The Marshal looked at Milton’s face, flushed red and nearly smoking, and a flicker of helplessness passed through his eyes. He clearly knew that this topic had embarrassed the young man to the extreme. Clearing his throat, he deftly changed the subject:
“Setting aside personal matters, now that you’re back with the Insect Clan, it’s time to start interacting with the royal family and nobility.”
He spoke bluntly: “I know you’ve never liked these occasions, and you’re not keen on dealing with them. But this time, you’ve achieved great deeds; your status is set. You can’t keep avoiding it.”
Milton stood upright, his features frosty, offering no response, yet not arguing either.
“I hear the royal family plans to hold a victory banquet for this campaign,” the Marshal shifted his tone, his gaze sharp. “Fortunately, you and Gu Qing are officially married on Onia Star; otherwise, even I might not have been able to shield you from the pressure of the Crown Prince alone.”
At the mention of that person, Milton’s gaze instantly hardened, and he spoke resolutely: “I will never become his consort.”
The Marshal let out a light sigh, unsurprised by his attitude. “I know. The Crown Prince is violent and treats female insects as toys for amusement. Those around him—female slaves and attendants—come and go, none with a good end. I’ve long warned you to stay far away from him.”
He paused, his tone growing slightly grave. “Not just him. If Sai Ruo becomes the Supreme Commander this time, the Second and Third Princes are also pushing behind the scenes. They’ve long had their eyes on military power. You need to be aware of these things.”
Milton remained silent, listening quietly, his silver hair shimmering coldly in the light, yet his eyes held a deep layer of caution.
“The Insect Emperor is advanced in age, and his health has been unstable lately. Regarding post-war political developments, he has never expressed a clear stance; no one can predict what will happen next. You must be careful.”
At this, the Marshal’s tone softened slightly, rare warmth threading through his words: “I must head to the next war zone soon. Seeing you in person this time, I am truly glad.”
Milton’s previously tense expression loosened slightly, eyes misting faintly, yet he replied softly: “…Please take care as well.”
Just as the Marshal turned, Milton spoke again: “Gu Qing and I will depart back to the Insect Clan the day after tomorrow.”
The Marshal’s steps faltered. He turned to look at him, a complex mix of relief and reluctance in his eyes.
“Good,” he said in a deep voice. “Go then. What must be faced will be faced sooner or later. You’re no longer a cub; you’re strong enough.”
With that, the Marshal turned and left.
Standing at the door, Gu Qing waited silently, seeing Milton off alongside the Marshal. When the figure disappeared, he turned to Milton, his voice gentle: “Are you alright?”
Milton lowered his gaze, slowly nodding, the thin mist in his eyes quietly dissipating.
Gu Qing reached out, lightly taking his fingertips, voice tender: “Let’s go back to the room. I’ll make something you like to eat.”
The night was quiet, the room bathed in soft lamplight. Sounds of the frying pan came from the kitchen, aromas and steam filling the space. Gu Qing, dressed in light casual clothing, sleeves casually rolled, flipped and stirred the ingredients with practiced ease; dish after dish, full of color, aroma, and taste, gradually came together.
Milton sat inside, his purple eyes falling on the few books on the bed, expression complicated. After hesitating, he finally picked one up—it occurred to him that now, as a married female insect, he should understand more about such matters so as not to disappoint Gu Qing.
He only intended to glance at the opening, but as soon as he opened the first page, his eyes widened in shock, his entire face burning red as if on fire.
“…How…how could anyone do this?” he murmured, his ears nearly bleeding from embarrassment.
The scenes, the positions, the detailed interactions—too explicit, even more exaggerated than he had imagined!
He wanted to close the book, but the more he read, the more shocked and confused he became, even his pheromones surging unstably. Just as he debated burning it, Gu Qing’s gentle voice came from outside:
“Dinner’s ready. Come eat.”
Milton jumped, hurriedly stuffing the book under the pillow, sitting up straight, expression suddenly serious, as if nothing had happened.
Gu Qing pushed open the door and immediately noticed his stiff posture, smiling faintly: “What were you doing?”
“N-nothing,” Milton stammered, rising, voice wavering. “Let’s go eat.”
Gu Qing didn’t press further, simply taking his hand. Shoulder to shoulder, they walked to the dining room, the air filled with a quiet sense of calm and understanding.
The table was full of steaming dishes, rich in aroma and color, all Milton’s favorites.
He paused slightly, then sat, picking up a bite. The familiar taste spread slowly across his tongue, warming his heart as well.
He recalled the Marshal mentioning the wedding that afternoon. He had thought merely following the formalities would suffice; now he realized every detail, every arrangement, had been carefully planned by Gu Qing.
Lowering his head to the rising steam from his bowl, a surge of unspeakable emotion and guilt rose within him.
He set down his chopsticks, looking at Gu Qing, voice low and sincere: “…Thank you. For arranging such a grand wedding for me… I didn’t help at all.”
Gu Qing smiled, tone relaxed: “These trivial matters are mine to handle. You only need to happily be my consort; I’ll take care of the rest.”
Milton blushed.
Gu Qing continued: “And Loes, Ace, and those subordinates helped a lot too. Loes surprised me the most—while we were busy with the war, he expanded the intelligence network this much.”
“Yeah, he’s really capable,” Milton nodded, his expression gradually easing.
At that moment, a silver light shot out from Gu Qing’s mindscape with a “pfft,” the little companion excitedly leapt to the table, bouncing toward the roasted beef, exclaiming: “Yeah, yeah! Loes got so much information from Gu Qing! Maybe he’ll become the strongest interstellar intelligence chief someday!”
“He’s smart, and he’s grown a lot these past few years,” Gu Qing said appreciatively.
After dinner, they cleaned the dishes and bathed.
Steam still lingered when Milton came out, water droplets dripping from his hair onto his collarbone as he moved. Wiping his hair, he glanced toward the bed.
The next second, he froze.
Gu Qing was sitting against the headboard, calm, flipping through the book Milton had hidden under the pillow.
“You…how did you get that?” Milton’s voice shot up, reaction like a cat’s tail stepped on.
Gu Qing looked up, eyes serene: “Wasn’t it under your pillow?”
“I-I just…flipped a page…” Milton stammered, cheeks flushed unnaturally.
Gu Qing closed the book and lightly placed it on the bedside, stepping toward him, voice even: “So you were thinking of learning what’s in here… to please me?”
Milton, overwhelmed by the presence and aura, instinctively stepped back half a step, then frustratedly froze. His lips moved, whispering: “…I just…want to do better.”
Gu Qing stood before him, hand covering his warm, damp face. Thumb lightly stroking his flushed cheek, voice low and husky with restrained passion:
“You don’t need to learn what’s in those three books.”
Milton blinked, startled: “…Why?”
“Because just standing in front of me,” Gu Qing murmured, “I’m already losing my mind.”
His fingertips traced from cheek down to collarbone, gaze deepening like a stormy night sea—calm yet surging underneath.
“What I want isn’t the techniques learned from books,” his voice like a warm, sharp blade, “it’s you—Milton, my consort, my only answer.”
“You, as you are,” he whispered, “have already made me hopeless.”
“From the moment you stepped into my life,” his tone tightening inch by inch, “no one else has mattered. Your voice, your silence, the tremor in your fingers when you restrain yourself, I’ve noticed everything.”
“You are my only addiction.” He kissed Milton’s nose, hot breath: “I’ve endured, not because I don’t crave, but because you deserve all the tenderness of the world I can give.”
Milton stared at him, heart skipping a beat under that fiery gaze. Adamantly, voice trembling slightly: “And now… are you still holding back?”
Gu Qing’s smile, almost seductive, made him shiver. He didn’t answer directly, instead pulling Milton into his embrace, whispering at his ear: “What do you think?”
Then he kissed him. The kiss was intense and domineering, like an irresistible storm, swallowing Milton’s every fragmented breath. Milton went limp slightly, hands instinctively gripping Gu Qing’s neck.
Gu Qing deepened the kiss while pressing him back until Milton’s knees hit the bed frame. Leaning forward, one hand on the pillow, he pinned Milton into the soft bedding.
As their bodies sank together, clothes slipped, skin met, heat and pheromones weaving an invisible net, binding them tightly.
Milton tilted his head, tears blurring his vision, yet he felt Gu Qing’s fingers tracing his spine, sending shivers down. He gazed at him, feeling that fierce, deep passion. Gu Qing’s black eyes, profound as night, locked on him alone.
A surge of unprecedented accomplishment and possessiveness rose in Milton’s heart—
The usually composed swordmaster now crumbled, losing himself completely for him.
Only he could see this side of Gu Qing.
Only he could make Gu Qing’s sharpness and reason dissolve, leaving only raw desire.
“You are mine, Gu Qing… you can only be mine,” Milton whispered, gripping Gu Qing’s broad shoulders, a mix of pride and tremulous obsession in his voice.
Gu Qing paused, that declaration shattering the last shred of reason. The remaining calm in his eyes burned away, replaced by desire strong enough to ignite everything.
“Yes. I have always belonged to you, from the moment we met,” Gu Qing whispered, kissing Milton’s delicate collarbone, teeth brushing lightly, sending shivers. His breath scorching, seeming to sear the soul.
At this moment, their spiritual energy and pheromones intertwined wildly in the small space, like sparks meeting a tidal wave, exploding instantly. The normally subtle rose pheromones were now nearly suffocating—Milton completely open, like poison and medicine, drawing Gu Qing in utterly.
Gu Qing’s hands gripped the back of Milton’s head, forcing him to tilt up, accepting this invasive tenderness. He whispered in his ear, hoarse, with endless surrender and a smile: “You’ve driven me mad, Milton… you have to take responsibility.”
Before the words fell, the restrained kiss surged even more, sealing all love and desire. Under the warm lights, their shadows overlapped, inseparable.