Behind the confident smirks and commanding voice, behind the title of general and the weight of centuries—he was soft for you. Entirely.

He could bark orders one moment and then fall completely silent under your hands the next. A shift so drastic, so intimate, it almost felt like a secret only the two of you knew.

The truth was, Jing Yuan was never more at ease than when you were the one leading the rhythm.

You’d touch him and he wouldn’t flinch—he’d lean into it, eyes lidded, body instinctively relaxing beneath your fingertips. Kiss his jaw, his throat, trail your mouth along his skin, and he wouldn’t dare stop you. His breath would hitch, chest rising, muscles trembling faintly—because you pleased him. Not the other way around.

His hands would grip the sheets but never your wrists. Never your waist. He didn’t need to hold you in place—he wanted you to move however you liked.

He wouldn’t beg. He didn’t have to. His body said it all.

Jing Yuan—the Invincible General, the sleeping lion of the Luofu—was yours. Subtle, obedient, reverent. Every quiet sigh and bowed head an offering. Every glance filled with longing.

He didn’t need to say a word. His silence was worship.