The lingering timidity in her eyes when she leaned against the door to send him off, and her slightly flushed cheek brushed by his fingertip, were now so clear they seemed right before him.

Her compliance and honesty last night, her slightly tearful gasps, and the complete trust she finally surrendered, wrapped around him like a cluster of soft vines, silently enveloping his mind, which had been filled with official duties and crises.

He took a deep breath, and the sharp chill surrounding him gradually subsided.

Pushing open the heavy study door, the midday wind carried the fresh Qi of the courtyard flowers and plants, and the sun was just right. He changed direction, skipping his desk of official business, and followed the path straight toward the West Wing of the inner courtyard.

Inside the West Wing of the inner courtyard, Shen Xingwan had not returned to her room to rest.

After Little Lotus cleared the leftovers, she sat on the soft couch by the window. Although she held a book scroll, her gaze was vaguely fixed on the pomegranate tree outside the window—the fiery red blossoms were blooming brilliantly in the sun, like clusters of dancing flames.

Little Lotus was quietly doing needlework nearby; the soft sound of the needle passing through the fabric was the only noise in the room.

The sound of the door being gently pushed open startled Shen Xingwan.

She looked up and saw the familiar, tall figure clad in black walking in against the light. The cold, severe aura he had carried in the study seemed to have been largely melted away by the warm sun in the corridor.

“Husband?”

She was slightly surprised. She put down the scroll and subconsciously started to rise.

“Stay seated.”

Situ Jun's voice was low, but the ending note carried a trace of imperceptible softness.

He quickly took two steps and pressed down on her shoulder. His palm was warm, smoothing over her skin through the thin summer gown, and the force contained an undeniable reassurance.

He took the opportunity to sit down on the edge of the couch beside her, close enough for Shen Xingwan to clearly smell the faint sandalwood lingering on him, along with his unique, clear, and steady aura.

She lowered her head slightly, and her heartbeat instantly fell out of rhythm.

“The official business... is it finished?”

She asked softly, with careful probing, as if afraid of disturbing something.

“Mm, just some trivial matters.”

Situ Jun did not want her to worry too much and brushed it off lightly.

His gaze settled on her face, examining her closely. Seeing the faint shadow beneath her eyes and the weariness that could not be hidden between her brows, he frowned almost imperceptibly.

After playing the zither and se together for half the night, and then being startled by his sudden departure this morning, she must be utterly exhausted.

“Your complexion is still poor.”

He raised his hand, his fingertip gently brushing the faint shadow beneath her eyes, the movement filled with unprecedented tenderness:

“Didn't I tell you to rest properly?”

Shen Xingwan felt her heart flutter under his gaze and subconsciously wanted to lower her head to avoid his burning sight.

“N-no, it's just last night...”

Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, filled with shyness. Her earlobes quietly turned crimson, and she stopped speaking before finishing her sentence.

Situ Jun suddenly stretched out his arm, without warning or hesitation.

One warm, strong hand firmly wrapped around her waist, and the other gently supported her arm.

The movement contained an irresistible assertiveness, like a declaration of possession, yet the moment he touched her, the force precisely transformed into the most comforting support.

Shen Xingwan let out a small cry, and her entire body was already nestled into that firm, warm chest.

Her cheek pressed against the exquisite cloud patterns on his brocade robe, and she could clearly hear his steady, powerful heartbeat, thump, thump, beating against her heart.

His touch made her eyelashes tremble slightly; a warm current accompanied by numbness spread from the place he had touched.

She looked up at him, meeting his deep eyes—the icy coldness from the study was gone, replaced only by focused tenderness, like a placid lake clearly reflecting her image.

“I just wanted to read here.”

She continued to explain softly, her cheeks involuntarily blushing again, and even her neck turned a faint pink.

Situ Jun chuckled softly, the sound rich and deep, carrying the understanding of one who saw everything, yet he did not expose her.

He glanced around and saw that Little Lotus had wisely put down her needlework, quietly retreated, and carefully closed the door behind her.

Only the two of them remained in the room. Sunlight filtered through the window lattice, casting mottled shadows on the floor. The air was filled with tranquility and warmth; even the dust motes danced gently in the light beams.

“You can barely stand, yet you still try to act tough?”

Situ Jun's voice sounded close to the top of her head, his warm breath brushing her fringe, carrying a hint of helplessness but more of unconcealed affection.

He tightened the arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her soft body closer to his own. He could clearly feel the slight tremor coming from her slender waist, caused by soreness and weakness.

This intimate embrace, this direct concern, was like the strongest liquor, instantly breaking down the composure Shen Xingwan had struggled to maintain.

The passion of last night, his tenderness in serving her soup and dishes this morning, and this possessive embrace now... grievance, dependence, and the sweet feeling of being cherished intertwined, rushing tumultuously to her nose and eyes.

Unable to hold back any longer, she buried her face in his broad, firm chest, and her slender arms timidly, tentatively wrapped around his lean waist.

“H-Husband?”

Her voice came muffled from his chest, carrying a trace of imperceptible choked emotion:

“I... I was just a little worried...”

Feeling a subtle dampness seep through the fabric on his chest, Situ Jun's body stiffened slightly.

The arms wrapped around her tightened further, as if he wanted to knead her into his very flesh and blood, using his body heat to dispel all her anxiety and fatigue.

He lowered his head, his chin gently brushing the crown of her soft hair. The crimson Buyao Hairpin pressed against his skin with a cool touch, yet strangely, it eased some of the worry surging in his heart.

“Silly girl.”

His voice was extremely low, carrying a strange power of reassurance:

“With me here, what is there to fear?”

Hearing this, Shen Xingwan hugged him even tighter, as if her entire being wanted to melt into Situ Jun's body.

The embrace was broad and strong, carrying a reassuring aura, seemingly capable of isolating them from all the turmoil outside. She quickly relaxed amidst his body temperature and steady heartbeat, and even her tense shoulders and neck softened.

There was no urgency of lust, only the pure desire to be close.

Last night's passionate intimacy was a surging torrent; this current embrace was a quiet harbor after the storm, gentle enough to drown a person.

After a long time, Shen Xingwan raised her head, cautiously wrapped her hands around his neck, and her red lips lightly touched his mouth, like a butterfly's wing tapping the water surface.

Her beautiful eyes held a hint of shyness, and then she buried her head back into his embrace, like a small, startled creature finding shelter.

This act of dependence concealed a heart full of tenderness and willingness.

Situ Jun let out a sigh of contentment from his throat, and his large hand gently patted her back, like comforting a startled bird returning to its nest. Between his palms, threads of gentle Spiritual Power warmed and nourished her body, his actions incredibly tender.

“Does it still hurt?”

He suddenly asked in a low voice, which carried a trace of imperceptible apology and heartache, referring to the soreness in her waist.

Shen Xingwan's face instantly flushed crimson; even her small earlobes turned pink. She gently shook her head in his arms, her voice as faint as a gnat:

“N-no, it doesn't hurt anymore.”

Situ Jun chuckled softly again, his chest vibrating slightly, causing her to tremble lightly along with him.

He did not tease her further, but simply rubbed his chin against the crown of her soft hair, enjoying this rare moment of tenderness.

The warm sunlight spilled over the two of them, plating their embracing figures with a soft golden edge, and even the air was floating with scattered golden light.