Red candles burned brightly, their flames dancing and casting a languid glow across the chamber. The embroidered bed curtains, adorned with dragons and phoenixes heralding prosperity, hung low, completely shutting out the clamor beyond.
Yan Shuangfei took Murong Feiyan's hand, his fingertips brushing the fine sweat in her palm. That faintly cool touch made his heart melt.
The rich fragrance of their nuptial wine still lingered on their lips. The jeweled flower by the woman's temple swayed softly with her breathing, while the blush on her cheeks spread from her ears down her neck like the gentlest hue of the finest rouge.
Under his gaze, Murong Feiyan grew even more bashful. Her hands unconsciously clenched at her collar, her fingertips turning pale.
She lowered her eyes, long lashes casting broken shadows beneath them. Her body trembled faintly, and even her voice carried a trace of timidity.
"Husband..."
That soft call, faint as a mosquito's hum, instantly set Yan Shuangfei's heart ablaze.
Murong Feiyan gathered her courage and said, "Be gentle later... Please cherish me."
At that moment, she was terribly nervous. Her entire body was trembling slightly.
Over the past few days, she had heard all those married, childbearing gossips—every aunt, every busybody—say that a woman's first time would hurt terribly.
If a man was too rough, she could even be injured.
Yan Shuangfei slowed his movements, his fingertips gently brushing over her cheek. Her skin was as delicate as porcelain.
"Don't be afraid, Wife," he said in an exceedingly gentle voice, like a spring breeze passing over a lake. "I'll take it slowly."
Murong Feiyan raised her eyes to him. A mist of tears veiled them, and beneath that haziness lay complete trust.
That gaze struck straight into Yan Shuangfei's heart, filling him with an inexplicable sense of familiarity—as