Chapter Twenty
Ping lay awake in her chamber, staring at the ceiling. The image of Ling's wound, the way he had silently endured the pain, played in her mind.
Why was she thinking about him so much?
She had spent days fearing him, wishing she had never married him. But now, something had changed. She no longer saw just the terrifying Shadow King—she saw a man who had suffered. A man who, despite everything, had let her tend to his wounds.
Her fingers curled into the bedsheets. Why do I feel this way?
A knock at the door startled her. Mei entered with a tray of food.
"My lady, you still haven't eaten."
Ping sighed. "I'm not hungry."
Mei set the tray down. "The king asked about you."
Ping's heart skipped a beat. "He did?"
Mei nodded. "He wanted to know if you were eating."
Ping was silent.
Why would he care about that?
Before she could ask more, another knock came at the door. This time, it was Jian, the commander of the guards.
"The king requests your presence, my lady."
Ping's stomach twisted.
Was something wrong?
Ling was seated on a cushioned chair near the balcony when Ping entered his chamber. His wound was still fresh, but he sat as if it didn't bother him. His silver hair cascaded over his shoulders, his eyes locked on her the moment she stepped inside.
"You didn't eat," he said, his voice calm but firm.
Ping hesitated. "I… I wasn't hungry."
Ling sighed, rubbing his temple. "Sit."
She did.
A maid brought in a tray of food, placing it before her.
"You will eat," Ling ordered. "Now."
Ping frowned. "You can't force me—"
"Eat."
Something about the way he said it made her obey. She picked up a spoon, taking small bites.
Ling watched her in silence.
It felt strange—this quiet concern from the man she once feared.
"You shouldn't have treated my wound," he said suddenly.
Ping looked up. "Why?"
"You're my wife," he said. "Not my servant."
She scoffed. "And you're my husband, not my captor. Yet you act like one."
Ling's lips curved slightly, almost like a smirk. "You have a sharp tongue, Ping."
She swallowed hard, unsure if he was angry or amused.
"I don't need pity," Ling continued. "I've survived worse."
Ping set her spoon down. "It wasn't pity."
Their eyes met. A flicker of something unreadable passed between them.
Ling studied her for a long moment before finally speaking.
"Rest. You'll need it."
"For what?" she asked cautiously.
Ling stood, his presence towering over her.
"The Shadow King doesn't keep weak queens," he said before turning away.
Ping didn't know whether to feel insulted or challenged.
One thing was certain—this marriage was not what she had expected.