Waaah, I'm being forced into loving my yandere wife's brain.

Shen Jin was completely above Lin Zhiyao.

She put on new makeup.

Her makeup was fresh and elegant, with delicately drawn eyebrows and pink lips, a stark contrast to her flamboyant appearance when she married into the Shen family.

Shen Jin lowered his eyes and stared at her, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.

When the palace maid came to report, she also mentioned that the Empress seemed quite puzzled. Although she didn't ask, she was probably thinking about what exactly this "joyful bath" was all about.

She naturally had no idea.

Because there was no such rule in the palace; it was all a name he made up on the spot.

It was clearly his Yao Yao, yet she walked such a long palace road wearing the phoenix coronet and wedding robes bestowed by the old emperor.

He watched with his own eyes as that red dress was wrapped around her and carried from the Shen residence all the way into the palace, right under his nose.

Although it's only in name.

After all, the old emperor had been killed by him just a few days ago.

But just thinking about how that crown was bestowed by the old emperor, and that embroidered robe was a gift from the old emperor…

His heart felt like it was being squeezed by something, a dull, aching pain.

So I have to wash it all off, wash it from head to toe, and completely wash away that makeup that I put on for others.

Now she wears this outfit, this makeup...

She truly wanted to marry him.

Shen Jin raised his hand, his fingertips hooking Lin Zhiyao's chin, making her tilt her head slightly upwards.

The phoenix crown had been removed, and only a plain silver hairpin adorned her hair. Her makeup was light, which made her snow-white neck appear even more slender.

The candlelight reflected in her eyes, making them moist, like two pools of swaying warm light, causing his heart to sway as well.

"Yao Yao," Shen Jin said in a low voice, "you did my makeup, so you'd better remember that."

Lin Zhiyao's eyelashes trembled, but she did not answer.

She hadn't fully recovered yet. From being helped out of the bath, to sitting at the dressing table to redo her makeup, to seeing Shen Jin's face the moment the veil was lifted, everything had happened too fast and too quickly, as if someone had unfurled an entire scroll of painting over her head. She didn't even have time to blink.

Shen Jin, however, was not in a hurry.

He turned his head, his fingertips slowly sliding down her jawline, stopping on the tender skin on the side of her neck, caressing it to feel her heartbeat, his fox-like eyes deep.

He's been busy dealing with the old emperor's affairs these past few days and hasn't seen Yao Yao, which makes him miss her terribly.

"Now that you've married me, tonight is our wedding night. Let's not think about anything else."

As he spoke, he hooked his fingertips around the sash at her waist and gently tugged, causing half of the elaborate wedding dress to loosen and slide down her shoulder, revealing a delicate, light pink undergarment underneath.

Shen Jin stared at the small patch of fair skin that was faintly visible, his fox-like eyes darkening further. He then leaned down and kissed her shoulder lightly, his breath hot against her skin.

"Yaoyao," Shen Jin called her indistinctly, "call me husband."

Lin Zhiyao trembled slightly from his heat, and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the brocade quilt beneath her.

After a long while, a faint whisper escaped from between her lips: "...Husband."

Lin Zhiyao lowered her eyes. In her current situation, although she felt ashamed, there was nothing to dwell on.

Shen Jin chuckled softly, the laughter muffled in his chest, and came through Lin Zhiyao's shoulder.

He turned his head and kissed her earlobe, his teeth gently grinding against the soft flesh, his voice hoarse: "Say it again."

"...My husband."

Shen Jin seemed to be completely released by this call, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his arms. The two of them then sank into the brocade quilt that covered the bed.

Red gauze curtains hung down, and candlelight shone through the thin fabric, casting the intertwined shadows of the two people on the ceiling, swaying gently like two leaves floating on water.

The commotion inside the tent lasted for quite some time.

He had tied the red string bells back to her ankle sometime earlier, and they jingled with each movement of her feet, a clear and melodious sound.

They didn't rest until late at night.

*

That year, the late emperor passed away.

The prevailing rumor is that he died of illness, but everyone in the government and the public knows that the incident was far more complex than a simple obituary.

The young emperor was only nine years old when he ascended the throne.

The dragon throne was too high; his toes couldn't even touch the ground.

Shen Jin stood to the side of the dragon throne, dressed in a black python robe, with a jade belt neatly tied around his waist, and wearing a crown. He looked down at the civil and military officials on the steps who were prostrating themselves and kowtowing.

He didn't have the title of regent, and his official position couldn't even be found on the imperial edict, but everyone knew that from that day on, the person who truly had the power to speak and act in this world was surnamed Shen.

Shen Jin spent his days reviewing memorials and attending to state affairs in the Qianqing Palace, but at night he would always go to the late emperor's harem.

At first, some people noticed and whispered a few words about it.

They said that Lord Shen was incredibly audacious, daring to have an improper relationship with the late emperor's concubine.

As more and more people talked about it, it became a semi-public secret.

Later, even the guards at the palace gate got used to it. Whenever night fell, a small sedan chair would be carried out from that secluded palace and carried straight into the rear hall of the Qianqing Palace.

No one knew the concubine's name.

The late emperor had dozens of concubines in his harem, and the portrait album was filled with their faces. If even one was missing, no one would bother to investigate.

Moreover, she lived a secluded life and never showed her face; even the palace maids had only ever seen a blurry profile of her.

Six years passed in this way.

As the young emperor grew from nine to fifteen years old, he was able to sit firmly on the dragon throne in the court, and his handwriting gradually developed its own style when he reviewed memorials.

On an ordinary spring morning, Shen Jin submitted his resignation, saying that his old injury had relapsed and he needed to return to his hometown to recuperate.

The young emperor granted his request, earnestly bestowing upon the emperor a pile of medicinal herbs and brocade, and adding a few polite words.

That night, the sedan chair was carried out of the late emperor's harem and straight out of the palace gate without turning back.

The palace maids discovered the next day, when they went to clean, that the empress who never showed her face was gone.

The palace was clean and tidy. Only a white jade pendant was missing from the dressing table; everything else remained untouched, as if the person had left at a leisurely pace and had no lingering attachment to the most luxurious and magnificent palace in the world.

The emperor was having breakfast when he heard about this. He simply nodded and said nothing more.

He had just approved a memorial a few days ago; it was submitted by Shen Jin in his personal capacity.

They said there was a house in the suburbs of Beijing that needed renovation and they wanted to hire a guard to manage it.

The emperor granted permission.

A small note was attached to the folded paper, with only four characters written on it, the handwriting messy but familiar:

"Don't worry."

The emperor tucked the note into the memorial, closed it, and continued drinking his porridge.

*

Springtime.

In an unnamed mountain courtyard on the outskirts of Beijing.

Although this courtyard is not in the bustling city, it is meticulously renovated, with wind chimes hanging from the eaves that tinkle softly when the mountain breeze blows.

Lin Zhiyao sat on the veranda basking in the sun, a travelogue half-read on her lap. The warm afternoon sun shone on her shoulders, making her squint slightly.

The courtyard gate was pushed open, and the newcomer, carrying the fresh scent of mountain grass and trees, stood behind her, leaned down, rested his chin on her shoulder, and his warm breath brushed against her ear.

"What is Yao Yao looking at?"

Lin Zhiyao turned her head, her almond-shaped eyes reflecting the sunlight, with a hint of annoyance in them: "Don't get so close, it's so hot."

Shen Jin smiled suavely.

Instead of backing away, he moved even closer, holding her tighter, his lips brushing against her earlobe, his voice low and indistinct: "But what should I do if my husband can't resist seeing Yao Yao?"

Lin Zhiyao's ears turned slightly red.

She turned to a page in the travelogue, pointed to a humorous description of a certain anecdote, and said to him, "Let's go here next time, okay?"

Shen Jin only made a "hmm" sound and did not answer.

Lin Zhiyao had no choice but to turn around, her ears turning red as she softly called out "Husband," and Shen Jin responded with a smile.

"Wherever Yao Yao wants to go, her husband will take her..."

He lowered his head and kissed Lin Zhiyao's lips.

He didn't finish the second half of his sentence.

So, Yao Yao.

Let's stay by his side forever.

Forever and ever.