The world had stopped burning.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was no battle cry, no looming threat, no urgent mission. Just the soft rustle of leaves outside the quiet recovery chamber, and the rhythmic rise and fall of Xiao Lin's breathing.
He lay nestled under silk sheets, his body still aching but warm, safe.
And not alone.
Sheng Long sat beside him, armored no longer, dressed in soft black robes that hung loosely over his frame. His hair was damp from a recent wash, a few silver strands brushing his cheeks as he stared down at Xiao Lin—who, despite everything, was smiling.
"You're staring again," Xiao Lin said softly, voice hoarse but teasing.
"I nearly lost you," Sheng Long murmured. "So yes. I'm staring."
Xiao Lin reached up, cupping Sheng Long's cheek. "Then come closer. We have time… for once."
Sheng Long hesitated, his eyes flickering with something tender and raw. "You just woke up from a coma. The doctor said—"
"Just hold me," Xiao Lin whispered. "Please. I want to feel alive again."
The Marshal's resistance crumbled.
Sheets rustled as he slipped into bed, pulling Xiao Lin into his arms. Their foreheads touched, and time slowed to a heartbeat. Fingers traced along scars, soft kisses placed along necks and collarbones, breaths shared like promises.
There was no need for words.
No war. No empire.
Just two souls finally allowed to be vulnerable—craving closeness, safety, and the warmth of being wanted.
And then—
**The next morning.**
"Agh—ow—my tailbone!"
Sheng Long sat up instantly, sheets half falling off him. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Did I—?"
Xiao Lin groaned, hiding his face in a pillow. "I think I pulled something. My entire lower back feels like I fell off a cliff."
A sharp *click* of the medical tent's door made them both freeze.
Doctor Wen stood in the entrance, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, and expression terrifyingly neutral.
"…I see the patient is awake. And clearly didn't read the aftercare instructions."
Both Xiao Lin and Sheng Long flushed violently, pulling the covers up in sync.
"I told you to rest," Doctor Wen continued, walking over with a datapad. "Not—*that*. Do you two even understand how dangerous post-coma exertion is? Especially when your body just underwent a mental and spiritual overload?"
Xiao Lin buried himself deeper in the pillows. Sheng Long, the mighty Marshal, the living legend of the empire… looked ready to bolt.
"I—uh—he asked—" Sheng Long began.
"I *asked for cuddles!*" Xiao Lin squeaked.
Doctor Wen waved them both off. "No more intense activities for at least *ten days*. That includes sparring, stress-inducing arguments, and yes—*intercourse*. Do I make myself clear?"
"…Yes, sir," both mumbled in unison, cheeks blazing.
As the doctor turned and left, muttering about irresponsible warriors and hormone-overloaded foxes, Xiao Lin peeked out and met Sheng Long's eyes.
"…Worth it?" he whispered.
Sheng Long smirked and leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss over his temple. "Absolutely."