Jing Yuan had a habit of weaving little flirtations into everyday moments, and you were never quite sure if he did it on purpose or if it was just part of his natural charm. This morning, as the two of you strolled through the bustling market at dawn, he held you close with one arm securely around your waist. In his other hand, he carried the growing number of goods you’d picked out together: fresh produce, small trinkets, and herbs for the week.

“Look at this, my dear,” he said, holding up a delicate, handcrafted ornament. “As lovely as it is, I don’t think it quite matches your beauty.”

You raised a brow at him, but he only flashed that soft, knowing smile, as if he was simply commenting on the weather. The vendor shot you both a grin, clearly amused by the general’s charm.

As you moved to the next stall, Jing Yuan continued, his voice low and meant just for you. “I have to be careful,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “If I bring you here too often, the merchants will think I’m showing you off.”

You laughed, shaking your head, half-expecting his antics by now. But the arm around your waist pulled you just a little closer as you walked on, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your side. “You know,” he added casually, “there’s nothing I wouldn’t carry for you. A basket, an army, or even my heart, if you’d let me.”

It took a moment to realize what he’d just said. His tone was so relaxed, so naturally smooth, that you almost didn’t catch the gravity of his words. Glancing up at him, you could see the glint of playfulness in his eyes, mixed with something deeper, something sincere.

You nudged him playfully, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your cheeks. You knew he was more than happy to carry anything—and be anywhere—as long as it was with you.