Chapter Sixty: More Radiant Than the Blossoms

"What are you laughing at?" Zhan Yan shot him a bashful, reproachful glance. Was it not his lack of restraint that led her to fall asleep so easily?

"Yan'er, it's so wonderful having you." Zhongli Yu pulled her into his arms, settling her on his lap, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder as he gazed silently out the window. The courtyard was filled with pomegranate trees, and now was the season when their blossoms were in full bloom. Clusters of crimson flowers adorned every branch, vibrant and lively beneath the summer sun.

"Yan'er, the pomegranates are in bloom. Today, let us enjoy the flowers together. Pomegranate flowers symbolize a thriving family. Come autumn, do you think we might also harvest our own fruit?"

"The fruits of autumn?" Zhan Yan smiled gently, understanding his meaning. "Such things cannot be forced; it's all a matter of fate." He must be longing for children as well. The household of Prince Chun was thin, and she too hoped to have more children. She pictured the day when the Pear Fragrance Courtyard would be filled with laughter, the old prince surrounded by grandchildren, the children calling out merrily to their mother and father—a vision of true happiness.

"Yes, fate plays its part, but we must also make every effort," Zhongli Yu replied with a meaningful look.

"You've already been making quite an effort," Zhan Yan replied, coughing awkwardly as her face flushed once more.

"I think it's not nearly enough. Shall we try again now?" He gazed at her, her cheeks more radiant than the pomegranate blossoms outside, and desire flickered in his eyes.

"My good husband, no more, please. I'm truly exhausted." Zhan Yan, seeing the longing in his eyes, pleaded softly. Little did she know that her gentle voice, her radiant face, and her eyes full of spring only fueled his desire, and he almost surrendered right then. Yet seeing her truly tired, he restrained himself.

Suppressing his restless urge, Zhongli Yu sighed softly, kissed the crown of her head, and held her with all the tenderness of cradling a precious treasure.

"It's said that Yang Qi is King Xiyuan's most beloved son, born of Consort Liang, his favorite. For twenty years, she has been his sole delight." As he calmed, Zhan Yan spoke quietly.

"You seem well informed, Yan'er. And what is it you intend?" His tone was gentle, as if he already guessed her purpose.

"If my father is still alive, would King Xiyuan be willing to exchange his son for mine?" Zhan Yan's voice was low.

"I believe he would. From what I see, Yang Yuxiong intends to pass his throne to Yang Qi." Zhongli Yu was not surprised by her suggestion, for he had thought the same. Capture Yang Qi, and use him to barter for the return of the Prince of Zhen Nan. If the prince was already lost, then let the king's dearest son accompany him in the grave, and avenge the wrongs nearly forced upon them.

"Would you go with me to capture him?"

"If it's what you wish, I will follow you to the end."

"When shall we act?" Zhan Yan arched an eyebrow at him, her spirits lifted by his ready agreement.

"No time like the present—how about tonight?" Zhongli Yu spoke as calmly as if discussing the weather. It was as though they were merely planning to fetch something from their own storeroom, not to seize the commander of hundreds of thousands and the king's cherished son.

"As you say, my husband, let it be tonight." Zhan Yan smiled sweetly, happiness blooming in her eyes.

"Call me husband once more," Zhongli Yu's voice was husky. Did she know, he wondered, how that radiant smile of hers could drive him mad?

"Husband, husband, husband..." On her third call, Zhongli Yu had already claimed her lips, drinking deeply of her sweetness, lingering until he had tasted her fully before finally, reluctantly, letting her go. Zhan Yan was left breathless, her face flushed and her heart pounding. No matter how many times he kissed her, each time left her just as shy and overwhelmed, lost in a bliss she could never resist.

"Yan'er, do you know how much I love to hear you call me that?" Zhongli Yu murmured, his voice soft and enchanting.

"From now on, I will always call you that. From this day forth, I will never leave your side. We shall never be alone again." Zhan Yan stroked his handsome, chiseled face, her voice gentle and full of promise.

"Thank you, Yan'er." To be her husband in this life was a happiness beyond compare. The memories of his lonely childhood returned to him—memories that had haunted his dreams for ten years. That clear-eyed little girl had offered him her heart with such innocence, bathing his lonely soul in rays of sunlight. No one had ever known that, orphaned so young, he feared solitude most of all. While other boys still nestled in their mothers' arms, he had begun his harsh training, determined to protect Prince Chun's household, to stand as its pillar. From the age of three, he had known nothing else, and had long since grown used to it. Until that day, when the little girl made her innocent promise. It had stunned him—how naive she was! But then, he had never had the chance to be naive himself. So he decided to accompany her, just once, in innocence. And from that day, no other woman could enter his heart; it had been wholly claimed by that little girl, leaving no room for anyone else. It was just as well that he had made that promise, for only thus could he now hold her in his arms, so blessed.

"What are you thinking, husband?" Zhan Yan, seeing him lost in thought, could not help but ask.

"I'm thinking of the little girl who, before she was even five, promised to marry me." He laughed softly, clearly delighted by her address.

Zhan Yan blushed, recalling her childhood folly—a memory that made her laugh and cry in turns. Thankfully, she had loved him, or else who knows what kind of ill-fated story might have unfolded.

"You were so foolish, husband, to believe the words of a tiny girl and wait ten years for her," she teased. Yet only she knew that it was this very foolishness that had conquered her completely.

A shadow crossed Zhongli Yu’s face. In his twenty years of life, no one had ever called him foolish—he had always thought the word had nothing to do with him. But thinking it over, she was right. "If it means being with you, Yan'er, then foolishness is a small price to pay," he admitted helplessly.

Zhan Yan laughed softly. Perhaps love truly is a thing that makes fools of us all—dangerous, irresistible, and utterly enchanting.

That day was destined to be a beautiful one: flowers blazing red as fire, people more radiant than the blooms, happiness overflowing. Yet far away, beyond the borders, someone remained oblivious to the danger drawing ever closer…