"Several actually." Jin Mulan replied delightfully.
"I knew I married the right woman." Luo He encouraged her, listening to her Ideas.
Jin Mulan leaned in, her lips brushing against his earlobe as she whispered her proposal. Her voice was silk wrapped around steel, each word carefully chosen, each detail meticulously crafted.
She spoke of stripping the Crown Prince of everything he held dear, not in a single stroke, but slowly, methodically. Let him watch as his title dissolved.
Let him witness his supporters abandon him one by one. Let him understand, with crushing clarity, that the throne he had reached for would never be his.
"And then?" Luo He asked, his voice rough.
"Then we keep him alive." Her fingers traced along his jawline as she spoke. "Alive, but powerless."
"Alive, but meaningless. Let him face the consequences of his actions every single day, under guard, with nothing left. No army. No influence. No hope. Only the slow, bitter realization of what he has lost."
She paused, her thumb brushing across his lower lip. "And if he proves difficult, we can always revisit your dog idea."
Luo He stared at her for a long moment. Then he laughed, a genuine, surprised laugh that seemed to come genuinely from somewhere deep with in his chest.
"That's actually rather elegant," he said.
"I thought you'd appreciate it." She smiled.
"I do. Tremendously." Luo He said.
Jin Mulan's smile widened. She shifted on his lap, settling more comfortably against him, her body warm and pliant against his. "Then do that." She purred.
"Whatever my wife wants." He agreed.
"Just like that?" She asked as if she was taken by suprise.
"Of course." His hand slid up her spine, fingers toying with the edge of her collar. "You're my wife. If you want something done, I'll do it exactly the way you like it."
She raised an eyebrow, her expression turning playful. "And if I wanted something else? Something... more personal?" She asked grinning.
Luo He's eyes gleamed with a form of dark amusement. "Then I'd do that too."
"Whatever you desire. However you desire it. That's a privilege and a burden of being married to me." He said proudly.
"Such a generous husband." She purred softly near his ear.
"I have my moments." He said proudly.
She traced a slow circle on his chest, her touch light and teasing.
"You realize we're both extremely terrible people, don't you? Sitting here, discussing a man's complete destruction as though it were a pleasant afternoon's entertainment."
"You say terrible. I say efficient." He said with a wicked grin.
"Efficient." She laughed softly. "Is that what you call it now husband?"
"It's what I call it when someone threatens what's mine." His voice dropped, the playfulness fading into something colder, more serious.
"I don't care about political intrigue. I don't care about power plays. But if anyone, I mean anyone, lays a hand on my wife, on my family, on the people I've chosen to protect, then I will dismantle them."
"Piece by piece. Until there's nothing left."
Jin Mulan's expression softened. For all his dark imaginings, for all the terrifying depths of his mind, she understood him perfectly. He was not a monster, not truly.
He was simply a man who loved fiercely, and whose capacity for mass destruction matched his capacity for devotion. She leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on his lips, lingering there for a moment.
"You're ridiculous." She gave him a playful shove, though she made no real effort to move away. If anything, she settled deeper into his embrace, her body relaxing against his with effort less normality.
"Fine," he said. "Whatever you want, I'll go along with it." Luo He promised.
"Really?" She asked, not yet fully trusting he'll let go of the Crown Prince.
"You're my favourite." He reached up and gently tapped her forehead, a gesture so tender it seemed almost incongruous with the conversation they had just shared.
"If you want his punishment done your way, then we'll do it your way." Luo He agreed with the Idea immediately. Jin Mulan's smile widened, her eyes bright with something between affection and dark satisfaction.
"Good husband." She said playfully.
Luo He narrowed his eyes playfully. "Be very careful Honey. Compliment me too much and I'll start demanding rewards for every favour I will do for you."
"You are demanding rewards for literally everything," Jin Mulan said, rolling her eyes. "Even breathing."
"That's because I'm a very demanding, husband honey." He said.
"And you are also shameless." She chuckled.
"Only with you." Luo He said sheepishly.
The corner of Jin Mulan's mouth betrayed her despite the eye roll.
That was Luo He a man who could calmly discuss the destruction of an entire enemy faction, yet become genuinely offended when one day his favorite pen mysteriously disappeared from his desk.
"You even need to be kissed goodnight." Jin Mulan said incredulously. "You can't even sleep by yourself?" She said.
"I can." Luo He said with complete dignity. "I simply prefer not to."
"You're like a spoiled child." Jin Mulan said.
"Your spoiled child. You are the one always spoiling him." Ning Jia complained.
Jin Mulan shook her head, but leaned in and kissed his forehead anyway.
"There. Sleep, Honey." Luo He smiled beneath the blanket like he had just won another great battle.
"Good night, Princess." He said. Ning Jia covered her mouth, trying not to laugh while cuddling into him comfortably.
Even after everything they had ultimately accomplished, their greatest daily chor always remained the same. Keeping their ridiculously capable husband from always behaving like an overindulged child.
The war had ended, but Luo He did not allow victory to become an excuse for celebration without remembrance. For three or four days, he remained on the Prosperous Silk Isle with his wives.
He allowed himself a brief period of peace after the exhausting campaign. The rest of the household gradually returned as well. The refugees who had fled to Pirate Island, Golden Island, and Northern Isle began returning to their homes in the Jin territory.
While administrators and servants worked to restore the estates, markets, roads, and military stations that had been disrupted by the invasion. The Jin household became peaceful again.
But beneath that calm, Luo He was already putting the pieces of the postwar order into place. The first million gold coins were taken from the underground vault beneath the Jin mansion under imperial guard.
The vault had been opened specifically for the transfer, and the coins were packed into heavy chests before being transported toward the Yue capital.
The remaining four million would follow in separate shipments, each very carefully guarded. Luo He had already prepared the entire five million, having melted the gold and cast it into standardized coins.
Made according to the proper weight. He lacked the authority to place the official imperial seal upon them, however, so that responsibility would remain with the Yue.
To Luo He, the arrangement was simple, the treasury would receive the gold, the emperor would mark it officially, and the kingdom would gain a fortune that could immediately be put to use rebuilding what the war had damaged.
But the greatest ceremony of those days was not the arrival of the gold. It was the memorial for the dead.
Luo He had ordered that every fallen hero be recorded properly, their names well preserved rather than disappearing into some forgotten military ledger.
A great memorial stone was prepared beside a newly constructed pond, its surface carved with the names of those who had died defending the Jin estate.
Another memorial was raised on Pirate Island for the pirates and mercenaries who had fallen there under Jin Sang's naval command.
The Jin family had sponsored for both the monuments, while the families of the dead were given compensation and continuing military pensions.
Every fallen soldier was to be remembered as a person rather than a number, and every family was to know that the death of their husband, son, or father had not simply been entered into a record and forgotten.
Jin Mulan personally opened the memorial ceremony, standing before veterans who had fought beside the fallen. Many of those men had spent years on battlefields.
They had long since learned to hide their grief behind hardened faces, yet the sight of their comrades' names carved permanently into stone broke through that armor. Some lowered their heads.
Others quietly wiped away tears. Some others stood rigidly at attention, staring at the names of men who had shared their tents, eaten beside them, marched beside them, and died within arm's reach.