Chapter 39

The next day, when Su Jingyao slowly awakened, the winter sunlight was already streaming directly onto the bedside.

It was nearly time for the midday meal.

Seeing her mistress finally wake up, Miaoyun’s face lit up with joy, and she hurriedly stepped forward.

“Master, you’re awake! Do you feel any discomfort?”

Su Jingyao slowly opened her still-drowsy eyes, her delicate brows furrowing tightly. Her voice carried a trace of laziness and discomfort.

“Everything hurts.”

Miaoyun carefully helped her sit up. Su Jingyao gritted her teeth, enduring the dull ache in her lower abdomen and the lingering pain from the uterine contractions.

Leaning against the headboard, she barely managed to sit upright.

“Where’s the baby?”

“I’ve already sent Miaoyue to bring the imperial grandson over. He’s perfectly healthy,” Miaoyun replied with a bright smile.

Just then, Miaoyue stepped in, carrying the baby with a beaming face.

“Master, the imperial grandson was just being fed by the wet nurse, and now he’s full of energy.”

Miaoyue gently placed the baby in front of Su Jingyao, who eagerly reached out to take him.

From the moment she saw the child in Miaoyue’s arms, her gaze hadn’t wavered. A tender, affectionate smile remained on her lips.

Lowering her head, Su Jingyao looked at him—the baby’s innocent, clear eyes stared back at her.

In that instant, her heart completely melted.

The child had only just been born, his features not yet fully developed, but to her, he was the most precious and lovable thing in the world.

She would sometimes tilt her head slightly and smile gently, her eyes filled with warmth, as if it could overflow like a stream of water.

Miaoyun and Miaoyue stood quietly by the side, smiling as they watched the loving interaction between the mother and her child.

When they noticed the prince had arrived, they quickly bowed and greeted him in unison.

“Greetings, Your Highness.”

“Rise,” Jun Zechen said calmly.

He then sat down by the bed and asked softly, “Are you feeling better today?”

Seeing him approach, Su Jingyao immediately pouted, her voice carrying a hint of playful complaint.

“No, I feel awful everywhere. It hurts so much.”

Jun Zechen frowned, his heart aching at her words. He reached out and gently pulled her into his embrace.

“Rest well. Once your confinement period is over, I will take you out of the palace for some fun,” he said tenderly.

Su Jingyao’s eyes lit up with surprise.

“Really?”

“Yes. Because of your pregnancy, you missed the New Year celebrations, and during the Lantern Festival, you were giving birth. One month from now, I will take you outside the palace to enjoy yourself properly.”

“Your Highness is so kind.”

“Oh, right. Has our child been given a name?” Su Jingyao suddenly remembered this important matter.

“Yes. I came here today to tell you. As my eldest son, he has been granted a name personally by the Emperor—Jun Yihuan.”

Although their child was not the Emperor’s first imperial grandson, he was the only one bestowed with a name by the Emperor himself—an extraordinary honor.

Su Jingyao naturally understood the significance behind this.

“Yihuan… Yihuan… Such a beautiful name! May I give him a childhood name?”

“Of course,” Jun Zechen replied indulgently, his gaze full of affection.

“Then he will be called Xingxing (Little Star).”

Su Jingyao lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes shining brightly as she met Jun Zechen’s gaze.

“Alright.”

Satisfied with his response, she lowered her head and continued playing with the baby in her arms.

“Xingxing, Xingxing… From now on, you will be Mommy’s little star.”

I will personally raise you into a shining Polaris, guiding you to the highest place in this world.

Jun Zechen quietly watched the mother and child nestled in his arms.

As a new father, he had not felt this strong of an emotional pull last night when he first saw his child.

But today, witnessing the warmth between mother and son in his embrace, he was overcome with an unprecedented sense of warmth and happiness.

Time passed quickly like a fleeting horse, and in the blink of an eye, a month had gone by.

During this past month, Su Jingyao spent her days either joyfully playing with her adorable son or dedicating herself to skincare and body nourishment.

Xingxing was born amidst the heartfelt anticipation of the Emperor, Empress, and Crown Prince.

Although large-scale celebrations were forbidden in the palace due to the Emperor’s severe illness, the Emperor held special regard for his fourth imperial grandson, Jun Yihuan.

The weight of the name “Huan,” which symbolized the vast realm of the world, was a clear testament to the Emperor’s exceptional favor.

For the baby’s three-day cleansing ceremony, the Emperor personally instructed the Empress to arrange a grand celebration.

A grand banquet was hosted in the front court to entertain officials, while the inner palace welcomed noble ladies and the wives of court ministers, all to showcase the Emperor’s boundless grace upon his fourth imperial grandson.

It was one of the most extravagant events in the imperial palace in the past year.

However, none of this lively commotion had much to do with Su Jingyao.

Ever since giving birth, she had not left Xiyan Palace due to her postpartum confinement.

But on the day of the celebration, the Crown Prince specially requested the Empress to grant permission for Su Jingyao’s mother to visit her.

After more than a year apart, Su Jingyao, now a mother herself, saw the woman who had lovingly cared for her throughout her life.

A wave of indescribable emotions surged within her—bittersweet and filled with deep resolve.

She vowed to protect her mother and the Su family, ensuring they would bask in boundless honor because of her.

With a month of careful recuperation, her body finally felt lighter and more at ease.

Lately, every time Jun Zechen came to visit her at Xiyan Palace, his gaze resembled that of a hungry wolf, as if he could devour her whole.

Had it not been for her confinement period, that insatiable man would have surely lost his restraint long ago.

At night, the chamber was silent.

Su Jingyao sat gracefully on the bed, absorbed in painting.

She was painting a peony. The winter palace was draped in a layer of white snow, making the rich, majestic hues of the peony the perfect embellishment.

Jun Zechen entered the room and immediately saw her, brush in hand, focused on her painting.

Her long, silky hair cascaded down her back, her delicate eyelashes casting mesmerizing shadows on her face under the flickering candlelight.

She wore a flowing silk dress that accentuated her graceful figure, a vision of breathtaking beauty.

Sensing his arrival, Su Jingyao was about to rise and greet him when Jun Zechen quickly strode forward and sat behind her.

He wrapped his arms around her slender waist, his voice deep and commanding.

“Continue painting.”

Su Jingyao didn’t bother being overly polite and returned to her work, meticulously completing the peony.

Jun Zechen inhaled the faint fragrance on her body, his hands on her waist gently tracing small circles.

She raised her brows slightly and glanced at him.

Tonight… let’s play a little differently.

She knew that although Jun Zechen appeared reserved, he was actually secretly passionate.

So, she decided to take the initiative and see if he could handle it.

A slow, meaningful smile curled on her lips—one that he did not see.

After finishing the painting, Su Jingyao wrote a line of small characters beside the peony:

“Golden lotus, delicate as jade, peony radiant and smooth, enough to steal one’s soul.”

Jun Zechen, watching her write, assumed she was composing a poem about the peony.

But once he saw the final words, he suddenly realized something was different.

His eyes darkened instantly, and his deep, husky voice sounded beside her ear.

“What did Yao Yao write?” His voice carried a trace of restraint.

Ever since she gave birth, Jun Zechen had been longing for her, unable to suppress his desire. And now, this little woman was deliberately provoking him?

Su Jingyao turned her head, locking eyes with Jun Zechen. Her voice was soft and delicate, her expression carrying a mix of shyness and teasing.

“Your Highness can’t understand?”

Her tone had a hint of provocation.

Jun Zechen narrowed his eyes. “Since that’s the case, YaoYao, don’t beg for mercy later.”

Since she was being so bold tonight, why should he continue to restrain himself? He had already planned to devour her whole tonight.

Initially, he had intended to be gentle since it had been a long time, but she clearly had no intention of showing him any mercy!

With a gentle yet assertive motion, Jun Zechen pulled Su Jingyao onto his lap.

The delicate woman, like a willow swaying in the wind, naturally leaned into his firm chest.

“Your Highness, don’t…”

Jun Zechen’s lips curved slightly, letting out a soft chuckle. Then, at a leisurely pace, he picked up a brush and continued writing beneath her delicate characters:

“Twin lotuses bloom together, a single stem holds a light peony.”

After finishing, he gently placed the brush down and tenderly turned her around.

His deep, dark eyes—mysterious like an endless abyss—locked onto her enchanting, flirtatious gaze.

“How is my writing?”

Su Jingyao glanced at the painting, her alluring eyes narrowing in a fierce glare, filled with both irritation and a hint of coquettishness.

Was he asking about his calligraphy or his actions?

“Your Highness should be a man who cherishes flowers.”

Her voice carried a hint of grievance.

Jun Zechen’s lips curled into a teasing smirk, as if hiding an endless depth of meaning.

Without responding, he placed one hand on her slender waist while picking up the brush with the other.

Dewdrops landed on the peony in the painting, making it appear even more vibrant and alluring.

His expression was focused and serious.

Then, in bold strokes, he inscribed:
“The peony glistens with cold dew, whispering among the verdant grass.”

After finishing, he fixed his intense, smoldering gaze on Su Jingyao—unwavering and filled with playful heat.

“The peony is already so delicate and dewy—have I not cherished it enough?”

His voice carried a lazy yet seductive charm.

Hearing this, Su Jingyao stole another glance at the characters on the painting. Her face instantly flushed a deep red, as if dyed by the evening glow. Her eyes shimmered with a mesmerizing allure, capable of stealing one’s soul.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t control her own body—

It was just that the man before her played unfairly!

Jun Zechen truly lived up to his role as the male lead. His skills in certain areas were undeniably impressive.

Not only could he instantly grasp her thoughts, but he also knew how to twist them back against her, teasing her mercilessly.

“Your Highness!” Su Jingyao called out in playful protest.

Jun Zechen leaned in, whispering something mischievous in her ear.

Su Jingyao didn’t want to understand his words, but somehow, she instinctively did.

Fine. She would just go along with it—hmph.

Seeing her reaction, Jun Zechen could no longer suppress the fire in his heart. He lowered his head and captured her soft, flower-like lips in a deep kiss.

So obedient.

Su Jingyao cupped his face, responding to him as the branches outside the window swayed with the wind.

Half an hour later, the dominance and intensity that had once clung to Jun Zechen faded, replaced by a growing tenderness.

His eyes softened—like the warm sunlight of spring, enveloping Su Jingyao completely.

Lowering his head, he whispered close to her ear, his warm breath sending a tingling sensation through her.

“Yao Yao, let me give you a couplet. I want to see your writing.”

His voice was deep and magnetic, carrying an irresistible pull that made Su Jingyao subconsciously obey.

Her hands trembled slightly as she picked up the brush, her slender fingers gripping it tightly.

She gazed at the peony in the painting. Beside it, she added willow branches swaying gracefully in the wind, as if dancing.

Then, stroke by stroke, she wrote:

“Willow branches sway, light petals fall, the peony blooms.”

As soon as she finished writing, her face turned an even deeper shade of red, like a ripened cherry. She immediately buried herself in Jun Zechen’s embrace, too shy to look at him.

Jun Zechen studied her inscription, a satisfied smile forming on his lips.

It fit the scene perfectly, complementing the painting beautifully.

This painting—was his now!

Tightening his hold around her, he pulled her even closer. This pleasure, this moment—let it flourish, unburdened by restraint.