White hair like frost, set against a pale face, did not actually appear aged—it merely gave the impression of morning mist that would dissipate with the rising sun.
Even Mo Sigui couldn't help but sigh at how fragile life could be.
"Speak less and rest more," Mo Sigui said, lowering his gaze to his medical texts.
The jubilant atmosphere in the courtyard following An Jiu's awakening soon settled into quiet. Meanwhile, Mei Jiu's cries of labor echoed for nearly three hours before the robust wails of a newborn finally pierced the air.
Hua Rongtian stood outside the birthing chamber with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression as stern as ever.
"Congratulations, my lord! Mother and child are safe—it's a young master!" The midwife rushed out, beaming with joy.
Hua Rongtian's tension eased slightly. He ordered rewards to be given before stepping inside to see his wife and child.
The birthing chamber was considered an unclean place, and the midwife should have stopped him from entering. But seeing his imposing presence and having already received generous compensation, she merely offered a soft reminder, fulfilling her duty.
The room was thick with the scent of blood. Mei Jiu was drenched in sweat as maids carefully cleaned the traces of labor from her body. Another midwife was bundling the tiny infant.
Everyone froze at the sight of Hua Rongtian before quickly bowing in greeting.
"Continue," Hua Rongtian said.
The servants murmured their assent and resumed their tasks.
Hearing his voice, Mei Jiu parted her lips but lacked the strength to speak.
"Rest well. The child is healthy," Hua Rongtian murmured, gently squeezing her hand. "You've worked hard, my lady."
A faint smile touched Mei Jiu's eyes. She thought to herself how fateful it was that her child and An Jiu had such a connection—barely had An Jiu awakened before the little one eagerly made his entrance.
As Mei Jiu drifted into exhausted slumber, Hua Rongtian brushed his fingers against her cheek before turning to the newborn. He already had an eldest daughter from his previous marriage, and though he prided himself on being a devoted father, his duties often kept him occupied. He rarely had time to see his daughter, but now, cradling this small, fragile son in his arms, he suddenly realized how little attention he had truly given her.
Thankfully, he had married Mei Jiu. Seeing how his daughter regarded her as a true mother, he knew Mei Jiu had treated her with genuine kindness.
Thus, his feelings for Mei Jiu were not only love and respect but also deep gratitude.
Hua Rongtian found it hard to imagine how the Mei family—a clan that thrived in the shadows, their trade steeped in bloodshed—could have raised a woman as gentle and scholarly as Mei Jiu. Her mastery of poetry, literature, chess, and painting rivaled that of any scholar. Together, they could play music in harmony, engage in fierce battles over the chessboard, or discuss philosophy and verse. She understood everything he spoke of without need for lengthy explanations, and more often than not, she simply listened quietly, soothing the weariness of his day. In their daily life, Mei Jiu managed the household with impeccable order, sparing him any worry, and often prepared meals with her own hands, attending to his needs with meticulous care.
His love with his first wife had been passionate and pure, leaving him with profound joy and pain. But with Mei Jiu, their connection was one of mutual understanding—a love that flowed gently yet enduringly, bringing him immeasurable contentment.
He considered himself incredibly fortunate to have such a wife.
With Mei Jiu giving birth to the legitimate heir, the entire Hua household was awash in celebration. Yet Mei Jiu felt a twinge of regret—due to her confinement, she couldn’t properly speak with An Jiu.
But this regret lasted only a few days before An Jiu and Mo Sigui arrived to offer their congratulations.
As a physician, Mo Sigui could enter the inner chambers without issue under the pretense of checking her pulse.As soon as the two sat down, Mei Jiu gazed at An Jiu with tearful eyes.
A maidservant quickly reminded her, "Madam mustn't cry—it'll harm your eyes during the postpartum month."
"You may leave first," Mei Jiu said.
The head maidservant led the others out.
An Jiu stood and walked to the bedside to look. "Where's the baby?"
"With the wet nurse." Mei Jiu pulled her hand, urging her to sit on the edge of the bed. "You've suffered so much."
Having been bedridden for half a year, An Jiu had become skin and bones. Only after several days of Mo Sigui's careful nursing did she look slightly better.
"I keep feeling the suffering you're enduring now was originally meant to be my fate," Mei Jiu sighed. "Whenever I think of this, I can neither eat nor sleep peacefully."
Here she was living in comfort while someone else suffered in her stead.
"You're overthinking it," An Jiu comforted her. "Had you been in this situation, you'd have died long ago—what fate would there be to speak of? This is my own destiny. Don't flatter yourself."
Ahem. Mo Sigui felt both liver pain and the urge to laugh.
Mei Jiu was long accustomed to her sharp words. "I know all that, but sometimes I can't help feeling uneasy."
As for Mei Jiu's innate do-gooder mentality, An Jiu couldn't be bothered to comment. Noting that while her exterior still appeared fragile and vulnerable, her inner self had grown considerably stronger, An Jiu felt somewhat gratified.
Changing the subject cheerfully, Mei Jiu said, "My husband and I discussed it—we'd like you to be the godmother after the baby's hundred-day celebration. What do you think?"
An Jiu stared at her expressionlessly.
"If you don't agree, just say so. Why pull such a face?" Mei Jiu muttered softly, like a wronged little girl.
"After consideration, I've decided to agree." Watching Mei Jiu immediately brighten, An Jiu casually explained, "Originally I thought being entangled with someone as troublesome as you was misfortune enough without adding more complications. But considering Hua Rongtian is relatively outstanding, the child might turn out well."
Far from taking offense, Mei Jiu grew even happier, feeling honored. "I never thought you'd praise someone—this truly shows how exceptional my husband is."
Mo Sigui, silent until now, interjected cheerfully, "As the saying goes, daughters take after fathers, sons after mothers."
An Jiu's face darkened instantly.
Mei Jiu hurriedly said, "You've already agreed—no going back now. My son couldn't wait to meet you—that shows deep affinity."
"Or perhaps he's in a hurry to collect a debt," Mo Sigui remarked.
Mei Jiu grew flustered. "Cousin!"
Mo Sigui clicked his tongue and stepped forward to take her pulse. "Postpartum women really can't take a joke."
In the end, An Jiu didn't change her mind about taking on a godson, but she truly felt the weight of responsibility. For an assassin, having too many attachments was deadly—even if she might not need to be one now, years of mentality weren't easily overturned.
After sitting awhile, both An Jiu and Mei Jiu grew weary, so Mo Sigui left with An Jiu.
Chu Dingjiang was already waiting at the entrance.
He had improved greatly these past days—shaving made him look much younger, though his temples remained streaked with white, retaining his weathered appearance.
An Jiu actively took his hand. "Before, when you shaved, you could almost pass as Hua Rongtian's contemporary. Now no matter what you do, you're firmly in uncle territory."Chu Dingjiang remained calm. "She'll be mine sooner or later. What difference does it make if it's a bit earlier or later?"
Mo Sigui returned to the house and saw Wei Yuzhi leaning against a pile of medicine, reading a book. The soft light in the room made him appear as serene as a deep, quiet pool.
"Miraculous Doctor Mo is back," Wei Yuzhi looked up and smiled faintly.
"Seeing them get along so well—don’t you feel it’s not worth it?" Mo Sigui asked.
Wei Yuzhi couldn’t see, but his extraordinary mental strength and keen senses ensured he heard every word exchanged between Chu Dingjiang and An Jiu.
"I feel sad, but not that it’s not worth it," Wei Yuzhi replied.
Mo Sigui raised an eyebrow, thinking his words insincere, because Wei Yuzhi was not the type to be selfless in love.
Wei Yuzhi saw through his thoughts but merely smiled without responding.
A drop of heart blood had bought him two extra years of life from the Miracle Doctor. It had also reclaimed Gu Jinghong’s heart blood. The returns he received were substantial—nothing about it was "not worth it." Yet, the sadness was real. Because he realized that An Jiu and he would ultimately have no intersection, except for that single drop of blood that had nourished her. He no longer even had an excuse to seek her out and reclaim the medicine.
Wei Yuzhi was conflicted. Sometimes he wished for her to be safe and well, and other times he was willing to hurt her just to have some connection with her, to leave a mark on her heart.
...
Waking from a deep sleep, An Jiu felt much better in spirit and had a good appetite. However, she was still restricted to liquid food for the time being.
Chu Dingjiang promised to make her many delicious dishes in the future.
"A Jiu, someone saved you. Go thank him," Chu Dingjiang decided to tell her the truth. He didn’t believe this would cause him to lose her, nor did he see any point in hiding it.
An Jiu, rubbing her half-full stomach, paused at his words. "Wei Yuzhi?"
"You knew?" Chu Dingjiang was surprised.
"He’s in Mo Sigui’s room. I’ve known all along." For some reason, ever since waking up, An Jiu had developed a special awareness of Wei Yuzhi. Without even consciously using her mental strength, she knew he was there. At first, she hadn’t thought much of it, assuming Wei Yuzhi had come for medical treatment and that sensing him at such close range was normal. Now that Chu Dingjiang brought it up, she immediately guessed the truth.
After a moment of silence, An Jiu stood up. "I’ll go see him."
"Mm." Chu Dingjiang fastened her cloak and watched her leave.
Outside, the wind was strong. An Jiu tightened her cloak and quickened her pace.
Before she reached the door, Mo Sigui’s room opened.
An Jiu stepped inside directly, greeted by a wave of warmth and the scent of medicine.
"Running around in such cold weather—what’s the point?" Mo Sigui glared at her.
Ignoring him, An Jiu removed her cloak and looked toward the bed.
Wei Yuzhi was indeed there, his hair like frost, his face so pale it was nearly translucent. Even his lips were almost the same color as his skin, making him look like a sheet of white paper—or something transparent.
Their eyes met, but neither had anything to say. It was as if all the questions they might have asked were already known, rendering words unnecessary.
The only sound in the room was Mo Sigui grinding medicine.
After a long pause, Wei Yuzhi smiled slightly. "Sit."
An Jiu sat down not far from him. "Are you alright?"
"I’m fine." Wei Yuzhi’s gaze lingered on her face. After prolonged illness, her features were no longer the breathtaking beauty that had once made his heart race. Yet when their eyes met again, it still stirred something within him.
Wei Yuzhi frowned slightly, feeling a sharp pain in his wound."Calm your mind and steady your breath," Mo Sigui reminded.
Wei Yuzhi felt as if his secret had been exposed, and a flush of color suddenly rose to his pale cheeks.
"You saved me twice," An Jiu said.
"You mean at Baohua Gate?" Wei Yuzhi quickly regained his composure. "Even if I hadn’t intervened, you could have escaped unharmed."
An Jiu nodded. Yet, despite that, Wei Yuzhi had still risked self-harm to save her. This debt of gratitude was not something she could simply ignore. (To be continued...)
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