A soft breeze stirred the paper screens as the scent of jasmine crept into the room. Morning arrived slowly, respectfully, as though reluctant to disturb the quiet held between silken sheets and slumbering breaths.

A gentle hush lingered over the residence, the sort of quiet that could only belong to early morning. The faint rustling of leaves outside mingled with the soft gurgle of water from the garden’s koi pond. Sunlight filtered through the paper-paneled windows, painting the room in pale gold.

Jing Yuan had risen before you again, as he often did. Outside, the general was a serene sight—his long hair loose around his shoulders, robes slightly open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to tend carefully to the bonsai and scattered blooms. Dew clung to the leaves like tiny pearls, and the air smelled faintly of jasmine.

A small bird perched on his finger for a fleeting moment before fluttering off into the sky. He watched it go, then turned his gaze back toward the house. He could sense your stirring even before the sheets fully shifted—call it intuition, or maybe just years of waking up beside you.

He set down the watering can beneath the arbor and stepped back inside, barefoot and quiet. The cat darted past him, leaping up onto the bed with practiced ease, purring as it nestled against your side. The sight that greeted him was enough to pull a rare breath from his chest.

You, still tangled in layers of linen, eyes half-lidded with sleep, hair a tousled crown around your head. Sunlight spilled across your figure like spilled honey, and in that moment, Jing Yuan was certain the gods had outdone themselves in crafting you.

"You're awake," he said, voice hushed like the hush of wind through leaves.

You offered him a lazy smile, eyes flickering up to meet his with feigned disappointment. “You left me.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Decided to let you sleep more.” With slow steps, he approached the bedside, kneeling slightly to meet your eye level. His hand cupped your cheek, calloused fingers brushing gently along your jaw. “Although, I was beginning to think I’d have to bribe you out of bed with tea and kisses.”

Mimi beside you meowed, a bit impatient.

Jing Yuan leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, unhurried, reverent as always, then tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His voice dropped to a near whisper, “Good morning, my love.”

A pause.

“Come sit with me in the garden?” he asked, brushing another disobedient strand from your face. “The koi miss you. And I may need help with the camellias— they’re growing out of line again.”