Li Wei exhaled slowly and rose to his feet, every movement measured, deliberate—as though the stillness between them was a fragile thing that might break if he moved too suddenly.
From a low lacquered chest in the corner, he retrieved a thick, soft quilt. Without a word, he stepped closer and draped it over Leena's shoulders. The touch was barely there—light, reverent—but it sent a jolt through her all the same.
"The night is getting colder," he murmured, voice low and tinged with a quiet protectiveness.
Leena froze. Not from the chill—but from him.
The blanket was warm, yet it was nothing compared to the sudden rush in her chest, a heat that surged like wildfire, burning its way through her veins. Her pulse hammered, and before she could stop herself, her gaze lifted… and met his.
For a heartbeat, the world outside ceased to exist. The assassins, Ram Sharan, the weight of duty, the looming danger—gone. There was only Li Wei, standing close enough for her to breathe in the faint scent of him—clean, crisp, with a whisper of sandalwood and something uniquely his.
Her breath hitched. Unconsciously, she leaned toward him.
Li Wei stiffened, startled by the look in her eyes. His chest tightened painfully.
Why is she looking at me like that? Did I… do something wrong?
"Are you… all right?" His voice cracked, barely audible.
Leena blinked, startled out of the haze. She gave a small nod—shy, almost guilty. Then, without warning, her head tilted… and came to rest against his shoulder.
Li Wei's heart stopped. Then it stumbled—then raced, pounding so hard he was sure she could feel it through his robes. Heat shot through him, clashing with a gentler, softer sensation that bloomed deep inside. Comfort. Safety. A warmth that wasn't born of desire alone—but of something far more dangerous.
He didn't move. He couldn't.
For a man raised in a palace of whispers and schemes, of masks and manipulation, this… this was new. To sit in silence. To simply be.
Slowly—hesitantly—he lowered his chin, letting it rest lightly against her hair. His eyes softened. For the first time in years, he felt… at peace.
Time slipped by unnoticed. The only sound was the faint crackle of the lantern flame, the quiet rhythm of her breathing as it slowed, deepened. When Li Wei finally looked down, her lashes rested against her cheeks. She had fallen asleep on him, lips slightly parted, her face serene.
She must be exhausted, he thought, his chest aching. After everything men had put her through… she still feels safe around me.
Moving with exquisite care, he slid an arm beneath her knees and another around her back. In one smooth motion, he lifted her. She stirred faintly, instinctively curling closer, but did not wake.
Li Wei carried her to the bed—a low wooden frame draped in silk—and laid her gently upon the mattress as though she were the most fragile thing in the world. A stray lock of hair brushed her cheek. His hand hovered for a moment, trembling before he tucked it behind her ear, fingers lingering longer than necessary.
And then he froze.
So close, he could see the delicate curve of her lips. The soft rise and fall of her chest. Something fierce stirred within him, urging him closer… but he forced himself to step back, every muscle screaming in protest.
He turned toward the door, ready to leave her to her rest—when his gaze fell upon the paper on the table. The inked words glowed in the lamplight:
Stay here.
Li Wei stopped cold.
Her eyes flashed in his memory—the stubborn tilt of her chin when she wrote those words, the way her fingers had clutched his sleeve as if she'd never let go. His resolve shattered.
He turned back.
With a quiet sigh, he fetched a woven mat and an extra quilt from the corner and laid them carefully beside her bed. He stretched out on the floor, close enough to hear the soft cadence of her breathing, yet far enough to keep the thin line of restraint intact.
As the lantern flickered lower, Li Wei let his eyes drift shut. For the first time in years, sleep came without the iron weight of vigilance pressing down on him.
Two wounded souls, bound by an unspoken thread neither dared name.
Morning light spilled through the lattice window.
Leena stirred first. For a while, she lay still, listening to the quiet hum of dawn. Then her eyes slid toward the floor—and froze.
Li Wei was there, sleeping on the mat.
He looked… different like this. Softer. The sharp edges of his face eased, the weight of command gone. He didn't look like the cold, calculating prince everyone feared. He looked… human. Peaceful. Almost vulnerable.
Her fingers trembled as they hovered above his face. Just one touch. One light brush of her fingertips—
But before she could pull back, his hand shot up, catching hers in midair.
Leena's breath snagged in her throat.
Instead of pushing her away, he guided her palm—slowly, gently—until it rested against his cheek. Warm skin. Steady heartbeat. His eyes half-opened, still clouded with sleep, but there was no anger there. Only something deep. Unreadable. Dangerous in its tenderness.
Her heart thundered so loud it drowned out everything else. She should pull away. She knew she should.
But she didn't.
Knock. Knock.
The sharp sound at the door shattered the spell.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ To be continued... ˎˊ˗