197: Afternoon Passion

Inside the room, only their light, soft breaths remained, weaving together a harmonious and peaceful melody that lingered sweetly in their hearts.

Time seemed soaked in honeyed water, becoming viscous and slow; every second stretched out long, trickling gently through every inch of air.

Situ Jun closed his eyes, his nose filled with the subtle fragrance of her hair, mixed with the faint sweetness of her body, like nectar steeped in morning dew, gently tugging at his heartstrings.

Her honest surrender last night, her docile reliance this morning, and this moment's unreserved embrace were slowly chipping away at the hard shell of ice around his heart.

He was no longer the Northern Territory Overlord, high on the City Lord's throne, knowing only power schemes and slaughter; he was just an ordinary man holding the woman he loved.

Xingwan...

He called her name softly. It was no longer the scrutinizing "Shen Xingwan," but the intimate, warm "Xingwan," like a piece of half-melted candy gently released from the tip of his tongue, sickeningly sweet.

Mmm?

The woman in his arms responded softly, her voice thick with lazy nasal tones, like a well-fed kitten. She rubbed against him, her fluffy hair brushing his neck, making his heart tremble with a tickle.

Nothing.

Situ Jun tightened his arms, holding her closer, as if wanting to knead this soft warmth into his bones and blood, confirming her reality, intent on clutching this warmth tightly in his grasp:

I just wanted to call your name.

Shen Xingwan's heart felt as if it had been lightly tickled by a goose feather, sparking a numbing itch that made her entire body melt into spring water.

She didn't speak, but the arms wrapped around his waist quietly tightened, using this silent strength to respond to his profound affection.

Outside the carved window lattice, pomegranate flowers swayed gently in the breeze. Crimson petals glistened in the sunlight, and several sparrows pecked and hopped on the branches. Their crisp chirping entered through the window, adding a touch of liveliness to the tranquility.

Inside the room, the last wisp of lingering incense in the censer had dissipated, leaving only the warmth of the sun and the clean scent of their bodies, a purity that brought peace to the heart.

This peaceful closeness was even more intoxicating than the deeper intimacy of last night.

It silently declared a sense of belonging—she was his wife, the treasure he would fight to protect under his wing in this chaotic world; and he, too, was her shore, the only harbor she could dock at after drifting without refuge.

Situ Jun lowered his head and placed a kiss on her smooth forehead, a touch as light as kissing a newly bloomed petal, afraid that a fraction more pressure would shatter it.

Rest a little longer. I'll stay with you.

Shen Xingwan closed her eyes peacefully in his embrace, a gentle curve forming on her lips, and even her breathing deepened.

At this moment, the Poison Scorpion Cult and the Southern Territory conflicts were isolated outside this small world.

Only their heartbeats and breaths intertwined in the afternoon sunlight, forming the most beautiful rhythm, flowing gently.

She nestled against him, found a more comfortable position, and her breathing gradually deepened.

Situ Jun looked down at her serene sleeping face. The faint shadows beneath her eyes seemed to have been smoothed away by this moment of peace. Her long eyelashes were like two small fans, casting shallow shadows beneath her eyelids.

He carefully lifted her horizontally, his movements so light he seemed afraid of startling a butterfly mid-flap.

Shen Xingwan moaned softly in her sleep and instinctively shrank into his arms, her arms still wrapped around his neck, refusing to let go as if grasping a life raft.

Situ Jun softened his steps and gently placed her on the Canopy Bed in the inner chamber, covering her with the gossamer-thin Cloud Brocade quilt.

He intended to withdraw, but his fingertips were unconsciously grasped by her.

The grip was light, yet carried complete trust, softening his heart. He simply sat down beside the bed.

Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a hazy glow on her face, and even the crimson Buyao Hairpin near her temple was imbued with warmth.

After an unknown amount of time, Shen Xingwan's eyelashes fluttered open, and her eyes met Situ Jun's smiling gaze.

He had been sitting by the bed the whole time, his fingertips still firmly held by her. The warmth of his palm seeped through her skin, spreading a comforting heat to her core.

Husband...

Her voice, heavy with soft, sleepy nasal tones, caused her cheeks to involuntarily flush red, as if stained with rouge.

Situ Jun raised a hand to smooth the stray hairs from her forehead, his thumb brushing her warm cheek:

You're awake? Are you hungry?

She shook her head, yet couldn't bear to let go of his hand. Instead, she pushed her luck and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, placing her other hand on his wrist, like a small beast craving warmth, practically wanting to cling to him.

Situ Jun chuckled softly, then leaned closer, his nose almost touching her forehead:

So clingy?

Shen Xingwan felt embarrassed by his words and shrank further into the quilt, but he immediately scooped her back into his arms.

This time, he didn't return to the edge of the bed. Instead, he lay down beside her on his side, his arm securely wrapped around her waist, enclosing her between himself and the bed, forming a corner of absolute safety.

Don't move. Let me hold you for a while.

His voice, pressed against her ear, carried a lazy sigh, as if steeped in honey.

Shen Xingwan obediently stopped moving, listening to the steady heartbeat in his chest, which sounded like the most reassuring drumbeat, tapping steadily in her heart.

Situ Jun chuckled, catching her hand and kissing it.

The skin on the back of her hand was delicate and fair, with faint blue veins visible beneath the surface, much like pale blue patterns drawn on fine white porcelain.

Shen Xingwan felt soft from his tenderness, and she couldn't help but snuggle into his arms, tilting her head up to meet his kiss.

This kiss was not as fierce as the one last night; it carried the warmth of the sun, gentle like a feather brushing her heart, causing a tingling numbness.

There was a faint scent of sandalwood between his lips and teeth, mixed with the clean fragrance of her hair, lingering at her nose tip to form a reassuring aroma.

Shen Xingwan gradually relaxed, her eyelashes trembling as she actively responded to him.

The pomegranate flowers outside the window were still blooming, and the chirping of sparrows filtered through the sheer curtains, becoming the gentlest background sound in this small world.

Situ Jun's hand gently stroked her back, applying a soothing pressure, as if silently saying, "I am here."

Shen Xingwan suddenly recalled his focus when serving soup this morning, and the pity in his eyes when he looked at her. Her heart warmed, and she lightly nipped his chin, like a playful little beast.

Situ Jun burst into low laughter, the vibration of his chest traveling through their touching skin, making her bones turn soft:

Getting bold?

She didn't answer, instead burying her face in the crook of his neck, like a cat that had successfully stolen a fish. The corners of her mouth curved up uncontrollably, and even her earlobes were flushed red.

Sunlight leaked through the gaps in the sheer curtains, dancing on their intertwined hair, coating this moment of tenderness with a layer of unfading gold trim.

Situ Jun lowered his head and took a deep breath at the crown of her head, engraving her fragrance into his heart, determined to remember it for a lifetime.

Husband...

She caught his mischievous hand and called out to him, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes were veiled with moisture, making it impossible to tell if it was shame or annoyance.

The places he had repeatedly kissed and sucked last night now erupted in fine shivers at the slightest touch. She couldn't help but let out a soft moan, the final sound caught between her own lips, leaving only fragmented gasps, like a feather stroking the heart.