The Sky Between Two Kingdoms

(Uncut version from Chen's POV, the first time he saw Sri—not just as an opponent, but as something deadly... and intoxicating.)

The rope binding Chen's wrists grew tighter, pulsing against his veins.

He sat in the middle of Medang's military training field, his eyes covered by a deep crimson cloth. His body exposed—no armor, no weapons.

Only one sound reached him... the footsteps of Senapati Anom.

Measured. Heavy. Rhythmic.

Like war drums dancing.

Through the blindfold, Chen couldn't see anything. But…

His nose caught the scent of scorched earth beneath the sun, and the skin of a woman too close to iron and sweat.

Strangely, her scent pierced him more than the sakura blossoms in the Yi Palace garden.

Then came her voice—Sri's.

Soft. Cold. Sharp.

 "I've only missed three shots in my life. And that's because the targets weren't worth hitting."

Chen smiled.

That exact moment… something inside him stirred.

Not fear. Not pride.

But desire.

Raw desire.

It crept under his skin, a hot current rushing through his body. He wasn't bound by ropes—but by whispers of sin too sweet to resist.

 "First arrow," Sri said.

The sound of a bowstring drawing. Chen held his breath.

Srett!

The arrow whistled through the air.

Zaaap.

It cut wind. Grazed his hair. Barely two fingers from his head.

Chen gaped in silence.

His breath… hitched.

 "Second arrow," she announced.

Srett.

Closer now. It pierced the earth an inch from his groin.

From the direction, Chen knew : if she were just a little off, his bloodline would end.

But oddly, that wasn't frightening.

It was thrilling.

It was tempting.

Heavens above, who is this woman…?

His muscles tensed. But not in fear. In sensation.

Every second, his bound, vulnerable body became more alert.

The breeze on his neck felt like a caress. The buzz of arrows like whispers.

Then, Sri stepped closer—removed the blindfold—looked him dead in the eye with the sharpest gaze he'd ever seen.

Chen knew:

  "I want to be conquered."

But before he could say a word, Sri walked away.

Leaving him breathless… and aching with unfinished desire.

Chen stood up.

Nodded once to Han Yue.

Without a word, he marched straight to the embassy chamber. His face was cold, but his left palm was sweating.

Once inside, he slammed the door shut.

Locked it.

Fell onto the bed.

His breath… unsteady.

The arrows.

Sri's gaze.

Her icy voice.

His body was too ready, yet… there was no war to win out there.

Now, the battle raged inside him.

And that night, for the first time in Medang, Chen surrendered.

To her memory. To her breath. To wild, dancing thoughts.

And under witness of no one but the walls and the moon outside his window, Chen released everything he'd been holding… for someone who didn't even know she'd already claimed the battlefield inside a supposedly cunning Yi man—who turned out to be… starving.

His body felt relieved… but his mind wasn't.

Night fell over Medang, quietly.

But inside the embassy chamber, a young man from the Yi Dynasty was far from at peace.

Chen lay on the bed. Hair loose, blanket barely covering half his body.

The oil lamp flickered, almost out. But his thoughts… still burned.

That girl.

Her arrows.

Her stare that dared the world.

Her footsteps… now echoing through every silent corner of Chen's mind.

He wanted to sleep. But his mind refused.

Eventually, at an hour he couldn't name, fatigue won.

Chen drifted off.

And the fantasies pierced into his dreams.

Sri appeared.

Not with weapons. Not with war's authority. But with loose hair and eyes no longer filled with commands.

She sat at the edge of his bed.

Her hand gently touched Chen's chest, as if checking if he was truly real.

 "You dared to look at me while I was aiming at your head," she whispered in his dream.

 "Then you must also dare… to face something even closer."

Chen couldn't speak.

Couldn't move.

But he could feel.

Sri's lips kissed the crown of his head. Right where the arrow had nearly struck.

As if to heal… or punish.

Then her tongue.

Tracing down to his neck, jaw, then chest.

Her hand slid under the blanket. Warm. Firm. In control.

Chen's breath quickened.

 "My girl… this is a dream, right?"

 "If it is… why are you hoping I won't stop?"

Their mouths met. Wet. Gentle. Yet filled with restrained hunger.

As if centuries of diplomacy melted into one scorching kiss between two enemies… who instead, fell.

Sri climbed over him. And Chen surrendered.

His whole body trembled from sensations too vivid to be mere illusion.

His hips arched. Chest heaved. His moans—normally reserved for negotiation or deceit—now rang with raw truth.

And when that peak came…

When his body exploded in warmth from soles to crown…

Chen woke up.

Panting.

Eyes wide.

Silence.

Only the dim flame remained—and the bed that was…

Wet.

Chen lifted the blanket.

Stared at himself.

Then at the ceiling, mouth agape, disbelieving.

 "I… had a wet dream? Because of her?"

He laughed. Quietly. Buried his face in a pillow.

 "This is bad. If I'm like this just from a dream… what'll happen when she's actually my wife?"

He lay back again. Eyes closed, a smirk creeping in…

And in his heart, he knew:

That Senapati Anom girl… had conquered more than just the training ground.

Morning broke gently over Medang. Dew touched the leaves.

But nothing was as gentle as Chen's smile that morning.

Not the usual smirk. Not his signature cunning grin.

This was a… sinful smile.

One that knew exactly what happened last night—in a dream far too real.

Chen walked into the council chamber looking too fresh, too light-footed for someone who had moaned a girl's name into a pillow like it was a wedding veil.

Han Yue frowned.

Mei Lin glanced, suspicious.

 "Why does His Excellency walk like he just finished… yoga?" Mei Lin whispered.

Chen chuckled, adjusted his diplomatic robe, and looked across the table. Empty.

No sign of The Girl yet.

 "It's still early," he murmured. "But last night… Ah, Girl. You're dangerous."

Han Yue squinted. "No girl came last night. I stood watch 'til dawn. She never passed the hall."

Chen looked up casually. "True. She didn't come… in person. But she came in another form."

 "…What?"

Chen leaned back, hands clasped.

 "Han Yue, have you ever fallen in love so deeply that she invades your dreams and—"

 "Stop." Han Yue cut him off. "I know that face. That's the 'I dreamed something the world must never know' face."

Mei Lin crept closer. "So it's true. Last night, Your Excellency—"

 "I didn't do anything," Chen interrupted quickly.

Then bowed his head, a sly smile crawling onto his lips.

 "But she did. Exceptionally... so."

Both of them stared at him—equal parts disgusted, impressed, and ready to call an exorcist.

Suddenly, the chamber doors opened.

Firm, soldierly steps echoed.

There she was—Sri Ardaya. In full uniform. Expressionless, as always.

Yet somehow, Chen felt… hot.

Sri sat down without looking at him. But when their eyes briefly met, Chen struggled not to grin like a thief exiting a gold vault.

Han Yue glared. "Control your face. That's not a diplomat's expression."

Mei Lin whispered, "If you keep looking like that, I swear I'll cover your eyes with chopsticks."

Chen turned to both, still beaming with unshakable joy.

 "Sri is… like warfare. Dangerous. Unpredictable. But it's addictive every night."

Mei Lin gasped. "Gods. He's really fallen this time."

Han Yue sighed. "Please don't make us rescue you from a hospital bed later."

Chen didn't care.

Because that day, even as the diplomatic meeting discussed heavy tensions between nations…

Chen's head was filled with only one voice.

 "If last night was just a dream… can I order the next chapter tonight?"

The meeting ended like usual—tense and political.

But to Chen, it passed like wind.

All he remembered was:

The look from the girl whose name he finally knew—Sri Ardaya.

Her almost-invisible smile—just enough to set every nerve in his body on fire.

As everyone began to shuffle out, a calm but commanding voice sliced through the air.

 "Envoy Chen. Stay where you are."

Sri's tone was flat. Cold.

But to Chen, it sounded like an invitation to heaven.

(Or hell… depending on her mood today.)

He froze. Slowly turned. On the outside, composed.

On the inside—

his organs were holding a secret emergency meeting.

 "Yes, Commander," he replied smoothly,

though his inner voice screamed:

 "Oh no. She knows. She knows what I dreamed. I'm going to die. But die smiling."

Han Yue and Mei Lin, halfway out the door, paused like statues.

Mei Lin whispered nervously,

 "Your Grace… please fix your face.

You look like a goat caught chewing the village offerings."

Chen swallowed hard.

Stepped forward—slowly, carefully—

toward Sri, who now stood quietly, studying a war map stretched across the grand table.

 "Sri," Chen said, flashing a smile that tried its best to look sincere,

 "May I assist you? Is this about the negotiations near the Black River border or—"

She didn't look up.

Only raised a finger and pointed to a part of the map.

 "This area. The Charcoal Hills.

You wrote they were strategic in your report. Why?"

Chen opened his mouth.

But his brain offered… nothing.

Just last night's memory—

a fist clenching a mattress, cold sweat, and—

Sri turned.

Looked straight into his eyes.

 "…Why the silence?"

He blinked. Swallowed.

Focus, Chen.

But she was… too close.

Too sharp. Too real.

 "Ah, yes… Because… the Charcoal Hills are high and steep. Like… like a vital point. Easy to penetrate, hard to defend—"

Instant regret.

Sri's expression shifted.

 "…Vital point?" she repeated slowly, one eyebrow rising.

A twitch at the corner of her lips—

almost a smile. Almost laughter.

Chen panicked.

 "It's—a military term! I meant—strategic! Not… not that kind of point!"

Sri looked down for a moment.

Her eyes closed as if restraining something.

Perhaps a chuckle.

Perhaps a death sentence.

Then she stepped past him.

Paused by his ear. Whispered:

 "No more strange dreams tonight. You need rest, Envoy Chen."

And she walked away.

Leaving only her scent…

her voice…

and a miniature heart attack in Chen's chest.

He stood frozen.

Han Yue crept closer.

 "Well, of course she knows. She lives among soldiers."

Chen nodded slowly.

 "…And she didn't seem angry.

That's what scares me more."

Mei Lin sighed.

 "Great. Now we have to stay alert. The Commander may not kill Your Grace with a sword… but with slowness. With a stare. With a whisper. With that sly little smile."

Chen exhaled.

 "But what a beautiful way to die…"