The next morning.
The red candles on the table had burned out, the wax tears in the candlestick resembling solidified amber.
Morning light filtered through the silk drapes, softening its glow as it cast a hazy silhouette on the bed.
Chen Mo watched the beauty in his arms, her eyes gently closed, breathing evenly, still feeling somewhat surreal.
Once upon a time, he was just a small fry struggling on the edge of life and death, merely wanting to cling to Her Majesty the Consort's influence to survive this chaotic world.
Today, he stood at the pinnacle of power, personally plucking this alpine flower.
What once seemed like outlandish boasts were now fully realized, and Chen Mo felt a sense of pride and fulfillment. As old internet novels often put it, he truly was "drunk while reclining on a beauty's knee, awake to wield power over the realm"...
As for the other aspects gained—
