By the time it was over, the sky outside had shifted from bright afternoon light to dusk; the Hall of Nurturing the Heart had not gone quiet all day. Eunuch Qin stood outside with a numb expression, gazing up at the sky, and let out a long sigh.

Her neck and chest covered in marks, Hua Chun had already lost consciousness, yet was still carried off to be bathed again, after which the Emperor, still full of energy, said: “I’ve prepared something for you.”

Hua Chun kept her eyes shut. “Show me tomorrow, I’m exhausted…”

“It’s not for you to look at—it’s for me to look at.” Yuwen Jie said, rising to fetch it.

By the time he returned, she had already drifted into deep, peaceful sleep.

He gathered her up gently, dressed her in a palace undergarment, and studied her carefully.

Dark hair spread across the pillow, jade-white arms bare. Hua Jinghua’s figure was exquisite—long straight legs, a firm and flawless waist, and, higher still, the lovely shape now held by the fabric.

How had she ever managed to bind herself flat as a board before?

His throat moved; the color in his eyes deepened. It was he himself who had just dressed her, and yet already he wanted to undress her again.

Noting the shadows beneath her eyes, Yuwen Jie sighed, climbed into bed, and held her gently, forcing himself to rest as well.

However, Hua Chun hadn’t even slept two hours before she was startled awake by him again.

“Hey…” her face reddened; she glanced down at what she was wearing, then up at him. “Your Majesty, excess indulgence harms the body!”

He had dressed her in a set of palace attire—thin gauze, a bodice cut to the chest, in a beautiful color, though half her chest showed pale and bare, clearly an invitation to trouble.

Could a person really wear this in public?

How long had he been deprived, to be this eager, as if he’d never seen a woman before! Hua Chun wanted to weep—was this entire harem of three thousand nothing but ornaments? Someone save her.

She kicked her legs and, despite the skirt, felt an odd draft; her face went pale.

She finally understood—this wasn’t palace attire at all, it was ancient-style lingerie, clearly meant to give him an opening.

And with the opening laid right in front of him, how could he not take it.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Hua Chun genuinely began to cry: “Your Majesty, do you understand what it means to ‘cherish and pity the delicate’?”

“I won this realm from horseback,” Yuwen Jie said without shame. “I don’t know how to write that.”

His grandmother’s!

Nothing helped. Hua Chun wailed, hoping to earn some sympathy—this really did hurt, after everything.

He lowered his head to her ear instead, his breath heavier: “You’d best not cry. Watching you cry only makes it harder for me to hold back.”

…Fuck.

Terrified, trembling all over, she said through tears: “Is it too late to regret this now?”

“Regret what?” he asked.

“When you said you’d make me Zhaoyi, I should’ve just thanked you for the honor and said nothing more!” She wept in genuine regret. “I really do regret it.”

Satisfied, Yuwen Jie nodded, carried her back to bed, and gently kissed the tears from her face: “There. Now you’re being good.”