When Crimson Nine opened her eyes, the sunlight had already pierced through the thin gauze curtains, scattering fragments of gold across the wooden floor.
A faint, clean incense burned in the room. Beside the window, Blue Five sat idly, twirling the wooden figurine Crimson Nine had given her, looking lost in thought.
"What... what time is it?" Crimson Nine rubbed her heavy temples, her voice carrying the raspy edge of someone newly awakened.
"Captain, you're finally awake!" Blue Five jumped up like a startled sparrow, fluttering to the bedside. Her words came out at double speed. "It's almost noon! Usually, you're more sensitive than an alarm, but this time the Prince carried you into the inn, put you on the bed, and you didn't react at all! I was terrified; I almost reached out to check if you were still breathing!"
"Stop talking nonsense." Crimson Nine's face flushed slightly. She gave Blue Five a light tap on the forehead—a gesture meant more to hide her embarrassment than to scold.
Her heart stirred. As a top-tier special ops soldier, she never allowed herself such a defenseless, deep sleep—unless the person beside her made her feel absolutely safe.
"Where is the Prince?" Crimson Nine stood up, asking casually.
"Resting in the next room," Blue Five grumbled, rubbing her forehead. "He drove the carriage all night. He only lay down after he got you settled. He's probably dead to the world by now."
"I'm going to see him," Crimson Nine said as she washed up quickly, her tone returning to its usual efficiency. "The fake beard for his disguise was on for too long. It needs to come off so his skin can breathe, or it'll damage his complexion."
She paused, then added: "Blue Five, go ask for some hot water and have them bring up some light, warm food."
"Got it~ Captain's worried about the Prince," Blue Five winked with a mischievous grin. "I'm on it!" Before Crimson Nine could raise a hand, Blue Five had already vanished out the door.
After washing up, Crimson Nine stood before the dim bronze mirror. Her hands instinctively smoothed her messy hair and straightened the slight wrinkles in her collar. As her fingertips touched the cold surface of the mirror, she froze, her gaze meeting her own startled reflection.
"What... am I doing?" she murmured, a self-deprecating smile tugging at her lips.
Once, she had moved through battlefields covered in blood and grime without blinking an eye. In extreme missions, she would make herself look wretched for the sake of a disguise. To her, appearance was merely a tool; beauty or ugliness was never part of her equation.
Yet now, just to see that man in the next room, she had begun to care if her reflection looked proper.
"Shen Ning, have you lost your mind?" She let out a soft scoff, a mix of helplessness and self-awareness in her eyes. The emotion called "attachment" was tangling around her iron-cold heart like a silent vine.
She took a deep breath, suppressed her awkwardness, and walked to the next room. Standing before the door, she steadied her breathing and knocked.
Knock, knock.
The crisp sound echoed in the silent corridor—and against her own racing heart.
The door creaked open almost instantly. Xiao Zhan appeared, looking haggard with bloodshot eyes. Upon seeing her, his usually cold brow softened, and his voice carried a hint of unconscious grievance: "Ning'er, you're finally here."
He pointed to the thick beard on his face, his tone muffled. "Can this thing come off? My skin feels like it's burning; it's unbearable."
Crimson Nine's heart tightened. She had feared the disguise adhesive would cause a reaction if left on too long. Filled with guilt, she hurriedly helped him sit by the table, gathering medical herbs and solvent. "I'm sorry... it's my fault for sleeping so deeply. Bear with it; I'll take it off right now."
As the heavy fake beard was carefully peeled away, her fears were confirmed. Xiao Zhan's face was flushed and broken out in a rash; the skin was inflamed from the lack of air.
Crimson Nine pressed her lips together, dipping her fingertips into a cool repair salve and gently applying it to his face.
"Did you... stay awake the whole time?" She looked at the dark circles under his eyes, feeling a sharp tug at her heartstrings.
Savoring the cool, moist touch of her fingers, Xiao Zhan nodded obediently. His tone still held that faint "accusation": "It is no matter. I find it difficult to sleep in unfamiliar beds."
Seeing her furrowed brow and guilty expression, he let out a low laugh to comfort her. "Actually, this rash came at the perfect time. The redness hides my true features. For the rest of the journey, I won't even need a disguise. Wouldn't you say so?"
"Your Highness..." Crimson Nine felt even worse hearing his self-mockery.
"We are close to the Southern Tang border now; you should change how you address me." Xiao Zhan suddenly cut her off, his eyes locking onto hers with burning intensity. "We are a lawfully wedded couple. Why don't you try calling me 'Husband' on this journey? Let me hear you try it once."
Crimson Nine's hand, still applying the salve, froze.
The word "Husband" rolled around her tongue, but it felt scalding, impossible to speak. She looked into Xiao Zhan's expectant eyes, which also held a glimmer of a successful scheme. Finally, her cheeks heated up. She lowered her head and whispered in a voice as faint as a mosquito's hum:
"Fu... A-Zhan. I'll call you A-Zhan. Will that do?"
The woman who was usually as cold as frost now showed a rare, maidenly shyness. Xiao Zhan watched her, the smile in his eyes deepening, though he didn't press her further.
Knock, knock.
Just as the atmosphere reached its peak of intimacy, a mood-breaking knock sounded from the door. "Guest, the hot water and food are here."
The waiter laid out the warm food and tactfully withdrew.
Silence returned. The warmth from the name "A-Zhan" hadn't yet faded. Crimson Nine felt restless, her gaze darting around the room. "You... you eat slowly. Rest well after you're finished. I won't disturb you."
As she moved to flee the heart-pounding atmosphere, her wrist was caught firmly by a large, calloused hand.
"You won't stay with me?" Xiao Zhan looked up at her. Between his bloodshot eyes and the red rash, his voice now held a type of reliance that was impossible to refuse.
Crimson Nine's guilt surged again. She let out a soft sigh, her heart softening completely as she sat back down. She picked up the chopsticks to serve him. "Fine, I'll stay. Eat more; you need to regain your strength."
Looking at the plain, simple dishes of the Southern Tang border, Crimson Nine frowned slightly, trying to cover her internal awkwardness with small talk.
"The food here is... an acquired taste," she said, picking up a piece of green vegetable with a trace of nostalgia. "If there's a chance, I must take you to taste the delicacies of my world. There's something called 'Hotpot'—steaming hot and full of flavors. And 'Instant Noodles'—though simple, the aroma can be smelled from miles away."
"Ning'er... knows how to cook?" Xiao Zhan paused his chopsticks, looking at her with great interest.
"Me?" Crimson Nine blinked, then laughed at herself. "I only know how to boil water for noodles and hotpot. If we're talking about real culinary skills, Yellow Seven is the master. I just know how to boil water. I don't know why I've become so talkative in front of you..."
She rambled on, unaware that her expression was more relaxed than it had ever been.
Xiao Zhan listened to her strange terms, his eyes full of indulgence. He didn't care about hotpot or noodles; he cared about the woman before him, glowing with animation and completely dropping her guard. He ate the plain food bite by bite, finding it suddenly fragrant—even the wilted leaves tasted sweet.
"This meal... tastes wonderful," Xiao Zhan murmured.
He knew that what whetted his appetite wasn't the food, but the companionship within reach. As long as she was by his side, even a shabby inn in a border town felt like the most stable home in the world.
As the sound of the chopsticks faded, the room grew even quieter.
Xiao Zhan set down his utensils. His deep eyes were now heavily clouded by exhaustion. He looked at Crimson Nine, and though a smile lingered on his lips, his eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.
"A-Zhan, you've eaten. Go to sleep." Crimson Nine looked at him forcing himself to stay awake, and the softest part of her heart was gently nudged.
"Mmh..." Xiao Zhan hummed, his voice low and childishly sluggish. "Don't go."
Crimson Nine's heart melted. she sat on the edge of the bed and took his calloused hand in hers. Her voice was as gentle as a lullaby. "I'm not going. I'll stay right here with you. Lie down; the salve needs time to absorb, so don't rub it off."
Only then did Xiao Zhan, like an obedient child, allow her to help him onto the bed. He lay on his side, his bloodshot eyes still locked onto her figure, his fingers hooked into her sleeve—as if the moment he let go, this stolen peace would vanish.
"Ning'er... don't leave me."
This was his last murmur before falling into a dream, his tone so weak it was almost a plea.
Within moments, steady and rhythmic breathing filled the room.
Xiao Zhan had finally succumbed to the overwhelming fatigue. Crimson Nine sat quietly by the bed, watching his furrowed brow in sleep and his handsome face, marred by the rash.
In the day, he was the Prince of Zhan—calculating and decisive. But at this moment, he was just a man who had exhausted himself to watch over her, fearing even in his dreams that she would leave.
Crimson Nine reached out, her fingertips hovering in the air before landing softly between his brows, trying to smooth away his worry.
"Sleep," she whispered to herself, her cold eyes filled with an affection she hadn't yet fully realized. "This time, it's my turn to watch over you."