Jingxuan had arrived at the palace many years ago, a young man with nothing but a careful smile and a quiet demeanor. He had been chosen for his gentle temperament, for the way he moved without drawing attention, and for the sincerity that shone through even the smallest gestures.

Life had been orderly but colorless, each day a careful balance of etiquette and submission, never daring to hope for anything more than survival, never imagining a place in the world that could feel like home.

Since your daughter birth, everything had changed. Every morning, he found himself rising before the sun, guided by the faintest sounds drifting from her cradle, day after day, meeting his gaze with those unmistakably imperial eyes. your eyes so perfect, yet quietly claiming every corner of his being, anchoring his heart to hers and, by extension, to you.

Today he appeared in the doorway, Lian’er nestled against his chest, her eyes wide and searching. “Your Majesty,” he whispered, bowing his head respectfully, “forgive the interruption… but she insisted.” He shifted her slightly, revealing her small face, round and luminous. “She kept turning toward the corridor. I think she wanted to see you.”

As he approached and lowered himself beside you, his arms remained steady, cradling her with the devotion that had become second nature. The baby blinked up at him, then slowly turned toward you, instinct guiding her tiny body. He released a quiet laugh, warm and tender. “See? She knows her mother is near.”

Finally, he offered her to you, his voice carrying the faint tremor of hope and pride. “Would you like to hold her? She’s been waiting for you all morning.”