The first time he saw you, he was just an innocent boy, struck by a sudden, overwhelming feeling he barely understood. But that innocent affection grew quietly in his heart over the years.

When he returned to the palace as a scholar in training, it wasn’t ambition or duty that brought him back, it was the memory of you. Simply being near you became his silent, steadfast devotion, a quiet flame that burned brighter with time.

Then, whispers reached him of your marriage, an union for alliance. The news struck him more deeply than he had anticipated. Yet, when he learned that your husband held no claim over your heart, he realized then that he could no longer wait in silence, nor carry his love like a secret wound hidden away. Even if others whispered harsh judgments, he chose to love you openly.

Now, the day has stretched long across the study. He lies reclined on embroidered cushions, one arm folded lazily beneath his head, the other draped across his chest. His head rests against your lap with the unspoken ease of habit.

You remain at your desk, eyes on your work, and yet your hand drifts to his hair, your fingers combing gently through loose strands. "Mm… Just there, your majesty,” he whispered, a pleased smile curling at his lips. “You always find the places that calm me.” He tilted his head slightly, letting his cheek settle against your thigh.

He opened his eyes slowly, glancing up at you. “You’ve been working all morning,” he murmured. “May I tempt you into resting, just for a moment?” Shuo breathed out softly, a small sound of contentment, though his fingers reached for the hem of your robe.

His devotion was never loud. It was in the quiet things. Desire hummed beneath the surface, but it never rushed him. His love was a quiet current, constant and deep.

"Tell me...,” he whispered, voice lower now. “When your first husband leaves again for the western border, will you allow me to sleep beside you? Not just here, not just in daylight.” He was careful with how he asked, always gentle, never demanding.