After I transmigrated, the cold king clung to me every day.

Chapter 80 Murong Lin and Ye Zhilan

Murong Lin returned to the Third Prince's residence as if he had lost his soul. His gaze was somewhat vacant, and his thoughts were still wandering in the distance, so much so that he staggered slightly when he stepped into the gate.

As soon as they stepped inside, a clear, childlike voice called out, "Daddy, you're finally back!" A chubby-cheeked little boy, about seven or eight years old, came running excitedly towards them. The boy's name was Murong He. His cheeks were flushed with excitement, his eyes sparkling like stars in the night sky. His joy seemed to overflow. He buried his face in Murong Lin's chest, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist, nuzzling his chest, and murmuring, "Daddy, I missed you so much!"

Murong Lin slowly reached out his hand, his slender fingers gently touching Mu He's little face. His movements were incredibly gentle, and his eyes softened with warmth. He asked in a gentle and concerned voice, "He'er, why aren't you asleep yet? Where is your mother?" After speaking, he raised his head slightly and slowly scanned his surroundings, but he did not see that familiar figure.

Murong He pouted his pink lips and mumbled in a slightly childish tone, "Mother is making clothes for Father in the room. She's been busy for a long time."

Murong Lin squatted down slightly, looking at Murong He at the same time, gently pinched his little nose, and said in a gentle tone, "He'er, be good. It's getting late. Children need to get enough sleep to grow tall."

Having said that, he straightened up, beckoned to one of his men, and said with an undeniable air of authority in his eyes, "Take the young prince back to his room to rest and take good care of him."

After his subordinates left with Murong He, Murong Lin strode towards his room. His steps were quick yet steady, a gentle breeze rustling through the corridor. Entering the inner chamber, he saw his wife, Ye Zhilan, sitting gracefully at the table. Ye Zhilan came from a scholarly family and had been nurtured by its culture since childhood. She was well-educated, gentle, and quiet. Although her family had declined, her inherent elegance remained undiminished.

At this moment, the candlelight flickered, casting a dim, yellow glow on her beautiful face. She wore a light blue silk dress, her long, flowing black hair cascading down her back. Her hands moved deftly, needle and thread moving as she single-mindedly sewed clothes for Murong Lin. Her expression was serene and focused, her eyes brimming with tender affection. Every stitch was imbued with her deep love for her husband; the fine, delicate stitches seemed to whisper tales of enduring affection, perfectly embodying the image of a virtuous wife and loving mother.

Murong Lin's figure appeared silently at the doorway. He stood there quietly, as if time itself had stood still for him. No one knew how much time had passed, but his gaze remained tenderly fixed on his wife, his eyes filled with longing, affection, and above all, the peace of being reunited after a long separation.

Ye Zhilan was focused on her needlework when, as if sensing something, she suddenly looked up. Instantly, her eyes lit up, as if stars had fallen into them, and she excitedly exclaimed, "Your Highness, you're back!" Before she finished speaking, she had already stood up impatiently and moved her lotus-like steps lightly, almost running towards him in two steps at a time.

Murong Lin opened his arms and hugged his wife tightly as if he wanted to meld her into his very bones.

Outside the window, the night was as dark as ink, with a few cold stars twinkling as if watching the couple. Inside, the candlelight flickered gracefully, casting a warm yellow glow on them and outlining a hazy, cozy silhouette.

Ye Zhilan pulled Murong Lin to sit down on the couch, then stood behind him, gently massaging his shoulders and softly asking, "Your Highness, are you troubled by something?"

Murong Lin closed his eyes slightly, feeling the warmth and pressure from his wife's fingertips, and sighed softly, "Sigh... it's not a big deal, it's just Lin'er..."

Ye Zhilan nodded slightly, saying nothing, but her movements became even gentler and more soothing, offering him comfort with silent companionship.

Murong Lin slowly recounted the story of Murong Lin and Su Jinran. Ye Zhilan listened attentively, and a hint of understanding gradually appeared in her clear eyes.

As Murong Lin finished speaking, Ye Zhilan nodded slightly, a knowing smile appearing on her lips. Her smile was like a flower quietly blooming in spring, gentle and graceful. She said softly, "I understand your feelings. The path of love in this world may have twists and turns, but if true love remains, it will eventually clear away the clouds."

Meanwhile, inside the Ninth Prince's mansion, the candlelight flickered dimly, casting erratic shadows on the walls. Murong Yi sat upright on the bed, his face cold and stern, his brows tightly furrowed. His gaze, sharp as a knife, pierced Lin Qianqian, who sat before the dressing table. He said in a chilling voice, "Why...why were you there today?" Though his words were icy, his eyes unconsciously darted and shifted, as if some unspeakable secret lay hidden in his heart.

Lin Qianqian was unaware of Murong Yi's subtle change in thought. She remained composed, her lips parted slightly, and she replied with a smile, "I was merely strolling leisurely through the bustling streets with Xiaodie. Who would have thought that I would glance up and catch a glimpse of the Tenth Prince, accompanied by the Eighth Princess? But who could have imagined that I would witness such an unexpected scene next?"

At this point, she seemed to suddenly recall the entanglement between Murong Lin and Su Jinran. She couldn't help but pout her small lips slightly, a hint of emotion in her eyes. She sighed softly and said, "Alas, the matter between the Eighth Princess and Young Master Su is truly full of twists and turns. I wonder how it will develop in the future. It makes one want to think about it more."

Having said that, Lin Qianqian gracefully rose, moved to the bedside, picked up a quilt with her jade-like hand, and skillfully spread it out on the floor. She raised her hand to cover her mouth, yawned, and a few tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. Her voice was somewhat languid as she said, "Your Highness, you should rest early too! I'm really exhausted today. I'll go to sleep first." After speaking, she lay down on the quilt, and soon her breathing became steady.

Murong Yi gazed at Lin Qianqian, who was preparing for bed. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed it back. His brows furrowed again, forming a deep furrow, and his gaze was like a torch, fixed on the slender figure on the ground, as if he wanted to burn a hole through her.

After a moment, he finally looked away, his eyes filled with a sense of helplessness and complicated emotions, and slowly lay down on the bed. However, his thoughts were churning like a tide, and he could not fall asleep for a long time.

No sleep for one night.