Chapter 35: Moonlight Beyond Chains

                    

When she awoke, darkness still enveloped everything.
Time seemed to halt inside the sealed dungeon, and Li Shuang, disoriented, could no longer tell night from day.

Then she felt a faint weight on her lap. Looking down, she understood.

It was night.
Jin’an had transformed into an adult once again—just as he did every night back in the Northern Frontier.

Without his black armor mask, his features appeared sharper, more refined. He was deeply asleep, exhaustion softening his expression. He had not rested in days; now, even sleep clung to him stubbornly.

Watching him breathe quietly, Li Shuang’s heart rippled. Memories of those nights—his teasing, his silence, his gaze that always unsettled her—rose unbidden.

Her hand moved before her mind could stop it. Fingertips brushed his cheek, tracing his brow and the bridge of his nose. His bone structure was deeper than that of Great Jin men, yet he lacked the coarseness of the Western Rong.

Her touch grew gentler, exploring every inch of his face with care, as if memorizing him through her fingers. His eyelashes trembled faintly. The faint shadows beneath his eyes spoke of sleepless torment. His lips—cracked, pale—caught slightly against her fingertips, scraping with a fragile roughness that sent a strange ache through her chest.

Her fingers wandered to smooth them—and slipped.

Suddenly, his lips parted, and her fingers brushed between them.

He caught them gently between his teeth.

Warmth enveloped her skin—so soft, so deliberate—that her heart trembled uncontrollably.

Startled, Li Shuang tried to pull back, but he held on—not hard, not soft, just enough to stop her.

He wouldn’t let go.

When she looked down, she met his gaze. Jin’an’s eyes were open, calm and unblinking, his teeth still lightly holding her finger. The silence between them grew thick, heavy with something unspoken.

“Jin’an…” she whispered, forcing her voice steady. “Let go.”

His teeth loosened. Her finger slipped free. Just as she sighed in relief, his low voice brushed her ear—

“Do you enjoy touching me?”

The directness made her freeze.

If he were still a child, she might have laughed it off. But now, as a grown man—his form carved by moonlight, his face inches away—his words struck like a spark in her chest. Her cheeks burned.

Before she could answer, he spoke again, calmly, as if stating fact.
“I want to kiss you.”

Li Shuang blinked, stunned. “…What?”

“May I kiss you?”

Her throat tightened. “You—”

A teasing voice interrupted from outside the dungeon.
“He says he wants to kiss you! The smoochy kind!” Wu Yin’s tone was positively gleeful. “I heard everything!”

Li Shuang’s embarrassment flared into fury. “Wu Yin! Why are you still here?”

Before the old man could reply, Jin’an sat up abruptly, eyes narrowing with murderous intent. “I’ll kill him.”

Li Shuang grabbed his wrist quickly.

Outside, Wu Yin sighed dramatically. “Such ingratitude! I’ve been keeping watch all afternoon, even brought you both food. And this is how you thank me?!”

Li Shuang stood up—too quickly. Her legs, numb from sitting too long, gave way beneath her. The pain of pins and needles shot through her limbs like a thousand ants biting at once. She stumbled, but Jin’an caught her instantly.

The killing intent vanished, replaced by panic—gentle, terrified panic.

“I’m fine,” Li Shuang reassured him softly. “Just numb legs.”

She leaned lightly on him as they approached the dungeon door. “Let Jin’an out for tonight,” she called.

Wu Yin went quiet. “…The situation outside’s still messy. And this old body doesn’t run as fast anymore.”

Li Shuang understood. Others feared Jin’an. Only she trusted him completely. “Bring a pair of cuffs,” she said. “Chain us together if needed. He shouldn’t be caged.”

Jin’an looked down at her—at the faint wounds on her neck, the fragile wrists she spoke of binding. Though she was a general, fierce enough to command thousands, in his eyes she was someone he could only protect, never restrain.

“I’ll stay here,” he murmured. “You’re not a prisoner either. You shouldn’t be bound for me.”

Their gazes met in silence. Then, with a soft click, the dungeon door opened.

Wu Yin appeared, holding a lantern and shaking his head. “You two are giving me cavities. Come on, I’ll arrange a room. When the Jade Silkworm Gu meets its master, no harm will come anyway.”

He lifted the food basket. “Now, come out and eat.”

Li Shuang reached out and took Jin’an’s hand. As they stepped toward the light, moonlight poured into the doorway like a silver waterfall.

Jin’an stopped.

She turned back. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t speak.

She waited quietly, extending her hand into the pale light. “Don’t be afraid. Come with me.”

Moonlight wrapped around her, outlining her in silver.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said solemnly, as if taking an oath. “I won’t hurt anyone you don’t wish me to.”

“I know,” she whispered, her voice steady, eyes warm. “I believe you.”

Jin’an took her hand. Their palms pressed together, burning—two flames in the darkness.

“Li Shuang,” he said, his tone solemn, his eyes unwavering. “You will be my only one for the rest of my life.”

Li Shuang’s breath caught. She wanted to answer—to return that promise.

But from the distant mountain came the blare of a military horn, signaling the troops’ return to camp. The sound shattered the fragile stillness, and the words she meant to speak died in her throat.

Her mind flew to the General’s Manor, to the Long Wind Camp, to the emperor’s command, to the army she had traded her life to protect.

She had saved him.
But in the years to come—she could never be his only one.

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