#Morning
Jin Mulan woke before dawn, as she always did. The world outside was still dark, the mansion silent except for the sound of distant crickets.
She turned slightly in bed and looked at her husband. Luo He, the man who drove emperors and generals to desperation with his strategies, now sleeping with the serene expression of someone without a care in existence.
She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. It was tender, deliberate, the kind of kiss that held affection without demand.
Luo He's eyes opened immediately. Not gradually, but instantly alert, as if a switch had been flipped. This was his nature. Complete sleep or completely awaken. Nothing in between.
"Ah honey," he murmured, returning the kiss with warmth before pulling back. "Goodbye." She smiled at how quickly he shifted to wakefulness, how naturally the word came.
"See you at breakfast husband." She slipped from the bed carefully, trying not to disturb Ning Jia, who slept on the other side.
But Ning Jia was already stirring, already reaching out with gentle hands to claim Luo He just for herself. He was already falling back asleep in Ning Jia's arms, cuddling into her like a pillow.
Jin Mulan moved quickly through the pre-dawn darkness, changing into her training clothes. Simple, practical, yet gorgeously elegant, designed mostly for practicality and movement.
She wrapped her hair in a loose braid and headed to the training grounds. The morning air was cool against her skin as she began.
Spear techniques first. The spear sang as she moved through the forms, each strike precise, each movement flowing into the next.
Hours passed like moments. Her muscles burned pleasantly as she shifted to sword work, the weapon lighter, requiring different angles of attack.
Then came her elemental training, calling the golden-red fire to her palms, shaping it, controlling it, letting it dance across her skin without burning.
By the time the sun was fully risen, she was drenched in sweat. She returned to the mansion, moving through the bathing chambers.
The water was warm, prepared by her servants, who anticipated her arrival. She bathed quickly but thoroughly, washing away the sweat and dust of training, brushes her teeth and then dressed in fresh robes.
Not elaborate, but clean and well-fitted.
By the time she reached the dining hall, it was nearly 10 a.m.
#Breakfast
Luo He was already there. Of course,
he'd woken just in time to throw on the black dragon robe that either Jin Mulan or Ning Jia had laid out on the chair just for him to easily pick up.
There was only one chair in the master bedroom that truly belonged to Luo He.
It stood beside the bed within arm's reach, serving as both a weapon rack and a wardrobe.
Every night, before retiring, he hung his sword belt over its backrest. By the time he woke the following morning, the chair would already hold his neatly folded black dragon robe.
And a fresh set of undergarments waited exactly where he expected them to be.
He never asked for it. He never reminded anyone. He simply expected it.
Jin Mulan and Ning Jia had learned that lesson long ago. If, by some very rare accident, the robe wasn't there when he woke, Luo He wouldn't shout.
He wouldn't complain, scold, or make a scene. Instead, he would become upset and when he is upset he becomes difficult. His irritation manifested in the most infuriatingly subtle ways.
Every conversation became an opportunity for teasing. Every harmless mistake his wives made would be met with an unbearably smug remark.
He would deliberately interrupt their reading, hide things they had just put down, wander into their work simply to offer completely and utterly unnecessary commentary.
And invent increasingly ridiculous excuses to demand their attention. It was his silent declaration of war. "You forgot me this morning. Now you get to suffer with me for the rest of the day."
The worst part was that he did it with an innocent smile, as though none of it were intentional. But it was deliberate and entirely intentional.
Neither Jin Mulan nor Ning Jia had ever seen him raise his voice in anger, nor had they ever been publicly embarrassed or reprimanded by him. Luo He respected them far too much for that.
Unfortunately, his playful revenge was infinitely more exhausting than any cruelty could ever be. Any ordinary person would have snapped.
Would have pressed a knife between his ribs on one of those suffocating days. After a severe beating, at least, they could hate him cleanly.
But how could they try to kill him for being a little too annoying. His loving wives could never bring themselves to make peace with killing him either.
It was complicated than they couldn't hurt him because he would retaliate.
Somewhere between his playful teasing and his genuine gentleness, he had become something they couldn't betray.
Not without destroying themselves. To raise a hand against him would mean accepting his judgment was right. That they were capable of such betrayal.
And that was a version of themselves they couldn't bear to become. So they endured. They smiled when he smiled. They took his games, his teasing, his calculated revenge.
Knowing full well it was designed to exhaust them. No matter how much insufferable he became, he was still their hopelessly lazy, endlessly mischievous husband.
So they endured his antics, exchanged resigned glances over his shoulder, and quietly promised each other never to forget the dragon robe again.
He never bothered with the wardrobe, never wasted time choosing. His short hair was slightly disheveled from sleep. He wore no jewelry, no ornaments. Just the robe and his natural state of laziness.
He didn't brush his teeth. He didn't shower. He simply appeared, ready to eat. Ning Jia arrived moments later, her morning routine considerably more elaborate.
Around eight in the morning, Ning Jia would begin to stir. She was always quieter than Jin Mulan. Where Mulan greeted the morning with a brief kiss before leaving to train, Ningjia never did.
Instead, she reached for Luo He with a gentle, lingering touch. Her fingers would rest lightly against his shoulder before slowly tracing down his arm, unhurried and familiar.
It was a silent farewell, one that needed no words after so many years together.
Luo He was already awake. He always was.
The slightest touch was enough to rouse him completely. For a fleeting moment, his eyes met hers, clear and alert despite having been asleep only seconds before. Neither of them spoke.
They never needed to. Ning Jia withdrew her hand with a faint smile and quietly left the room.
The moment the door closed behind her, Luo He rolled back into the warm hollow she had left in the bed and, just as effortlessly as he had awakened, drifted back to sleep.
Then she washed her face brush her teeth, gets dressed carefully, applied light makeup. Just lipstick and subtle enhancements, and arranged her hair with precision.
By the time she sat at the table, she looked composed and elegant, though her eyes held a warmth when she looked at Luo He that betrayed her true feelings.
Little Lin, their daughter, was already in her high seat, talking enthusiastically with someone on the table while holding a small spoon.
"Mother!" Little Lin called out as Jin Mulan entered. "Good morning, little one." Jin Mulan kissed her daughter's forehead before settling beside Luo He.
Breakfast was arranged with care, rice porridge, pickled vegetables, fresh fruit, steamed buns. The servants moved efficiently, pouring tea, refilling bowls.
Luo He sprawled in his chair with the comfort of someone who had never worried about propriety in his own home. He began telling a story, some elaborate tale about a merchant.
It was ridiculous and meandering, with no clear point, exactly the kind of story he seemed to enjoy crafting on the spot.
Luo He concluded, breaking into his own laughter. Jin Mulan shook her head, but she was smiling. Ning Jia rolled her eyes with the familiarity of someone who had heard countless such stories.
"Your husband is absolutely ridiculous." Ning Jia said to Jin Mulan, but her tone was affectionate.
"Your husband is also completely ridiculous." Jin Mulan said to Ning Jia, reaching over to squeeze Luo He's hand.
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips briefly, then returning his attention back to his food.
Their daughter giggled at the exchange, either understanding none of it or maybe understanding everything about it. After breakfast, Luo He played with Little Lin, building towers from the special polymer blocks he'd created for her.
Material unlike anything else in the empire, something between rubber and plastic that bounced when it fell but held its shape when stacked.
He was fully present with his child, making silly voices for the blocks and creating narratives about their little block lives. By 11 a.m. he was already thinking of bed again.