CHAPTER 148: CHAPTER 148; DOCTOR, I STILL DON’T UNDERSTAND

Jin Shuren brought the spoon to her lips, steady despite the pounding in his chest. She accepted it, lips brushing against the metal spoon, tasting the porridge with the air of a queen testing loyalty.

She swallowed, and a faint tremor passed through her, though whether from weakness or pride, he could not tell.

The next spoonful came, and this time, when he raised it, she leaned forward willingly, her gaze never leaving his face. "You feed me," she whispered, her voice threaded with a strange mixture of defiance and dependence. "No one else. Only you."

He almost laughed, almost, but instead let the corner of his mouth tilt, barely there. "Then only me," he promised, each word quiet, binding.

Her hand rose, not to take the bowl, but to cover his wrist, holding it in place as though anchoring him. The softness in her eyes this time was different, no longer fragile, no longer broken, but frighteningly sure.

After a few more spoonfuls, she sighed and let her head rest against his shoulder, eyelids fluttering closed.

Her voice came faint, laced with exhaustion but still sharp enough to cut. "Don’t leave me, Shuren. If I wake and you are gone, I will burn this whole world down."

He tightened his arm around her, smoothing her hair until her breathing grew steady, until sleep claimed her again.

His lips brushed the crown of her head, his whisper lost in the silence of the chamber.

"Even if the world burns, Yueyao, I will stand in the fire with you."

The weight of her head against him was deceptively light, but Jin Shuren felt as if she anchored every breath in his chest.

He dared not move, not even to ease the stiffness settling in his arm, afraid that the smallest shift would stir her from the fragile peace she had claimed.

Her lips parted faintly, a breath of warmth brushing through his shirt. "Shuren..." she murmured in her sleep, the syllables unsteady, as if she were testing his name in another dream.

His throat tightened. He tilted his head, letting his chin rest against her hair. "I’m here," he answered softly, though she could no longer hear him. "I will always be here."

For a long time, he simply held her. The bowl of porridge cooled, forgotten on the table. Outside, the late morning sun streamed through the windows, the sounds of the bustling household muffled as though the world itself had chosen to keep its distance.

Her fingers twitched, curling against his chest, clutching weakly at his robe as though she feared he might vanish. He covered her hand with his own, caging it there, whispering into the dark:

"Sleep, Yueyao. Rest while you can. I won’t let anyone touch you, I will just be here."

Her breathing evened, the stubborn crease on her brow smoothing at last. Jin Shuren closed his eyes, though he did not sleep; he only listened to the fragile rhythm of her breaths, to the fragile rhythm of his own heart, and vowed in silence that whatever fire she threatened to bring, he would be its willing fuel.

At last, when her breath had settled into something soft and steady, Jin Shuren shifted carefully, loosening the circle of his arms.

For a heartbeat, he thought she might stir, but her lashes did not flutter, her lips remained parted in sleep.

He bent, one arm slipping beneath her knees, the other bracing her back. She was feather-light in his hold, a weight that should not have felt so breakable, and yet did. Rising to his feet, he gathered her close against his chest.

The porridge lay abandoned on the table, steam long faded. He did not look back at it as he left the room.

The corridors were hushed, though daylight pressed through latticed windows, painting patterns across the polished floor.

Servants, startled at the sight of their master carrying a woman in his arms, lowered their eyes quickly and retreated without a word. No one dared to linger.

He walked through the hallway with measured steps, as though even the creak of the wood might disturb her rest.

The guest chambers on the ground floor were quiet, removed from the busier wings of the residence. He nudged the door open with his shoulder, the faint scent of fresh linen and sandalwood greeting him.

Jin Shuren crossed the room and lowered her gently onto the waiting bed. She stirred faintly at the shift, fingers brushing against his sleeve before falling slack upon the blanket. His chest clenched at the sight.

Leaning over, he drew the quilt up to her chin, smoothing the edges with careful hands. A stray strand of her hair fell across her cheek; he tucked it back, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

His voice was a low murmur, meant for her alone, "Sleep here, Yueyao. No one will disturb you."

He lingered for a moment longer, watching the rise and fall of her chest beneath the blanket, unwilling to pull away.

Only when he was certain her breathing had settled into that rare, steady rhythm did he straighten. Carefully, he drew the quilt higher around her shoulders, fingers brushing over her hand one last time before he forced himself to let go.

The guest room was quiet, almost too quiet after the storm of her presence. Jin Shuren’s steps were silent as he turned, sliding the door shut behind him with deliberate care, as though even the faintest sound might disturb her.

Beyond the threshold, the house stirred. He walked into the sitting area where the physicians had gathered, their white lab coats neat, their heads bowed in patient silence.

The faint clink of medicine boxes opening, the rustle of parchment notes, and the muted scent of herbs filled the air. At his appearance, all movement stilled.

"Doctor, I still don’t understand how her personality could change like this? How did I become her husband? Why is she this possessive and irritated?" He just felt things were a bit off. Of course, it was normal for someone to change after going through some traumatic experiences, but isn’t this a bit psychic?