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The same evening.
This time, Yao Jue drew the short stick.
After a bath, Li Yuan put the manuals away, yawned, and headed for bed. Inside, a red candle burned; the silk canopy glowed like a sheet of flame.
Yao Jue lay in silk nightclothes, one long leg flicking the quilt. Propping her chin, she looked up at him with puppy-eyes. “Oh mighty Khagan, have mercy on a poor maiden. My betrothed still waits at home…”
Li Yuan blinked, then stalked over like a brute. “Serve this Khagan well, little lady, and I’ll let you return to your lover.”
“Truly?” Hope flashed,then resolve. “For the sake of reunion, I’ll make you very, very happy.”
Giggling sounds soon rustled beneath the quilt.
A long time later, Yao Jue poked out her head, little fists kneading the ache from Li Yuan’s chest, back, shoulders.
She laughed. “Now we’re all dead weight. The future rests on you alone. Poor, poor thing.”
“Feel lighter since you stopped practicing your cultivation?” he asked.
“A bit lost,” she admitted. “But keeping 300 kids in line, one squawk...
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