Ye Zhoushan took a deep, shuddering breath and slumped to the ground, burying his head in his hands as he sobbed.

Grandma Deng came out carrying a bundle of soiled linens and, seeing him like this, felt both exasperated and pity.

“Enough of this. What kind of man cries like this?”

“Your wife went into labor suddenly, and nothing was prepared. You need to get things in order quickly.”

“And listen—your wife suffered terribly this time. You’d better get her some good food to help her recover.”

Grandma Deng didn’t dare mention that the baby might not survive. Looking at Ye Zhoushan’s state, she simply couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Your house is in shambles too—it needs repairs. There’s nothing at home, and now this… What a life.”

“Ye boy, you’re a father now. You can’t keep acting as unreliable as before.”

“Later, remember to send those people home. If it weren’t for them, your wife and child wouldn’t have made it.”

Who knew if there’d be more trouble later? And then there were those troublemakers who showed up—no telling where they came from. So much to deal with.

Grandma Deng’s heart ached for Ye Zhoushan.

Wiping his tears, Ye Zhoushan stood up. “Thank you, Granny Deng. I appreciate all the aunties’ hard work. Once I get back on my feet, I’ll bring you a hen as thanks.”

“And Dr. Chu—don’t worry. You and Dr. Huang saved all three of us. I may not be much, but I stand by my word.”

“From now on, I’ll treat you like my own parents. If today’s events bring you any trouble, I’ll take full responsibility. You have my word.”

“It’s just… right now, I really can’t offer anything. I hope you’ll all bear with me.”

Chu Chen’an had long lost faith in human nature and remained unmoved by Ye Zhoushan’s words.

Grandma Deng didn’t believe him either—this kid was always full of empty promises.

“Save your sweet talk. I don’t need your hens. Just live a steady life, that’s all I ask.”

“Your brigade leader has had enough headaches because of you.”

Ye Zhoushan gave an awkward laugh. “Don’t worry, Granny Deng. I’ll be steady.”

Grandma Deng rolled her eyes. The other aunties filed out one by one, offering a few words of advice before heading home, exhausted from the day’s ordeal.

Huang Ping was the last to come out, her expression as cold and detached as Chu Chen’an’s.

“The baby was deprived of oxygen for too long. She’s not doing well, but with careful nurturing, she can still grow.”  

Huang Ping knew the child’s condition was critical, but years as a doctor had ingrained in her a professional instinct—and a reluctance to deliver a death sentence. She softened her words, wanting to give the grieving parents some hope.  

Ye Zhoushan wasn’t stupid. He knew his daughter’s chances were slim, and his chest ached dully.  

He could still hear her tiny voice calling him “Daddy,” her frightened wails.  

His eyes reddened again. “I will. I’ll take good care of her. I’ll make sure my daughter grows up healthy and safe.”  

It was unclear whether he was saying it for others to hear or reassuring himself.  

Huang Ping’s tone softened slightly. “Your wife’s body was badly damaged. She won’t be able to conceive again.”  

Ye Zhoushan waved his hands hastily. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. As long as she’s alive, nothing else is important.”  

“One daughter is enough for me.”  

“Thank you, doctors. Thank you both.”  

The Chu couple’s impression of Ye Zhoushan improved slightly—at least they could sense his sincerity in this moment.  

“Go in and see your wife and child. Try to get the mother some nourishing food.”  

“If anything happens tonight, you can come find us.”  

“Keep them warm and shielded from drafts. Your wife needs two months of confinement—no exhaustion, no stress. Be mindful of that.”

Huang Ping gave him a lot of instructions—mostly because she saw his sincerity. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have bothered saying a word.  

Ye Zhoushan nodded repeatedly. “Thank you, doctor. Thank you. Let me walk you back—I was too rude earlier in my hurry.”  

Chu Chen’an shook his head. “No need. We can manage. Just take care of your wife and daughter.”  

Without waiting for Ye Zhoushan to respond, the couple left arm in arm.  

Ye Zhoushan was too worried about his wife and child to insist. Once they were gone, he rushed into the house.  

…

The room reeked of blood. On the cold kang (heated brick bed) lay Lan Qingshuang, her face gaunt.  

Her skin was red and swollen from the fire, her hair a tangled mess, still carrying the scent of smoke.  

In her arms lay a tiny bundle.  

Ye Zhoushan didn’t dare speak loudly, calling out softly, “Wife?”  

Lan Qingshuang turned her head slowly. She was exhausted, desperate to sleep, but too afraid to close her eyes.  

In the dim light, her gaze met Ye Zhoushan’s. Tears slid silently down her cheeks, soaking into the stiff pillow. She opened her mouth but couldn’t make a sound.  

Ye Zhoushan’s heart ached so fiercely he could barely breathe. He hurried over, pressing his face against hers.  

“Don’t be afraid, wife. It’s okay. I’m here. Our daughter’s here too. Everything’s fine now.”  

“The baby… let me see the baby,” Lan Qingshuang rasped, her voice hoarse.  

Ye Zhoushan straightened and lifted a corner of the blanket. The tiny form became clearer.  

She was so small—like a kitten, smaller than his palm.  

Reddish, tinged with blue.  

Her breathing was shallow, almost imperceptible.  

Curled up against Lan Qingshuang’s chest.  

Ye Zhoushan’s heart twisted. How could my daughter be this tiny?

He leaned down and kissed the baby’s fragile back.  

His throat tightened painfully.  

“She’s fine. Our daughter is perfect. She’ll grow up to be as beautiful as you.”  

“Rest now. I’ll heat the kang and get you something to eat. Granny Deng left us some good food.”  

“Eat well, so you’ll have plenty of milk. We’ll fatten our little girl up nice and plump.”  

Hearing that the baby was fine, Lan Qingshuang relaxed slightly.  

Too exhausted to stay awake, she closed her eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.  

Her arms still instinctively cradled the tiny bundle against her chest.  

Ye Zhoushan’s chest tightened. He adjusted the blankets over them and tiptoed out.  

…

The early spring night wind was chilly, but Ye Zhoushan, dressed in thin clothes, didn’t feel the cold.  

His heart burned like fire, his entire body feverish.  

He took a deep breath of the cold air.  

That night, Ye Zhoushan stayed awake, watching over his wife and daughter.  

Every so often, he checked on them, terrified that if he looked away for even a second, he might lose one of them.  

Thankfully, both mother and child held on through the night.  

At dawn, Ye Zhoushan finally dozed off.  

His head jerked forward, startling him awake.  

He immediately checked on them.  

Lan Qingshuang’s eyes were open, staring blankly at the cracked ceiling.  

Her gaze was shattered, hollow—unnerving to see.  

Ye Zhoushan spoke softly, “Wife, you’re awake. Are you in pain? Hungry? I’ll get you something to eat.”  

Lan Qingshuang turned her head, locking eyes with him.  

“Husband,” she said, her voice eerily calm beneath the rasp.  

“Report them to the police. I want them to pay.”  

Beneath the flat tone, her heart was a furnace of rage.  

Ye Zhoushan felt the same fury rise in his chest.  

He gently smoothed her singed hair.  

“Leave it to me. Don’t worry about anything. Just focus on recovering and taking care of our daughter.”  

“Whether it’s vengeance or justice—I’ll handle it.”  

Lan Qingshuang shook her head.  

Tears spilled without warning.