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Mildew and Frost

Synopsis: General!Zayne x Wife!Reader What to do when after a triumphant return, your adorable wife starts acting cold and independent?! Zayne is about to tear himself apart. The night he told you he was leaving again, he had clearly sensed something was wrong, so why did he still lead the army north as planned? If he had left a few days later, If he had stayed by your side, If he had taken you with him, Would everything have been different?

Warning(s): Slight graphical descriptions of violence + SA. Hurt/comfort! TBH this all started because I wanted to write Zayne yearning so this fic is literally just 90% constipated feelings and 10% plot. If Zayne and reader spent 1% more time communicating instead of overthinking and overworking themselves this all probably could have been avoided LOL.

22k words

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting for this (very belated) fic! I had so many different ideas for how this would go at first, and went a little overboard on the pinning ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Grab some popcorn for the ride!

1. Fallen leaves swirl furiously in the autumn wind as Zayne tightens his grip on the reigns of his horse.

The mid-afternoon sun reflects the general's silhouette, shrouded in a military cloak, as he hugs a sandalwood food box tighter in his arms. Inside are his wife's favorite pastries, the oil-paper wrappings tied with red string, exuding the fragrant scent of jasmine.

"Follow close," his command rings to the rest of the party, its tone as cold as cedar.

"Yes, sir." Greyson calls, urging his horse faster as the battle report from the defense line on the northern border of Anlan rustles in his bag. The general was in a rush to return, riding day and night from the front lines, having successively captured Tong county, just to surprise his wife.

Zayne stops at the street corner opposite the main entrance of the Anlan prefecture court. In the northern continent, women were rarely involved in public affairs, let alone any governing branch. However, the Anlan territory had only been established in the last few years, and most of its power came from the agriculture and trade routes running through the northern borders. You were the eldest daughter of the most prominent merchant family from the capital, whose last name carried influence and protection critical for stability in the area. Hence, when Zayne was asked to choose a wife soon after he was instated the governor of the land, your name was at the top of the pile of offers received, over princesses and other royal family connections.

Since you were young, your dream was to follow in your father's footsteps, refusing to be another "sophisticated" young lady, locked away in her chambers until she was wed. Your father, aghast at first, eventually learned to appreciate your sharp eye for business, and it was only under his irrefutable stance against staunch opposition that you were allowed to open your own store fronts and expand the family business.

More than three years ago, on the stormy night you left for Anlan with your new husband, your dear father, fearing unrest in the newly established northern province, secretly entrusted the reins of the northern trade routes to you.

Zayne specifically instructed that your identity not be revealed within the Chamber of Commerce and on official records. Though your abilities were undeniable, it would not be able to withstand public criticism. He didn't want competing families to accuse your house of using his power to gain prominence, when in reality, it was the other way around.

As the flickering golden lanterns cast shadow across the grand building, your striking figure emerges from behind the large, bronze doors.

Greyson calls to Zayne, who is in the middle of reviewing documents. "General, the lady is leaving. Should we call her back?"

Zayne looks up and says coldly, "Wait."

His gaze follows your back. Your apricot robes brush lightly across the snowy floor of the courtyard. As you reach the exit, he sees the young man following behind you offer his arm as leverage as you cross the doorstep.

He recognizes the man as Rafayel, the youngest son of the Qi family, an ancient house known for their patronage of the arts. He says something intelligible, and you raise your eyebrows as if replying, "you're so clever".

Below the steps, the horseman opens the front drape of the palanquin. Rafayel's right hand, gloved in deerskin, protects the top of your head. You get into the seat first, pearl earrings swaying in the cold breeze.

Rafayel takes the reins of his horse from the squire behind, falling into step beside you.

Greyson takes a sharp breath, internally screaming at the horseman as he watches you take off, "what kind of staff are you?! Not a semblance of proper judgement for the lady of the house?!"

Zayne's knuckles are blue and white from gripping his brush.

"General, should I go stop them?"

"No need. Back to the mansion."

The sandalwood food box rattles softly on the bumpy return journey. Zayne's head is bowed the whole time, face obscured by shadow, his expression unreadable. Greyson, smelling the sweet aroma of jasmine pastries, dares not to say a word.

Twilight climbs over the fence of the Li mansion as the gate opens for the return of the master.

"General Li, you're back ahead of time!"

Housekeeper Yvonne, dressed in a dark green gown, greets him with a smile, bowing as she takes his military cloak. "The kitchen is preparing dinner. The lady said she would be back for dinner before she left this morning."

Zayne nods, "I brought back some swallow nests."

"I'll take them to the kitchen right away! They'll be ready for the Lady when she returns."

"I'll be in my study".

Upon Greyson hauling the entire bag of military and governing documents onto his study table, Zayne waves his hand, indicating he is to be left alone.

He looks out the window at the magnolia trees in the courtyard.

When he last left Anlan, it was early spring. The magnolias were in full bloom, crystal clear and white, like snow and lotus. You were standing with him under the trees, admiring the flowers.

Now, as he returns, it is nearly winter.

Before opening the large bag of files, Zayne glances at the painting in frame. The first lunar new year the two of you celebrated together. You wore a red dress, smiling brightly, holding his arm.

Yvonne comes in moment later with a tea tray. A celadon teacup sits on the corner of the table, steam rising, the fresh harvest of Tieguanyin leaves floating on top.

At 7:15, Yvonne pours the first cup of tea.

“The Lady is usually home by now,” she comments. “General Li, should we send someone to the court to check?”

“No need,” Zayne replies without looking up.

At 8:00, the bells ring, signaling evening. Yvonne adds tea for the second time.

“General, the Lady could be held up by something. Would you like to eat first?"

“No rush.” Zayne reviews the military supplies list, the tip of his wolfhair brush sweeping across the documents.

At 9:00 sharp, the bells chime for the second time. Another half hour later, Yvonne enters again, slowly this time.

“General… the Madam is back…she said she has already eaten.”

His brush stills, ink bleeding into the page. Zayne leans back in his chair, the wood creaking softly.

"Where is she?"

Usually at this time, the sound of your boots clicking on the floor would grow louder as they approach.

You normally greet him faster than Yvonne. Before you even appear, your voice precedes your arrival; he can see you excitedly push open the door, hearing you sweetly call "Zayne!" and then let you throw yourself into his arms saying, "I missed you so much."

But you didn't appear.

"Madam went back to her room to rest. She said she spent the whole day at the administrative building checking accounts and is very tired." Yvonne pauses, then asks hesitantly, "The food is still warm. Would you like to go to the dining room?"

The thunk of the brush's handle hitting the table stands out in the heavy silence of Zayne's study. He stands up, "I'll be there shortly".

The sound of his military boots clapping against the bamboo halls is deep and powerful.

The lamps in the corridor hall cast Zayne's long shadow onto the doorway, just enough to cover your handmaid as she hurriedly leaves the room.

She carries the sandalwood food box in her hands, the oil-paper package inside untouched, the red string that tied it together hanging loosely, like a thread of fate that was severed.

Noticing his gaze, the maid looks troubled.

"G-general Li! The Lady said the pastries were too sweet… s-she can't stand the taste anymore…"

2. Zayne pushes the sliding door open, seeing the person he had been longing for sitting with her back to him, facing the dressing table. Your figure swayed with the candlelight as he looks through the beaded curtain hanging from the doorway. The dressing mirror reflects your movements as you wipe rouge from your lips with a silk handkerchief.

"You're back."

You don't turn around, calm voice revealing little joy at your husband's safe return from the front lines.

"New roads along the northeast trade routes were completed - the journey was greatly shortened." Zayne stops behind you.

You clear the surface of your dresser, putting away a gardenia hairpin into your makeup box. "I saw in the report that you undermined a riot set up by rebels and had a decisive victory."

"Hmm. The news traveled faster than expected." He places his palms on your shoulders, lifting one hand to gently stroke your hair. "I didn't receive any letters from you this time."

"The war is urgent, I was afraid of disturbing you, general," you reply smoothly.

In the past, Zayne would receive letters from you without fail, and he would always dismiss everyone from his tent as he opens the envelope.

The smooth paper would smell of pine and musk. You send them with a sprig of evergreen tucked inside, saying they would refresh him. At the end of each letter would be a drawing of a little figure with a pink flower in their hair and a smiling face. You said this little figure represented you. The letters are short, but the sentiment is deep, mere words insufficient to express the full depth of your longing.

At the crack of dawn before the start of a battle, Zayne would take out your letters and read them repeatedly, his finger tracing the ink as if caressing a face hundreds of miles away. He would imagine the expressions and feelings you had when you wrote each word before carefully folding the letter and placing it in the inner pocket of his armor, close to his heart.

"Hmmm," Zayne's fingers curl slightly around a lock of your hair. He has no choice but to accept your words.

You change the subject as you close your jewelry case. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No," sensing your lack of interest in conversation, Zayne's voice lowers. "Come with me."

"I thought Yvonne informed you that I already ate."

"There's swallow nest soup for you in the kitchen." His icy fingertips graze the back of your neck.

You shudder, turning your head slightly to avoid his touch. "I'm already full."

"Come keep me company." Zayne leans down, hands bracing against the edge of your dressing table, trapping you between it and his chest. The silver buckle of his belt presses against the small of your back, the coldness of the metal seeping through your robe sends a shiver down your spine.

You try not to look at your overlapping figures reflected in the mirror as you continue to remove your earrings. "I'm tired, Zayne. Hurry and go eat, don't keep Yvonne and the others waiting."

Zayne's nose grazes your neck, jaw tightening for a moment as he faintly detects a scent that wasn't yours. He stares at the shadow cast by your eyelashes before brushing his nose against your earlobe, pink from your fiddling with the earrings.

"Zayne, you should go." You struggle slightly to leave his grasp, but he only tightens his arms around you, chin now resting on top of your head. He repeats firmly, "stay with me."

3.

Zayne's slender fingers hold a jade spoon, stirring rock sugar into a porcelain bowl filled with swallow's nest soup before pushing it towards you. The steam rising from the bowl creates a hazy filter, blurring the once familiar face sitting across the table.

He picks up silver chopsticks and begins to eat.

You lower your eyes, staring blankly at the translucent snow swallow. It is thick and syrupy, no doubt of the highest quality. You unconsciously keep stirring the spoon, its soft, tinkling sounds filling the silence between you.

Zayne finally breaks the emptiness.

"How have you been these past few months?"

"Thanks to your hard work, everything is good," you reply.

"What have you been up to these days?"

In the past, you would chatter to him excitedly, telling him all sorts of interesting news; but now, you only give him a perfunctory reply, "you know, the same old. Busy with the Chamber of Commerce matters."

The night wind infiltrates through a window slightly ajar. The cold breeze carries the scent of cedar and pine, ruffling the hairs around your ear.

Zayne raises his hand, stopping abruptly an inch from your temple. He gently tucks a stray hair behind your ear as you look at him with indifferent eyes.

Silence falls at the table once again.

You, having only eaten a few bites of the swallow nest as the soup grows cold, lean back in your chair and close your eyes in fatigue. The warm lanterns cast a trembling shadow across your face. Zayne watches you quietly, the wool fabric of his military coat wrinkling from his tight grip under the table.

As midnight approaches, you cough softly as Zayne's cool, cedar scent suddenly envelops you, feeling your back hit the sheets on your bed. "General, you must be exhausted from days of travel. You should rest early."

The arm around your waist pauses, then tightens. Zayne buries his face in your neck, breath carrying the chill of a thousand miles of wind.

"It's alright."

You press your hand tightly against the sash of your nightgown. "Zayne… can you spare me tonight?"

"I haven't been home in a long time. You told me it was cold and lonely in the bedchamber without me here, the quilt as cold as iron…" his words burn your earlobe.

"T-that was a long time ago," you tilt your head, trying to curl into a defensive ball, but he draws you closer in his arms. "I was just joking!" your voice turns into a suppressed yelp as he nibbles at your collarbone.

"Zayne! Nngh, I'm tired."

Zayne's palms burn against your waist, softly rubbing the silk before moving down to your lower abdomen.

"I've been… cough… busy looking through the merchant guild's accounts… cough cough" tears well in your eyes as you try to catch your breath.

Zayne stops to help you sit up, pouring you a cup of warm water to bring to your lips.

"A cough?" he frowns, "I'll call the doctor tomorrow." He pulls your gown up, wrapping your figure tightly in the blankets.

"It's fine, I'll be better by tomorrow," you croak.

"Hmm… sleep."

The incense clock burns past 2am.

The elaborate brocade quilt builds a whole mountain range between you and Zayne. You're curled up into a ball, fast asleep on the far edge of the large bed.

Zayne's posture is perfect, lying straight on his back, hands folded across his abdomen as always. A faint sigh escapes his throat, betraying a trace of his emotions.

4. Morning light streams into the room as you wake up.

Struggling to move, you freeze when you realize you have company. Zayne's arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly in his embrace. His breath, still slightly groggy, brushes against the back of your neck, like the thin mist of early autumn. Despite the limited amount of time you have spent with your husband, you know this is highly unusual.

You gently nudge his chest with your elbow, trying to get up, but Zayne's arms tighten abruptly, pulling you back into his warm embrace.

"It's so late, why are you still here Zayne?" Usually, he would be at the military headquarters by now.

His chin brushes against the top of your head, his voice hoarse with the sound of early morning, "Just got back, wanted to sleep a little longer with you."

You turn to look into his half-closed eyes in disbelief. The autumn sun had just risen above the horizon, casting a hint of amber light on his dark pupils.

"Feeling better?" He asks.

"Yes. Zayne, I have to get up."

"It's still early, why aren't you sleeping?"

Zayne watches as the collar of your nightgown slips half an inch down, revealing the faint red kiss mark he had left on your collarbone the night before.

You feel your breath catch, "I have an appointment with the Secretary-General of the City Hall for morning tea."

"Let him wait." He suddenly rolls over, casting you into his shadow. "Sleep a little longer. I'm going to the military headquarters."

You silently watch his back as he gets out of bed, the sunlight outlining the smooth lines of his shoulders and back, like a meticulously painted mountain ridge.

You lie in bed for a bit longer, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through your head. Exhausted but unable to sleep, you finish dressing and call for breakfast.

The table is set with your favorite home-cooked dishes, but you have no appetite and only touch your chopsticks a few times.

"Madam, careful, it's still hot." Yvonne brings over a porcelain bowl steaming with hot water, the earthy aroma of snow fungus mingling with the sweetness of loquat and rock sugar. "The General ordered the kitchen to start cooking before dawn, and it's been simmering for two hours."

"…" You sigh softly to yourself.

The porcelain spoon gleams amber in the bowl. You ask someone to fetch news of the latest updates from trade ledger and border situations, glancing at the rows of numbers and inventory as routine. You shuffle the papers to see the newest military report at the bottom of your stack.

Sunlight streams over the headline: news of yesterday's victory, that the army led from Anlan captured the last city in the northwest territories without a fight. From hereon out, all the cities through Tong county would be under the jurisdiction of Anlan.

Your eyes flicker slightly in confusion. So, even before the war was over, Zayne had already left the front lines to return?

Pushing the seed of discomfort down, you call for your handmaid to get ready. You have quite a few important meetings to go to today.

5. Inside the Anlan Chamber of Commerce, delicate oil lamps illuminate the board meeting room, a circular table seating exactly thirteen elders of the most prominent trading groups. A harsh scoff leaves your lips as you flip listlessly through the thick stack of paper transactions in your hands.

Li Sheng, nephew of the current governor and owner of "Shengji Trading Company," speaks in a hoarse voice, his greasy face turning a deep purplish-red. "Is the Madam trying to cut off my livelihood?"

You close the ledger, the cover striking the sandalwood table with a dull thud, seemingly bringing this standoff to a close.

"The amount of overstated expenses over the past three years is enormous. Mr. Li should be thankful he's only being expelled."

The hall falls silent. The other eleven elders, seated in their armchairs, either sip tea or fiddle with their thumb rings, their expressions varied.

Li Sheng suddenly slams his fist on the table and stands up. "Over the years, I've served the Chamber of Commerce tirelessly; even if I haven't achieved anything, I've certainly put in the hard work!"

"Mr. Li's hard work…" You open another ledger, your fingertip tracing the dense red circles, voice still calm, "…is it embezzling Chamber of Commerce funds to purchase a Western-style house in the west of the city and keeping more than a dozen concubines?"

Li Sheng's face instantly turns deathly pale.

You pick up your blue and white porcelain cup to take a sip of fresh longjing tea and continue, "Also, last month at the docks, you smuggled a batch of goods. That money was enough to buy 30% of the shops on East Street in the south of the city."

Gasps rise and fall in the council chamber. The elders exchange bewildered glances, their eyes filled with shock and complex emotions.

Li Sheng's purple clay teapot shatters on the floor with a crash, tea splashing everywhere. He roars, "You—you're slandering me! Without the support of us old businesses, how would a mere girl like you hold onto your position in this room?"

"Mr. Li," you smile lightly. "I am already saving you much face, considering your uncle is the governor of Anlan, by merely stripping your title of elder and not boycotting all your ships and goods altogether. Are you perhaps trying to involve customs and the police?"

Cold sweat pours down Li Sheng's neck, his gold teeth grinding together, but he couldn't utter a single word.

You put down your teacup and glance at everyone. "Gentlemen, those who agree to the expulsion, please raise your seals."

The elders exchange glances, none daring to speak out rashly.

"I agree," Rafayel, sitting on the lower left, is the first to raise his family seal.

With a representative from the Qi family, one of the most senior members of the Chamber of Commerce, having expressed his opinion, the others gradually follow suit.

Li Sheng slumps into his seat, his face ashen.

You gesture for the doorman to see the guest out, "Mr. Li, please."

The doorman steps forward, making a respectful but unyielding "please" gesture.

Li Sheng stands slowly, his steps unsteady. He reaches the door, and suddenly turns back, glaring at you with resentment.

His figure disappears outside the door, but the atmosphere inside the hall does not ease. The remaining elders bow their heads in thought, whispering among themselves, as if weighing something.

You reopen the ledger, "I urge everyone to work together and not let a few parasites ruin the foundation of the Northern trade guild."

Rafayel smiles lazily. "The Y/N Company is wise, we will certainly give our full support."

The other elders echo his sentiments.

6. Greyson's hand, poised to push open the door to the General's office, freezes in mid-air.

The private room, which usually filled with faint smell of jasmine, is now steeped in an invisible, chilling atmosphere. On a small round table to the side, a porcelain liquor bottle is mostly empty.

The old horseman, whom Greyson had taken upon himself to call over today, feels a chill run down his spine. In his memory, this iron-fisted superior only ever drank tea instead of alcohol, even at military victory celebrations.

What's wrong? Could it be because of his wife? He wonders to himself, unable to think of anyone else besides his wife who could make the General act so strangely.

Greyson nods slightly to him, calling out, "General Li, Old Liu has arrived."

Zayne doesn't utter a single word, simply tilting his head to indicate acknowledgement of new company, his expression unreadable.

Horseman Liu knows the General doesn't have much time for him, so he chooses his words carefully.

"The lady manages the Chamber of Commerce well; her position in the council of elders has been unopposed. The other merchant families take her seriously now… they used to meet in the private rooms at the grand brothel in the red light district. The lady laid down conditions before she even entered the private room that next time, she'd like to discuss business in a quieter place. The singing and dancing downstairs give her a headache."

The embers of the lantern on Zayne's desk highlight his bloodshot eyes, making the horseman swallow hard.

"The lady doesn't touch a drop of alcohol, just a cup of jasmine tea. The merchant owners all rely on her family's connections; they wouldn't be stupid enough to urge her to drink." He stares at the pattern on the carpet, his voice tense.

"And all those old smokers are also well-behaved; no one dares to light one in front of the lady. They're all holding back."

Zayne's expression remains unchanged. He leans forward slightly, calloused fingers drumming lightly on the cedar table. The General's reaction is impossible to decipher, and the horseman dares not bring up anything else. He suddenly recalls a scene from half a month ago—

You stood on the cargo ship's deck, the river wind ruffling your plain gray shawl. The box of pastries that Rafayel had personally delivered was given to the porters' children.

You commented: "Let him do what he wants; I'm just happy to have some peace and quiet."

He sighs inwardly. The General's wife always knew how to act with propriety.

"The lady is always busy with the trading company's affairs. Wives of high-ranking officials have sent her countless invitations, but she simply doesn't have time to go." He straightens his back, glancing at his superior's expression, but inwardly he feels a little uneasy.

7. Last night, after escorting Madam back to the mansion, horseman Liu had a brief conversation with Greyson, who was waiting in the stables.

“The war isn’t over yet. I didn’t know the General was rushing back to Anlan to see Madam today. She was originally going to return to the mansion at the usual time, but the owner of the largest perfume factory in the empire suddenly said he had time for a face-to-face meeting, so Madam had to change her plans. On the way there, Madam and the Qi family boy were discussing how to secure the cooperation. She left as soon as the deal was closed." Old Liu rambles on before stopping to catch his breath, a hint of annoyance bubbling as he looks up to see Greyson's unimpressed expression.

“Wait, Greyson, are you interrogating a prisoner? Asking me so many questions.”

Greyson's gaze sharpened as he continues, “One last question: Why hasn’t Madam asked you to contact me to inquire about General Li's situation lately?”

In the past, whenever Zayne was away on military affairs, you'd worry that contacting him directly would interfere with important matters, so you would ask old Liu to contact Greyson, who travels with him. He would then report to the General and relay the situation from the border as instructed. But this time, old Liu only relayed the message that the Madam was doing well.

Greyson suspects perhaps it was your unusual behavior that prompted Zayne to readjust his battle plan, personally leading a night raid and swiftly capturing Shanwan, the third largest city in Tong county.

The supply route to Shanwan had already been cut off by the Anlan army; it was only a matter of time before they surrendered. Thus, after signing the transfer order and handing over related matters to Commander Jiang, General Li immediately set off for home.

"Madam said… she was afraid General Li would be distracted."

“…” Greyson stares at him hard. “Then why did it take you so long to come back tonight?”

He couldn’t help but recall Zayne's unusually cold and somber expression on the return trip.

Old Liu shrugs, “Madam said she felt dizzy and lightheaded after staying in the private room for so long, so she asked me to drive her to the docks for some fresh air. Then she went to her favorite bakery to buy some sweets…”

He suddenly stops, a dull thud sounding as he slaps the wooden fence, startling Greyson.

“What do you mean, Greyson? Are you doubting the Madam?” His voice, filled with anger, echoes in the empty garage.

“That’s not what I meant!” Greyson quickly shakes his head, his tone rising in defense. “I just wanted to know if Madam is truly alright after General Li led the troops north…” He pauses, his voice lowering slightly, “…is she really well?”

He knows very well that you are the person Zayne cared about most. Last night, when the old Liu told him that you haven't asked about Zayne's well-being because you were afraid of disturbing his work, he was immediately concerned. Was this unusual behavior hiding something?

“Don’t mention it…you have no idea how difficult it was for Madam to take over the Chamber of Commerce at the beginning.” Old Liu leans against the car, sighing. He looks up at the dark sky and slowly begins, “Those old bastards took advantage of their seniority, taking turns making things difficult for Madam, leaving her with countless messes. Once, they instigated a strike at the docks, and Madam dealt with it all night while running a high fever.”

As he speaks, he kicks at some gravel, the stones knocking against the iron chains, particularly jarring in the stables.

“…They dared to treat Madam like that? Why haven’t you mentioned it?” Greyson's voice rises, filled with anger. Zayne would be heartbroken if he knew.

“General Li is at the front lines. Madam said the war is of utmost importance and she doesn’t want him to have more things to worry about. She won’t let me mention anything bad, only reporting good news. Fortunately, everything was resolved later.” The horseman's expression holds helplessness mixed with admiration.

Already knowing what Greyson was going to say, he explains further, “Madam said that some things can’t be settled with power and force alone; it requires people to willingly follow.” Greyson's shoes crunch on the weeds sprouting from the cracks in the ground.

“Madam’s efforts to win over the various families in the merchant guild were greatly aided by the Qi family. While its not their focus, the Qi's have been dabbling in trading for generations. The Madam isn’t heartless; she can’t just ignore them after they’ve supported her. But I can swear on my life, it's only a business transaction, nothing more.”

Greyson stays quiet, head bowed deep in thought.

8. You return to your quarters after a long day, eating dinner alone as Yvonne mentions the General is still at the military headquarters, not likely returning home tonight.

Only the sound of wind rustling through the leaves could be heard in the distance. Walking through the long corridor back to your chambers, you stop for a moment to look up at the crescent moon: sharp, bright, and clear against the cloudless night sky. You force a smile from between your teeth.

This is how it is supposed to be like, you remind yourself.

Zayne was never the one for superfluous formalities. Even your wedding was not publicly announced anywhere in the capital; just a simple, solemn ceremony in front of both sets of parents, and your name added to the Li family registry.

When you first married him, you were still young, optimistic, and naive, not understanding the severity and responsibility that came with the title "Lady of Anlan".

The night your father sat with you until dawn, breaking down the different accounts, ledgers, business partners, and adversaries your family faced up north, you felt a fog lift from in front of your eyes. You had vastly underestimated the criticality of your union, as well as the danger you were being put into.

On the arduous journey up north, your handmaids complained about the harsh conditions and insufficient rest, often quarreling with Greyson or another one of Zayne's subordinates about the nerve they had to not adjust their travels plans at all for the new lady of the house. You were too sheltered, too coddled, too precious to be treated like any one of his soldiers.

Inside your carriage, bamboo seats were cushioned with fur and draped with layers of warm fabrics. You watch as Zayne dismounts his horse to discuss the next leg of the journey with his men. There is no time (nor place) to stop for meals in the middle of the day, with the next town to rest at still many more hours away. You silently pick at the flatbread in front of you, offering a portion of dried fruits and nuts to your handmaids. Their gasps of excitement and "thank you's" barely cross your mind.

Your "husband" has barely talked to you at all since leaving the capital. If you didn't know better, you'd think you were a piece of cargo he was instructed to bring up to Anlan.

As calls rise from outside to pick up the reins again, a harsh knock sounds on the door. Your maid opens it, and to your surprise, Greyson is outside, holding a small box of wax paper. He just about throws the package over, muttering something that sounded like "The General had this prepared for you... forgot about it" before disappearing back into the crowd.

Curious, you unwrap the layers of wax... to find a pile of candies. Unable to resist, you carefully try one. The flavor of honey and jasmine floods your mouth, nearly overwhelming your tastebuds with its sweetness after days of bland food. Your eyes widen, wondering where in the world Zayne got his hands on sweets since leaving the capital.

You lean out the small window, feeling the cold air brush your hair and cool your warm face. The shadow of Zayne's figure is tall and straight, marching ever steadily forward towards the north.

Your father's words ring in your ears: "I will be informing the traders guild about my relinquishment of the northern business to you, but not about your position as the General's wife. You will have enough targets on your back once you reach Anlan as a trader. I don't want you to be swept up in political turmoil."

After arriving in Anlan, Zayne settles you comfortably into his residence, informing all of his staff and servants of your new status. He doesn't bat an eye when you told him of your wish to join the Chamber of Commerce, even offering to keep your relationship a secret outside of the house. He leaves for the front lines barely a few weeks later.

You remember the nervousness and fear in your body as you help him fasten his armor. His large palm, while not warm, grasps your fingers tightly, almost as if wanting to comfort you.

"If you need anything," his low voice carries a hint of warmth, "don't hesitate to let me know."

The rational part of your brain finds the thought amusing, as if you'd ask anything of him while he's fighting for his life at the whims of the empire.

But the last thing he says before he leaves stuns you: "Don't wait for me. If anything happens, I've made sure that you'll be well taken-care of, whether it is here or back home."

You write him many letters.

And so, your relationship for the past nearly three years has stayed like this: You finding your footing as the only woman in the Chamber of Commerce while Zayne comes home for a few months at most out of the year. Sometimes, in the midst of your work, you momentarily forget that you're even married, but as you return to the Li residence at the end of the day, waves of longing crash into your chest, suffocating you at night until you hear the thumps of horse hooves and the distinct jingling of bells on Zayne's reins, reassuring you that your husband is safe and has come back to you.

You sigh at yourself, shaking your head as you think of your childish behaviors from before.

Your marriage was built on a strict partnership, a joining of political and economic factors. Years of living in the north showed you the grit and discipline it took to stabilize this area; yet Zayne does it with such practiced ease. If Zayne's character is what lends him the title of "Lord of Anlan," nothing less should be expected from the Lady. There is no place in your marriage for playing house; all you needed was to honor your role in securing business and protecting the trade going through Anlan, while Zayne served as its protector.

Knowing Zayne, you wouldn't have expected anything less from him on keeping his side of the deal. As for your own selfish desires, you shouldn't have dared to yearn for anything more.

While your seat at the table of elders was settled, new problems continue to arise. Li Cui, the current governor, has been imposing heavy taxes on all the civilians while his tyranny and corruption runs rampant. You knew that Li Sheng, having his uncle's support wasn't going to back down without a fight.

You're an experienced negotiator now, your time in the north having sharpened your intellect and methods. You have a nagging feeling that the disruptions at the borders may have something to do with all of this. It's a headache to process. The last thing you wanted was to get Zayne in hot waters because of the trade arguments. This was the battle you signed up to fight yourself, and you realize with a shudder that your father's words were correct: involving yourself in the trade wars with the position as the General's wife would only put yourself into even more danger, whether as a political pawn, or worse, a bargaining chip against Zayne.

Perhaps Zayne already believed that your prolonged solitude and the burden of single-handedly managing the crisis here had sown seeds of resentment, and that you gradually no longer needed him. This misunderstanding was like a fog, shrouded in unspeakable bitterness and a subtle sense of relief, making it impossible for you to discern the boundaries of your emotions. You should be grateful for his interpretation, it's better than the sudden acts of affection he's been showing, out of guilt no doubt for leaving you here. Yet your heart aches with something that feels like remorse.

Zayne's care has always been like this: silent and still like a vast glacier, yet omnipresent like the boundless earth, indulging your willfulness, supporting your ambition, allowing you to grow freely without worry. But now, it seems that this unreserved trust and tolerance has become your most insurmountable obstacle.

9. Before your eyes can adjust to the dim lighting of your bedchambers, a tall figure looms behind you, carrying a familiar, slightly cool scent.

Your heart skips a beat, and you softly call out, "Zayne?"

Before you can finish speaking, you spin around and bump into Zayne's arms. Your back hits the cool wall, and he holds you tightly with one arm, the other protecting the back of your head, his movements gentle yet allowing no escape.

Zayne leans down, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his 6' feet frame awkwardly curled up, as if surrendering himself completely to you.

The unfamiliar, bitter smell of alcohol mixes with the crisp scent of cedarwood and assaults your senses— Zayne has been drinking?!

His nose buries in the collar of your overcoat, his voice low and husky: "Headache," he mutters as his cool lips brush lightly against your carotid artery, sending a tingling sensation through you.

"Headache?" Your first instinct is to massage his temples as usual to ease his discomfort, but your hand freezes in mid-air.

"Mmm," Zayne responds softly, his disheveled bangs brushing against your neck, causing a ticklish sensation.

You finally curl your fingertips, letting your nails dig into your palms.

He suddenly releases all his pressure, pressing his entire weight onto you.

"...You're too heavy." You bend your elbows against his chest, trying to create some distance between your bodies, but he grabs both your wrists with one hand, easily lifting them above your head.

Zayne's strength isn't oppressive, but it carries an irresistible force, wanting to hold you firmly while being afraid of hurting you.

Only then do you notice he isn't wearing his military uniform, but a silk shirt. The soft, smooth fabric clings to his muscular chest, gleaming faintly in the moonlight.

To where is he expecting to go wearing that…? A question arises in your mind, but it is interrupted by his next action.

Zayne's nose brushes against your brow again, his warm breath on your face. You turn your head away, your voice tinged with helplessness, "Zayne, let go…" The next moment, a cool kiss lands on your lips with a nibbling force. His tongue licks away the rouge from your lips, prying open your teeth, and chasing after your tongue.

The lingering aroma of strong liquor mingles with the floral scent of your lipstick, creating an indescribable bitterness and astringency.

How much did he have to drink? You wonder, no wonder he says he has a headache.

Zayne's usual demeanor is overly stable, giving the illusion that he only ever has calm and resolute emotions. But tonight, he seems pushed to the brink of losing control by some unseen force.

You slightly open your eyes, your gaze falling on Zayne's trembling eyelashes, still immersed in the kiss. They cast soft shadows on his eyelids like fine fans.

Zayne is always restrained, rarely drinking, let alone getting drunk.

You feel a mix of emotions: nervousness, confusion, guilt, but also discomfort.

You understand that this unusual behavior stems from your overly obvious change in attitude toward him. While he may not love you, it must be jarring to see such behavior from a spouse. But this is Zayne... He was the one who proposed this arrangement in the first place; what difference would your attitude make?

You know Zayne too well; asking him will only result in silence.

He habitually seals all his true emotions beneath the icy depths of his eyes, like a silent iceberg, always revealing only his calmest side. He will never proactively ask why you are being cold to him. Perhaps before returning to Anlan, he can still convince himself, believing that you simply don't want to distract him on the front lines. However, your indifference upon his return makes it impossible for him to deceive himself any longer.

Once upon a time, his deliberately maintained distances, evasive glances, and cold responses were like fine needles, silently piercing your heart.

Do your actions now also cause him such torment and pain?

In the past, your heart would already be aching just thinking of this. But now, reason suppresses emotion, and the calm lake of your heart remains undisturbed.

You close your eyes tightly, casting aside those inappropriate thoughts.

10. The other side of your bed is cold and empty when you wake up at dawn. While a little disappointed, you understand. Even you're not quite sure how to face Zayne at the moment. To your surprise, Zayne did not go to the military quarters today. Instead, he took meetings in his study, the hallway busy with the footsteps of various messengers and commanders.

You don't see a glimpse of Zayne until he returns (sober this time) close to midnight, the sound of the wooden door creaking immediately waking you from a restless sleep. Figuring you weren't getting any rest anyhow, you light the candles by the bedside and take out some ledgers to read as you wait for him to wash himself.

When Zayne comes back, he sits on the edge of the bed, looking down at you. "Where do you want to go tomorrow? I'll go with you." His cool voice holds a hint of apology for waking you, like a night breeze rippling across a lake.

You look up at him, your fingertips lightly grazing the edge of a page, and reply in a hoarse voice, "I'm very busy. And the General is... someone I can't be seen with in public. What if people find out?"

When he first arrived with you in Anlan, Zayne, fearing for your safety, refused to disclose your relationship. Unexpectedly, this became your excuse, coming back to haunt him.

His cold eyes flicker slightly as he gazes at you, trying to discern from your subtle expression whether your words are a joke or genuine.

A moment later, Zayne says, "You said we'd be fine at long as we're careful."

He clearly remembers how you playfully shook his arm last autumn, trying to persuade him to go to the lantern festival with you. "Zayne, it's alright, we'll wear masks! Worst case scenario is that you're found out to have married a merchant's daughter. I don't care what they think."

But now you chuckle, a hint of wariness in your smile. He still treats you as a child! "Things are different now." You pause, then change the subject. "The military isn't without its problems, is it? I saw in the newspaper that there have been bandits causing trouble around Shanwan."

Zayne's expression hardens. "The banditry is being dealt with; there's no need to worry."

You hum in agreement, "Good. The General should focus on military affairs; don't worry about me."

"What are you looking at?" He suddenly leans in close, his low voice burning against your ear.

A spare drop of water escapes his hair, sliding down your neck and into your collar, sending a slight shiver down your spine.

Your fingertips unconsciously tighten around the edge of the document. "The documents for tomorrow's bidding meeting." You try to keep your voice steady, but a slight tremor escapes it.

"Hmm." Zayne responds briefly, his tone languid after his shower. "Have you seen the new dresses I brought for you? Do you like them?" His voice is flat, but you shudder as his breath grazes your ear.

"I saw them, they're very beautiful." You answer softly, your gaze fixed on the paper in front of you, but you can no longer make out the words as the light is suddenly blocked from your line of vision.

Zayne retreats from your personal space and instead moves to face you.

He looks down at you, his voice still cold and deep. "I'll go with you tomorrow." It isn't a suggestion, but a declaration.

A simple white sleeping robe hangs loosely around Zayne's waist, water droplets rolling down his bulging chest muscles, leaving glistening trails between his various cuts and scars.

You know he is referring to the bidding meeting, but at this moment, his presence is too intense, somewhat affecting your normal thinking.

"No need. You didn't go to the military headquarters today, and seeing all those commanders came to the mansion... There must be many important matters that the General needs to handle..." Your voice trails off as you notice his gaze growing colder.

Zayne suddenly leans over, kneeling before you, his long fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I said, I'll go with you."

His fingertips are cool, yet they make your body burn.

"Zayne, really, there's no need, someone will go with me tomorrow..."

Someone? Who? Rafayel?

Your next words are cut short as Zayne suddenly snatches the documents from your hands, the pages scattering on the floor like feathers. The next second, he grabs you by the nape of your neck and you're being slammed into the mattress, his burning kiss carrying a punitive undertone. Zayne's tongue pries your teeth open, conquering every soft inch, as if to unleash some unspeakable emotion.

11. How can Zayne tell you that he is insanely jealous?

Seeing Rafayel with you outside the Chamber of Commerce building his first night back, he knew deep down that what the two of you had was only professional camaraderie and nothing more. But rationalizing it was one thing, while controlling his surging jealousy was another.

Cumulatively, in the nearly 18 months he has been away from Anlan, Rafayel got to work with you almost daily. He had the luxury of seeing your focused expression as you work at your desk, hearing your soft voice discuss plans… It is perfectly normal for him to be attracted to your intelligence and wit. Just imagining that person perhaps tenderly draping a coat over you while you nap, gazing at your sleeping face with adoration, makes Zayne's temples throb; envy burns fiercely.

For you, he can temporarily tolerate that person approaching you under the guise of business, but his patience was already being stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any moment. If one day a hint of concern beyond that of a colleague flickers in your eyes when you look him, or if he dares to overstep the bounds even slightly—

Zayne can't guarantee how long he can maintain this façade of civilized conformity.

Actually, he should blame himself the most.

Why did he leave you alone in Anlan? If he had kept you by his side… Zayne can almost picture it: You reading quietly beside him while he reviews documents, precisely taking inventory while he inspects the military camp, offering your soft lips as prize upon his victorious return…

He should have disregarded everything and kept you by his side, watching over you day and night. Then he wouldn't be tormented by jealousy now, his mind wouldn't be consumed by those dark thoughts.

Today there's Rafayel Qi, but who knows if there are others secretly coveting you, or worse, people not as honorable as the Qi boy? What might happen in the future?

Zayne's eyes darken. His hand gripping the back of your neck tightens unconsciously, his kiss deepening and intensifying, almost brutally seizing your breath, as if trying to meld you into his very bones.

Sometimes, he truly wants to lock you away in the deepest recesses of the Li mansion, never letting anyone see even a glimpse of you.

When does such a crazy thought arise in someone usually so calm and composed?

He never imagined he could love someone so deeply… When he sees the infatuated gazes others cast upon you, those dark thoughts gnaw at him like an insidious infection. You are the most precious flower he carefully nurtured and cherished. Why can't you bloom only for him? He knows how absurd and shameful his thoughts were, but when faced with you, reason could never prevail over his emotions. You are the source of all his desires, the object of his heart's longing, and the direction he moves towards.

"Zayne…" you gasp for breath between his lips.

Zayne regains his senses slightly and releases his grip. The turmoil within him shows no trace on his face. He simply looks at you calmly, wiping the moisture from your lips with his fingertips, his voice low and husky: "You really want the Chamber of Commerce people to go with you?"

You blink, puzzled. "The textile factory is my own business. I'll go with the old factory director and a few managers."

"..." Zayne pauses for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on you. "The military won't stop functioning just because I'm gone."

The implication is clear: he will definitely be with you tomorrow.

Your lips are slightly numb. You purse them and mutter softly, "But Zayne is the backbone of Anlan... some matters can only be handled by you."

Zayne reaches out and ruffles your hair. "Anlan's military system is very sound, with a well-established emergency response mechanism. Even if something were to happen to me one day, everything will be fine." His tone is calm, as if stating a completely ordinary fact.

Your face pales at the words, and you instinctively grab his arm. "Zayne, how could you say that?! Quick, say pei pei pei to take it back!"

Zayne's gaze flickers. Seeing you like a frightened fawn, your wet eyes brimming with panic, a faint, wicked sense of pleasure spreads through him uncontrollably.

"Zayne, say it quickly!" Your voice trembles with urgency. "Nothing can happen to you!"

"Hmm. Pei pei pei." Zayne genuinely follows your words, a faint, tender tone at the end. His thumb gently traces your tense jawline, feeling your breathing gradually slow.

You let out a long sigh, your tense body relaxing.

"You're worried about me?" Zayne asks calmly, the glacier in his eyes already melting into spring water.

"The General is too important to Anlan" You reply quickly, your eyes darting around, avoiding his gaze. Your hand is instantly grasped by him, his rough, calloused fingertips rubbing against your delicate digits.

"And what about to you?"

The direct question makes your breath catch in your throat.

The instant you lowered your eyes, Zayne could tell that you were running away again. He knows these little gestures of yours all too well.

Never mind. He sighs softly to himself. He doesn't want to push you too hard. Silly baby. Just asking a hypothetical question, and you're almost in tears.

It's alright. He has plenty of patience to wait for you to open your heart to him again.

12. As promised, Zayne accompanies you on the way to your appointment the next day. It takes a shocking amount of coaxing and a peck on his cheek to get him to stay in the carriage instead of walking you into the hall himself.

Dusk approaches outside the window as your negotiations finally come to a close.

You answer each of the technical questions with professional and concise descriptions, subtly pursing your lips into a barely suppressed smile as you see the suppliers exchange glances and nod in satisfaction. You know your chances of winning this deal is high.

By the time you exit the large gates, only the last vestiges of orange-red remain on the horizon.

Under the sycamore trees, your carriage awaits.

Old Liu quickly steps forward and opens the door for you. You bend down and get in.

“Was the bidding meeting successful?” Zayne’s voice is still cold and deep, but you detect a subtle concern within it.

“It went quite smoothly.” You lean back, tense nerves finally relaxing. “Our samples and quotes are very competitive, and the review panel seems quite satisfied.”

You glance at him, deliberately emphasizing your words. “Zayne, don’t interfere. I want to secure this order fair and square.”

Zayne’s expression is calm, but his tone reveals a hint of pride. “Okay. I won’t interfere.”

You gaze at the fluttering sycamore leaves outside the window, mentally calculating several details of the bidding project.

Zayne suddenly takes a document from his sleeve and hands it to you. “Take a look at this.”

You take the document, and as soon as you read the first page, you are immediately drawn to the detailed data: It lists the climate characteristics of the various military units stationed in the Eastern Military Region, the annual temperature logs and humidity variation.

Further on, there is even a comparative analysis of the wear and tear rates of different military branches’ uniforms. Each set of data is stamped with different colored seals to distinguish key points, the organization astonishingly clear.

“Zayne, what’s this…?” You look up at him, puzzled.

“The Eastern Military Region is about to launch a new round of bidding for military supplies and uniforms.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “As far as I know, their supplier has always been Anlan Textile.” A renowned leading enterprise in the textile industry, backed by the full support of the capital's government.

“This order is too big; Anlan Textile alone won't be able to handle it,” Zayne explains simply. “The Eastern army will expand by two divisions this year.”

You hesitate, glancing at the paper in you hands. “Zayne, isn’t giving me this… against regulations?” Although you are thrilled with this opportunity, your professional ethics compel you to ask.

Zayne’s expression remains unchanged. “It’s just to let you understand the client’s needs in advance.” He pauses, then adds, “But you have to return it to me after you read it. This does count as confidential military intel.”

Hearing the seriousness in his tone, you can’t help but chuckle. He is clearly indulging you, yet pretending to emphasize discipline. Considering your textile factory's current situation, you decide to accept the offer.

“Okay,” you reply, carefully placing the documents into your file. “Thank you, Zayne."

“No need to thank me for such a small matter.” Zayne closes his eyes, but you can hear the displeasure in his tone at the formalities.

“…I’m thanking you on behalf of the factory workers, Zayne.”

13.

A vermilion screen partitions the inner side of the private room into a secluded space in the restaurant that Zayne brings you to. He sits in the main seat, outer coat removed, revealing crisp black robes that accentuate his broad shoulders and narrow waist, the jade pendant you gifted him for your first anniversary hanging from his belt catching your eye as the only pop of color.

“Zayne, have you ordered?” You sit down in the chair he pulls out for you.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pours tea into the cup in front of you. Steam swirls between you, creating a hazy mist.

The freshly served Longjing shrimp are arranged exquisitely on the porcelain plate, the emerald green tea leaves contrasting beautifully with the pinkish-white shrimp, carrying the aroma of a fresh harvest.

“Try it.” Zayne scoops a full spoonful into your bowl.

You pick up a shrimp and put it in your mouth, its sweetness and freshness washing over your taste buds. “The shrimp is very tender.”

He then places a few more of your favorite dishes on your plate.

As the meal progresses, a sudden crash of shattering porcelain erupts outside the door, followed by drunken shouts.

Your chopsticks hover for a second, your brow furrowing slightly.

Zayne remains composed, carefully placing the tenderest piece of meat from under the gills of a yellow croaker into your bowl. He then calmly says to Greyson behind the screen, “Go and see.”

Greyson responds and goes out, returning a moment later. Remembering what the horseman told him a few days ago, his face darkens considerably at the sight.

“Reporting to General Li, it’s Deputy Director Xiong of the Municipal Court, drunk and trying to barge in.” He pauses, his tone hesitant. “He says he wants the Madam-”

“Lady Y/N has quite the airs!”

Greyson's report is abruptly cut off by a roar. Your wrist trembles as you nearly spill the hot tea in your cup.

“First you say something comes up and you can’t make it, then you say you have a headache and leave… I’ll see what excuse you have left tonight!”

The veins in Zayne's hand slightly bulge as he holds silver chopsticks. He looks up at you, his eyes frosty. “Looks like this isn’t the first time you've crossed paths."

“….” You lower your eyes, silent.

“Come here,” he says in a deep voice.

You hesitate for a moment, then stand up. Just as you reach his side, he pulls you onto his lap.

You can feel the cold from the jade pendant pressing against your lower back through your dress. You tense slightly, letting him hold you.

Footsteps approach from outside, and the crude shouts become clearer.

“Let him in,” Zayne’s voice is like ice cutting through water.

Greyson bows and withdraws.

Without guards outside the entrance, the silhouette of a large, swaying figure is quickly seen through the screen.

“Ever since the Lady stepped into this restaurant, she hasn’t escaped my watchful eye…” A rough, raspy voice, reeking of alcohol, echoes through the air. “So, you’ve been hiding here having an affair? Shouldn’t you do me the honor of accepting a drink? This shot of baijiu should do it.”

Crash—

The sandalwood screen is kicked over, and a fat man with a dark-red face staggers in. The belt of his fur coat has loosened, revealing a wrinkled white robe underneath. A short blade hangs askew at his hip, bouncing against his thigh with his swaying belly.

Zayne doesn’t even lift his gaze. His slender fingers hold a silver spoon, carefully spreading golden crab roe onto a meatball.

You freeze, feeling the arms around your waist tighten even more, the pendant digging painfully into your sacral spine.

Someone like Deputy Director Xiong doesn't even have the rank to be in the presence of the General. Naturally, he doesn't realize that the man before him is has influence over the military, political, and business circles of the entire Northern Territories.

He stands arrogantly in the center of the private room. “How high and mighty the newest addition to the circle of elders acts” He glances at the you, who, after his repeated failed attempts to woo, now obediently nestles on a stranger’s lap, and sneers sarcastically, “She’s still making money while lying in a man’s arms.”

The silver spoon suddenly strikes the edge of a porcelain plate, producing a clear clink.

Zayne lifts his eyelids, his gaze cold, but his voice as indifferent as if ordering tea.

“Teach him manners.”

Greyson, who has been waiting at the door, can no longer contain himself. He strides forward, his iron first gripping the back of Deputy Director Xiong’s collar and yanking him sharply.

The dull thud of the sheath of his long sword slamming against the back of the disruptor's knee rings out simultaneously with the thunderstorm outside the window.

Deputy Director Xiong screams and falls to the ground, the liquor bottle in his hand clattering to the floor. He trembles as he reaches for his blade, cursing, “Damn it! Do you know who I am—”

Greyson's boot grinds down on his wrist, the cold tip of his blade pressed against his neck, instantly choking the foul words in his throat.

Deputy Director Xiong, his eyes blurry with drunkenness, sizes up Zayne’s handsome face, impeccable attire, and composed demeanor, mistaking him for just a rich and powerful playboy. Contempt flashes in his eyes.

“Brother, I’m from the Courthouse” His fleshy face twitches, his cloudy eyes fixed on your cheek pressed against the man’s chest, grinning recklessly. “Don’t let a woman ruin your reputation here, I’ll send you a few pretty girls who know how to serve you later…”

Before he can finish, Zayne slightly tilts his chin at Greyson while simultaneously raising his hand to cover your eyes, his warm palm pressing down through your eyelashes.

Smash—!

The sound of a bottle shattering echoes through the private room.

“Ahh!” Deputy Director Xiong screams, grabbing at his right hand. He collapses onto the ground before falling silent.

The smell of blood mixes with alcohol in the air. Having vaguely guessed what happened, you instinctively snuggle closer to Zayne, hearing a whisper above you.

“It’s alright.”

You blink under his palm. He thinks you are scared, patting your back gently and slowly. He's unaware that you're actually secretly wishing you could go kick the man a couple more times.

Outside, a sudden downpour pounds against the windowpane. Large raindrops pelt the glass. Hurried footsteps echo in the corridor, leather shoes tapping frantically on the marble floor.

Mayor Jiang rushes around the corner, freezing as he sees the scene, his pupils shrinking sharply. Two guards drag the unconscious Deputy Director Xiong, who lies like a tattered sack, out of the private room. His limbs slam against the floor with a dull thud, leaving a trail of blood on the carpet.

Who dares to be so audacious as to injure a municipal official like this in the city?

Seeing another man in military uniform kick the large man’s ribs twice more from the shadows of the corridor, Mayor Jiang instinctively takes a half-step back, his lower back hitting a wooden shelf holding a vase.

The clinking of porcelain startles the tall man guarding the door of the private room. When the man’s sharp gaze sweeps over, the mayor gasps—

It is clearly vice-commander Guan, who works alongside General Li.

At last year’s New Year’s gathering at the capital, this man stood a few steps behind Zayne, the scabbard on his hip gleaming coldly under the lights.

“General Li, Mayor Jiang requests an audience.”

Mayor Jiang stands stiffly outside the door, watching the guards move with practiced ease. The blood-stained carpet is quickly rolled up and replaced, the screen restored to its original state. A delicate incense diffuses the stench of blood.

The private room is instantly restored to its elegant state, as if nothing has happened. Only then does Zayne release his hand from your eyes, switching to caress the back of your hand.

“Enter.”

The single command sends the mayor's knees trembling. He steps timidly into the room, only daring to confirm, upon seeing Zayne seated in the main seat, that the commander-in-chief—who should have been on the front lines at the border has secretly returned to the city.

Rumors have long circulated among the high-ranking officials of Anlan that Zayne had a wife whom he loves dearly. Could this be the woman he is currently protecting in his arms?

“I-I greet General Li… and Madam!” Mayor Jiang's forehead beads with sweat, his adam’s apple bobbing between the collar of his crisp shirt, his voice trembling. “Deputy Director Xiong lost his composure after drinking and offended you both. I apologize on his behalf…”

Zayne remains silent, picking up a silk handkerchief and meticulously wiping away nonexistent stains from your fingertips. His slow, deliberate movements cause the atmosphere in the private room to plummet.

Completely ignored, the mayor grows increasingly terrified.

After a long pause, Zayne finally speaks.

“The municipal government should give him a good sobering-up.”

This casual remark sends a chill down the spine of the mayor, who hastily bows humbly. “Yes, yes, General Li!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shift slightly in the man’s arms, and the notoriously ruthless Zayne immediately adjusts his posture to make you more comfortable.

He suddenly understands why Deputy Director Xiong is beaten half to death. He must have had the audacity to offend Zayne’s beloved.

Wait… Zayne’s wife’s face… seems familiar…

Zayne suddenly lowers his head, his thin lips landing a kiss on your fingertips.

The unexpected intimacy makes your cheeks burn.

He looks up, asking in his usual calm voice, “How should we handle this? It’s up to you, Madam.” He deliberately emphasizes the word Madam.

Despite already guessing your identity, hearing Zayne confirm it personally still causes Mayor Jiang to swallow hard, a suppressed urge rising in his throat.

He vaguely remembers you speaking at the city hall as a representative of the trading guilds at the annual meeting. No wonder the Governor noted that Zayne took time out of his busy schedule to attend inconspicuously in the back; he doesn’t understand then, but now it all makes sense.

“Deputy Director Xiong has been extorting protection money from vendors for a long time, driving people to their deaths. Why do all the complaint letters sent to Governor Li Cui disappear without a trace?” The helpless eyes of the vendors in the trade market flash through your mind. “Please, Mayor Jiang, investigate this thoroughly.”

“Madam, please rest assured!” The mayor bows even lower, almost at a right angle. “We will definitely investigate this issue to the end and give you a satisfactory explanation!”

“Not an explanation for me, but an explanation for the people of Anlan,” you correct solemnly.

“Yes, yes, Madam is right!”

Zayne waves his hand casually. Mayor Jiang, as if granted a pardon, scurries several steps back before daring to turn and close the door.

The rain patters outside the window. The private room returns to silence.

You lean against Zayne, unconsciously twisting your fingers. The mayor's shocked expression still lingers in your mind—

He must have recognized you from the Chamber of Commerce.

You have met him when you go to the city government on business; he even expressed some reservations about you, a young woman working amongst the elders. If the news leaks, the Chamber of Commerce building will likely be swarming tomorrow.

“No need to worry.” Zayne sees right through you. His fingertips trace your cold palm, gently prying open your curled knuckles one by one, then interlocking your fingers tightly. “If he doesn’t even have this much sense...” The unfinished words stick in his throat, sharp as a blade, just like the hand around your waist—seemingly gentle, yet brooking no escape.

His cool breath suddenly brushes against your earlobe.

“But you…” Zayne’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, his voice cold and questioning. “Which matter do you plan to begin your explanation to me?”

You stiffen like a cat being gripped by the scruff of its neck.

After a moment, you whisper, “I had old Liu find some men to beat that guy up a few times. We specifically choose times when he is drunk in dark alleys, so they can’t find out… We don’t go all out—just to teach him a lesson.”

“Do you want me to praise your thoughtfulness?” His dark eyes hold a chill, making your throat tighten.

“The General wasn't in Anlan then…” Your voice is barely audible, then rises again. “It is my fault for not letting old Liu report it. If you must blame someone, Zayne, please don’t punish him.”

Zayne is silent for a moment, his voice dropping even lower. “You certainly know how to think of others.”

You lower your eyes, staring at the dark pattern on his shirt, saying nothing more. He isn’t wrong—and you feel that you didn't do anything wrong either.

Zayne’s gaze is indifferent. Suddenly, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look directly into his eyes.

“So you’re feeling wronged?”

His dark eyebrows lower, carrying a sense of impending doom.

“Do you still remember who I am to you?”

“….” Your nails dig unconsciously into your palms.

“Answer.” Each word is emphasized heavily, as if he's issuing a command on a battlefield.

“My… husband.” You murmur the two words, your voice so soft it's almost drowned out by the rain.

“So you still remember.” The chill in Zayne’s voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Since when did you learn to treat your husband like a stranger?”

14.

"They're really just trivial matters... I saw no need to bother you." You lower your eyes, concealing the complex feelings behind them. "I can handle it myself."

"Trivial matters? Is a husband wanting to protect his wife considered a trivial matter?" Zayne's fingertip traces your lips, the pressure almost punishing. "What kind of horrible thing needs to happen in order for you to tell me about it?"

Seeing your silence, he presses on coldly. "Just because I'm not in Anlan, does that mean I can't make decisions for you?"

"..." Your hands crumple the fabric of your dress.

Zayne lowers his gaze to your pale lips, his brows knitting tightly, like frost weighing down pine branches.

"Or..." He suddenly releases your hand and leans back in his chair, his voice as cold as winter snow. "Is the lady going to use my words about the clear separation between politics and business to distance herself from me again?"

You clench your teeth, your chest aching with a dull pain. A turbulent undercurrent roars behind his usually indifferent gaze—clearly, Zayne is reaching his breaking point.

"Do you see me as your husband, or a stranger?" The words are uttered wistfully, a sense of helplessness creeping into his voice. "What exactly are you—"

His voice fades as your lips suddenly cover his.

Zayne's lips are slightly cool, carrying the faint scent of tea. His body tenses faintly. Your fingertips tighten around his shirt, and you hear your own heart pounding like a drum.

You lower your eyelashes, suppressing your trembling, daring only to lightly suck on his lower lip, like holding a melting snowflake in your mouth, trying to seal away all the unresolved questions with that soft touch.

You have always felt that Zayne consistently avoids discussing the reason for your deliberate distance. But you know even more clearly that if he dares to break through that final barrier, you will be the first to crumble.

You always thought you were undeserving of the place of Zayne's wife, knowing the difference in your status. He only married you because of your family's connections, so you worked relentlessly to be useful, refusing to back down even when faced with danger. You know well that he cares deeply for you as a person, yet he was the one who deliberately kept his distance in the beginning. Now that you've finally come to understand why being the Lady of Anlan is such a dangerous position, when you finally steeled your resolve to prioritize self-preservation — for his sake as well — why is he suddenly concerned? Those secrets buried deep in your heart are like a venomous snake coiling around it. Every touch brings excruciating pain.

So Zayne, please—

You repeat it silently countless times in your heart.

Don't ask.

"Have I..." his voice wavers for a moment, his large form suddenly seeming vulnerable as he lifts his hands to your face, "angered you, my lady?"

His hand goes to wipe the thin sheen of sweat from your brow, but the moment his fingers touch your skin, he sees your eyes suddenly fill with tears.

Glistening drops roll down and land on the back of his hand, catching him off guard with their heat.

"Why are you crying all of a sudden?" His knuckles brush your cheek, touching damp warmth.

You shake your head without answering, but the tears fall even more fiercely. In the moonlight they resemble broken pearls, each one striking his heart.

Zayne steadies your back with one hand and gently strokes the back of your head with the other, drawing you closer to him.

"It's alright. I'm here." He catches a tear at the corner of your eye, the salty taste melting on his lips. His usually cold voice softens slightly. "I promise, I won't let that happen again."

You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your chin heavily on his shoulder, your nails almost digging into his flesh. Long-suppressed grievances surge out with your sobs, like a bursting spring tide soaking through his shirt.

"It's all your fault..." you murmur, voice trembling, tears warm against his shoulder.

"Mm," he responds indulgently, his palm firmly supporting the back of your neck. "It's my fault."

Your broken sobs tighten his heart. He places a hand on your back, slowly stroking your spine in comfort.

"Zayne, why… why did you leave?" you cry, your body trembling.

His arms around you tremble faintly as well.

These past few days, you have been so cold toward him. How much grievance has been building inside you since tonight's events that you cannot control your emotions anymore?

A heavy weight lifts from Zayne's heart. He would rather you vent like this than keep it all buried inside and ruin your health.

"Why… leave me… alone… here?"

Your question cuts like a dull blade, pain spreading through his chest.

He understands how many sleepless nights hide behind those tears, how the bitterness of waiting and anxiety twists your heart into pieces—burdens you should never have to bear.

"The front lines are dangerous," Zayne says calmly, his palm stroking your back even more slowly.

He longs to come back to Anlan—how could he not want to stay with you day and night?

But the war is urgent, and fatalities are indiscriminate. Even with his confidence, he dares not risk your life, so he leaves you in Anlan.

His eyes, usually as calm as the deep sea, now surge with self-reproach, heartache, and an unyielding love.

"Don't cry, my darling."

Still lost in his emotions, Zayne suddenly lifts you gently, his Adam's apple bobbing as he whispers against your lips.

You startle, your sobs stopping abruptly as you look up through tearful eyes.

"How do you want to punish me?" Zayne presses his nose against yours, your breaths mingling. His voice is low and hoarse, almost a sigh. Your tear-streaked face, flushed nose, and lips reddened by biting—every detail is deadly to him.

He truly is beyond saving.

This should be the moment to comfort you gently, yet the sight of your tears stirs his heart. Soft kisses land on your trembling eyelashes.

"Whatever you want," Zayne murmurs heavily, his voice like water soaked in snow. "It's yours."

As long as you want it. As long as he has you.

But suddenly you lower your eyes and shake your head violently, resistance filling your voice.

"No… I don't want it."

You struggle to escape his arms as Zayne's dark eyes turn cold. His arms tighten like iron clamps, pressing you firmly against his knees. You pound against his chest, sobbing desperately.

"I don't want anything!"

That desperate rejection strikes him like a hammer blow, the veins in his neck throbbing. A thunderous roar erupts inside him. He seizes your wrist and finally forces out the question he has suppressed for so long:

"You don't even want me anymore?"

15. The air seems to freeze.

You instinctively avoid Zayne's gaze. However, just that miniscule movement sends ripples through his heart like like a pebble thrown into still water. His eyes darken instantly. His fingers clamp around your chin, forcing you to look at him. The spacious room suddenly feels suffocatingly cramped, falling into chilling silence as the rain pounding against the roof like thunder.

Zayne's gaze narrows slightly.

A simple yes-or-no answer that used to be so easy for you to say now feels like a jammed bullet lodged in your throat, and stuck in his heart. He desperately needs your answer to fill the hollow void you create inside him.

The contradiction tears at his nerves.

Until he sees your eyelashes trembling violently in the shadows. You're so close, like a butterfly drenched in rain, fragile enough to tear his heart apart.

If he asks one more question, will you shatter completely?

In the end, he gives in to you.

Zayne laughs bitterly at himself. The decisive general admired by the public is nothing more than a coward who can't even face an answer.

So be it.

He closes his eyes with quiet resignation and seals your lips with his before you can speak the words that might destroy everything. The kiss carries a heavy apology and overwhelming love, gentle to the point of reverence. His hand strokes the back of your neck, the warmth both a comfort and a silent plea.

16. Zayne carries your exhausted, sleeping form out of the carriage and back into the house. This is the first time in his life that Zayne hated his inherent taciturnity so deeply.

A sudden, indescribable tightness wells up in his heart, like fine threads binding his soul, making even breathing painful. These past few days, he has done everything in his power to temporarily set aside his demanding military duties, just to spend more time by your side, to make up for the six months he had missed.

He carefully cherished you, paying attention to every subtle change in your expression, awkwardly trying to speak tender words, desperately trying to recapture the intimacy you once shared. Sometimes, just when he feels that the distance between you has narrowed, he would helplessly realize that the invisible barrier was actually deepening, little bit little.

In the dressing mirror, Zayne's taut jawline is clearly reflected.

He knew it was bad, maybe a little twisted, but when presented with the opportunity to ask for something, anything after his years of hard-fought battles and his drive to prove himself, he couldn't stop himself from taking it; taking you, the person he's always wanted. He selfishly took you away from the warm, temperate capital to the snowy Anlan, all to himself. He wanted to keep you far, far, away from the danger at the borders, settled you and let you do your business to your heart's content. Associating too close with him would bring you unnecessary enemies, whether it be rival merchant houses or even worse, political enemies trying to use you as a bargaining chip, he reasoned. You were a strong girl, have always been. You knew how to take care of yourself and your affairs; sometimes it pained him to think it, but he knew you'd be fine, by his side or not.

But oh he was wrong.

Countless times he's asked himself, where did things go wrong? What did he overlook?

But he couldn't find the crux of the matter, no matter how hard he searched his memory, until he saw first-hand today what you had to endure on a regular basis.

At this moment, watching the last leaves fall off the now barren magnolia tree in the courtyard, a thought suddenly pierces his heart with a chilling coldness.

Perhaps, the reason is simple, so simple it's almost cruel.

When you loved him before, he could always see right through you… the undisguised expectation in your eyes when you were being affectionate, the pouting lips when you were throwing a tantrum, even your frown hinted at a desire to be coaxed.

But now he can't understand you, can't read your expressions anymore, simply because...

You're tired of the burden that came with being the Lady of Anlan. Tired of this city that traps you. Tired of him. That's all.

17. Old Liu has been waiting quietly outside the study for a long time. Hearing approaching footsteps, he immediately bows.

"General Li."

Zayne strides in calmly, his sharp profile illuminated by lamplight.

He sits behind the desk, long fingers tapping lightly on its surface.

"I want to hear every trouble my wife faced while I was away from Anlan," he says, his voice cold as ice. "Explain them one by one."

18. Old Liu begins recounting the events of the past six months.

The day you assumed full authority in the Chamber of Commerce, someone presented a brocade box containing a bloodstained dead sparrow as a "congratulatory gift."

Before a major shipment, a veteran merchant deliberately delayed the delivery under a rival company's instigation, attempting to embarrass you. On a stormy night, you personally rushed to the remote warehouse and argued fiercely until the merchant finally delivered the goods.

An elder publicly accused your accounts of fraud and tried to force you from office using guild rules. You demanded that an entire chest of account books be brought in, checking them page by page, and refuted him with razor precision until the man is purple in the face and bows in apology.

An ocean cargo ship is seized by the Navy docks for suspected contraband. You inspected every crate on the damp deck late at night. The ship is saved, but you caught a chill from the cold.

Old Liu's voice carries suppressed resentment as he recounts each scene vividly.

Zayne listens without interruption. His expression remains calm as a still lake, but darkness gathers in his eyes.

When the horseman reaches the story of dockworkers being secretly incited to strike, and you, already ill with fever, worked through the night and eventually collapsed from exhaustion, Zayne finally raises his hand.

He cannot listen any further.

"General… it is my fault. I did not protect Madam properly." Old Liu lowers his head. "Please punish me."

Silence fills the study.

After a long time, Zayne finally speaks.

"My wife says these matters are hers alone and have nothing to do with you."

Old Liu's throat tightens. "Madam only worries that you are exhausted from the war and does not want trivial matters disturbing your peace of mind…"

The study falls silent again. Moonlight spills through the window.

Zayne slowly strokes the armrest.

"The list," he says quietly.

Old Liu immediately presents the prepared roster.

Zayne flips through it, each name and scheme reflected in his icy gaze.

Suddenly he looks up.

"Has Madam been sending someone to buy pastries from her favorite bakery recently?"

"Yes. Madam likes them very much."

Zayne closes the register calmly.

"From now on, report every single one of her movements to me immediately."

19. Later that night, Zayne opens the bedroom door.

Moonlight falls through gauze curtains, casting a pale glow onto the sleeping figure in the bed.

You lie curled up in the brocade quilt, looking like a small animal.

Zayne kneels beside the bed, silently studying your face.

You sleep uneasily, brows faintly furrowed.

His fingers hover between your brows before slowly withdrawing into a fist.

The horseman's report echoes endlessly in his mind.

For more than two hundred days, you faced the storms of business alone; attacks, doubts, conspiracies, but never retreating. Meanwhile, he commands armies thousands of miles away, yet unable to shield you from even a single falling leaf.

Guilt gnaws at him relentlessly.

He once imagined you as a rose in a greenhouse, forever protected beneath his wings. If he could, he'd even keep the snow of Anlan from ever touching your shoulders.

But he knows better.

The more carefully a flower is protected, the less it can endure wind and rain. So he teaches you to shoot, to fish, to survive.

He hoped to watch you grow into a tree strong enough to withstand any storm, even without him.

Yet now that you truly stand strong, you no longer cling to his post.

Back then you'd smile gently and say, "Zayne, don't worry. I'll be fine. I'll wait for you."

He believed you.

Now he realizes the truth: He is the one who forced you to become independent.

And he is also the one who forced you to swallow your pain alone.

A bitter taste rises in his throat. Perhaps… he has never been a good husband. You resent him. Your distance is understandable.

The night breeze stirs the curtains.

After a long time, Zayne leans down. His cool breath brushes your lips before settling into a feather-light kiss on your forehead.

Gentle. Careful. As if afraid of waking you from a fragile dream.

You may grow strong enough to soar freely someday, but he will always remain the mountain behind you, the place you can return to when your wings grow tired.

No matter how far you fly, he will wait.

His love will not change.

Not until death.

20. It's before dawn. A bluish-gray morning mist shrouds the entire Li residence in a hazy glow.

You wake up from a hazy dream. Beside you, Zayne's brows are relaxed, his long eyelashes lowered, his thin lips slightly pursed, the sharpness of the day gone, replaced by a gentle tenderness. His even breathing is exceptionally clear in the quiet bedroom, his warm breath brushing against your hair.

You instinctively wanted to curl up in his arms, but freeze the moment the thought crosses your mind. The tears from last night's breakdown still leave a burning mark on your face, a memory that sends a chill of humiliation down your spine.

You force yourself to calm down and carefully lift Zayne's arm from around your waist.

His arms are long and strong, bearing the weight of years of training, holding you close even in your sleep, as if if you were to dissolve into the morning mist the moment you let go.

A soft rustling sound comes from the bedding. You've barely moved an inch before he unconsciously pulls you back into his arms, startling you so much your heart skips a beat. Only after confirming he is still fast asleep do you dare to hold your breath and deftly pull yourself out of bed, tiptoeing out of the room.

You throw on a coat, pushing open the door, and go downstairs to the courtyard. The damp mist, carrying the chill of late autumn, seeps over your ankles. Morning dew condenses into tiny droplets on the stone steps.

You stand underneath the magnolia tree, its branches laden with red leaves. The autumn wind brushes past your ears, scattering and gathering your jumbled thoughts in waves.

In a daze, time seemed to rewind to that dusky evening two hundred and nineteen days ago: on an evening that was supposed to be like any other, you narrowly grazed past death for the first time.

You have experienced your fair share of troubles since coming to Anlan, but the precision of the thin blade that pierced through the paper covering of your office window at the municipal building, so fast and silent that none of your attendants outside the door noticed anything out of the ordinary, left you stunned. Not until it stuck to the wall behind you that your heart started thundering like a drum, your hand rising to touch the single drop of blood drawn from right above your clavicle. A single scrap of paper is attached with two characters scrawled across: 黎深 (Zayne Li). Your heart plummets into ice cold water, but you don't scream, or shout, or even call for help. You've been too careless; someone already caught on to your secret.

That night, the magnolias were in full bloom, the bright moonlight cascading down like a silver waterfall, coating the blossoms with a layer of crystalline snow.

Amidst the fragrance of the flowers, Zayne came up from behind, his steady frame silent as he watched the flowers by your side. The perpetual two-feet distance he keeps from you taunted your mind as you mulled over how to address the incident that happened earlier.

To your surprise, he spoke first. “Tomorrow I will lead the army north.” His voice was so calm, betraying no emotion whatsoever.

You remember being surprised for a moment, your heart stopping abruptly. Moonlight filtered through the branches, flowing over the gold thread on Zayne's military uniform, casting dappled shadows on his sharply defined face. He gazed silently at you.

You wanted to ask what you should do, when he would return, to beg him to stay. A thousand words swirled between your lips, but in the end, you simply lowered your eyelashes and reached out to smooth the non-existent wrinkle on his uniform collar.

"Please take care."

Your thoughts, hesitant and brewing for so long, originally intended to be admitted all in one go, ultimately dissipated with the night breeze and the fragrance of magnolia blossoms.

On many lonely nights after Zayne left, you loved to stand here, watching the moonlight illuminate the shadows of the flowers, from lush to sparse, until the last petal fell.

Your shadow, stretched and shortened by the moonlight, mirrored the constantly weighing and struggling emotions in your heart. In the end, you made your choice.

You let out a long, pent-up sigh.

Why did you suddenly lose control of your emotions last night?

For the past six months, you were successful in single-handedly managing the Chamber of Commerce, smoothing the elders' overt and covert difficulties, avoiding the malicious probing of competitors, and withstanding even blatant harassment.

But when Zayne witnessed firsthand your embarrassing moment of being humiliated in public, all your carefully constructed walls seemed to crumble instantly.

How could you bear to question his departure? You know better than anyone that he did nothing wrong. Zayne bore the immense responsibility of protecting Anlan; every military order is tied to the safety of countless people, and he cannot allow himself to waver for personal feelings. You couldn't bear to see him torn between responsibility and affection. You thought you were understanding enough, but unexpectedly, a hidden resentment still managed to quietly sprout in your heart.

Resentful that he left you, resentful that he returned too soon, and even more resentful of yourself… for not being able to hide even this small grievance.

How could you not know that Zayne left you in Anlan only to protect you?

Besides, even if he wanted to take you with him, you couldn't follow him all the way to the front lines anyways, due to your duty to your family business. If you really have to blame someone, you could only blame fate.

That night, when you heard Yvonne's cheerful announcement that the General had returned early, you practically fled to your dressing room in a panic.

Reflected in the mirror was a bloodless face and slightly trembling lips. You hadn't felt so helpless in a long time. How could you face him?

You gripped the edge of the dressing table tightly, your nails scratching fine lines on the lacquered surface, like the cracks in your heart.

21. You need to find out what changed on Zayne's end. Something must have happened at the front lines that caused him to return early, starting this chain effect.

At the sound of your voice, Greyson immediately stops and turns, standing respectfully before you.

“What are your orders, Madam?”

A cool morning breeze drifts through the courtyard, stirring a few brittle leaves across the stone path. You pull your coat tighter around yourself. The soft cashmere brushes your palms, but it does nothing to warm your cold fingertips.

After a moment’s hesitation, you speak.

“Greyson… there’s something I want to ask. Is that alright?”

“Of course, Madam.”

The question you’ve been holding back slips out before anything else.

“After heading north… has Zayne been injured?”

“Rest assured,” Greyson replies immediately. “General Zayne has not been harmed on the battlefield.”

Your shoulders loosen at once, tension draining from your body. But as you take another breath, another question follows, rough and uncertain. “And the situation in Tong county… how is it?”

“The enemy is cunning and resisting fiercely.” Greyson's posture remains rigid, his voice steady and solemn. “However, General Zayne’s strategy has given us a decisive advantage.”

“When will the war be over?”

“If everything proceeds normally…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “By the end of the year. At the latest, early next spring. But battlefield conditions change constantly. No one can predict the exact timing.”

The question that has haunted you for days finally escapes.

“Then… why did Zayne come back now?”

The wind in the courtyard suddenly feels sharp.

Greyson's expression stiffens.

22. He still remembers the day he walked into the command post carrying old Liu's mail: Madam is safe.

“Still no news?” the voice from behind the desk asked calmly.

“…No.”

Zayne remained bent over his desk, reviewing battle reports. At the answer, he simply lifts his eyes slightly. His knuckles tap once against the paper.

His expression reveals nothing.

That night’s operations meeting is heavy with tension.

A baton sweeps across the war map of Tong county.

When Zayne suddenly announced that the night raid will be moved up to tomorrow—and that he will personally lead the assault—Commander Chen knocks over his teacup in shock.

“General Li, please reconsider!” Chen exclaims. “Two artillery regiments have just been stationed east of the city—they’re on full alert!”

Zayne’s face remained calm.

His finger taps a single point on the map.

“Frontline scouts have located the enemy ammunition depot.”

His voice is cold.

“This opportunity won’t last. We strike immediately.”

The plan is revised within minutes. The arrow on the map now points directly toward Shanwan's most dangerous core fortress.

Next to the primary assault mission is a single name:

Zayne.

The room falls silent.

No one dares ask why.

23. Greyson's silence tightens something in your chest.

“It’s alright,” you say with a strained smile. “If it’s not appropriate to tell me—”

“Forgive my bluntness, Madam," Greyson lowers his voice.

“General Li changed the battle plan because he was worried about you.”

Your breath catches.

“He personally led the elite unit in the night raid on Shanwan's fortress.”

Greyson finally meets your eyes.

“The battle was moved forward… by twenty days.”

24. Cold shoots up your spine. Shock, fear, and crushing guilt twist together inside your chest.

Was it your silence? Your deliberate distance? Did that drive Zayne to such a reckless decision?

You always knew he would eventually notice something was wrong, but you never imagined that his concern would weigh so heavily that he would risk his life just to return sooner.

In the end, you forced him into an impossible choice.

And he never once told you.

25. After answering the rest of your questions, Greyson salutes sharply and leaves. His boots echo against the stone path until the sound fades.

You remain standing in the courtyard.

Magnolia branches cast shifting shadows over the blue bricks beneath your feet.

You tilt your head toward the sky. Clouds swallow the moon.

Your thoughts drift back to the first time you ever saw Zayne.

He had just returned from the western campaign. A parade filled the streets in celebration of the youngest man ever promoted to general.

You remember watching him ride past in dark armor atop a warhorse.

Back then, he seemed almost unreal.

Untouchable.

Invincible.

Something more than human.

Only later did realize the truth: He is just a man.

A man of flesh and blood.

And somewhere in the ordinary days you spent together in Anlan, something quiet and burning grew inside him.

A love strong enough to make him cross battlefields.

Strong enough to rush into danger for you.

But you are only a merchant’s daughter.

Someone who was never meant to carry the weight of a general’s life.

If something happens to him because of you…

You would never forgive yourself.

Your fingers tighten around the hem of your coat.

And what about next time?

What will he risk for you then?

…It shouldn’t be like this.

Before you appeared, Zayne's life followed a steady, predictable path.

Was meeting you his life’s greatest gift, or its cruelest curse?

The cold deepens, and the familiar ache returns. The same ache that haunted you very lonely night after Zayne left.

It never truly disappeared.

26. Greyson's words haunt your mind. While you know you should be better than this, that you're no better than Zayne right now, a pair of ostriches' sticking their heads into the sand, you escape to work anyhow, praying (with very little expectations) that you'll be distracted enough to stop spiraling. You send old Liu and your maid home early, despite their insistence; you've got one more place to go, alone.

Arriving at the glistening entrance of the largest hotel in the red-light district, you take a deep breath as you put on a butterfly mask and step through the doors. The grand hall is lined with dozens of lanterns. You give a pseudonym to the front desk, and the attendant leads you to a quiet, private room on the seventh floor.

You paid a hefty amount of money for a trustworthy informant. You needed to know if there was anything else Greyson left out, and exactly how fast word has spread (if it did already) about the identity of the General's wife.

You breath a sigh of relief as you dismiss the hooded man. Nothing too shocking. The rebels stirring trouble are sponsored by Governer Li Cui, no doubt just itching to make Zayne's role harder. As for the identity of the General's wife... he asked for an extra 200 liang of silver for any leads onto that topic. Seems like the Mayor kept his mouth shut.

Two young girls enter the room, nervously asking if their "esteemed patron" would like any entertainment or accompaniment tonight.

You waive your hand, catching the younger one's expression drop. Feeling bad, you call for her to play the zither for you, and order some food. You'll have dinner here.

You nurse the tea in your hands as the music ends, its lingering notes echoing. You give the girl a generous tip, instructing to be left alone for now.

Finally. Some peace and quiet.

You sit back down, wondering why your food hadn't arrived yet, when a fine sweat suddenly breaks out on your back.

At first, it feels like just a slight damp heat, but quickly turns into a strange, itchy sensation, creeping up your spine to the back of your neck, spreading across your body with alarming speed. When you take off your coat, your silk robe is already soaked and clinging to your back. The feeling of the fabric rubbing against your skin is amplified, bringing a wave of unsettling premonition.

Your gaze falls on the almost empty drink in your glass, and it dawns on you.

You'd been drugged!

Grabbing your handbag, you bolt towards the door. But the moment you try to stand up, your legs go weak; the soft carpet feels like walking on a sponge. With each step, your temples throb and your ears ring. The corridor is eerily silent; the waiter who should have been waiting outside is nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, you hear light footsteps behind you. Is it a hallucination, or the approach of a watchful eye lurking in the shadows?

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of a dark figure moving in the shadows of a pillar. With a nauseating laugh, Li Sheng strolls out slowly. "My Lady, where are you going in such a hurry?"

His gaze, sticky like a snake's tongue, slithers over your neck, already damp with a thin layer of sweat, finally settling on your slightly heaving chest.

"Sweating so much must be uncomfortable," he says, each word dripping with malice. "I'll take you to change your clothes."

"Li Sheng! How dare you! Aren't you afraid of being exposed?" you shout, but even you could hear the bluff in your weak tone.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lady Y/N," Li Sheng's face twists into a smug smile, "this is clearly consensual!"

The lamps on the corridor walls cast hazy, indistinct glows. Your body feels heavy, as if filled with lead, every inch of your skin burning. The heat intensifies, threatening to engulf you.

You grip the wall tightly with trembling fingers, your nails leaving shallow marks on the wallpaper. You force yourself to continue speaking, "If the Director knew you're out here ruining his career for amusement…"

"You think you can threaten me with my old man's future?" Li Sheng's laughter grows increasingly manic. "Don't you know who my uncle is?"

In the past, he had repeatedly hinted that he wanted the title of chairman for the Chamber of Commerce, but you had always deftly shot the idea down.

Now, seeing your flushed cheeks and dazed eyes, the prey he had long coveted was finally about to be obtained! The desire in his eyes are almost bursting forth.

You slowly retreat against the cold wall, your trembling fingers fumbling haphazardly in your bag. The moment your fingertips touch the cool metal, Zayne's deep voice echoes in your mind:

"If you ever encounter an unkind situation, just attack. No need to hold back."

You abruptly pull out the dagger he'd given you for self-defense, shouting, "Come any closer, and I'll kill you!"

Li Sheng is startled by this sudden turn of events, stumbling backwards and knocking over a vase stand. Amidst the crisp sound of shattering porcelain, he stares at your trembling wrist and your misty, unfocused eyes, licking his dry lips.

"Don't get excited. Who are you trying to scare with a little knife? Come on, I'll take you to have some fun..."

"Get lost!" Your senses are overwhelmed. Your fingers grip the handle tightly, but your vision begins to blur. In the split second your field of vision fades, you see Li Sheng's oily face suddenly contort into a familiar expression.

"Zayne...?" A murmur escapes your lips as your hand holding the dagger suddenly goes limp, the blade making a crisp sound as it falls lifelessly to the ground.

The lanterns cast an eerie light on Li Sheng's face. Seizing your momentary lapse in concentration, he lunges forward with a sinister grin, "Good little sister, let your brother pamper you..."

At the critical moment—

"Thunk—!" The sound of metal piercing through flesh cuts through the haze.

"Ahhh—!" Li Sheng lets out a piercing scream, two blades bursting through the front of his thighs. He collapses to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, his legs convulsing and twitching.

The stench of blood fills the hall.

You struggle to open your leaden eyelids, your vision blurred.

At the end of the corridor, black military boots tread across the wreckage.

A tall, slender figure approaches you against the light, the gold on his belt ornaments gleaming with a chilling light. His cold, sharp features are accentuated by the interplay of light and shadow, a heavy, chilling aura surrounding him.

Only when his face, etched deep into your soul, gradually becomes clear does your anxious heart finally calm—

It's Zayne.

He's arrived.

27. The night is thick.

The sound of the hooves of a dozen or so war horses nearly drown out the music and commotion along the roads of the red light district, screeching to a halt in front of the grand hotel.

The manager bows as he rushes forward, his obsequious smile freezing the moment he sees the uniform of the person in the lead.

The burning lanterns reflect Zayne's sharply defined jaw. His black cloak billows in the night wind, rustling like a dark cloud, radiating a suffocating sense of oppression.

Seeing a group of well-trained, heavily armed guards surrounding him, the manager's legs go weak as he realizes with shock that the man he had mistaken for a noble young master was actually a high-ranking military officer—

"General Li! what brings you here..." the manager's voice trembles.

Zayne's expression is indifferent, his gaze sharp enough to cut ice. "Where is the Lady of Y/N Trading Company?"

"She's...she's in the private room on the seventh floor..." any last consideration for the protection of customer privacy immediately went out the window. The manager can't help but wonder: Is the General here for revenge, or for love?

Before he even finishes speaking, Zayne is already stepping towards the back staircase.

The numbers on the stairwell keep changing, the lights reflecting Zayne's tense jawline. In the steady sound of his footsteps, he can nearly hear his own heartbeat. He hasn't experienced this foreboding feeling, the sense of losing control in many years.

He pushes open the gliding door to the seventh floor, his guards rushing out from both sides, pinning down any lookouts before they could react.

A lewd laugh, a weak shout, and the sound of shattering porcelain pierces Zayne's eardrums. His brows furrow slightly, his right hand already on his scabbard.

His pace suddenly increases as he turns the corner, and the scene under the warm yellow wall lamp makes his blood freeze instantly—

You lean weakly against the wall, your sweat-dampened hair clinging to your pale cheeks. Across from you, a man in rich garments grins maliciously, about to grab your wrist.

His hands reach for his throwing daggers on autopilot, aiming, releasing.

Two loud sounds, the entire sequence of movements fluid and swift.

Zayne's face remains calm, only the bulging veins on his neck silently betraying his overwhelming rage.

Your back slides slowly down the wall, his heart tightening at the sound of your weak call, "Zayne..."

He casually tosses his sword to Greyson behind him, arriving beside you in two strides, and kneeling down to gently pull you into his arms. His eyes darken as he touches your burning forehead and unusually flushed cheeks.

It's obvious you'd been drugged.

"It's alright, I'm here." Zayne lowers his head, kissing the top of your head, his usually cold voice filled with reassurance.

"Murder! Help!" Li Sheng collapses to the ground, clutching his bleeding knees and screaming. His expensive robes are soaked with cold sweat and blood, his once slick face now a pale gray.

Even as guards restrain him, the spoiled brat still dares to shout defiantly, "You—you dare touch me?! My uncle is the Governor of Anlan!"

Zayne lowers his gaze, the chill in his eyes like an unyielding glacier. The chilling, condescending gaze is almost tangible, its terrifying pressure making Li Sheng's chest tighten, forcing him to choke on the rest of his words .

Greyson's military boots grind against the bloody wound at just the right moment. Amid Li Sheng's screams, Zayne is already carrying you down the stairs.

The commotion alerts everyone downstairs. Private room doors open one after another, and those who curiously peek out are quickly pulled back by security guards.

The manager stands frozen, staring at the shattered porcelain and winding trails of blood on the floor. His shirt, soaked with cold sweat, cling to his back, his mind blank.

He never would have dreamed that one of his wealthy and mysterious VIPs was actually the wife of the General! And that General Li actually dared to openly stab the Governor's nephew without any regard for the consequences, all for your sake.

The sound of the convoy's harness bells ring through the night, the powerful sounds of hooves clearing a path through the streets as it speeds towards the residence of the city's best-known doctor.

Your cheeks flush a sickly red in the dim light of the carriage, fine beads of sweat trickling down your neck and into your disheveled collar. You tremble as you climbed onto Zayne's lap, the rough texture of his military outerwear brushing against your burning skin sends a shiver down your spine. Your fingertips grip the crisp collar of his robe, pulling at the creases. Zayne's breathing remains steady, his left arm encircling your waist like iron, his right hand firmly supporting your limp knees.

"So hot..." Your hazy eyelashes tremble, your hot breath spraying onto his neck, "Zayne, kiss me..."

The aphrodisiac courses through your veins like a thousand ants gnawing at your nerves, making every inch of your skin unbearably hot.

"Mmm." Zayne's adam's apple bobs slightly, a fleeting emotion flashing through his eyes. Cool, thin lips gently cover yours, like a handful of snow in a cold night.

The kiss is too brief to quell the heat within you. You instinctively follow him, your teeth brushing against his lower lip in your haste, the metallic taste spreading between your intertwined breaths. Your tongue, without warning, fiercely entwines with his.

A moment later, Zayne pulls back slightly, calmly gripping your wrist as your hands begin unraveling his military uniform.

"Stop."

Your palm slides inside his shirt, tracing the firm, undulating muscles of his chest. The next second, your lips press against his Adam's apple, your tongue lightly sweeping across the prominent curve, the warm, wet lick causing a suppressed gasp to escape his throat.

Zayne quickly leans back against the plush seat. "Sit still, listen to me." He pulls your restless hands away.

All your senses are amplified by the drug. The touch of skin against skin, the friction of the military uniform fabric, all transform into a fine electric current, coursing along your spine to every limb.

"I want Zayne..." Every nerve screams, burning reason to ashes.

You bite his collarbone, rubbing against him, your legs unconsciously twisting beneath your skirt, wrinkling his trousers in varying depths.

"Don't move," Zayne warns, his hand firmly supporting your hips, stopping your dangerous movement.

He watches you intently, a turbulent worry hidden beneath his calm eyes, his gaze frequently glancing at the street scene outside the window.

Time stretches endlessly in his anxiety.

Unable to find relief, you collapse into his arms, tears falling like pearls, splashing onto the front of his uniform, leaving dark ripples on the fabric.

"Waaah... Zaynie doesn't love me anymore..."

This tearful accusation makes Zayne stiffen. He looks down at you trembling in his arms. His embrace suddenly tightens, the force almost crushing you into his bones.

"Don't speak recklessly." His voice is cold and deep, but his fingertips gently wipe at your moist eyes, only causing more tears to burst out like a broken dam.

You sob in his arms, your burning forehead pressed against his neck, your trembling lips opening and closing, your voice filled with a wronged, pitiful tone: "But Zayne... he's never... never said he loves me."

Zayne's breath hitches.

In this world where trust is few and far between, you stood up for him time and time again, backing him with all your trust and vulnerability without reservation.

He was never the most eloquent nor outspoken person, believing that daily companionship, meticulous care, and quiet, profound protection were more powerful than a thousand words.

Only now does he realize that the love he thought was self-evident had always been shrouded in a hazy mist in your eyes.

In the moment, he can't discern whether this heart-wrenching accusation is the delirious rambling of someone under the influence of drugs, or a long-buried bewilderment finally being poured out from your heart. Perhaps his long-held belief that "silence speaks louder than words," his self-righteous form of protection, was precisely the thing that suspends his hard-won love above an invisible abyss.

Gently cradling your tear-streaked face, Zayne calls your name softly, finally uttering the words he's long been hiding in his heart:

"I love you."

The three words are as light as snowflakes falling on pine branches, yet the trembling tone carries a surging emotion, weighing a hundred tons.

How he longs to look into your eyes, to let you see this long-held affection.

But your eyes are blurred with tears, your consciousness shrouded in chaos, making this belated confession seem so pale.

The fire in you burns - you feel like you're dying. Your consciousness is quickly fading as a surge of emotions well up in your chest, fearful you'll never have the chance to tell him anything again. “I never…wanted to leave the General”

Life is short, and every second in the inferno reminds you that an accident could happen in an instant. How can you bear to keep these words hidden in your heart?

A bitter pang of guilt surges through his chest. Zayne can only hold you tighter, letting the heartache gnaw at him inside. “I know,” his clear voice piercing through the haze and night wind.

Driven completely by desire now, you indeed disregard his confession, only crying even more bitterly, "If you love me, why won't you give it to me!"

"Let's go see the doctor first, wait until you're better..."

"No, I want it now! It hurts so much, Zayne, help me..."

Zayne's military trousers beneath your skirt are already soaked through. Your trembling fingertips touch his belt, groping for the taut, burning heat through the fabric.

He forces himself to tear his eyes away from you, instead focusing on the passing road signs, estimating you'd arrive in five minutes at most.

"Hang in there, we're almost there," he says calmly, gently pressing down on your flailing hands.

"No!" you cry out, struggling even more fiercely, your nails scratching the back of his hands until they bleed. "He's rejecting me even now; Zayne definitely likes someone else, he doesn't want me anymore!"

Your uncontrollable cries pierce his ears, but the dull pain rising in his chest was even more suffocating. Zayne looks down at you, his eyes as clear as a frozen lake, reflecting your swaying figure. Since the night of your wedding back at the capital, he had promised to love you "until death do us apart". How could he betray the vow etched into his very bones?

“Absolutely impossible.” Zayne holds your struggling wrists with one hand, gently stroking your tear-streaked cheek with the other. His thin lips lightly brush against the corner of your reddened eyes, kissing away the tears.

As your noses touch, the words he uttered are cold yet resolute: “In this life, I have only ever loved you.”

From beginning to end, he was a clumsy lover— Stubbornly using actions instead of words, trying to offer you the best of everything, but forgetting that words are the most direct way to convey one's feelings. You used to laugh on his shoulder, playfully complaining that his indulgence had made you increasingly spoiled and unruly.

But haven't you also been tolerating his unyielding silence and distance day after day, accommodating his reticent nature? Was there ever a moment when you felt a touch of weariness in the face of his taciturnity? He should have told you long ago that he loved you more than anything in the world.

"You're lying to me!" You abruptly turn your face away, tears streaming down your cheeks and into the corners of your lips. "Zayne just... doesn't want me anymore!"

This impromptu rebuttal pierces Zayne's heart like a needle. He grasps your chin, his thumb gently tracing your moist lips.

"Every word comes from the bottom of my heart. I've never uttered a single falsehood in front of you." The emotions surging in his chest condense into a sigh from his throat. Zayne calls you by your full name, "Y/N, I can't live without you."

How could he make you understand that you were the one who added vibrant color to his otherwise monochromatic life?

You are his most precious surprise.

His life, which had been following a set path, only became alive, colorful, and complete with your arrival. It must be the thought that you haven't done enough, wasn't been good enough, that trapped you in a quagmire of self-pity and doubt.

He's never imagined that he would repeatedly express his feelings to you in a situation like this. How much of this confession in this broken moment will you remember once you regain your senses?

Doesn't matter now.

Whether it be a hundred mistakes, a thousand mistakes, no matter what, the blame lies with him. After all, he was the one who failed to protect you, who failed to be honest with you in time.

He won't complain; he'll only be grateful that you're still by his side

28. A warm yellow flame shines in the room.

You open your eyes, your eyelashes fluttering. Your vision is still blurry when a joyful whisper reaches your ears: "Madam, you're finally awake!"

You recognize the voice to be Yvonne's despite still being somewhat dazed. Just as you try to clear your groggy thoughts, a sudden dry, burning pain wells up in your throat. Hearing your dry cough, Yvonne immediately calls for the handmaid to fetch water.

You try to sit up, supporting yourself on your arms, but before you can even process what was happening, you blurt out, "Where's Zayne?"

Old Liu comes up behind Yvonne, "General Li, he..." his lips move, doesn't finish the sentence.

Yvonne steps in, gently bringing a cup of warm water to your lips. "Madam, do you know how much you scared us when the General brought you home? Thank heavens you're awake, or else the General would be on the verge of changing dynasties instead simply the Governor."

A sinking feeling rises in your stomach. "How long was I out for?"

Yvonne looks at old Liu nervously, gently patting your back as she slowly says, "it's been eight days."

"What happened to Zayne?" Your heart tightens, your fingers unconsciously gripping the sheets as you ask urgently, "Where is he?"

"General Li is... he's..."

Old Liu's reaction is strange; why is he hesitating?

Anxiety courses through your veins, you couldn't wait any longer. You throw back the thin blanket and try to get out of bed, but the moment your feet touch the cold floor, your legs nearly give out, causing you to sway. "Madam, be careful!" Yvonne rushes forward, her voice filled with worry.

"If you won't tell me, I'll go find him myself!" You brush away the hand that tries to support you. Even though your legs are weak, all you wanted was to find Zayne immediately to confirm his safety.

"Madam, the General went to the Governor's residence!" Old Liu finally shouts.

You turn your head in shock.

Old Liu remembers the early hours of the morning that Zayne brought you home. He had carried you in his arms the entire time since bringing you to the doctor, now carefully setting your fully unconscious figure into bed, gently, as if putting down an ancient relic. He continued to stay by your side the entire night, only instructing that the brewing of medicine brought back was not to be stopped, and wiping away beads of sweat on your forehead from the high fever.

When the door finally opened, all the high ranking officials and commanding officers who had been waiting in the corridor stand up in unison.

Zayne walks out, his military uniform crumpled to the point of nearly being unpresentable, but his brows are furrowed with a chilling aura that drops the temperature of the hall several degrees.

Greyson and the others feel their throats tighten, unconsciously holding their breath.

"It's been a day and night. Why hasn't the Madam woken up yet?" Zayne hisses through clenched teeth.

Mayor Jiang's back instantly breaks out into a cold sweat. He hurriedly turns around and orders several attendants behind him, "Quick! Send notice to the imperial physician! Immediately!"

Taking advantage of the brief pause, Greyson cautiously takes a half step forward. "Reporting to General Li, everyone involved in yesterday's incident has been apprehended. Four different entertainment venues throughout the city have been shut down for rectification. The source of the drug used has been traced, and several suspicious channels have been identified..."

The report is concise and clear, but Zayne doesn't even lift his eyelids, his expression completely unchanged.

Just as Greyson begins to wonder if Zayne even cared about the follow-up actions, Zayne suddenly turns his head, an icy gaze falling upon the crowd.

"Only investigate the city?"

The casual question sends a chill down Greyson's spine. He quickly bows and replies, "I will immediately order a special investigation across the entire Anlan area! A detailed report will be presented to you in three days!"

Zayne's aura grows even colder. "I've only been gone for six months, and Anlan's security has deteriorated to this extent."

Mayor Jiang lowers his head even further, tripping over his words, "...I have failed in my duty."

"On the third morning when you still didn't wake up, the General led a troop of soldiers to surround the residence of Governor Li Cui... They were greeted with a fierce offense..."

Gasping, you stumble over the doorstep, tears welling up in your eyes as you make a beeline towards Zayne's quarters. You barely register Greyson standing guard outside the door and Old Liu's cry of "the Lady is here!" from behind you.

With a "whoosh," the sliding doors are abruptly pulled open and you turn your head in the dim lighting to look—

On the makeshift bed, Zayne leans against the headboard. His dark eyes, gazing at you, are as deep as the night, with a faint, gentle light in their depths.

Your pupils constrict, all your worry and lingering fear instantly overwhelming any reason. Ignoring the presence of the servants and subordinates outside the door, forgetting the pain in your body, you instinctively rush towards him, throwing yourself into his arms, tears streaming down your face.

Seeing this, Greyson gently closes the door behind him, leaving space for the two of you to be alone.

The sound of your weeping fills the quiet room.

29. You press your forehead tightly against Zayne's neck, the familiar scent of cedar filling your breath, but tears stream down your cheeks like broken beads, each drop landing on his collarbone, leaving a damp patch.

His arms tighten around your waist, his other hand gently resting on your trembling back. The warmth of his palm seeps through the thin fabric, stroking you softly and slowly, silently comforting you.

After a long while, your sobbing subsides.

You sniff, nose red, and slowly raise your tear-streaked face, looking at him through blurry eyes: "Zayne, do you know... I was so scared?"

He lowers his gaze, silently watching you. His olive eyes are deep and undecipherable, yet he does not immediately respond.

"What if... what if you didn't find me..." You clutch his sleeve, a lump in your throat. "What if I couldn't find you after all of this... what would I do?"

"It's all in the past." He raises his hand, his cool fingertips gently wiping away the tears from your eyes.

"You were so hasty! Going to take down the Governor?! My life isn't worth the General risking everything like this..." Your voice trembles, tears streaming down your face even more fiercely this time. "What will happen to Anlan if something happens to you?!"

As soon as you finish speaking, Zayne's face darkens.

His fingertips remain on your cheek, but his tone grows cold. "So, according to you, knowing you're being unfairly targeted and trapped, I should stand idly by, watch your ruin, become a widower, and live the rest of my life alone?"

Seeing an unprecedented surge of ferocity in his eyes, you frantically shake your head, the oppressive atmosphere around him suffocating. Grabbing his collar, you sniffle as you protest, "No, Zayne, I didn't mean that… I'm just afraid, I'm afraid the sacrifices were not worth it."

In an unusually impatient manner, Zayne abruptly interrupts you. "You seem to think I will always remain calm, make judgments without a trace of personal feelings, and make the so-called right choices…"

His voice is as deep as a frozen pool: "But what if I told you, there are times when I can't?"

"…" You stare at him in shock, words stuck in your throat, only letting helpless tears silently stream down your cheeks.

The meaning of "I can't" in Zayne's words is self-evident. His words precisely pierce the deepest, most hidden thought in your heart. Because he is Zayne Li, a towering, unshakeable snow-capped mountain, someone born to sit firmly on a high platform. Therefore, even if the sky were to fall, he could bear it all without flinching. You naturally assumed that no matter how great the storms of life blew, whether you were by his side or not, he could control all his emotions, slowly digest everything, and then continue on his path with composure.

But now, he gazes steadily at you, laying bare, word by word, the words he has never spoken before. When it comes to "losing you," Zayne is utterly incapable of remaining calm and composed.

His eyes lock onto your gaze without allowing you even the slightest hesitation. "If I were in danger, would you have stood by and done nothing?"

You shake your head, biting your lower lip tightly until you taste the faint metallic flavor of blood.

"In that case, why belittle yourself?" He sighs softly, a barely perceptible tenderness hidden in his voice.

His fingertips slowly cover your reddened lips, gently caressing them, forcing you to loosen your grip.

You raise a hand to wipe away your tears as you hear Zayne speak slowly, his voice low and calm. "I've said it before, even without me, Anlan's well-established military and political system is sufficient to maintain normal operations."

His tone is unwavering, revealing his usual certainty as if everything is under control, as if he had already considered everything thoroughly.

But your concerns go beyond just his reassurance.

As far as you know, no one else can protect the vast Northern Territories as firmly as Zayne, allowing the people to live and work in peace and without worries. Countless times you've prayed that there would never be a day when he would be forced to choose between Anlan and you. However, the moment Zayne rushed into the hotel without hesitation, he had already given you his answer with his actions.

Only you can melt his heart, through glaciers and towering peaks.

30. Your heart skips a beat as you finally understand his intentions. As the initial shock subsides, a lingering sense of melancholy rises from your understanding his desperate, all-or-nothing resolve. Previously, you had naively believed that continued indifference would eventually drive the two of you apart, leading to a natural separation. You thought time would be the best healer, capable of smoothing all wounds. You were convinced that he would gradually let go of this relationship and eventually move on to new lives.

But now, you're sure.

He will never let go of you.

Just as your heart will never let go of him.

"I'm sorry Zayne... I misspoke." Your emotions are still raw, and you hiccup, fiercely trying to wipe the tears away from your eyes. "I'll never say that again."

"It's alright." Zayne gently places his hand on the back of your head, pulling you close to his chest, letting you press against his warm embrace. "If you encounter any danger again in the future, you must discuss it with me. You're not allowed to venture into it alone, understand?"

"Yes... I understand." You look up at him, your voice muffled. "Actually, after you left Anlan, I thought about you every single day..."

The weariness is getting to you, your words becoming increasingly incoherent as you try to pour your heart to him. "No, actually, even when you were in Anlan, I thought about you every single day too..."

Zayne gazes at you intently, listening quietly to your murmurs.

"It's all my fault, Zayne, I'm so sorry..." Before you can finish, his cool fingertips gently press against your lips, stopping your words.

He calls your name softly, his voice calm and deep: "...Never say those three words to me."

How could it be your fault? It was clearly all his fault.

The night before heading north, he clearly sensed something was wrong with you, yet he didn't ask a single question. For over two hundred days and nights, he let you suffer alone.

Zayne doesn't rush to comfort you, simply raising his hand to stroke your back gently, offering silent support. He lets you pour out all the pent-up anxiety and grievances you had been suppressing into his arms.

“At the hotel, when you suddenly appeared…” Your voice is hoarse, “I was scared, scared that you wouldn’t want me anymore…”

Before you finished speaking, the tears you had been barely holding back surged and rolled down your cheeks again.

A bitter sigh sweeps through Zayne's heart.

He's never seen you like this before.

The you he knew was innocent, carefree, and confident.

Even when you let your guard down in front of him, you've never been so completely out of control.

Zayne suddenly recalls in past, whenever he was preparing to leave Anlan, you would occasionally reveal a sorrowful expression in a hidden corner, yet you always forced a smile in front of him, secretly hiding the bitterness of separation, afraid of hurting him or adding to his worries.

A warm hand gently touches your cheek, his thumb softly tracing your tear-streaked face. His expression is soft enough to melt glass, his words slow and deep as they reach your ears: "Me too."

You're stunned, tears instantly welling in your eyes.

You understand what Zayne is referring to.

He, too, feared that one day, you would let go of his hand for once and for all. Feared that you would no longer need him, feared that you would walk alone into a future without him. The General who had always hidden his emotions so deeply, was revealing to you the fear and concern he had buried deep within his heart for so long.

You reach out, pressing your cheek against the palm of his hand, gently rubbing your face against his palm. "I never want to leave you again."

"Then don't" Zayne replies, a chuckle leaving his throat.

The next second, his lips gently cover yours, as soft as a cloud.

Zayne doesn't move, only letting your lips brush against his, leaving a faint, memorable scent.

He lowers his head, and a very light kiss lands on your brow, silently conveying a thousand unspoken words: Thank you for overcoming all obstacles to stay by his side. He'll make sure you never feel lonely again.

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