The sun had yet to fully rise, casting only soft hues of dawn across the chamber. A faint golden light filtered through the silk curtains, its warmth stretching lazily over the room, illuminating the quiet figures nestled within it.
Gyokuyou lay still, a slow, satisfied smile curling at her lips as she idly twined a lock of dark hair between her fingers. It was soft, silken to the touch, much like the woman beside her. Lihua remained in peaceful slumber, her breathing slow and even, her face unguarded in sleep. Gyokuyou hummed, the sound no louder than a whisper.
She truly did not know how she had managed this. Somehow, even Lady Lihua—distant, sharp-tongued, ever-composed Lihua—had not resisted her charms. It was a quiet triumph, one that filled her with no small measure of delight.
Her gaze roamed, drinking in the sight before her. Lihua’s features, usually schooled into unreadable elegance, were softened by sleep. The faintest crease of her brow, the way her lips parted ever so slightly—Gyokuyou found herself utterly enamored. It would be so easy to let her hand trail down that smooth cheek, to trace the delicate curve of her jaw, to commit every part of her to memory.
But mornings such as these never lasted long.
With a reluctant sigh, Gyokuyou shifted, reaching out to rouse her companion. Her fingers grazed Lihua’s cheek, the touch featherlight. "Lihua, darling..." she murmured, her voice warm with amusement. "Won’t you grant me a proper goodbye?"
A faint stir, a muffled hum of protest. Then, at last, Lihua’s lashes fluttered open, revealing hazy pink eyes still clouded with sleep. Gyokuyou exhaled slowly, struck once more by how utterly beautiful she was.
Lihua blinked up at her, sluggish in the way of someone unwilling to face the day. She let out a breath, not quite a sigh, and Gyokuyou could not resist the urge to trace the delicate curve of her cheek.
"You always wake so early," Lihua murmured, her voice thick with drowsiness.
Gyokuyou chuckled, her fingers trailing down to brush against Lihua’s wrist. "If I did not, I wouldn’t get to see you like this."
Lihua huffed, shifting beneath the sheets, her warmth pressing closer in a way that Gyokuyou could only describe as indulgent. "Flatterer."
"A truthful one."
For a moment, neither spoke. The silence was not uncomfortable—rather, it was full, rich with something unspoken. Lihua’s hand lifted, her fingers ghosting over Gyokuyou’s wrist in a rare, fleeting display of tenderness.
Then, as quickly as the moment arrived, it passed. Lihua sighed and sat up, the spell of drowsy warmth dissolving as duty called her away from their shared cocoon of morning. Gyokuyou did not protest—she only watched, memorizing the way strands of ink-dark hair slipped over Lihua’s bare shoulder, the way she rolled them back into place with absentminded grace.
"You stare too much," Lihua said, though her tone lacked any real chastisement.
Gyokuyou only smiled, propping herself on one elbow. "Can you blame me?"
Lihua turned slightly, the softest smirk tugging at her lips before she dipped down, pressing a chaste kiss against Gyokuyou’s forehead.
"No," she admitted, voice quiet. "I suppose I cannot."
And just like that, the morning belonged to them alone.