The world was still wrapped in the deep, velvety blue of pre-dawn, the kind of quiet that feels almost sacred. The villa lay hushed, with only the faint rustle of leaves outside and the soft, rhythmic breathing of sleeping children filling the air. Su Wanyan lay there, her face soft and unguarded in sleep, breath slow and even.
On top of her rested little Mo Yan, sleeping peacefully with a tiny pool of drool soaking into Su Wanyan's shirt. The baby's small hand clutched Shen Guoxing's finger, who lay curled beside her beloved aunt—or rather, the woman she had come to see as her own mother. Shen Guoxing's breathing was steady and calm, no longer needing the support of oxygen after her successful surgery.
Parallel to Su Wanyan's chaotic bed, Mo Xingxue lay sleeping peacefully. The soft pre-dawn light filtered through the curtains, illuminating her ethereal face with a gentle, almost otherworldly glow.
