---
The Emperor's fingers lingered on her cheek, tracing the delicate curve of her face. Her skin was not calloused, not weathered by the sword or sun, but soft as silk—the kind of skin that belonged only to a pampered daughter of high birth.
Yet behind that softness, behind the fragile exterior of a consort, burned a soul forged in battle.
Wei Lan stiffened at his touch. In her past life, hands like hers had been scarred, hard from the hilt of a blade, from nights gripping a rifle in the rain. This body was a cage of velvet, but her instincts—the soldier's edge—remained sharp and unyielding.
When his lips claimed hers, something in her rebelled. She was not a prize to be cherished or conquered. She was a commander who had lived and bled for duty.
Her teeth sank into his lip before she even thought.
The taste of blood spread between them. His breath caught, and in that single drop of crimson, the pendant against her chest shuddered awake.
Heat flared through her body, wild and fierce. The jade phoenix that had lain dormant since her arrival in this world pulsed with light, as if it had been waiting—waiting for blood, waiting for the bond that tied her to him.
Wei Lan gasped, clutching the front of her gown as the glow seeped through the silk. Her pampered hands trembled, but her soldier's will held firm.
The Emperor stared at her, bewildered and enthralled. "Wei Lan… what is happening to you?"
Her heart thundered. She was no ordinary consort. No pampered daughter of a noble clan. This body may have been born in silk, but her soul had been tempered in fire. And now, with his blood, the two halves of her fate had been bound together.
---
The pulse of the pendant faded, leaving the chamber steeped in silence save for her quickened breath. Wei Lan's body was taut, her soldier's instincts still braced for a fight, even as her silken robe clung to her trembling frame.
The Emperor's eyes, dark with something deeper than desire, lingered on her. He reached for her again—not with the command of a ruler, but with the insistence of a man.
She turned her head, her lips pressed thin with restrained fury. But instead of claiming her mouth again, he lowered, brushing against the curve of her neck.
Her breath caught as his teeth grazed her skin, leaving the faintest sting. A mark, deliberate and claiming, but not cruel.
Before she could retort, before the soldier in her could lash back, he shifted—gathering her into his arms and laying her gently upon the bed.
She stared up at him, uncertain. This closeness, this warmth, was more dangerous to her than any battlefield.
But he did not press further. Instead, he drew the coverlet over her shoulders, keeping her wrapped in his embrace. His lips rested briefly against her hair, and his voice dropped to a murmur that was almost inaudible.
"Sleep."
She blinked, startled by the command, by the gentleness laced beneath it.
Her instincts resisted, but her body—pampered, untrained for the discipline of sleepless nights under fire—betrayed her. Slowly, uneasily, her eyes drifted shut.
The Emperor did not let her go. Even as her breathing steadied, he remained, arms firm around her, gaze fixed on the pendant that had awakened between them.
Only when her lashes stopped trembling did he close his own eyes, the weight of her warmth in his hold pulling him into rare, unguarded rest.
---
Morning.
Morning light streamed into the chamber, gilding the silken drapes in a pale glow. Wei Lan shifted slightly, feeling the weight of the Emperor's arm still resting over her waist. His embrace was steady, firm—not the fleeting possession of passion, but something that unsettled her more deeply.
Her brows furrowed. Why… didn't he press further?
In her world, emperors were painted as domineering men who took what they wanted—concubines chosen like treasures, their nights filled with endless struggles for favor. Even the histories she had read before falling into this world spoke of emperors who demanded, commanded, and consumed without hesitation.
Yet last night, after a kiss laced with blood and anger, after laying claim to her with teeth at her neck… he had simply held her. No further demands, no force, no conquest. Just silence, just warmth.
It unsettled her more than if he had tried to take everything.
Her soldier's heart hardened against the confusion. Is this mercy… or calculation?
Unaware to her, the Emperor's eyes were already open, watching her quietly. He had heard every word of her doubt—not from her lips, but from the bond forged by the jade phoenix pendant now tethered between their souls.
Her thoughts had brushed against his mind like whispers of smoke, unguarded, unknowing.
He did not speak of it.
Instead, he let his arm remain around her a moment longer before rising slowly, drawing on his robe with the ease of a ruler who need not explain himself.
Wei Lan sat up, her gaze sharp beneath the veil of her loose night hair. "Your Majesty…" she began, unsure of what to ask.
But he only turned back briefly, his lips curving in a faint, unreadable smile. "Rest, Consort Wei. The palace will be busy today."
And with that, he was gone, leaving her sitting amidst the silken bedclothes, her soldier's mind racing with suspicion… never knowing that every doubt, every guarded thought, had already been laid bare to him.
Wei Lan sat in silence long after he had gone, the faint trace of his warmth still lingering on her skin. Her fingers brushed the pendant at her chest, its jade surface now cool, as if last night's glow had been nothing but a dream.
Her heart was restless. Why would he hold back?
She had seen enough of men in her world, soldiers and rulers alike, to know that power rarely came with restraint. And here—here was the Son of Heaven, master of all under the sky, whose single word could raise her to glory or crush her into dust.
Yet he had touched her lips, marked her neck, and then… simply slept.
Her soldier's instinct told her: nothing is ever that simple.
Wei Lan narrowed her eyes. Is this some form of control? To make me lower my guard? She clenched her hand over the sheets. I can't afford to be careless.