After being reborn, the aloof prime minister was once again forced by a tyrant.

Xiao Jingyuan locked himself in the imperial study and sulked all afternoon, but the bitterness in his heart only increased. When he returned to his bedchamber that night, he kicked over the bronze stove at his feet.

The bronze incense burner clattered and rolled away, scattering incense ash all over the ground. He didn't even glance at it, but lay back on the dragon bed, staring at the canopy above his head, a bitter feeling surging in his chest that almost rose to his throat.

Why? Why does that person only ever see Pei Yuning? Why does he not even glance at me when I offer him my heart? Why does he eat the noodles Pei Yuning gives me with such relish, but won't even taste a bite of the noodles I make?

What angered him even more was that—even though he was angry all day, all he could think about was that person. He wondered if he had eaten properly, if he was still angry, and if he had slept well tonight.

Lying in bed, unable to calm his mind, he got up and paced back and forth in the hall. The more he paced, the angrier he became, and the more he thought about it, the more aggrieved he felt—why?

That person is his, every single hair on their head belongs to him. Even if that person doesn't like him, he will never let go.

He's the emperor. He can go to Lan Yue Pavilion if he wants, and sleep with Xie Qinglan if he wants. Who can stop him? So what if Xie Qinglan isn't happy? At worst, she'll get kicked again tomorrow morning.

As he was thinking this, he had already taken a step, and when he came to his senses, he was already standing on the roof of Lanyue Pavilion.

The night wind was biting cold, which cleared his mind a bit, but it was no use—he still squatted on the roof for most of the hour, waiting for the lights in the hall to go out for a long time before he carefully climbed down.

The hall was dark, with only a few rays of cold moonlight filtering in through the windows. Xie Qinglan lay on her side, facing inward, breathing evenly and deeply, seemingly already fast asleep.

Xiao Jingyuan stood by the bed, looking down at him for a long time. Moonlight fell on Xie Qinglan's profile, softening his usually icy face. His eyelashes were long, casting faint shadows under his eyes, and his lips were slightly pursed. When he was asleep, he looked less aloof than when he was awake, and more quietly serene.

He stood by the bed for a long time, so long that the moonlight moved from one window pane to another.

Then he took off his outer robe, carefully lifted a corner of the brocade quilt, and quietly lay down inside.

His movements were extremely light and slow, as if he were approaching a cat that might be startled awake at any moment.

After lying down, he held his breath and waited for a moment. Seeing that Xie Qinglan did not move, he slowly stretched out his arm and gently placed it on the other person's waist.

Through the thin layer of nightgown, the person's body temperature was low, and their waist was slender, fitting perfectly into the crook of his arm.

He buried his face in Xie Qinglan's nape and took a deep breath—the scent of agarwood mixed with that person's unique, refreshing body fragrance was like a soft hook, making his chest feel both sore and swollen.

He didn't know what to do with this person. He had tried everything—coaxing, pleading, offering him the best of everything—but he still wouldn't even give him a smile.

He tightened his grip on her arm, pressed his lips against the back of Xie Qinglan's neck, and spoke in a very low voice, as if he were talking to himself, or as if he were speaking to someone who would not respond.

"I just want to hold you while I sleep." His voice was muffled, with a heavy nasal tone and a hint of barely perceptible grievance. "You belong to me. You ate her noodles but not mine, and I won't hold it against you. But you have to let me hold you."

The person in my arms didn't move; their breathing remained even and deep.

Xiao Jingyuan buried his face even closer, his nose brushing against the delicate skin on the back of Xie Qinglan's neck, mumbling indistinctly, "I accept that you don't like me. I only like you, and you're the only one I'll ever love. I accept that you have someone else in your heart. But you belong to me, and you can only belong to me."

His voice grew softer and softer, the last few words almost fading into the night. He had only intended to hold Xie Qinglan like this and sleep peacefully—that was truly all he planned. But he overestimated his willpower.

The person in his arms smelled so good. The fragrance seeped into his nostrils, traveled down his respiratory tract, set fire in his chest, and then burned out from his lower abdomen.

His body was like a bundle of dry firewood spewed by sparks; before his reason could react, the fire had already spread.

He couldn't help but lean forward, pressing his lips to Xie Qinglan's nape and giving her a gentle, careful kiss.

It was just a touch of skin, just a moment. But that one touch was like opening a floodgate, unleashing all the desires that had been suppressed for half a year.

His lips moved from the back of Xie Qinglan's neck to behind his ear, and then from behind his ear to the back of his shoulder, kissing him more and more intensely. Before Xie Qinglan even realized it, his body reacted, the burning heat clearly transmitted through the thin fabric to Xie Qinglan's crotch.

The person in my arms seemed to stiffen for a moment. It was very light, very brief, as if they had been startled by something and quickly regained their composure.

Xiao Jingyuan was startled and sat up to look at Xie Qinglan's face—the man's eyes were still closed, his eyelashes trembled slightly, and his breathing was steady; he seemed not to have woken up.

Xiao Jingyuan breathed a sigh of relief, but his heart was beating even faster. He carefully lay back down, but the fire within him had been ignited and could no longer be suppressed.

He had endured it for more than half a year. More than half a year. Ever since that day when he forced himself on Xie Qinglan, causing him to fall seriously ill and almost die, he had never dared to touch him again.

Every night I would squat on the roof and listen to his breathing. After listening, I would go back and soak in cold water. Even after taking a cold shower, I still couldn't fall asleep. My mind was filled with thoughts of him.

It felt like a volcano was accumulating inside him. Every time he saw Xie Qinglan, the lava would churn in his veins, but he could only quench it with his hands and cold water.

Xie Qinglan was in his arms at that moment, warm, soft, and real—his desire, which he had suppressed for more than half a year, was like a flood that had burst its banks and could no longer be contained.

He couldn't hold back any longer.

He leaned forward, pressing his burning body tightly against Xie Qinglan's back, gently caressing her through the thin fabric.

The mere contact sent a jolt through his mind, so pleasurable that he almost lost control of his strength. He gritted his teeth, restraining his movements, afraid of waking Xie Qinglan, and even more afraid of Xie Qinglan's eyes, cold as ice blades, once he was awake.

But it felt so good. The warm, soft, slightly damp touch was breathtakingly smooth, even through the fabric.

His breathing became heavier and his movements became increasingly uncontrollable.

The person in his arms seemed to breathe a little heavier. Their slender body tensed slightly in his embrace, as if they were trying their best to endure something.

Xiao Jingyuan was so engrossed in the vortex of desire that he didn't notice.

Just as he was so infatuated with love that he was about to lose control—

Xie Qinglan's voice rang out in the darkness, cold and clear-headed, showing no sign of sleepiness.

"Xiao Jingyuan, what are you doing?"