The sun rose over a changing Empire.
The banners of the old dynasty had been lowered weeks ago, their ornate crests folded and sealed into archives. In their place, newly designed emblems adorned government buildings—symbols of unity, growth, and hope. But the people still looked toward one man for guidance.
Marshal Sheng Long.
He had refused the crown.
"Why won't you accept the throne?" one advisor had asked, exasperated.
Sheng Long's answer had been the same every time: "I did not fight to replace one autocracy with another. We don't need a king. We need a future."
He had no interest in becoming a symbol of power, only in building a structure where no single person would hold the Empire's fate again. He spent his days surrounded by diplomats, citizen leaders, and interstellar architects of democracy.
And his nights… they had grown fewer and shorter, most of them away from the man he loved.
---
Back at the Marshal's estate, Xiao Lin sat in the garden, cradling a cup of tea with trembling fingers.
"Still not settling?" the head physician, Mei Lan, asked gently.
Xiao Lin smiled thinly. "Maybe I ate something strange again. It's been happening every morning. But it fades by the afternoon."
The nausea had become a familiar companion over the last week. He dismissed it at first—fatigue from the war, stress, maybe nerves. But today… even his fox form seemed uncomfortable, his inner energy oddly sluggish.
"You should rest more," Mei Lan offered.
Xiao Lin chuckled. "I tried. I just ended up throwing up again."
She looked at him curiously, but before she could ask more, he stood and waved her off. "Really, I'm fine."
---
By evening, the estate was buzzing with news of a late return. The Marshal was finally coming home.
Xiao Lin worked on setting a simple meal, determined to welcome Sheng Long back with warmth despite the churning in his stomach. He hadn't seen his mate in days. He missed him more than he dared admit aloud.
When the door opened, Sheng Long looked exhausted—his hair slightly unkempt, uniform jacket in one hand.
"I'm home," he said softly, eyes already finding Xiao Lin across the room.
Xiao Lin lit up in spite of himself. "Welcome back."
They barely sat down when Xiao Lin's face paled.
He lurched forward, hand to his mouth. Sheng Long stood, alarmed. "Xiao Lin?"
He stumbled away from the table, but only made it a few steps before collapsing in Sheng Long's arms, unconscious.
"XIAO LIN!"
Sheng Long didn't hesitate. He lifted him with trembling arms, his voice like thunder as he called for the estate's emergency transport.
His heart pounded with fear as the medical ship raced toward the hospital.
Please, please don't take him from me.
He clutched Xiao Lin's hand the entire flight, the fox pendant still warm against his palm—unaware of the quiet miracle forming within the one he loved.