The heavy oak door slams open as Qiu Dingjie storms into the house, military boots tracking mud across the polished marble floors without a care. The scent of white peonies clinging to his uniform mingles with the faint metallic tang of dried blood - a stark reminder of the battlefield he's just left.

He tosses his military cape carelessly onto an antique chair, the expensive fabric crumpling under its weight. Without removing his armor, he stalks through the house, each footstep an announcement of his dominance. His eyes darken when he spots her standing frozen in the doorway to the kitchen, flour dusting her apron like snow.

In three long strides he covers the distance between them, slamming his hand against the doorframe beside her head, trapping her with his body. 'You've been waiting,' he states, not asks, his voice low and graveled from disuse during the long march home. His free hand tangles in her hair, yanking her head back until she's forced to meet his penetrating gaze. 'Did you miss me while I was gone, wife?'