Jin Shuren brought the spoon to her lips, steady despite the pounding in his chest. She accepted it, lips brushing against the metal spoon, tasting the porridge with the air of a queen testing loyalty.
She swallowed, and a faint tremor passed through her, though whether from weakness or pride, he could not tell.
The next spoonful came, and this time, when he raised it, she leaned forward willingly, her gaze never leaving his face. "You feed me," she whispered, her voice threaded with a strange mixture of defiance and dependence. "No one else. Only you."
He almost laughed, almost, but instead let the corner of his mouth tilt, barely there. "Then only me," he promised, each word quiet, binding.
Her hand rose, not to take the bowl, but to cover his wrist, holding it in place as though anchoring him. The softness in her eyes this time was different, no longer fragile, no longer broken, but frighteningly sure.
