Princess’s Residence

The excitement of the wedding banquet had left little trace in the mansion.

The servants carried out their duties as usual, and the guards patrolled with vigilance, their eyes scanning every shadowy corner where trouble might lurk.

Armored soldiers marched in orderly rows, while sharp-eyed marksmen stationed atop the tall buildings held their longbows, ready to respond to any threat.

Zhao Qin strode briskly across the corridor, a group of servants trailing behind her. She shrugged off her cloak, tossing it to a nearby maid.

“I’ll take care of myself tonight,” she said coolly. “No need for anyone to attend to me. Just leave two people outside to stand guard.”

The maid acknowledged her instructions softly, and the servants all bowed, watching as Zhao Qin pushed open the bedroom door. After waiting briefly, they dispersed in an orderly manner.

Inside, the lamps had already been lit, casting a warm glow across the room. Once the door closed behind her, Zhao Qin instinctively allowed herself to relax.

She sat at the table and poured a cup of cold tea, drinking it in one go. Her gaze drifted to the bed, where the netting hung slightly askew.

The bedding was always meticulously prepared by her personal maid, Baoqin. Such a careless mistake was out of character for her.

“Who’s there?” Zhao Qin murmured, her voice low but firm.

A faint scent of wine drifted through the air, and her sharp eyes spotted boots peeking out from beneath the bed.

A sudden, unbelievable thought crossed her mind.

Her heartbeat quickened as she approached and pulled back the netting.

“Afu?”

Shen Fu’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at Zhao Qin, her voice childlike as she mumbled, “Senior Sister… my head hurts.”

Zhao Qin couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to pinch Shen Fu’s flushed cheek. “How much did you drink? You reek of alcohol.”

Smack!

Shen Fu slapped Zhao Qin’s hand away, pouting. “Mind your own business!”

“Who else is going to look after you?” Zhao Qin replied, bemused. But as she observed Shen Fu’s sullen demeanor, her amusement shifted to curiosity. “What’s gotten into you? I haven’t seen you in so long, and now you’re sulking like this. If I don’t take care of you, who will?”

“Anyone but you!” Shen Fu muttered. She turned her face away, her voice heavy with resentment. “You said you’d always love me, only me… but when I came to the capital, I found out you’ve already had four husbands and are marrying a fifth. Clearly, you’ve long forgotten about your little junior sister.”

Zhao Qin sighed, her voice tinged with helplessness. “Afu, listen to me—”

But Shen Fu yanked the quilt over her head, cutting her off. “I don’t want to hear it!”

“Really?” Zhao Qin asked, leaning closer. “Not even a little?”

“Not listening!” Shen Fu’s muffled voice came from under the quilt.

Zhao Qin straightened and began to walk away. “Alright then, I’ll leave—”

“Stop!”

Zhao Qin turned back, raising an eyebrow. “What is it now?”

Shen Fu sat up abruptly, glaring at her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Why should you care where I go?” Zhao Qin retorted, throwing Shen Fu’s earlier words back at her.

Tears welled up in Shen Fu’s eyes, and without warning, she leapt off the bed, barefoot, and threw her arms around Zhao Qin, pulling her back onto the bed.

Although Zhao Qin’s martial skills were superior, Shen Fu’s sheer stubbornness was unmatched. With a sigh of resignation, Zhao Qin allowed herself to be dragged down, landing softly on the thick, cushioned mattress.

“Afu—” Zhao Qin began, but her words caught in her throat.

Shen Fu straddled her, her eyes reddened like a wounded puppy. In the next moment, she leaned in, pressing a kiss to Zhao Qin’s lips, unrestrained and full of raw emotion.

“You’re mine,” Shen Fu whispered fiercely. “You’re my senior sister. You belong to me.”

“Afu, be gentle—it hurts!” Zhao Qin protested, though her voice softened.

“And when you married another man, did you ask if it hurt me?” Shen Fu shot back, her words dripping with bitterness.

Zhao Qin tried to explain. “It was all a lie—none of those marriages were real.”

“Then why did you say you’d take another husband?”

“I only said I was leaving. I never said I’d marry anyone else. Afu, I’ve never acknowledged anyone as my husband. If I marry, it will only be you…”

Zhao Qin’s voice grew tender as she reached up to stroke Shen Fu’s cheek. “Afu, be good. Be gentle. Your senior sister loves you.”

Shen Fu’s expression softened, her voice trembling. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Zhao Qin murmured, pulling her closer. “Always.”