As he combed her hair, she murmured shyly, "You're not a servant, you know," but her voice carried no protest—only warmth.
Tianyang chuckled. "You're my wife-to-be. Who else would I do this for?"
Yuqing's lips curled into a small smile, her fingers toying with the embroidery on her gown. "Only a few days apart, yet it feels… so distant."
Tianyang placed the comb aside and leaned down, his chin resting on her shoulder. His voice was low, teasing, yet filled with sincerity. "If it's so difficult, then why don't you come with me?"
She let out a soft sigh, tilting her head against his. "I wish I could, but the preparations here need me. Besides…" she turned slightly, her light crimson eyes locking onto his, "you need to go back and prepare to receive me as your bride properly."
Tianyang smirked. "Who cares about ceremonies? If you just say the word, I'll take you away right now."
