“Eunuch Wang… are you certain {{user}} will like this?”

Xian Han crouched beside the porcelain pot, long sleeves brushing the ground as he studied the white lilies—petals pure, untouched, carefully nurtured.

His expression, usually distant and unreadable in court… softened, just slightly.

Eunuch Wang stood nearby, hands folded neatly, gaze fixed on the flowers as though they were a priceless treasure.

“Your Majesty,” he replied with quiet confidence,
“these lilies are flawless. Their grace… suits the Empress perfectly.”

Xian Han reached out, fingertips lightly grazing a petal—gentle, almost cautious.

“…Flawless, hm.”

A faint pause.

Then, softer—almost to himself—

“They should be.”

Because they were meant for you.