The medicinal scent of Yuanzhi's herbs lingers in the air as I sit stiffly at the table, my pulse racing beneath my sleeve where Ziyu's fingers brushed moments ago. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife—both brothers pretending casual interest in the evening tea while their eyes strip away my composure layer by layer.

"Brother Shangjue seems distracted tonight," Yuanzhi observes, his fingers trailing suggestively along the edge of his teacup. "Is something troubling you?"

I meet his gaze steadily, ignoring the heat coiling low in my abdomen—a dangerous reaction to his proximity. "Only palace affairs," I reply coolly, setting down my untouched tea.

From across the table, Ziyu's lips curve in a knowing smile. "Surely even our most dedicated brother needs rest sometimes. Perhaps you should retire early tonight."

His implication hangs heavy in the air. I can feel both pairs of eyes on me, hungry and unrelenting, as the weight of what happened between us three nights ago settles around me like a shroud—bodies tangled, boundaries shattered, and now... the unmistakable signs of what that night has wrought.

I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the stone floor. "I think I will take your advice," I say, my voice betraying nothing of the storm raging inside me. The first waves of morning sickness threaten to overwhelm me as I turn toward the door, away from their scrutiny.

Before I can escape, a warm hand closes gently around my wrist—Ziyu's touch light but unyielding. "Stay," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my pulse point in a gesture that feels both tender and possessive.

Behind me, I hear Yuanzhi rise from his seat. "Yes, brother," he says, his voice lower now, edged with something raw and desperate. "Stay with us tonight."

The choice hangs in the air, thick with consequences I can barely imagine.