Chapter 19: Burning Love

The study was vast and empty, a stack of reports awaiting review lay untouched on the desk, but Yuan Che could not take in a single word. At that moment, he stood before the broad floor-to-ceiling window, hands hanging at his sides, slowly clenching into fists, the sound of black gloves rubbing together echoing with an eerie undertone.

Qiao Nian had disappeared again, not even leaving him a note—a vanishing act, just like that time years ago.

His heart throbbed with a dull ache, as if tightly bound by a thin cord. Yuan Che was about to leave the military headquarters in search of Qiao Nian when the familiar scent drifted through the air—it was uniquely Qiao Nian’s.

The brash youth soon pushed open the study door, his carefree grin as reckless as ever. "The adjutant said you were still in the study. Don’t you need a little rest?"

The Supreme Commander always wore a frostbitten expression—silent and cold.

Qiao Nian would never forget their meeting, ages ago. If Yuan Che hadn’t found him, he would have lived out an ordinary human life, used as an ignorant pawn.

But Yuan Che had found him, brought him back to the land of the bloodline. On their way back, they passed through the Forest of Night. Qiao Nian had slept for a long time, and when he finally woke, the sky was already tinged with dawn.

The ground was covered in dew, exuding a subtle chill. As his senses returned, he realized he was lying on the ground, draped in a black and gold feathered cloak.

Yuan Che sat beside him, his gaze resting quietly on the distant night sky.

The horizon was an inky blue, on the verge of breaking into dawn. Countless rays of light gnawed at the vast darkness, softening the harsh outlines of the forest.

The scattered remnants of starlight fell upon Yuan Che’s handsome face, giving it a beauty as if touched by divinity.

It was probably from then on that he became, in Qiao Nian’s heart, his one and only god.

Yuan Che was special to him, an existence apart.

He had no idea that a raging fire was already burning in Yuan Che’s heart. Still, undaunted, he moved closer, curiosity shining in his eyes. "What are you thinking about? You’re so still."

Suppressing his anger, Yuan Che replied coolly, "Can you leave the room?"

Qiao Nian’s smile faded at once. "Why?"

"I need some quiet."

Qiao Nian didn’t answer, staring at him in a daze, feeling as if a needle had pierced his heart.

After a moment’s silence, not only did he not leave, but he plopped himself down on the wide desk. "I won’t disturb you."

Yuan Che looked at him, his gaze a little cold.

Qiao Nian hesitated, but decided to push his luck, "I won’t speak. Just don’t make me go."

Yuan Che stared at him—enough to make Qiao Nian inch backward, fearing the commander might draw a blade.

In the end, Yuan Che only let out a heavy sigh, the sound especially loud in the silent study.

Qiao Nian had never seen Yuan Che so weary and helpless. For a moment, he thought he really was being inconsiderate and causing trouble. He became both sad and flustered, jumping off the desk in a hurry to apologize. "Sorry, sorry, I’ll go back to my room and sleep!"

Yuan Che propped his head in his hand, unmoving, silent.

Qiao Nian returned to his room in a haze of dejection. The opportunity he’d planned was ruined. At this rate, when would he ever have Yuan Che’s child? He dug the little vial of ground iris powder from his pocket—it would be of no use now—and tossed it onto the bed.

Tonight was hopeless. He’d need something stronger in the future. Fuming under the covers, he mulled over the possibility of taking matters into his own hands.

Much later, when the sky was already streaked with smoky gray, Yuan Che finally stood up. He’d meant to leave directly, but as he passed Qiao Nian’s room, he couldn’t help pausing, gently pushing the door open.

The light was dim, a faint shadow cast across the young man’s brow. Even in sleep, Qiao Nian’s lips curved habitually upward, as if he’d long since learned to wear a smile, even in sorrow.

So many years had passed. The boy had grown more mature.

A delicate ache welled in his heart. Only now did he realize how much he wished Qiao Nian would never truly grow up.

Unable to resist, Yuan Che reached out, tracing the contours of the youth’s face with his fingertips. He didn’t even realize that his own expression had grown gentle and warm as water.

When had he learned to be so tender with anyone?

At first, he’d protected this child out of guilt and remorse for Qining, but somewhere along the way, those feelings had changed. Yuan Che had never thought anyone could stir the still waters of his heart—never to be calm again.

Qiao Nian often grinned with all his teeth, foolish and bright.

Qiao Nian would often stare at his profile, lost in thought.

Qiao Nian dared to brush dust off his clothes, shameless and bold.

Qiao Nian would sometimes tease him, calling him ‘old man.’

Qiao Nian would ask, in a rare moment of sadness, "If one day I’m gone, will you come look for me?"

He didn’t know how to define these feelings, nor how to express them—he’d never experienced them before. He was used to control, to knowing everything. This unfamiliar emotion left the ever-calm commander flustered, and in that confusion, all he wanted was to possess Qiao Nian completely. He kept him close, watched his every expression and move, listened intently to every word—hoping to understand him more, to draw nearer, to somehow make up for the lost years.

But that foolish child would never know how important he truly was.

Qiao Nian’s heart was beating fast. Yuan Che’s touch nearly made him leap from the bed, but he restrained himself. This was a golden opportunity!

Hidden under the covers, he stealthily groped for the little vial he’d tossed aside. Pretending to roll over in his sleep, he searched the bed until he found it, nearly cheering aloud.

His movements were hardly subtle; Yuan Che saw at once. Since Qiao Nian was already awake, it was no longer appropriate to stay.

As Yuan Che turned to leave, Qiao Nian suddenly grabbed his hand, only to remember he was supposed to be asleep—now his act was blown, and for once, he looked genuinely sheepish.

Yuan Che looked at him, waiting patiently for him to speak.

Under that calm gaze, Qiao Nian panicked. Always quick-witted, he now struggled for words.

"Well... actually, I was awake a while ago."

Yuan Che simply nodded, saying nothing.

Qiao Nian raged inwardly—why couldn’t he take the initiative? He’d just been gazing at him with such tenderness, but now was as calm as if nothing had happened. Then again, nothing had.

With someone so reserved, he’d have to make the first move.

Behind his back, Qiao Nian uncorked the little vial, letting the iris fragrance seep into the air.

Using such a crude trick, he felt both ashamed and indignant, sneaking glances at Yuan Che for his reaction.

Suddenly, Yuan Che raised a hand. Qiao Nian reflexively covered his head, but Yuan Che only removed his gloves, revealing slender, luminous fingers.

"That won’t work on me."

Stunned, Qiao Nian realized what he meant and wished the ground would swallow him.

When Yuan Che’s cool, elegant fingers gripped his chin, Qiao Nian jerked away, springing to the corner, hugging his head and trembling. "I was wrong, really wrong, don’t hit me..."

Yuan Che held back his frustration and asked patiently, "When have I ever hit you?"

Qiao Nian froze, slowly lowering his hands, peering up at the commanding figure. He mumbled, "I guess... you haven’t..."

Yuan Che’s voice was soft but firm, "Stand up and come here."

Qiao Nian obeyed, but stopped a few paces away, not daring to go further.

He glanced sideways, "You really won’t hit me?"

The other said nothing, his expression cold.

Uneasy, Qiao Nian retreated a step—only for Yuan Che to seize his wrist and pull him into his arms.

Looking at Qiao Nian’s flushed face and tightly shut eyes, Yuan Che murmured, "Open your eyes and look at me."

"Commander, I know I was wrong." Qiao Nian reluctantly opened his eyes, lashes fluttering. "You promised you wouldn’t hit me!"

Yuan Che cupped his chin, drawing their faces close. Qiao Nian’s cheeks burned crimson. When those elegant fingers slipped beneath his shirt, Qiao Nian’s eyes widened in surprise.

But that expression vanished quickly, overtaken by elation. What he had longed for was finally within reach.

Yuan Che’s lips brushed gently across his forehead. Qiao Nian wrapped his arms around him. All the humility, fears, and doubts were nothing compared to a single, tender kiss.

Qiao Nian was bold—he pushed Yuan Che onto the bed, straddling his lap, long legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Unbuttoning Yuan Che’s shirt, he pressed kisses along his skin.

Beautiful hands tangled in Qiao Nian’s dark hair; Yuan Che’s breathing finally grew ragged.

Qiao Nian clung to Yuan Che’s shoulders, lifting his hips before sinking down hard. Waves of ecstasy surged through him, overwhelming his senses. He clung to Yuan Che’s neck as if grasping the last piece of driftwood in a stormy sea.

It hurt, but Qiao Nian reveled in the raw, real pain, moving with wild abandon. He wanted to bite deep into Yuan Che’s white, smooth neck, but when his teeth met skin, it turned into a wet, lingering kiss.

Yuan Che’s kisses traced down, from soft earlobes to slender collarbones.

Qiao Nian’s pale skin flushed with a soft, feverish pink, making him irresistibly alluring. The awkwardness of his forced initiative only fueled a mix of affection and desire.

Yuan Che could no longer restrain himself.

Their lips met, at first tentative, then fiercely entwined. Qiao Nian was left breathless, yet he craved the sensation, lost in it completely.

"Mmh...!"

In this position, with legs spread astride Yuan Che’s lap, held tightly at the waist, every movement was an invitation as much as a retreat. His legs trembled through the climax, knees spasming. When Yuan Che finally released him, Qiao Nian collapsed weakly in his arms.

He barely had time to catch his breath before Yuan Che lifted him and tossed him onto the bed again.

A more urgent, frenzied kiss followed. Yuan Che had shed all his usual restraint; tonight he was almost feverish, kissing Qiao Nian’s lips until they were swollen, even biting his tender tongue.

Perhaps it was all the teasing before, but Yuan Che’s passion soon overwhelmed Qiao Nian, who pressed his brows together, face aglow with a deep, intoxicating flush. Yuan Che’s expression remained cool, but his eyes burned red, threatening to devour Qiao Nian whole.

With his hips hoisted higher, Yuan Che lowered his head to nibble Qiao Nian’s earlobe, his movements growing ever more intense.

"Che... Che..." With every fierce thrust, Qiao Nian moaned that name, as if etching it into his heart.

Then came Yuan Che’s barely audible sigh, "Little Nian..."

Any trace of sorrow was quickly consumed by fervent desire.

Qiao Nian’s hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his cheeks. Their entwined bodies seemed to shimmer with a silvery sheen, delicate and moist.

At the end, as their passion ebbed, Qiao Nian held Yuan Che, gently stroking his back, voicing his wish in a humble, almost devout whisper, "I want a child."

By the time they were finally done—who knew how many times—Qiao Nian was a boneless mess, too weak to even move his fingers.

Yuan Che carried him to bathe, and Qiao Nian closed his eyes contentedly, letting himself be cared for. When Yuan Che brought him back to bed, his eyelids fell shut the moment his head touched the pillow, and in the blink of an eye, he was lost to dreams.

Yuan Che sat at the bedside, gazing at Qiao Nian. The boy slept peacefully, serene and content.