Zhao Qianjin, the brigade leader of the Minsheng Brigade who led the fire rescue effort, didn’t know whether to be angry or anxious—what a reckless brat.  

He quickly directed people to put out the fire and rescue those trapped. He also asked the women to check on Ye Zhoushan’s wife.  

Ye Zhoushan ignored everything else, holding Lan Qingshuang in his arms, utterly at a loss.  

“Blood—wife, you’re bleeding!”  

The blood stained the ground. For once, Ye Zhoushan was serious, but he was so panicked he had no idea what to do.  

Lan Qingshuang clutched Ye Zhoushan tightly: “Save the baby, save the baby—you must save the baby!”  

Ye Zhoushan nodded repeatedly: “I will, I’ll save you both, I’ll save you both!”  

“Wife, you can’t be in danger—tell me how to save you, how do I save you?”  

Lan Qingshuang had no strength left, relying only on sheer willpower to urge Ye Zhoushan to save their child.  

She could feel the life in her belly growing weaker. If they didn’t act now, it would be too late.  

“Save the baby… save the baby…”  

Ye Zhoushan trembled as he held Lan Qingshuang and shouted: “Save—save the baby! Someone, help me save the baby, save my wife!”  

The brigade leader’s elderly mother smacked Ye Zhoushan on the back of the head: “Stop howling! Carry your wife inside, quick!”  

Ye Zhoushan seemed to finally find a guiding light, nodding frantically as he picked up Lan Qingshuang and rushed into the house.  

The brigade leader’s mother, known as Grandma Deng, called out to the others: “Someone go and boil—”  

She glanced at the kitchen, now a collapsed ruin billowing thick smoke, and frowned.  

“Someone go to my place and fetch the big pot. Set up a makeshift stove and boil water!”  

“Tell my eldest daughter-in-law to bring some food, just in case.”  

Many women had come along, and regardless of their usual thoughts, they all moved swiftly to help with the tasks.  

Grandma Deng and a few experienced mothers went inside to assist.  

Lan Qingshuang was still bleeding. Her cervix hadn’t dilated, and she was drifting in and out of consciousness—her condition was critical.  

Ye Zhoushan held her hand, shaking uncontrollably, frantic with worry.  

Grandma Deng was also anxious: “This won’t do. We need a doctor—she needs labor-inducing medicine.”  

“But it’s too late to go to the commune now!”  

Grandma Deng knew this too. Their brigade was remote, and the path to the commune was mountainous, taking over an hour on foot.  

Whether fetching someone or taking Lan Qingshuang to the commune, there wasn’t enough time.  

“I remember there’s someone living in the cowshed—a skilled midwife.”  

The women’s eyes widened in shock: “Grandma Deng, we can’t get involved with those people!”  

Grandma Deng pressed her lips together, silent.  

Ye Zhoushan grew desperate: “Grandma Deng, who is it? I’ll go! I’m not afraid—as long as they can save my wife and child, I’m not afraid! Tell me who it is!”  

Grandma Deng glanced at the usually irresponsible Ye Zhoushan. At least now he was showing some backbone.  

“The couple surnamed Chu. The man is a traditional Chinese doctor, and the woman is an obstetrician.”  

Before Grandma Deng could finish, Ye Zhoushan bolted out like a gust of wind.  

He sprinted the whole way and, in less than ten minutes, returned carrying a gaunt middle-aged couple on his back.  

The couple was still dazed.  

Ye Zhoushan practically shoved them to the bedside: “Save my wife and child—please save them! I’ll give you anything, even my life—just save them!”  

He wrung his hands, eyes red, his entire body trembling uncontrollably.  

Chu Chenan and Huang Ping were a couple who had endured hardship together. Though years of suffering had made them indifferent to the world, Ye Zhoushan’s raw desperation moved them.  

Without a word, Chu Chenan gave a slight nod, and Huang Ping spoke up: “First, get us some hot water to wash our hands.”  

Perhaps from lack of speaking and poor health, her voice was hoarse.  

Ye Zhoushan rushed out and then back in like a whirlwind: “How—how much do you need? How hot? What else?”  

Grandma Deng found his frantic behavior exasperating.  

“Just wait outside! Don’t keep running in and out, letting cold air hit your wife. We’ll handle the rest.”  

Ye Zhoushan was shooed away but didn’t dare complain, pacing circles outside the house like a restless animal.  

Huang Ping was highly capable, calmly examining Lan Qingshuang.

Chu Chengan wasn’t idle either. Without medicine or needles, he used acupressure techniques to help induce labor.  

The couple worked together in perfect harmony, their skills undiminished despite years of disuse 

Grandma Deng and the other women stood nearby, ready to assist at any moment.  

From morning until evening, the room remained eerily quiet, with only the occasional sound of bloodied water being carried out.  

Ye Zhoushan paced the courtyard like a caged animal, his heart sinking deeper with each passing moment, his trembling growing more violent.  

His face was ghostly pale.  

Zhao Qianjin and his men had finally extinguished the fire, salvaging whatever they could.  

The Zhou family members had been gagged and tied up.  

Seeing Ye Zhoushan’s hollow, broken expression, Zhao Qianjin didn’t press him. He had the intruders locked up in the brigade’s holding area first—he’d question them thoroughly later about their origins.  

“Kid from the Ye family, don’t worry too much. Everything will be fine.”  

Ye Zhoushan seemed deaf to his words, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on the dilapidated house.  

Zhao Qianjin sighed and left without another word.  

Inside, Lan Qingshuang drifted in and out of consciousness, her body weak beyond measure.  

Yet sheer willpower kept her from passing out completely—her mind filled with the terrified cries of her unborn child.  

Her baby was so afraid, so desperate to be born. She couldn’t give up.  

She called softly to the child in her belly, over and over.  

But the baby no longer responded. Fear and panic clawed at her heart.  

“My baby… my baby…”  

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as she whispered the words like a prayer.  

Grandma Deng and the others listened, their hearts aching.  

After so many hours with no progress, they all knew—the child likely wouldn’t make it.  

Huang Ping remained unshaken. Working with Chu Chenan, she first stopped the bleeding, then used pressure points to dilate the cervix.  

When the amniotic fluid finally broke, Huang Ping assessed it—there hadn’t been too much loss. The baby still had a chance.  

The fetal position was correct. Once the cervix was fully dilated, the delivery would proceed smoothly.

Midway, they fed Lan Qingshuang some liquid nourishment to maintain her strength.  

As dusk fell, Grandma Deng had someone light an oil lamp.  

Huang Ping checked the cervix—ten centimeters.  

Even she couldn’t help but exhale in quiet relief.  

“It’s time to push.”  

Chu Chenan pressed a few key points on Lan Qingshuang’s body, and suddenly, her mind cleared.  

“Now, follow my instructions. Don’t rush. The baby is fine—they’ll be out soon. It’s alright. I’m here. Just trust me.”  

Huang Ping’s tone wasn’t gentle, but it was steady, radiating unwavering confidence.  

Gradually, Lan Qingshuang’s frantic heart calmed. She nodded and began pushing in sync with Huang Ping’s guidance.  

Finally, activity filled the room. Ye Zhoushan pressed against the door, straining alongside his wife as if he could help through sheer will.  

Huang Ping provided calm, real-time updates, her steady encouragement lifting the collective tension.  

Then—  

“Wah… wah…”  

A tiny, kitten-like cry pierced the air, tugging at everyone’s heartstrings.  

Grandma Deng and the others glimpsed the bluish little figure and felt their stomachs drop.  

But Huang Ping calmly cut the umbilical cord, cleaned away the blood, and then opened Lan Qingshuang’s robe, placing the newborn skin-to-skin against her chest.  

“Hold her carefully. The baby is fine.”  

Lan Qingshuang was too weak to open her eyes, but the sensation of that tiny life against her chest filled her heart to bursting.  

With trembling hands, she cradled the infant, absorbing its warmth.  

Grandma Deng and the others bit their lips, afraid to speak lest they say something amiss.  

Chu Chenan had already stepped outside.  

Ye Zhoushan stared at him with desperate, pleading eyes—too terrified to ask, too terrified to hear.  

Chu Chenan’s expression was unreadable, his demeanor icy and detached.  

But when he met Ye Zhoushan’s gaze, he spoke six words, crisp and clear:  

“Mother and daughter are both safe.”