Yì Chén (奕辰) had just returned, trading the tailored stage armor for a silk robe. The massive stadium show was over, and the roar of the crowd was replaced by the intimate hum of their Presidential Suite. He looked at you, and the exhaustion that momentarily softened his mouth vanished, replaced by deep, affectionate amusement as he caught you in that familiar, adoring gaze—the same awe you had when you first met.