Chapter 162: The Night That Wouldn’t End
The Balcony’s Silence
Lanterns swayed against the wind, their flames shivering but refusing to die. The northern balcony had held arguments, kisses, vows, and fractures. Tonight, it held something heavier: inevitability.
Hei Long stood in the center, his shadow bending toward the three women who waited. None spoke. The silence pressed on them until it became unbearable.
"Come closer," Hei Long said.
And they did.
The Sword’s Relentless Need
Qingxue stepped forward first. Pride still wrapped around her like armor, but her hand trembled as it brushed his sleeve. "If I burn," she whispered, "then burn me brightest."
Hei Long tilted her chin up, his lips claiming hers once more. Her heart raced — not because it was tender, but because it was inevitable. She kissed him as though to carve her name into the fire itself.
When she stepped back, her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
The Fox’s Hunger
Mu Yexin slid into the space next, her laughter sharp but brittle. "If she’s the brightest flame, then let me be the hottest."
Her kiss was longer, her body pressed against his, her illusions flickering in the corner of the eye — dozens of Yexins circling, kissing, laughing. But only one was real, trembling against him as Hei Long’s hand pulled her ribbon taut.
She broke away gasping, her smirk faltering. For a moment, she wasn’t the fox, but simply a woman afraid to lose.
The Healer’s Surrender
Zhao Yuran lingered until Hei Long reached for her. She placed her hands in his, fragile but steady, and whispered, "Even if this breaks me, I’ll stay."
Her kiss was soft, but it lingered, her breath trembling against his lips. When she stepped back, her cheeks wet with tears, she didn’t wipe them away.
Hei Long’s gaze lingered on her longer than the others — not mercy, not affection, but acknowledgment.
Bound by Fire
Hei Long looked at them all, his voice carrying like thunder though he never raised it.
"Jealousy is weakness. Longing is distraction. But together, you burn. And with me, you are not three flames. You are fire."
None of them could answer. None dared.
And so, on the balcony that had become their battlefield, Hei Long bound them tighter than before — not with chains, but with the fire none of them could escape.
The night did not end with peace. It ended with inevitability.
The Balcony Transformed
The northern balcony had seen pride, rivalry, and surrender. Tonight, it became something else: a crucible. The lanterns swayed, their flames small but steady, as though bowing to the greater fire gathered here.
Hei Long stood at the center, unmoving, his gaze heavy enough to bend the silence. Around him, Qingxue, Yexin, and Yuran lingered — three women bound tighter than chains, yet still desperate to claim more than the others.
"You’ve burned apart long enough," Hei Long said softly. "Tonight, you will burn together."
His words fell like a decree, and none of them could disobey.
The Sword and the Flame
Qingxue stepped forward, her pride bristling, her heart raw. "Then let me begin." She kissed him fiercely, her lips trembling but her resolve unbroken. It was the kiss of a warrior who could not allow herself to be forgotten.
Before she could pull back, Yexin moved in, her fan clattering to the floor. "If she’s steel, then I’m fire." Her kiss was longer, hungrier, her laughter breaking into gasps when Hei Long pulled her close, his hand tangling in the ribbon at her wrist.
For a heartbeat, both women’s foreheads brushed, their breaths ragged, their eyes aflame with unspoken rivalry.
The Healer’s Breath
Yuran had stayed silent, trembling on the edge of retreat. But Hei Long extended his hand, and she could not refuse.
She pressed her lips to his, soft, fragile, unshakable. "I don’t need to outshine them," she whispered. "I only need to stay."
Hei Long’s silence was her answer. His hand steadied her trembling, and in that stillness she felt herself bound tighter than ever.
Hei Long’s Claim
When he finally drew back, all three women stood flushed, breathless, undone. They were rivals still, but now their rivalry burned within a single fire.
"You belong to me," Hei Long said, his voice quiet but merciless. "Not apart. Not against. With me. Together."
The lanterns guttered, their flames bowing low, as though even fire itself acknowledged him.
And the harem that had fractured now fused, jealousy blurring into intimacy, rivalry into unity.
The balcony no longer felt like stone. It felt like inevitability.
The Balcony Shifts
Lanterns flickered against the northern wind, but none of them dared extinguish themselves. The balcony, once a stage for rivalry, now felt like an altar. Hei Long stood at its center, the three women circling him like planets bound by gravity they no longer questioned.
"You’ve learned to burn," Hei Long said, his voice quiet but heavy enough to bow the night itself. "But tonight, you will learn to remain. Not three fires. One flame."
The words settled into their chests like vows that had already been made.
Qingxue’s Step
Leng Qingxue’s pride drove her forward first. Her sword hung forgotten at her side, her hand trembling as it touched Hei Long’s cloak. "Then take me first," she whispered. "Let me prove I’ll never break."
Her kiss was sharp, fierce, carrying all the strength she had once poured into steel. But when Hei Long steadied her cheek, her pride cracked, and her breath shivered. For the first time, her strength felt fragile — and she let it.
Yexin’s Fire
Not to be eclipsed, Mu Yexin slipped forward, her fan clattering to the floor. "If she offers strength," she said, her voice low but trembling, "then I’ll offer fire."
Her kiss was long, drawn-out, her body pressing closer, illusions shimmering in the edges of sight — a dozen Yexins circling, touching, kissing. But only one was real, and Hei Long pulled her close, breaking her façade. Her laughter fractured into a gasp, and she trembled openly.
For once, Yexin’s fire was not mask or trick. It was raw, needing.
Yuran’s Breath
Zhao Yuran remained last, her hands clasped, her eyes lowered. But when Hei Long extended his hand, she stepped forward, unable to resist.
She pressed her lips to his, fragile but steady, whispering, "Even if this breaks me, I’ll stay."
Her kiss lingered longest, soft but unshakable. Hei Long’s hand steadied hers, and for a moment, she felt what she had always longed for: belonging.
One Flame
Hei Long stepped back, his gaze sweeping across them all — the sword that had bent, the flame that had cracked, the healer who had surrendered.
"You see now?" His voice was low, merciless, final. "You are not rivals. You are mine. And mine does not break. Mine does not scatter. Mine burns as one."
The lanterns bowed, their flames flickering low.
On that balcony, jealousy blurred into intimacy, rivalry into unity. The harem was no longer three women.
It was one fire.
The First Light
Dawn slid quietly into the northern wing of the palace. The balcony where fire had fused into one flame was now empty, but the air still carried its weight. The lanterns had guttered out, leaving only the scent of smoke and silk, as though the night itself had chosen not to leave completely.
Inside, however, morning carried no peace.
Qingxue
Leng Qingxue rose with the sun, her blade across her knees. She polished it until her reflection blurred, then sharpened it until sparks bit the air. Her lips still remembered Hei Long’s kiss, but her pride remembered more clearly: Yexin’s laughter, Yuran’s trembling, the fact that she had not stood alone in his arms.
I was part of the flame, she thought bitterly, but not the fire itself.
Each strike of steel against the whetstone was a vow: if Hei Long demanded unity, then she would become the edge of it.
Yexin
Mu Yexin did not polish steel. She lay among her scattered cushions, hair undone, fan forgotten. Her lips curled in a smile, but it did not reach her eyes.
The night had given her what she wanted. Yet the memory of Yuran’s softness, Qingxue’s defiance, Hei Long’s calm hand on both of them — it gnawed at her.
So that’s how he means to hold us, she thought. Not as rivals. Not as victors. As one.
Her laughter bubbled up again, but cracked halfway through. "One flame, is it? Then let’s see which part of the fire burns hottest."
Yuran
Zhao Yuran lit incense in silence, her hands trembling as she guided the smoke. The night had given her what she feared most: belonging. Hei Long’s touch, his kiss, the weight of his acknowledgment — it had anchored her.
But it had anchored the others too.
If I stay, I burn with them. If I leave, I vanish.
She touched her lips, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "Even if it breaks me," she whispered, "I’ll remain."
The Watching Court
Outside their chambers, the palace was alive with whispers. Servants repeated what they had heard — or thought they had heard — of the balcony. Nobles speculated, their voices trembling with envy and fear.
"Three women bound by one man," one minister hissed. "The court should be terrified."
"The court is terrified," another answered.
And above it all, in her crimson-draped chamber, the Empress listened. Her lips curved faintly.
"Good," she murmured. "Let him forge fire. I will test if it consumes the empire... or himself."
Yan Yiren bowed her head, hiding the faintest smile. "And if he survives?"
The Empress’s eyes sharpened. "Then the throne has a rival."