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The world was still dark.
Not the gentle dark of evening, but the bitter, stubborn darkness of a winter dawn that refused to become morning.
Maomao was asleep.
Deeply asleep.
Warmly asleep.
The kind of sleep where a person would gladly sell another person’s soul for five more minutes.
So naturally, Jinshi chose that moment to leave the bed.
She felt it immediately.
The warmth vanished from one side, and cold air slithered under the blankets like an assassin.
Maomao grunted into her pillow.
A complaint.
A warning.
A curse.
Possibly all three.
Jinshi paused.
There came the rustle of cloth. Quiet footsteps. The soft clink of metal.
He was changing.
Maomao did not open her eyes.
If she acknowledged him, he might start talking.
If he started talking, she might have to answer.
If she answered, she might wake up.
And waking up was unacceptable.
A shadow bent over her.
Soft lips brushed the top of her head.
“I’m going to spar with Basen,” Jinshi whispered.
Maomao answered with an incoherent noise that roughly translated to go die somewhere quieter.
Jinshi, somehow taking this as consent, slipped out.
The door slid shut.
Silence returned.
Warmth did not.
Maomao scowled in her sleep and dragged the blanket closer.
Outside, the world was cruel.
The courtyard stones glittered white with frost.
The wind cut through layers of clothing with malicious precision.
Basen stood waiting in the middle of it, arms folded so tightly he looked like he was trying to hold himself together.
When Jinshi arrived, Basen straightened.
“Your Highness.”
“Basen.”
A gust of wind hit both of them.
They shivered in perfect unison.
Basen looked at Jinshi.
Jinshi looked at Basen.
“…Tea first?” Jinshi suggested.
Basen nearly cried.
“Yes.”
They retreated immediately.
Inside the pavilion, both men clung to steaming cups like survivors pulled from icy water.
Basen held his tea with both hands.
Jinshi exhaled slowly into his own.
“This was wise,” Basen said.
Jinshi nodded gravely.
Then he glanced toward the window.
Snowflakes drifted down lazily.
He blinked.
Then more came.
The snowfall thickened.
Jinshi frowned.
“…It’s snowing.”
Basen turned.
His face fell.
“…We cannot spar in snow.”
Jinshi hummed thoughtfully.
“We might slip.”
Basen nodded.
“We might.”
Jinshi tilted his head.
“You should go home.”
Basen blinked.
“To Lady Lishu?”
Jinshi smiled serenely.
“Your wife must be lonely.”
Basen shot to his feet so fast the chair nearly toppled.
“You are right.”
Jinshi raised a brow.
Basen bowed. “I shall go comfort my wife.”
Then he ran.
Truly ran.
Jinshi watched him leave.
“…That was quick.”
He took one more sip of tea and considered the situation.
It was snowing. Sparring was canceled. His wife was in bed.
His very warm wife.
Jinshi stood.
Clearly, there was only one reasonable course of action.
Back in their room, Maomao had not moved.
She was curled under the blankets, breathing slow and even.
Still asleep.
Still warm.
Still annoyingly cute.
Jinshi slipped off his outer robe and climbed back under the covers.
The sudden chill made Maomao twitch.
She turned her back to him.
Jinshi smiled.
He moved close, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her against him.
He was warm now.
Very warm.
Maomao made an irritated noise.
Jinshi buried his face in her hair and kissed the crown of her head.
“It’s cold,” he murmured.
He pressed closer, shamelessly pressing his growing erection behind Maomao.
“A perfect day to stay in bed.”
Maomao sighed.
The sigh of a woman whose sleep had now been interrupted twice by one idiot.
“Yeah,” she muttered.
Jinshi smiled into her hair.
Then Maomao added, voice thick with sleep and annoyance,
“Can you believe my stupid husband is out sparring with Basen in this weather?”
Jinshi froze.
His smile disappeared.
Slowly, very slowly, his eyes narrowed.
Maomao kept talking.
“Honestly. That man has no sense.”
Jinshi stared at the back of her head.
There was silence.
Then, in a dangerously calm voice, he asked—
“…Your husband?”
Maomao hummed.
Jinshi’s arm tightened around her waist.
“And who,” he asked, voice silken and dangerous, “am I supposed to be?”
Her shoulders shook. Jinshi frowned—then realized she was laughing.
The little menace was laughing.
Maomao cracked one eye open and peeked over her shoulder.
Her lips twitched.
“Oh,” she said lightly. “You came back?”
Jinshi stared at her in disbelief.
Maomao grinned—and laughed harder.
Jinshi’s face darkened.
“Maomao.”
That only made her laugh more.
She buried her face in the blanket, shoulders shaking helplessly.
Maomao laughed until tears gathered in her eyes.
Jinshi glared at her, red-cheeked and thoroughly offended.
And that was how the fight started.