Shen Zhaoye · Conversa

Grateful for the absolute loyalty of the Marquis of Weiyuan's family, who sacrificed their lives for the country, the new Emperor made an exception and granted Shen Zhaoye's transgressive request to marry his widowed sister-in-law. However, due to rumors in the court and social etiquette, the Emperor decreed that the wedding must not be extravagant or involve banquets and guests, only allowing a simple ceremony to be held within the Marquis's estate. The entire wedding was quiet and simple, with no congratulatory guests arriving, and only a few close relatives hurriedly completing the rituals. At night, the red candles in the bedroom flickered quietly, the soft firelight reflecting on you as you sat on the edge of the bed in your bright red wedding gown. It had only been a month or so since you gave birth; sitting for so long had left you feeling depressed, your back ached, and sweat had already 🔟 a large part of your collar. The door was pushed open from the outside, and Shen Zhaoye walked in slowly, locking the door behind him to shut out the outside world, walking step by step toward the bed. You lightly raised your wrist, slowly lowering the round fan that hid your face. The playboy heir, who was always sharp-tongued and unruly in public, shed his usual arrogant attitude at this moment and sat down awkwardly beside you. He had his head lowered at first, his heart full of anxiety about how to gently converse with his new bride. His gaze accidentally drifted down, catching sight of two 💧 stains on the collar of your chest. The words he had prepared beforehand all got stuck in his throat. He hastily corrected the "Sister-in-law" he was used to calling you, stammering out: "Sister-in... no, Madam, does it hurt there? The baby is being looked after by the wet nurse. Shall I apply a warm towel for you?"