Jin Wei POV:
The room was too red.
Jin Wei registered that immediately.
Red curtains. Red candles. Red silk draped with deliberate symbolism he neither asked for nor believed in. The bed—*their* bed—stood like a battlefield he had already assessed and decided not to engage.
Xueyi sat at the edge of it, posture rigid, hands folded too neatly in her lap.
*She's bracing,* he noted.
He recognized that stance. Soldiers took it before punishment. Before orders they didn't like. Before chaos.
The thought tightened something in his chest.
He remained standing.
Distance was safer.
Servants finally withdrew, bowing low, closing the doors with exaggerated care. The sound echoed too loudly in the room, sealing them inside ceremonial silence.
Jin Wei exhaled slowly.
*So this is it.*
Not the wedding—that had been manageable. Rituals had structure. Structure was familiar.
This moment did not.
He glanced at her again.
Her eyes flicked toward the door once, then back down.
*Escape route,* he thought. *She's calculating one.*
That… amused him. Slightly. Against his will.
She spoke first, her tone light but edged.
"Well," she said, "that was… efficient."
Efficient.
Of all the words.
His lips twitched—barely. He stopped it immediately.
"You endured it," he replied instead. Neutral. Safe.
She tilted her head, clearly unimpressed. "Endured. Wow. Very romantic."
He almost smiled that time.
*Almost.*
He moved to the table and poured tea—not wine. That decision had already been made. Alcohol dulled awareness, and tonight required clarity. He handed her a cup first, deliberately.
Her fingers brushed his.
She stiffened.
So did he.
*Ridiculous,* he thought. *I have faced armies.*
They drank in silence.
He remained standing again, unsure where to place himself that would not feel like an intrusion.
Xueyi glanced up at him. "You're… not sitting?"
"I don't need to."
She blinked. "That makes one of us."
Her shoulders slumped slightly, exhaustion finally breaking through ceremony. The crown weighed heavily on her head—he'd noticed earlier how carefully she moved, how she guarded against its imbalance.
*She hates the weight,* he realized. *All of it.*
Without asking, he spoke. "You can remove it."
She froze. "I can?"
"Yes."
A pause.
Then, suspiciously, "You're not testing me, right? Because if this is some ancient rule and I get cursed—"
He interrupted calmly. "You won't."
She studied him for a long second, then nodded. Xiaomei wasn't there, so she reached up herself, fumbling slightly.
Before he could stop himself, Jin Wei stepped forward and steadied the crown, lifting it carefully from her head.
The room went very still.
Her hair spilled down her back, dark and slightly disheveled.
*Better,* he thought immediately. Then corrected himself. *Safer.*
He placed the crown aside.
She let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like relief. "I swear," she muttered, "that thing weighed more than my self-control."
That earned him a glance—and this time, he didn't stop the faint curve of his lips.
She noticed.
Her eyes narrowed. "Did you just smile?"
"No."
"That was absolutely a smile."
"It was not."
She huffed. "Liar."
Something eased between them then—not comfort, not intimacy, but a ceasefire.
He stepped back, restoring distance.
"There are… expectations tonight," he said evenly. Clear. Direct. "They will not be forced."
Her head snapped up.
He continued before she could spiral. "You will sleep here. I will not touch you unless you ask. This marriage is political. Your safety comes first."
She stared at him.
Too long.
He wondered what she saw—him, the general, or something else entirely.
Finally, she said softly, "You're very calm about this."
He met her gaze. "I am trained to remain so."
She frowned. "That sounds exhausting."
He considered that.
"Yes," he said honestly.
A strange look crossed her face—not fear this time. Understanding, perhaps.
She shifted further onto the bed. "Then… good night, General."
"Good night," he replied.
He moved to the outer couch without hesitation.
As he lay down, eyes fixed on the ceiling, he listened—her breathing slowly evening out, exhaustion claiming her despite the day's chaos.
*She survived today,* he thought. *That is enough.*
And yet, as sleep refused to come, Jin Wei realized something unsettling.
This battlefield—quiet, red, filled with unspoken rules—
was far more dangerous than any he had ever faced.