Perhaps practice had honed his endurance—
Or maybe months of training had fortified him—
But this time, Gu Yanshu remained conscious till the very end.
Even afterward, energy lingered—
Enough to study Qin Lu beside him:
The prince lay like a sated tiger sunning itself—
Languid. Content. Dangerously at ease.
The sight deepened Gu Yanshu's satisfaction with their marriage.
Months in, Qin Lu's face still stole his breath.
And beyond aesthetics—
Their minds aligned with uncanny precision.
A smile tugged his lips.
Shifting for comfort, his hip bumped something hard—
The jade pendant, forgotten in earlier fervor.
He lifted it, tracing the deer's silhouette:
"Your Highness."
"Mn?" Qin Lu watched his fingers dance over the carving, making no move to reclaim it.
"Why a deer?"
Despite prior... consequences, curiosity won.
A predator like Qin Lu suited tigers or dragons—
Not this peaceful grazer.
Yet post-climax benevolence prevailed.
Qin Lu's ears pinked, but he answered:
"'Lu' was my birth name. I came early—small, frail. Only my eyes... Mother said they reminded her of deer she'd seen in her youth. So she named me thus."
His tone was flat—recounting another's story.
But between those lines, Gu Yanshu heard:
A premature prince.
A low-ranked concubine's struggle.
Tianqi's medieval medicine made childbirth a gamble with death.
Even full-term deliveries like the late Marchioness's proved fatal.
An early birth in the palace's snake pit?
A miracle they survived.
And the name itself revealed more—
Imperial sons' names were either the Emperor's whim or ritualists' calculations.
A consort daring to name her own child?
Proof of royal indifference.
In that gilded cage, a disregarded boy and his mother—
What cruelties had they endured?
Gu Yanshu's eyes prickled—
But Qin Lu's detached tone signaled no desire for pity.
Blinking away moisture, Gu Yanshu teased lightly:
"I'd never guess you were premature."
Frankly, no one would.
The man who could punch through stone bore no trace of frailty.
(Unlike Gu Yanshu's past-life body—a withered leaf by comparison.)
Same prematurity. Wildly different outcomes.
As Gu Yanshu's finger jabbed his chest in mock outrage—
Qin Lu caught his wrist, amused:
"My maternal grandfather was a renowned physician. Mother learned enough to nurture her pregnancy meticulously—diet, herbs, rest. After my birth, she spent years compensating for my early arrival."
A rare fortune.
Without her knowledge and care—
There'd be no "Tianqi's War God."
Yet this explanation only fueled Gu Yanshu's indignation:
Same prenatal care. Same postnatal nurturing.
Why could Qin Lu bench-press boulders while I wheezed climbing stairs?
(Then again—his current healthy body and this ridiculously perfect husband balanced the scales.)
Refocusing, he circled back:
"Why change the name 'Lu' if your mother chose it?"
"After her death, Noble Consort Hui adopted me. When Father heard 'Lu,' he called it 'unfit for a prince' and replaced it with the homophonic 'Lù' (戮)—'to slay.' The deer became... a private nickname."**
Gu Yanshu stroked the jade deer:
"But no one calls you that now?"
A statement more than question.
The Emperor used "Lù'er"—but the homicidal character, not the gentle deer.
Qin Hao? Too terrified.
Noble Consort Hui? Her "Prince Li" formality surpassed even the Emperor's.
Qin Lu confirmed quietly:
"Not since Mother died."
That rare flicker of vulnerability twisted Gu Yanshu's heart.
He patted his chest dramatically:
"Don't mourn, Your Highness! I'll call your childhood name from now on!"
(He'd never admit the ulterior motive—)
Who didn't love taming a beast?
Imagining this battlefield terror answering to "little deer"—
The contrast alone made his pulse skip.
But before the fantasy fully formed—
"No."
Qin Lu's veto was absolute.
"Why not?" Gu Yanshu pressed, fighting for his secret kink.
"Just no."**
"But childhood names are for loved ones!" Gu Yanshu wriggled closer, batting lashes. "Unless Your Highness doubts our closeness?"
Qin Lu stiffened.
Logically, yes—yet something about Gu Yanshu cooing "little deer" sparked unbearable shame.
Then inspiration struck.
Eyes glinting, he countered:
"Since my consort knows my childhood name... shouldn't I know yours?"
Checkmate.
Gu Yanshu's face flamed crimson.
Qin Lu had intended diversion—
But that reaction? There was a story here.
"Princess Consort?" he prompted, curiosity piqued.
"I—I don't have one!" Gu Yanshu stammered. "Call me Yanshu, like Elder Brother does!"
A blatant lie.
Whatever Gu Yanshu's nickname was—
It had to be more embarrassing than little deer.
Qin Lu's voice dipped dangerously:
"Is that so?"
"Of course!" (The tremor in his voice screamed otherwise.)
"Then I'll ask Marquis Gu tomorrow," Qin Lu mused, squeezing Gu Yanshu's waist.
A direct hit.
Normally, Gu Yanshu wouldn't fear this—
But the original "Young Master Gu" had shared his mortifying childhood name.
One so dreadful, he'd banned its use after turning seven.
Even Gu Yanli had respected this embargo.
If Qin Lu revived it...
The mental image alone made Gu Yanshu shudder.
He tugged Qin Lu's sleeve weakly:
"Ruǎnruǎn."
"What?"* Qin Lu doubted his own hearing.
"My childhood name... Ruǎnruǎn!"
This time, Gu Yanshu spat it out like ripping off a bandage.
The name had dual origins—
In his past life:
Born sickly, his university-educated parents resorted to a fortune-teller's advice—
A "soft" name might trick fate into sparing him.
Thus his once-heroic nickname morphed into this girlish whisper.
As for this body's history?
The physician had misdiagnosed Lady Gu's pregnancy as female—
A welcome error, since she'd already birthed heir Gu Yanli.
Dreaming of ribbons and tea ceremonies, she'd dubbed her belly "Ruǎnruǎn."
Her death in childbirth left the infant nameless—
Until a loyal maid resurrected that doomed pet name.
Frankly, were it not his own humiliation—
Gu Yanshu would've called the tale absurd fiction.
Now, he buried his face in Qin Lu's chest—
Only his flaming ears exposed.
Qin Lu pinched one gently, amusement saturating his voice:
"Ruǎnruǎn... Fitting."
That loaded tone scorched Gu Yanshu's ears hotter.
He burrowed deeper, committing fully to strategic corpse impersonation.