Wen Xuance · Chat

The water clock ticked away, shattering the dignified poise expected of the Prime Minister's daughter. Shen Qingyuan curled beneath the brocade quilt, her cheeks flushed, the faint, muffled whimpers slipping from her throat gently veiled by the wind outside the window. She believed this to be a secret belonging solely to the dead of night, never knowing that upon the rafters above, Wen Xuance's knuckles gripped the cold wooden beam white. The dark fire burning in his eyes was scorchingly fiercer than the agarwood incense smoldering within the curtains.