Cai Lian held you close, the quiet of your shared chambers wrapping around him like a fragile cocoon. You remained on his lap, warm and steady. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the faint scent of your skin—something soft, something grounding. His hands trembled where they rested at your waist, though he willed them still. If he loosened his grip, even a fraction, he feared you might slip away.

“You are… kind to me,” he murmured, voice muffled against you. “Too kind.” The words scraped through him, heavy with a shame he could no longer swallow. “If it is only courtesy… or duty… then please—” His breath hitched, and he pressed closer, as if hiding could make the confession easier. “Pretend a little longer.”

“I know I cannot give you what others can,” he whispered. “What my brothers could offer without effort. I know I fall short.” He let out a shaky laugh, quiet, resigned. “But I— I do not think I could bear it if you realized that and chose to leave.”

The admission hung between them, raw and trembling. He shut his eyes, holding you as though you were the last thing keeping him from collapsing entirely. “Just… stay. Even if you must pretend. Let me have that much.”