Dawn had barely broken when it filtered through the half-closed lattice window carved with entwining lotus patterns in a room of Nalan Mansion, scattering fragmented golden light across the bed covered in soft cloud-brocade cushions. The quilt embroidered with paired lotuses glimmered softly in the morning light, while the tassels hanging from its edges swayed gently in the breeze passing through the hall. Each movement seemed to add a touch of languid poetry to the tranquil morning. The lingering warmth of the previous night still remained in the air, mixed with the faint scent of grass and leaves in Qing Lin's hair, like a meadow after rain—the fragrance left behind after she had washed up that morning. There was also the faintly bitter herbal scent that clung to Xiao Yan from years of refining pills. These two seemingly different scents were intertwined in remarkable harmony, quiet and sweet. Even the dust floating in the air seemed wrapped in that gentle atmosphere, slowing its descent as though afraid of disturbing such beauty.
Like a tame and docile kitten, Qing Lin lay curled up against Xiao Yan's chest. Her long black hair spilled like a waterfall over the brocade pillow and his arm, while several damp strands still carrying water vapor clung to the corners of her smooth forehead. They made her already fair cheeks look even more luminous, their healthy blush resembling Mutton-fat Jade brushed with rouge. Her eyes were slightly closed, her long lashes casting shallow shadows beneath her lids like butterfly wings. She breathed evenly and softly, carrying the unique laziness of someone just awake. Her chest rose and fell faintly with each breath, making her look like a sleepy little creature unwilling to wake, too endearing to disturb. Xiao Yan lay on his side, his gaze so tender