The tides of financial turmoil receded, And life returned to the rhythm Emma cherished most— Quiet, warm, and steady.
Little Ai Nian grew like a well-nourished sapling, His development astonishing. At just over a year old, He could clearly call out "Mama" and "Papa," Wobble through the house on short legs, And explore every corner with boundless curiosity.
Emma's love for Gu Liang deepened with their child's growth. No longer just fiery vows or dramatic acts of protection, It became something quieter— A thousand small moments, Each one a silent, moving verse.
Every morning began like a sweet, chaotic battle.
Ai Nian, their energetic little "troublemaker," Would crawl between them, Slapping their faces with chubby hands, Or trying to gnaw on Emma's chin with his new baby teeth, Leaving trails of drool.
Emma always woke first. She'd stifle her laughter, Letting him wreak gentle havoc Until Gu Liang stirred, Mumbling sleepily, "Nian Nian… not so loud…"
Then Emma would scoop him up, Lift him high, Earning delighted squeals.
The three of them would tumble and laugh on the bed Until the nanny knocked to announce breakfast.
Their morning routine was a well-rehearsed dance.
Emma handled dressing the squirming, slippery child— A task that left her breathless and sweaty. Gu Liang, meanwhile, prepared Ai Nian's first meal of the day. Apron on, He stirred rice porridge or vegetable puree with quiet focus.
When Emma finally wrangled Ai Nian into clothes and brought him to the dining room, Gu Liang would be placing the food on the table. Emma would take the bowl and spoon, Begin feeding, While Gu Liang ate his own breakfast beside them, Occasionally wiping food from Ai Nian's mouth.
Their rhythm needed no words. It was woven into their bones.
And when Emma looked up mid-feeding And met Gu Liang's gentle gaze, Her heart would swell with quiet joy.
This was the ordinary life she once dismissed— Now her most treasured reality.
Afternoons were for creation and companionship.
Gu Liang's perfumery studio had become their second home. Emma cleared her schedule whenever possible To join Gu Liang and Ai Nian there.
She'd sit in the lounge, Answering emails, Or simply watching Gu Liang work.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, Casting a golden glow on him As he sniffed, recorded, blended— Like conversing with another dimension.
Ai Nian played in his safe corner, Tinkering with colorful toys, Or cuddling a soft, scented plush Gu Liang had made just for him.
Sometimes, Gu Liang would bring a new scent to Emma, Asking for her thoughts.
She wasn't a trained perfumer, But their bond—sealed by marking— Made her feedback intuitive and honest.
"The top note's a bit sharp…" "The middle smells like grass after rain…" "The base… it's warm. Makes me sleepy…"
Her comments were simple, even clumsy, But they often sparked inspiration.
Gu Liang would adjust the formula, And the result was often better.
This sense of participation made Emma feel Not just like a partner in life, But a companion in his creative world.
Watching his eyes light up at her suggestions, Seeing his smile when a scent finally felt right— It gave her a fulfillment deeper than any business success.
Evenings belonged to just the two of them.
After putting their exhausted little one to bed, The world quieted.
Sometimes they curled up on the sofa, Watching old films, Emma's chin resting on Gu Liang's head, Her arms around his waist.
Sometimes they read, Exchanging glances and smiles.
Sometimes they simply stood on the balcony, Watching city lights and stars.
Emma had a nightly ritual. She massaged Gu Liang's shoulders and neck— Tired from hours of work and blending.
Her hands were skilled now, Her pressure perfect.
Gu Liang would lie face down, Relaxing under her warm touch, Her pheromones wrapping around him like a blanket.
"Is this okay?" she'd whisper.
"Mmm…" He'd murmur like a sleepy cat.
Afterward, she wouldn't leave. She'd lie beside him, Arms around him, Palm resting on his belly— Where a faint scar remained from childbirth.
To Emma, it was the most beautiful mark in the world.
They'd talk— About their son's antics, Work, Dreams.
Or say nothing at all, Just listening to each other's breath and heartbeat.
"Emma," Gu Liang whispered one night in the dark.
"Mm?"
"Meeting you… Was the greatest luck of my life."
Emma's heart melted, Wrapped in the softest cloud.
She tightened her embrace, Kissed the permanent mark on his neck— Her mark.
"Me too," She whispered. "Every day, I'm more grateful to have you."
Love grew quietly In the folds of the everyday.
It hid in the morning chaos, In the studio sunlight, In the fingers entwined at night.
Emma no longer needed to prove anything. Her love had become as natural as breathing— Infused into every moment, Turning ordinary days Into poetry.
And she knew— This poem was far from over.
It would continue, Written with their shared life, And endless love.