223: Farewell to the Morning Light

The chirping of insects outside the window resumed softly at some point, intertwining with the mingled breaths of the two people inside. Coupled with the soft moonlight, the night's lingering affection brewed into an inseparable tenderness.

Situ Jun gazed at the sleeping features of the person beside him, silently making a promise in his heart: for the rest of his life, he would protect her and their child, ensuring she remained forever peaceful and happy, without a single shred of worry.

The night gradually reached its end, leaving only the slow, intertwined breathing of the two in the room. Occasional light insect chirps drifted in from outside; everything was as quiet as a beautiful dream one never wished to wake from.

Until the thick darkness of the horizon slowly faded, dyeing into a deep blue and revealing a glimmer of fish-belly white light, making the window paper glow faintly.

The subtle sound of servants sweeping the courtyard came from outside, announcing a new day—and the arrival of the day of departure.

Situ Jun looked down at the Embroiderer; her brow was still slightly furrowed in sleep, yet the corners of her mouth held an unconscious attachment, like a vine that had found its support.

His fingertips gently brushed the stray hair near her cheek, his movements so light he feared breaking the morning light. He then carefully moved his body away, trying his best not to disturb the brocade quilt.

Seeing the corner of the quilt slide down slightly, he leaned over to tuck it carefully against her neck, ensuring she wouldn't catch a cold before silently rising.

The morning light was dim, falling on him through the carved window lattices and highlighting several faint scratches on his sturdy shoulders and back—traces of last night's passion and intensity, silently speaking of the warmth of two hearts joined together.

He quickly dressed in his neat black martial attire, which wrapped around his tall frame, instantly reshaping him into the steady and sharp Lord of East Lin. The tenderness around him was quietly withdrawn into the depths of his eyes.

When he turned, his gaze fell upon the Embroiderer still sleeping on the soft couch. Only then did his cold, sharp features soften completely, as inseparable tenderness and reluctance surged in his eyes.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss as light as a feather onto her smooth forehead, his voice suppressed so low it almost melted into the morning light:

"Wait for me to return, Embroiderer."

Immediately, he withdrew all outward emotions and strode toward the desk.

The Formation Plate and Jade Slip carved last night lay there quietly, emitting a faint spiritual glow. He picked up the last few, condensing spiritual power at his fingertips to perform the final activation and tuning.

When the first ray of true morning light pierced through the clouds, dyeing the window lattice gold, the Embroiderer let out a soft moan and slowly woke up.

What met her eyes was the familiar yet somewhat strange sight of the study. The passionate memories of last night flooded back like a tide, instantly turning her cheeks crimson.

She subconsciously reached for the space beside her; the bedding was already cold, leaving only Situ Jun's crisp and steady aura lingering about.

She sat up, the brocade quilt sliding down to reveal several ambiguous red marks on her shoulders and neck.

She hurriedly pulled her inner garment closed, but her gaze was involuntarily drawn to the tall, pine-like figure standing before the desk.

Situ Jun turned just then, holding several Jade Talismans and Formation Plates flowing with spiritual light, the blue-white radiance dancing between his fingers.

Their eyes met, and all the intimacy and promises of last night flowed in that silent gaze. The blush on the Embroiderer's face deepened, yet her eyes held the daze of someone newly awakened and total reliance, like a flower just bathed in morning dew.

"Awake?"

Situ Jun's voice was deep and gentle, carrying a trace of an imperceptible smile, like a spring wind brushing over a lake.

He walked to the bedside and gently placed a warm green jade pendant, carved with complex protective runes, into her palm:

"This is a protective jade pendant I just refined; keep it on you. If you are in danger, crush it, and it will instantly trigger three layers of Protective Aura. It's difficult for anyone below the Nascent Soul stage to break through it instantly, and it will also alert me."

As he spoke, he handed over several more Formation Plates and Jade Talismans:

"These are the control hubs for the manor's core grand formation, along with Divine Thought Jade Talismans. I have already branded the techniques for how to use them into the Jade Slip last night; you will know once you check it with your Spiritual Sense. I entrust the safety of the manor to you and Xuaner. And... you must take good care of yourself."

His gaze was incredibly solemn.

The Embroiderer gripped the jade pendant and Formation Plates. Her fingertips could feel his residual warmth and the majestic spiritual power within the Jade Talismans, as if his protection was everywhere.

She nodded heavily, her voice carrying a bit of the soft grogginess of someone just waking, yet it was incomparably firm:

"Rest assured, Husband, I will not fail your trust."

She paused, looking up at Situ Jun with eyes shimmering like water, filled with a hint of shyness and endless expectation:

"Husband... take care on your journey, and return soon."

Situ Jun looked at her deeply, as if to carve her current appearance into his heart, unwilling to miss even the slight redness at the corners of her eyes or the stray hairs by her temples.

He raised his hand, his thumb gently brushing over her slightly red eyelids before finally resting on her soft lips with infinite longing:

"Mm. Take care of yourself, and... take care of our 'hope'."

His gaze swept meaningfully over her lower abdomen with a touch of tender expectation.

The Embroiderer's cheeks instantly burned as if on fire, but she didn't dodge. Instead, she bravely met his gaze and nodded vigorously, her eyes filled with unprecedented determination.

Situ Jun said no more and strode away. However, the moment he stepped over the threshold, his footsteps faltered slightly, but he ultimately did not look back—he feared that if he did, he would be unable to leave.

The Embroiderer watched him disappear from the study doorway and listened as his steady footsteps grew distant until they vanished completely into the depths of the corridor.

She looked down at the jade pendant, Jade Slip, and Formation Plates in her palm, then gently stroked her lower abdomen, as if she could feel the heavy promise from last night quietly taking root there.

She took a deep breath, suppressing the surge of reluctance and heartache, and quickly tidied her appearance. When she looked up again, her face had regained its composure and dignity; the fragility in her eyes was quietly hidden away, leaving only serenity.

Pushing open the study door, the cool morning air rushed in with the scent of grass and trees, its dewy moisture refreshing her spirit.

She straightened her back and walked toward the front hall of the manor.

There, the women had already prepared breakfast and were waiting for Situ Jun to see him off.

In the front hall, Liu Xuaner, Shen Xingwan, Lan Yanliu, Consort Yu, Jiang Ya, and Mei Shuang were already waiting. Mei Shuang held Tang Tang in her arms, while Xiao Rou huddled closely by her side.

Shen Xingwan had changed into a lotus-root-colored long dress today, its hem embroidered with delicate orchid patterns. The morning light fell on her, making her appear even more gentle and moving.

However, her eyes were full of inseparable attachment and worry, and her fingertips gripping her handkerchief were slightly white; she had clearly been worrying in her heart for a long time.

Lan Yanliu's eyes were slightly red as she fought back tears, her hand tightly clutching a bulging silk pouch, which was clearly filled with healing Medicinal Pills she had meticulously prepared.

Consort Yu handed a heavy food box wrapped in oil paper to an army guard, whispering some instructions.

Mei Shuang held Tang Tang while Xiao Rou leaned against her leg; both children were unusually quiet.

Tang Tang also seemed to sense the atmosphere of departure. Unlike her usual lively self clamoring for candied haws, she just kept her round eyes wide, curiously watching the guards outside the courtyard who were dressed in armor and exuded a killing aura. Her little brow was slightly furrowed, as if wondering why the uncles were so serious today.

When Situ Jun's figure appeared at the end of the corridor, everyone's gaze in the front hall instantly converged on him.

He was dressed in black patterned martial attire with a deep green cloak over it, the hem of which was embroidered with dark gold cloud patterns.

Although his Late Nascent Soul Stage Cultivation was deliberately restrained, his imposing presence—combined with the deep steadiness settled from last night's affairs and the resolve of departure—made him like a peerless divine weapon just unsheathed yet with its edge hidden. He inspired both total admiration and a hint of awe that made one hesitate to approach.

The Embroiderer appeared closely behind him. She had changed into a solemn crimson-purple dress made of high-quality Cloud Brocade, which shimmered softly in the morning light.

Her hair was meticulously styled, adorned only with a Pure Gold Kingfisher Phoenix Hairpin—the symbol of the Mistress of East Lin. The bright pearl on the Phoenix hairpin swayed gently with her steps, making her look even more dignified.

Her steps were steady and her expression calm; only the inseparable tenderness and concern deep in her eyes quietly betrayed her current state of mind.

Situ Jun walked to the center of the front hall, his gaze slowly sweeping over everyone present. The sharpness in his eyes quietly faded, replaced by a gentle smile, his voice steady yet warm:

"Come, sit and eat."

The atmosphere at the dining table was somewhat subtly quiet. Steam rose from the rice porridge in the celadon bowls, the white mist blurring everyone's features. Exquisite pastries were neatly arranged on gold-trimmed plates—osmanthus cake, almond shortbread—all things they usually enjoyed. Yet the chopsticks in the hands of those seated were merely held; no one moved first, allowing the steam to slowly dissipate into the morning light, carrying a silent reluctance.