The soft rustle of fabric and the faint clinking of jewelry announced Yexiao’s arrival. She stepped into the room with a serene smile, her movements fluid and deliberate. Yexiao’s presence was both commanding and calming, her silver-white hair glinting like moonlight, and her serpent-like eyes gleaming with wisdom.

Xiuying didn’t need to look at her to understand why she was there; they shared an unspoken connection that went beyond words.

For Zhuang, however, this was the first time she encountered Yexiao. Her gaze lingered on the woman’s striking form, taking in the faint scales glimmering along her arms and the ethereal aura that surrounded her. Something about her felt otherworldly, and Zhuang couldn’t shake the feeling that Yexiao wasn’t entirely human.

Yexiao’s eyes shifted to Lihua, still peacefully asleep on her lap. A hint of warmth flickered in her stoic expression as she bowed deeply to both women, respectfully. Then she approached Zhuang.

Zhuang stiffened slightly, unsure of what to expect, but Yexiao’s movements were gentle as she extended her hands. Carefully, she scooped the tiny pixie into her palms, cradling her as though she were the most precious thing in the world.

“Wait,” Zhuang began, her voice laced with concern, but before she could say more, Yexiao bowed again and left the room without a word.

Zhuang turned to Xiuying, her expression a mixture of confusion and worry. “Where is she taking her? Is Lihua going to be alright?”

But Xiuying’s attention remained solely on her. Her gaze softened as she leaned closer, brushing her knuckles against Zhuang’s cheek. “Lihua is in good hands. Yexiao tends to all the needs of this family when I’m not here. You don’t need to worry about her.”

“But—” she tried to protest, but Xiuying cut her off gently, her voice firm yet tender.

“You’ve been through enough, Zhuang. Right now, the only thing I’m worried about is you.”

The sincerity in her tone made Zhuang’s chest tighten. Despite her lingering concerns for the pixie, she couldn’t ignore the way Xiuying’s attention seemed to envelop her, grounding her in the moment. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she wasn’t alone.

Zhuang stared at her, disbelief and conflicted emotions swirling in her chest. The warmth of Xiuying’s touch on her face sent a shiver down her spine, but her words cut deeper.

“Just imagine what would have happened to you if I wasn’t watching your every step,” Xiuying said, her voice both scolding and protective. Her thumb brushed away another tear as she leaned closer, her gaze piercing. “But you… I could kill every one of those who hurt you. Yet, Ye Zhuang, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t infiltrated that sect.”

Before Zhuang could respond, Xiuying kissed her. It wasn’t gentle—it was intense, possessive, as though trying to erase the pain from Zhuang’s memories. When she pulled back, Xiuying cupped her face with both hands, forcing her to meet her eyes.

“I’m crazy as it is,” Xiuying whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “If I didn’t get to you in time—”

Zhuang cut her off, pressing her lips against Xiuying’s. It was a desperate, impulsive kiss, one that spoke of gratitude, regret, and longing all at once. When she pulled back, her heart racing, she shifted onto her knees, letting the sheet fall from her body.

Her bare skin glistened faintly in the soft light as she locked eyes with Xiuying. “You watched me?” Zhuang’s voice was quiet, trembling. “Even when I was crying?”

Xiuying chuckled softly, her lips curling into a faint smile. She reached out, brushing her fingers over Zhuang’s shoulder. “As long as you were safe, it didn’t matter,” she admitted, her tone both affectionate and unapologetic.

Zhuang’s cheeks flushed, her emotions a tangled mess of anger, vulnerability, and a strange comfort she couldn’t fully understand. But in that moment, as Xiuying’s steady gaze stayed on her, she felt like she could finally breathe again.