Morning light spilled gently through the paper windows, cutting across the quiet room. Ye Tian's body felt tense, drenched in cold sweat. In his dream, memories clawed at him — flashes of a past life, brutal and unrelenting.
He saw himself once as the head of a family's bodyguard assassins in a distant world. From the moment he was born, he had been trained to endure pain, to be a shield, a weapon, a tool. Bullets pierced his body to protect the children of the family. Swords struck him to save the elders. No one ever cared if he survived. No hand ever held him, no word of love ever reached him. His life had been a constant cycle of obedience, pain, and cold duty.
He clenched his fists, feeling the echoes of betrayal and neglect in every muscle. "That… that is why I became a shadow," he murmured aloud in the darkness, the memory bitter and sharp. "A shadow is unseen, used, feared… but it belongs to no one."
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, and with a sudden jerk, he awoke. The morning sun warmed the room, and the scent of the night still lingered — a mixture of bodies and incense. He blinked slowly and froze. On either side of him, two naked forms slept under the sheets — his wives, Mu Qingyao and Lan Yuhua, their bodies entwined, clearly spent from the night they had shared.
Ye Tian's lips twitched into a faint, dry chuckle. "Haha… what a fool I was," he said softly to himself. "This time… it will be different. I have a family, people who actually love me. I will do everything I can to keep them happy and safe, even if I must act cold in front of the world."
He didn't notice, but both wives had not been asleep. Their eyes, only slightly open, watched him. Every word he spoke, every thought he voiced, reached them. A small, warm smile spread across both their faces. They had heard the truth — he wasn't using them. He cared for them, in his own shadowed, guarded way.
Mu Qingyao leaned slightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He really… loves us," she whispered, eyes soft. "Even if he acts cold, it's for us."
Lan Yuhua, sitting up quietly to watch him, nodded. "Yes… this shadow, our husband… he is ours."
When Ye Tian stretched and turned, catching their eyes, he froze. "…H-How long have you been awake?" he asked, a mixture of shock and embarrassment on his face.
Mu Qingyao's lips curved mischievously. "Long enough to hear your vows, dear."
Lan Yuhua added softly, "Yes… husband."
Ye Tian's eyes widened in disbelief. His mind faltered for a split second before a genuine, small smile broke across his face. "H-Husband?" he repeated, voice a little trembling. "You… called me that?"
"Yes," Mu Qingyao whispered, crawling closer, resting her hand on his chest. "You are ours, dear. Not a tool, not a shadow to use… ours."
Lan Yuhua leaned in from the other side, her voice a gentle murmur. "We're yours, Patriarch… and now, husband."
Ye Tian's heart, cold for so long, beat faster than it had in decades. He swallowed, his face turning faintly red. The warmth of their closeness, their trust, their love — it was new, unfamiliar, and exhilarating.
"So… you believe I… might have been reincarnated?" he asked softly, recalling the fragments of memory he had shared.
Mu Qingyao tilted her head, eyes gleaming with curiosity and affection. "Perhaps… it would explain so much. Your strength, your knowledge, the shadow you are…"
Lan Yuhua nodded, her hand brushing against his arm. "Yes. We suspected it when you spoke just now. But even if you are… it doesn't change that you are ours. We will follow you, love you… always."
Ye Tian chuckled softly, a low sound that rumbled in the room. "Fools," he said with a warmth he rarely allowed himself. "I never thought… I would have people who actually care for me. This time… I will not fail you."
Mu Qingyao leaned closer, pressing her lips briefly against his collarbone. "Then don't, dear."
Lan Yuhua whispered, trailing her fingers along his chest, "Never."
Ye Tian closed his eyes for a moment, letting the feeling wash over him. For the first time in lifetimes, the shadow smiled, not from fear or strategy, but from love, trust, and warmth. And for the first time, he realized that no matter how cold he acted to the world, the people by his side — his wives, his sister, his disciples — would always be his.