When they met again, in this world, he had not recognized her at once. She was Hua Jing now, standing in front of him, defending him from the sneers of others in the entertainment world. That day, he had only thought she was brave, unlike anyone he had ever seen.

But later, when he discovered her family background, when fragments of familiarity began piecing themselves together, the truth had dawned on him.

She was that little girl.

His little girl.

The one he had wanted to protect with all his might.

And then—fate had not been done with them. As though the heavens themselves wove their destinies tighter, the two of them had transmigrated together into the ancient world.

There, when she had remembered, when their souls had once again walked side by side, he had been certain. This was no coincidence. This was fate.

He lowered his head now, pressing his lips gently against her hair as his thoughts stirred with all the lives they had shared.

If this was not fate, then what was it?

He had loved her across time. Across worlds. Across the pain of lives torn apart and stitched back together.

He had loved her when she was that crying little girl in the frost.

He had loved her when she was Hua Jing, fierce and stubborn, standing against the world. He had loved her when she was by his side as Zhao Yan in the ancient world.

And he loved her now, in this quiet music room where their truths finally converged.

The frost that had once frozen his heart began to melt, warmth slowly unfurling from deep within his chest as he held her.

Her tears dampened his shirt, but he felt only a profound sense of security. For the first time, he was certain: nothing in this world could separate them again.

They had wasted too many years apart, lost in misunderstandings, bound by wounds that had never healed. But now—now that they stood together—only this moment mattered.

The frost had finally melted.

And in its place remained a warmth that promised to last forever.

Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t desperate. It was quiet, tender—like a thread that had been stretched too thin finally finding release.

Hua Jing’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as though the space between them was unbearable. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her heart hammering in rhythm with his. When she finally drew back, gasping softly for air, her cheeks were flushed a delicate pink.

Fu Jingrong immediately searched her face with concern. "Are you alright?" His voice was low, careful, almost afraid she might faint in his arms. He knew her body was still weak, and the last thing he wanted was to push her beyond her limits.

But Hua Jing only tightened her hold on him. Her eyes glistened with sincerity, a vulnerability she rarely revealed. The words slipped out before she could stop them.

"Let’s get married."

Fu Jingrong froze.

For a heartbeat, silence filled the room—save for the faint hum of the piano’s resonance beneath their bodies. Then, unexpectedly, a laugh escaped his lips. It wasn’t mocking. It was soft, warm, filled with surprise and affection. His eyes, so often unreadable, glowed with amusement.

"That should have been my line," he murmured, brushing his thumb against her cheek. "But yes, Hua Jing... we should get married."

Her face flamed instantly, and she tried to bury herself in his chest, wishing she could take the words back. But before she could retreat, his hand firmly cupped the back of her neck, grounding her.

He tilted his head closer, eyes darkening, until his mouth claimed hers once again.

This kiss was different—deeper, hungrier, a flame sparking where there had been only tenderness before. Hua Jing clung to him, her arms looping around his neck, pulling him so close that every line of their bodies pressed together. The taste of him was intoxicating, dizzying, and it left her unable to think of anything else.

When she finally broke away, her lips swollen, her breath unsteady, Fu Jingrong’s voice was husky. "You shouldn’t play with fire..." His gaze burned into hers, his restraint hanging by a fragile thread. "I won’t be able to stop."

Hua Jing’s eyes glittered mischievously, her own desire overtaking caution. "You talk too much," she whispered against his lips, and then, without hesitation, she kissed him again—harder, fiercer.

He groaned low in his throat, his self-control unraveling as her insistence melted every barrier he’d tried to keep. His arms encircled her fully now, his hands finding the curves of her waist, her back, her trembling shoulders, memorizing every inch of her as though she might disappear if he let go.

Step by step, their heated kisses carried them backward, until Hua Jing felt the edge of the piano press against her. The smooth ivory gleamed under the dim light, and in the next moment, Fu Jingrong lifted her effortlessly, laying her down against the polished surface.

The contrast of the cold piano beneath her and the fire of his touch above her sent shivers through her body.

Her breath hitched when his lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, to the sensitive curve of her neck, leaving behind a trail of warmth that made her toes curl. Hua Jing arched slightly, her fingers tangling in his hair as though to anchor herself from being swept away by the sensations crashing through her.

"Jingrong..." Her voice trembled, caught between plea and surrender.

He lifted his head, his eyes blazing, his chest rising and falling heavily. "You’re sure?" His voice was raw, his question laced with the last threads of control he clung to.

Hua Jing met his gaze, her face flushed, but her eyes steady. She raised her hand, cupping his cheek with trembling fingers. "I’ve never been more sure of anything."

The words shattered the final restraint in him.

The kisses that followed were no longer soft, but searing—like flames consuming dry wood. His hands explored her, reverent yet urgent, and she welcomed him with equal fervor. The piano beneath them vibrated faintly as their movements grew more desperate, the melody of their passion replacing the one that had filled the room earlier.

Their breaths tangled. Their hearts raced. Every sound that escaped her lips only deepened his desire. Every touch of his hands only pulled her closer to the edge of surrender.

Time blurred. There was no past, no future, no frost—only the present, only the two of them, bound together as if their very souls had fused.

And when the final note of their union resonated within that room, it was not from the piano keys, but from the silent harmony of two hearts that had finally found their way back to one another.

Hua Jing felt comfortable as she let out a soft moan as Fu Jing Rong’s actions slowed, "Aah"