…because he wanted to.

This wasn’t the first time she had heard him say these words. That night at the night market on West Jin Street, he had said the same thing to her. But hearing him say it now, she felt there was some meaning hidden between these few words that she couldn’t discern or explain.

She kept her eyes closed and said softly, “Your Highness naturally does things because you want to do them. Even if Your Highness didn’t say so, I would understand.”

The tip of her nose warmed as his kiss fell upon it. His hand gently held the back of her neck, and she heard his voice deepen: “The things I do are not all because I want to do them.”

She opened her eyes slightly.

He lifted her head, his gaze meeting hers, and repeated, “But I am good to you because I want to be.”

Her delicate eyebrows relaxed. Seeing his expression so solemn, she didn’t understand why he emphasized this statement repeatedly, and simply replied, “I understand Your Highness.”

He raised his lips slightly: “Will you always remember these words of mine?”

She nodded, “I will always remember these words.”

A trace of satisfaction appeared between his brows. His large hand encircled her waist, embracing her as he sat up. His long fingers gathered her hair as he bent down to place a kiss upon her neck.

She could feel the warmth of his touch, and her body trembled involuntarily as she lowered her eyes to look at him.

She breathed lightly, “I fear I’ll be enchanted to death by Your Highness like this…”

He silenced her with a kiss, and stood, lifting her with him, carrying her toward the inner chamber. Behind them, the ceremonial robe with its gold-threaded blue silk lay forgotten on the floor, along with the rest of the formal garments the day had required of him.

He paused only to drape a simple purple robe over her shoulders, tying the sash with unexpected care, his eyes lifting to hers. “Does it fit?”

“The Wardrobe Bureau made it to my measurements,” she said softly. “It fits well enough.”

His gaze lingered on her face rather than her clothes, and something in his expression—less urgency now, more tenderness—made her chest tighten.

“I love seeing you like this,” he said, his voice low. “Steady. Yourself.”

She looked past his shoulder to where the ceremonial robe lay discarded, and something in her stilled. “Your Highness’s coronation robe…”

His hand paused against her back, but he said nothing.

“Your Highness will soon ascend the throne,” she went on quietly. “When you sit upon the dragon throne, I will call you ‘Your Majesty’ from below the dais. I fear I will no longer be able to be close to you as I am now.”

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers tightened slightly against her.

Worried she’d upset him, she rested her head on his shoulder and tried to laugh it off. “Your Highness’s actions today would make me foolishly believe you loved me deeply.”

She’d meant it half as a joke—expecting him to brush it off, the way he usually did. Instead, he was quiet for a long moment. Then he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her ear, and said, so softly she almost missed it, “I do not ask for ten thousand years. Only thirty-five would be enough. Ten years to secure the realm. Ten to see the people cared for. Twenty to hold the peace. That would be a full life.”

She went still, not expecting this from him. After a moment, she lowered her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, smiling gently against his shoulder. “Then I will stay by Your Highness for all thirty-five of those years. I’ll watch you secure the realm, care for the people, hold the peace… and I won’t leave your side, not until the end.”

His arms tightened around her. “Meng Tinghui.”

She answered, not fully understanding why he so often said her name like that—like it held everything else he meant to say and couldn’t. She only knew that hearing it made something in her chest ache in the best way, even when she suspected what he wasn’t saying wasn’t something she wanted to hear.

She could feel how much he was holding back, how much sat just beneath the surface of him, banked and burning. And for the first time that night, she let herself stop asking why, and simply stayed close to him instead — his heartbeat steady against hers, the future uncertain, but this moment, at least, entirely theirs.

The dark blue curtains fell closed behind them, and the sounds of the palace faded into quiet.

Later, she lay curled against him in the stillness, listening to his breathing slow. The black canopy above them was scattered with small gold flowers, catching what little lamplight remained. She thought about the thirty-five years he’d asked for, and the crown that would soon separate “Your Highness” from “Your Majesty” — and found she believed, in that moment, that whatever changed between them, this quiet certainty would not.