For a long moment, she couldn't bring herself to speak. The ache in his voice pierced through the fragile barrier she'd built around herself. He wasn't just the man she'd inherited from Yueshuang's present life, he was flesh and blood, wounded and desperate, clinging to the only thing he believed was his.
She turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the nearby mirror. His eyes, silver, glinting under the flickering lamplight, were filled with torment, not rage. He looked like a man breaking, begging to be seen beyond his title, his bloodline, his mistakes.
And for a fleeting second, her heart trembled. She almost reached for him.
Almost.
"Shuang'er…" he breathed, his voice rough with fear and pleading, the sound trembling against her hair.
For a heartbeat, she stilled, her cheek pressed against his chest, feeling the familiar rhythm of his heart. It should have been comforting, grounding but instead, it felt like chains.
