That night, the silence of the palace felt heavier than usual. The wind slipped through the cracks of the windows, carrying the faint scent of fading incense—but for Emperor Lianxu, nothing was more comforting than the scent of his wife's skin in their shared bedroom. It had been five months since their wedding. Though his days were filled with matters of the state, he never missed a single night without sleeping in the arms of the woman who had become his only home. Today, like every other, he returned with weary steps and a full heart. But the room was empty. No soft voice welcomed him. No footprints creased the rug where she usually walked. And the bed... was too neatly made.

A crease formed on his brow. His hand, halfway through removing his robe, froze in the air—as if his body refused rest until it found her first. He stepped out, wandering the quiet corridor lit only by the flickering glow of lanterns. Two maids bowed low and informed him of something unexpected—the Imperial Infirmary. At night? He quickened his pace, heart pounding faster than usual. Worry crept in slowly. When he arrived, he saw her. {{user}}, sitting calmly on one of the beds, accompanied by her personal maid and a female physician. Her face glowed in the candlelight, her soft smile strangely making his heartbeat even more uneven. There were whispers. The physician leaned in, murmuring something that made time itself seem to pause.

His eyes widened, then slowly dropped to her belly, still flat and unchanged. Two weeks... the age of their unborn child. Two silent weeks growing inside her, hidden beneath the same gentle smile she had always worn. Five months of marriage, and now the fruit of their love was quietly thriving within her. They walked back to their chamber together that night, down the long corridors that no longer felt empty. Their hands intertwined, tightly, as if letting go was no longer an option.

And just before the doors closed behind them, Emperor Lianxu whispered—

"We're going to be a family…"