Through the barrier, Xiao and Lingxi's figures appeared, halted just short of the protective shimmer. Mei'yin's gaze followed them instinctively, and a tangle of emotions rose within her—confusion, guilt, and something she hadn't expected: longing. She didn't fully understand why Yuxi had asked her to walk him out until her eyes traced the familiar shapes of her sisters standing there, hesitant but determined.
Xiao's voice trembled, laced with desperation.
"Mei… please… come here. I want to talk to you. I want to hug you…"
Her eyes scanned Mei'yin, taking in the stark changes—the sharp lines of her face, the thinness of her frame, the absence of the playful, mischievous sparkle that had once defined her. Xiao's chest tightened in pity. This wasn't the sister she had known; this was someone hardened by loss and duty.
Mei'yin stayed where she was, voice calm but distant.
"Why are you here? You shouldn't be here."
Lingxi's tone was gentler, though edged with worry.
"We wanted to see you, Mei… Look at yourself. Are you still eating?"
The sisters spoke, their words tumbling over one another in a mix of fear and care. Mei'yin listened, her hands unconsciously clasped in front of her, the red bracelet glinting in the sunlight. She felt the familiar pull of their concern, but also the weight of distance that had grown between them over the months.
Xiao stepped slightly closer, pressing her palms to the barrier as if she could will it away.
"We're not here to judge you… we just… we need to know you're okay."
Lingxi's voice softened.
"We've missed you, Mei. We've… missed the real you."
Mei'yin's chest tightened. She wanted to answer, to reach out—but the barrier held firm, and more than that, she felt the invisible chains of her past obligations and new life pressing her to stay grounded.
"I'm… fine," she said quietly, almost to herself. "I'm surviving."
Xiao's lips trembled, and Lingxi's hands tightened against the barrier.
The forest was quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves brushing against each other. Mei'yin stood rigid, arms at her sides, her figure distant and unyielding. She didn't step closer, didn't soften her gaze—she was hardheaded, resolute in keeping the barrier between herself and the world she had once known.
Her eyes flicked to Xiao, and she noticed the subtle curve of her sister's belly. A faint chill passed over her as a memory stirred—Ms. Ye secretly carrying Feng Yangguang's child. Mei'yin's voice was low, flat, almost detached.
"You're pregnant too," she said.
A ripple of confusion passed through the group. Xiao blinked, Lingxi's brow furrowed, and even Yuxi's expression stiffened, sharp and taut.
"Too? What do you mean?" Xiao asked, her voice barely above a whisper, uncertain.
Mei'yin's lips pressed into a thin line. She hesitated, stunned for a moment, then her gaze dropped to the forest floor. When she spoke, it was with an even tone, unreadable and precise.
"I… I'm pregnant." she lied.
The words struck like ice. Silence fell over the barrier. Yuxi's eyes darkened, the pain of old wounds and bitter memories twisting inside him—double this time.
Xiao and Lingxi smiled faintly, their relief and pity mingling, but Mei'yin's face showed no softness, no warmth. She did not smile. She did not step closer. She was cold, untouchable, a wall separating herself from the people she loved.
"You should go back now. It's dangerous here," Mei'yin said finally, her voice firm and unyielding. She turned her back on them, leaving no space for embraces, no room for comforting words.
The forest air hung heavy with tension, leaves trembling softly under the wind. Mei'yin's back remained to them, rigid and unyielding, her form outlined against the shadowed trees. Lingxi and Xiao stepped forward desperately, pleading.
"Please… Mei, let us speak," Xiao said, her voice trembling. "Forgive me, forgive us. We never meant—"
"You don't have to say that," Mei'yin interrupted quietly, her voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of pain. "It's not your fault at all."
Xiao's tears shone in the dim light, her hands stretching toward Mei'yin. "Please, Mei… let me feel you. Just once…"
Mei'yin's grip tightened over the invisible barrier of her own control, holding back the flood of emotion threatening to escape her. She didn't turn, her eyes glimmering with restrained tears. "Please… just go," she said softly, the words both plea and command.
The barrier responded instantly, a dark shimmer rising between Mei'yin and her sisters, obscuring the forest beyond. Lingxi and Xiao's outstretched hands froze midair. Their hearts sank.
"Mei'yin!" Xiao's voice shattered through the forest, desperate, raw.
Inside the shadows, Mei'yin's composure finally cracked. She collapsed to her knees, the tears she had been holding spilling freely down her pale cheeks. The day had finally come. Morning light spilled gently across the room, falling on Ms. Ye as she lay exhausted but peaceful. In her arms, a tiny bundle slept, delicate and perfect.
Mei'yin and Ye Dushen stood nearby, their gazes fixed on the child with awe and tenderness. After all the struggles, sacrifices, and the shadow of danger that had hovered over them for so long, this moment felt impossibly fragile—and yet, achingly real.
Ms. Ye smiled weakly, exhaustion softened by joy.
"She's here… finally."
Dushen stepped closer, reaching out to gently hold the baby. Mei'yin's hand hovered near his, almost as if they were both afraid to break the delicate world they now touched.
After a pause, Mei'yin whispered, a hint of warmth in her usually distant voice, "We will call her Ye Ruonan."
The name hung in the air, soft yet full of promise.
Dushen nodded, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. "Ye Ruonan… may she bloom like the morning light, humble yet strong, carrying hope wherever she goes."
Ms. Ye's gaze softened as she looked down at the tiny face, so innocent and unaware of the world's cruelties. "She will have everything we could not give ourselves. She will have peace… and love." she reached out, placing a hand lightly on Mei'yin's shoulder.
"And you two," she said gently, "will guide her. As her parents, her guardians… and her world."
A quiet, shared understanding passed between Mei'yin and Dushen. Everything had led to this—the sacrifices, the pain, the choices that had seemed impossible.
Outside, the morning wind carried the faint scent of blooming flowers, a gentle reminder that even after darkness, life could start anew.
Ye Ruonan stirred slightly in Dushen's arms, her tiny fingers curling instinctively, and Mei'yin allowed herself the briefest of smiles. For the first time in years, hope felt tangible, and the weight of the past seemed just a little lighter.
Months had passed quietly at the Ye residence. Life had begun to settle into a rhythm of gentle routines, laughter, and the soft footsteps of little feet.
One morning, a message arrived from Shanying, delivered with his usual quick, breathless energy.
"brother, sister Mei … news from Fengming. Lady Feng Xiao has given birth to a healthy baby boy!"
Mei'yin's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. Dushen's hand found hers, a silent squeeze of shared joy. Even Ms. Ye's eyes softened, glimmering with warmth.
Time passed further, and another message arrived: Qin Yijun and Feng Lingxi had become engaged.
A year later, news came again — the two were married, a union celebrated quietly among family and friends, leaving whispers of joy and relief.
Years slipped by almost imperceptibly. The world moved on, yet memories lingered in the corners of quiet moments — the past no longer a shadow, but a part of their strength.
And now, Ye Rounan, the baby girl once cradled so tenderly in Mei'yin and Dushen's arms, had grown. Four years had passed, and in her small face, the eyes of her mother shone brightly.
She looked up at Mei'yin with a smile, tugging gently at the hem of her robe. "Mama," she said, her voice soft yet insistent, "tell me a story."
Mei'yin knelt, brushing a loose strand of hair from Rounan's forehead. "Alright, little one," she whispered, her voice warm and steady, the weight of the past eased by the life before her.
Outside, the wind carried the scent of blooming flowers through the Ye residence, gentle and persistent, a quiet reminder that life always finds a way to flourish — even after storms.
The sun dipped low over Qinshan, painting the rolling hills in shades of jade and amber. A cool breeze whispered through the pines, rustling the leaves gently.
Qin Yuxi leaned against the balcony railing of the pavilion, arms crossed, his face unreadable. Mo Yuming strolled beside him, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she sipped her tea.
"You know," Yuming began, tilting her head, " You really haven't changed, Yuxi. Still scowling at the sky like it personally offended you."
Yuxi didn't look at her, voice calm, clipped.
"And you? Still talking too much nonsense,"
"Ah, but it's a gift!" yuming said, sweeping her hand theatrically. "Some people bring smiles, some bring chaos… and I bring both."
Yuxi's lips twitched slightly, the faintest trace of amusement, though he didn't admit it.
"So, what's new in your incredibly boring, perfect little life?" Yuming continued, circling him with the ease of a cat. "Found anyone to freeze your heart yet, or is it still reserved for tragic brooding?"
"Still reserved," Yuxi replied coldly, finally glancing at her. "Some things are worth preserving."
"Preserving, huh?" yuming's grin widened. "Or maybe you're just terrified of being mocked again. Admit it — you secretly missed my commentary."
Yuxi's eyes flickered, a ghost of annoyance.
"You're impossible."
"And yet, here I am," Muming said, leaning on the railing next to him, voice softening slightly. "Your great friend, whether you like it or not."
A quiet breeze passed, carrying the distant hum of life in Qinshan. Yuxi remained still, arms crossed, his cold demeanor unbroken. Yet, for a fleeting second, Yuming caught the smallest exhale — a breath that hinted he wasn't entirely immune to her teasing.
"You're quiet," she said, nudging him lightly. "Did I finally shut you up? Or are you just thinking about how bitter you'll get when I live longer than you?"
"You'll survive," Yuxi said flatly, though a corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. "Somehow."
"Ah!" Yuming clapped her hands dramatically.
Yuxi shook his head, turning his gaze back to the horizon. Yuming laughed softly, the sound echoing through the pavilion.
"You know," she added after a pause, softer now, "it's… nice. This. Just… us. No chaos, no schemes, just… quiet. Even you can't ruin that."
Yuxi didn't respond, but he stayed there, side by side with her, letting the wind carry their silence in peace.
Yuxi and Yuming leaned against the railing, casually watching the next generation of chaos unfold.
Qin Zhen, and Mo Rui, had grown taller, their movements sharper and more confident than when they were five. Wooden swords in hand, they clashed with impressive skill, each trying to outmaneuver the other.
"Not so fast, Mo Rui!" Zhen shouted, launching a quick feint that nearly got him a point.
Mo Rui grinned, sidestepping nimbly. "You'll have to do better than that, Zhen! Remember last time? I'm learning fast!"
Yuxi's lips twitched imperceptibly, a shadow of amusement crossing his normally cold expression.
Yuming chuckled softly, her eyes warm. "Just like their parents," she said, her tone teasing. "Determined and headstrong, through and through."
The boys paused briefly, panting, eyes bright with competitive fire. Then, as if on cue, they lunged forward again, their wooden swords clashing with a sharp thunk, laughter spilling over with pure joy.
Yuxi glanced at Yuming. "???"
"I'm just observing," she replied, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "They remind me of someone… stubborn, but clever."
"Perhaps," Yuxi said, his gaze softening as he watched Zhen's quick strike meet Mo Rui's guard. A rare warmth flickered in his expression, fleeting but real.
For a long moment, the courtyard was filled only with the sound of the boys' playful battle, a lively reminder that life continued, growing stronger and brighter with each passing year.
The sun hung low over the winding paths of Qinshan, Qin Yijun walked steadily, his hand brushing lightly against his wife Feng Lingxi's arm.
As usual, Mo Yuming — the self-proclaimed "great mockery" of the day. She called out with a teasing lilt, her voice carrying across the path:
"Really, Yijun, you move like a sloth today! Lady Lingxi, are you sure you married someone who can keep up with you?"
Lingxi merely rolled her eyes, a small, patient smile tugging at her lips. Yijun shook his head with an amused sigh, clearly accustomed to Yuming's relentless teasing.
Yuming leaned closer with mock severity, her tone exaggeratedly serious:
"You two look far too calm. Qinshan hasn't seen you like this before — suspiciously happy, I'd say!"
Yijun gave a wry glance over his shoulder, suppressing a grin, while Lingxi's hand rested lightly on his arm, grounding him in the quiet strength of their bond.
From nearby, Qin Yuxi observed them with quiet exasperation. He'd long since grown accustomed to Yuming's antics, but even he was tired of her relentless mockery.
Yuming, continued her playful commentary. "Come on, Yijun! If you're going to stroll like a statue, at least pretend it's heroic! Lingxi, do something — motivate your husband!"
Lingxi shook her head gently. Yijun simply chuckled, letting Yuming's teasing wash over them, the sound of their laughter blending with the rustling leaves and soft breeze.
---
The courtyard of the Bai residence was bright with afternoon sun. Feng Xiao, her belly now long since settled after childbirth, sat on a soft mat with her husband, Bai Yujing. Between them, their son, Bai Tianhao, giggled and tumbled over a small stack of wooden blocks, his laughter ringing like bells through the open space.
Bai Linyan, crouched beside the boy, carefully stacking the blocks higher. She smiled softly, her usual composed demeanor softened in the warmth of family.
"Careful, Tianhao, don't knock it over," Linyan warned, feigning sternness, though her eyes glimmered with affection.
Xiao laughed, watching her son carefully place the final block. "He's growing so fast. Can you believe he's already walking and talking like this?"
Bai Yujing ruffled Tianhao's hair, his broad smile proud and warm. "Every day he surprises me. Soon he'll be outpacing us all."
Tianhao squealed, knocking the tower down on purpose, then giggled as everyone pretended to gasp. Linyan shook her head, smiling, and helped him rebuild it, her hands gentle but precise.
Little Bai Tianhao toddled around, his tiny feet pattering on the floor. In his chubby hands, he clutched a small wooden sword far too big for him.
"Me big warrior! Me fight Papa!" he squealed, wobbling as he tried to stand tall.
Xiao scooped him up before he toppled. "Careful, Tianhao! Don't hit Papa with that!" she scolded gently, though her smile betrayed her amusement.
Bai Yujing raised his hands in mock surrender. "Ah! I yield, brave warrior! Mercy!"
Linyan leaned down, her eyes twinkling. "He's very fierce, isn't he? Maybe even stronger than his Uncle Cheng?"
Tianhao giggled and swiped at Bai Yujing's legs, causing the father to stumble slightly. Xiao laughed, holding her son close. "Oh no, my mighty little warrior! You're too strong already!"
Bai Yujing crouched to Tianhao's height, pretending to be scared. "Don't hurt me, little warrior!"
Tianhao squealed with delight, clapping his hands and hugging the sword to his chest. "Mama, help me fight Papa!"
Linyan chuckled softly.
Tianhao stumbled, almost falling, and Xiao caught him just in time. He wrapped his tiny arms around her neck, giggling uncontrollably.
Bai Yujing ruffled his hair. "Alright, alright, that's enough warrior training for today. Let's have breakfast before our brave little hero knocks over the entire courtyard!"
The three-year-old squealed again, waving his wooden sword, while the adults laughed softly, enjoying the pure, chaotic joy of their family.
The private courtyard of Feng Yangguang's residence was quiet, almost unnervingly so. The early sun reflected faintly off the polished tiles, highlighting the distance that had grown between the couple. Wu Ziyi stood by the stone railing, her hands clasped tightly, fingers twitching with suppressed frustration.
Yangguang entered silently, his robes brushing the floor. His expression was calm, yet sharp, the kind that could cut through pretense without a word.
"Wu Ziyi," he said, his voice even, "we need to talk."
She lifted her gaze, eyes flickering with a mixture of resentment and caution. "About what? Another lecture on obedience? Or perhaps how I am a disappointment?"
Yangguang's jaw tightened slightly. "Neither. But do not mistake my words for indulgence. We… coexist for the sake of Fengming, for appearances, and for the stability of the clan. Nothing more."
Ziyi's lips pressed into a thin line. "So, my feelings, my dignity… mean nothing in your calculation?"
"Feelings are luxuries that can't interfere with duty," he replied, his tone cold but not harsh. "We are bound by roles, not affection. Remember that."
A sharp wind stirred, carrying a faint scent of jasmine. Ziyi's eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but the bitterness returned. "And yet, I live in this house as a shadow, unwanted, unheard… while you make decisions for everyone else. Even the walls know my name is secondary."
Yangguang's gaze didn't waver. "Then do what is necessary to endure. My concern is not for comfort, but for order. I will not lose Fengming to… chaos born of personal grievances."
Ziyi let out a quiet sigh, turning away to the stone railing, the sunlight tracing the cold lines of her face. "Order," she muttered, almost to herself. "Is it order if hearts are trampled along the way?"
Yangguang remained silent, a faint tension between them. Duty bound them together, but no affection, no warmth, threaded through their union. The silence stretched, heavy and uncompromising, as if the walls themselves mourned the marriage that had never truly begun.
For a long moment, Yangguang simply watched her, the sunlight catching the hard lines of her profile.
Then, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders loosened. The cold mask he usually wore faltered, and a rare vulnerability touched his eyes.
"I… may have been too harsh," he admitted quietly, his voice softer than before, almost uncertain. "Wu Ziyi, this house, this clan… it demands discipline. But I… I did not mean to make you feel unseen, or unwanted."
Ziyi's hands trembled slightly, but she didn't turn. "It's… always been like this," she whispered. "I've endured. I've accepted it. But sometimes… it feels as if my existence here is merely tolerated."
Yangguang stepped closer, keeping his distance but lowering his gaze to meet hers. "I never intended for you to feel like that. I… I have a habit of prioritizing duty over everything else. Sometimes I forget that there is a person standing beside me, not just a name or a title."
For the first time in months, Ziyi's shoulders relaxed a fraction. She turned slowly to face him, her eyes wary but soft. "And now?" she asked, the slightest trace of hope threading her tone.
"Now…" Yangguang's voice was low, almost hesitant, "I will try to see you, Wu Ziyi. Not just as a wife in name, but as a person…"
Ziyi's lips curved into the faintest, fragile smile. It was nothing grand, but it was a start — a small bridge across the chasm that had separated them for so long.
Yangguang studied her for a long moment, the sunlight catching the tension in her shoulders. Then, softly, he said,
"I know my words alone won't erase the months… perhaps years… of feeling unseen. But maybe… a small step will help."
Ziyi's brow furrowed, unsure of what he meant.
"I'll take you to the market," he said, his tone firm yet gentle. "Not for duty, not for ceremony. Just… to see life beyond these walls. To breathe, to laugh… maybe even to forget your sadness for a while."
Ziyi blinked, caught off guard. "The market?" she asked, voice uncertain.
"Yes," he replied, a hint of warmth threading his usually stoic voice. "You don't have to speak if you don't want to. Just walk, look, taste the scents of the streets.."
A small, hesitant smile tugged at Ziyi's lips, the first real spark of softness she had shown in a long while.
Yangguang nodded, his expression still calm but softer now. "We leave soon. I'll be waiting."
As she watched him walk ahead, a faint hope stirred in her chest — fragile, yet undeniable. Perhaps this day at the market could be the first step toward something neither of them had dared to imagine.