Then, before anyone could react, she lifted the bowl again—a drop remained clung to the side of the bowl—and held it to his lips.

"Drink."

The servant nearly stopped breathing.

No one—no one—ordered Lu Shaohan for anything.

But the impossible happened.

He stared at her. Long. Darkly.

Then he leaned down and drank from the same spot where her lips had touched.

The servant’s face turned white.

Shared cup. Shared place. An intimacy almost indecent.

Su Wan’s heart skipped once. Only once.

Lu Shaohan’s gaze lingered on her longer than before. Not on her face—on her stomach.

Because he had seen it. That moment. That almost invisible reaction.

And he filed it away. The bowl was placed away.

---

Knowing both of them had drank the content and the possible outcome, a sudden crash echoed. The servant was trying to flee in a panicked mode.

"Catch her!"

Everyone turned.

The maid who had brought the tonic was running. Trying to flee. Exposing herself.

Lu Shaohan’s face turned glacial. "Take her."

Guards moved instantly and filled the bedroom. The maid was dragged back sobbing.

"It wasn’t me! Second Madam ordered it!"

Silence. Dead. Dead silence.

The accusation hung in the air.

And then Lu Shaohan turned slowly toward Su Wan. His gaze dark and unreadable.

He said something that made her blood pause.

"From tonight..." He stepped closer. Too close. "You sleep on my side of the bed."

Su Wan froze. "...What?"

His eyes lowered to her stomach. Then rose again. Cold. Possessive.

"As long as someone wants to harm my heir..." His voice dropped. "You don’t leave my sight."

And suddenly—being watched by enemies seemed far less dangerous than sleeping beside her cruel husband.

---

And soon, the bedroom doors shut. Heavy. Final.

Su Wan stared at the enormous bed in the center of the Lu Residence as if it were a battlefield.

One bed. One man. One night.

And that man was Lu Shaohan—who, at this moment, was calmly removing his cufflinks as if forcing his wife into his bed was the most natural thing in the world.

Su Wan folded her arms defiantly. "There is a sofa. It doesn’t have to be the bed."

Lu Shaohan didn’t even look at her. "You can sleep on it."

Her eyes narrowed. "You are the one who ordered me to sleep here, on your side."

Now he looked at her. And actually said—"I ordered you to stay in my sight. Not in my place."

Infuriating.

Su Wan almost laughed in disbelief. Almost.

Then, without another word, he pulled back the covers, got into bed, and turned off the lamp.

Darkness swallowed the room. Just like that.

Leaving Su Wan standing there.

Staring at the man who had fallen asleep in under thirty seconds.

Was he serious?

Her gaze was fixed on the dark outline of his body. Still. Unbothered. As if nothing in this world could touch him.

Her fingers curled slightly at her side.

Then—slowly—lifted.

For a fleeting second, she imagined it.

Her hand at his throat. Fingers tightening. Cutting off that calm. That control. That unbearable indifference.

How long would it take?

A man like him—would he struggle? Or would he simply look at her, cold to the end?

The thought lingered. Sharp. Tempting.

Then her hand dropped.

Not worth it.

Killing him now would solve nothing. It would only end the game before she had won.

"Cold-blooded tyrant," she muttered under her breath.

Then she climbed into bed. Carefully. Keeping her distance. As far from him as possible—a whole kingdom’s distance.

Silence settled between them.

Only the rain against the windows.

And two people pretending the other did not exist.

---

Minutes passed. Then more.

Su Wan’s body, exhausted from the day’s battles, began to betray her. Her eyelids grew heavy. Her breathing slowed.

She drifted.

In sleep, she turned—without knowing, without intention.

Her hand landed on his chest.

Warm. Solid. Very solid.

At the same moment, Lu Shaohan’s eyes flew open.

In the darkness. Wide awake.

He looked down at the soft hand resting over his heart.

And did not move it away.

Instead, he looked at her sleeping face. For a long time. The sharp lines of her jaw. The dark lashes against pale cheeks. The slight furrow between her brows that remained even in rest.

Then—almost unconsciously—his hand lifted.

Touched a strand of hair fallen across her cheek.

A feather-light touch. Gone in an instant.

As if it had never happened.

Then Su Wan stirred. Her lips parted. And she whispered in sleep—

"Don’t..."

There was a pause as her brow tightened.

"Don’t leave me..."

The words were soft. Broken. Unconscious. But something in them made Lu Shaohan go still.

Because for a moment—it didn’t sound like manipulation. It didn’t sound like performance. It sounded like fear. Real fear. Buried deep enough to slip out only in sleep.