By mid-July, the Qi family began making arrangements for Qi Ying and Shen Xiling’s wedding.

Yao Shi specially went to consult a master who calculated that the twenty-third of July was an excellent day, most suitable for marriage. She thus made preparations and began bustling about the arrangements. From the wedding banquet to the couple’s wedding attire to various ceremonial items, Yao Shi personally attended to everything, recapturing the enthusiasm she had when organizing grand occasions during the Qi family’s prosperous days.

The two principals, Shen Xiling and Qi Ying, contributed little to these matters, each busy with their own affairs. Especially Shen Xiling, who was discussing trade matters with Li Wei from the Imperial Secretariat, keeping extremely busy.

In comparison, Young Master Qi, who had always been occupied, now seemed like a man of leisure.

He certainly wasn’t voluntarily idle—Shen Xiling now managed him quite strictly, bringing many physicians to examine him. Not only did he have to take medicine and receive acupuncture daily, he was also forbidden from worrying about official business. Even his daily meals and sleep were scheduled, truly making this genuine first minister of the realm both laugh and cry.

This little girl had been so obedient to him when young, yet now their positions were completely reversed. Whenever he tried not to listen to her, she would start crying pitifully. Though Qi Ying knew in his heart this was merely her little trick to control him, she cried so convincingly and he truly felt sorry for her, so he couldn’t go against her wishes—whatever she said went.

Speaking of which, Shen Xiling indeed had many insights regarding trade matters. Having been in commerce for years and knowing the geography and customs of both northern and southern states in great detail, she could see farther and more clearly than the officials of the Imperial Secretariat regarding specific trade arrangements. Though Li Wei, now promoted to Right Vice Director of the Imperial Secretariat, had long known his teacher’s fiancée was skilled in commercial affairs, he had never imagined her thoughts and vision could be so comprehensive. Especially during policy discussions, her words were steady and her manner remarkably similar to his teacher’s, earning his great admiration and increasingly respectful treatment of Shen Xiling.

Shen Xiling could naturally feel Li Wei’s respect and was pleased by it, yet he was really too polite to her, even calling her “Master’s Wife” at every turn, which always sounded somewhat strange to her… After all, this gentleman was actually about the same age as Qi Ying and was considerably older than her. When he called her Master’s Wife, she felt like she was losing years from her life. Despite her hints both obvious and subtle that he shouldn’t call her this, he wouldn’t listen, insisting that propriety must be observed. For Shen Xiling, this was truly a joyful burden.

Precisely because of Shen Xiling’s busy work with the Imperial Secretariat, Qi Ying became even more leisurely, truly living a carefree life of afternoon naps, fishing, reading, and tending flowers. If only Shen Xiling weren’t always rushing about and away from his side, everything would have been perfect.

However, Young Master Qi couldn’t always remain idle—there were always matters requiring his attention, such as the former emperor’s suicide in Hualin Garden on the nineteenth of July.

Hualin Garden was a royal palace garden built by the previous dynasty, renovated several times after Great Liang’s southern migration. With magnificent architecture and exquisite landscaping, emperors often held banquets there.

Now, this had become the place of confinement for the former emperor and former empress.

The garden contained several tall towers—Zhaori Tower to the east and Xiyue Tower to the west. The stairs to ascend required nine turns around each tower before reaching the top. They were adorned with pearl curtains outside and treasure canopies within, considered marvels of craftsmanship.

The former emperor and empress lived separately in the two towers, east and west apart. Since abdication, he no longer saw anyone, dwelling alone daily in Zhaori Tower. Even his empress Fu Rong hadn’t seen him for a long time. His body was only discovered the next day by palace servants bringing food, which was indeed lamentable.

When Qi Ying arrived at Hualin Garden, Han Feichi was already there. The Court of Judicial Review had sealed off the entire Zhaori Tower, allowing no unauthorized persons to enter or exit. The magnificent royal garden thus took on an ominous atmosphere, accompanied by waves of crying from Xiyue Tower, making it particularly eerie.

Palace servants knelt outside Zhaori Tower—all had been questioned by the Court of Judicial Review. They were very frightened, and upon seeing the Grand Tutor’s arrival became even more terrified, prostrating on the ground in continuous kowtowing, as reverent as if meeting their sovereign.

Qi Ying had no mind to attend to them, heading straight for Zhaori Tower’s main entrance. Seeing him arrive, Han Feichi immediately came forward to meet him.

In the scorching July heat, Han Feichi was also covered in sweat. He said quietly beside Qi Ying: “He died by hanging, left no words or letters, saw no one before death.”

Qi Ying’s brow furrowed deeply: “Why would he suddenly have such thoughts?”

Han Feichi was equally puzzled, only shaking his head to indicate he didn’t know. Qi Ying’s aura grew heavier, making Han Feichi somewhat fearful as he lowered his head and said: “I’m sorry, Second Brother… it’s my incompetence.”

Qi Ying didn’t respond, gazing at the tall Zhaori Tower in long silence. Only then did Han Feichi hear his sigh.

“Have all the Court of Judicial Review people withdraw,” he said. “I’ll go up alone to look.”

Han Feichi bowed his head and answered “yes,” quickly ordering his subordinates to leave. He bowed as he watched Qi Ying ascend the tower, and when no one could see, his eyes held some strange gleam.

Actually, Zhaori Tower wasn’t the most pleasant residence—it was rather too tall, making the rooms not very spacious, far less livable than the Linchun, Jieqi, and Wangxian pavilions. Yet when Xiao Ziheng moved to Hualin Garden, he insisted on living in Zhaori Tower, presumably precisely because of its height. Living atop it allowed the entire garden to be seen at a glance, always giving one the pleasure of commanding from above and controlling the whole situation—something he had always been obsessed with.

Qi Ying silently ascended the tower alone, step by step from low to high. With each step upward, the view became more expansive, but equally, the sense of loneliness from being on high became more intense—perhaps he ultimately couldn’t understand why Xiao Ziheng was so obsessed with reaching the absolute peak.

He finally reached the top of Zhaori Tower.

The scenery here was uniquely beautiful—outside the door, the magnificent landscape was close at hand, the golden and brilliant Jiankang City still displaying the prosperous scene of peaceful times, while inside the door… there was only a cold corpse.

Qi Ying stood outside the door for a while, then slowly stepped inside.

The magnificent Zhaori Tower was already in complete chaos—silk bedding was crumpled into balls, many leftover scraps of food were piled together, emanating foul odors after many days, and the floor was dirty everywhere, clearly long uncleaned.

Since abdication, Xiao Ziheng had shut his doors and refused to see anyone, not even allowing servants near. The palace had long had rumors that the former emperor had gone mad after the Mount Xiao rebellion, living wretchedly in Zhaori Tower like a pitiful animal—seeing it today proved the rumors true.

At this moment, long white silk hung from the room’s beams, and his body had been taken down by the Court of Judicial Review, covered with white cloth lying on the ground among the leftover scraps, appearing rather desolate. Qi Ying walked over, bent down and slowly lifted the white cloth covering the emperor’s corpse, revealing Xiao Ziheng’s remains.

He still had his eyes open, wide open, as if dying with eyes unclosed, as if even in death he wanted to watch this world and see what fate would befall those still living. His hair had formed into clumps, his clothes bore traces of spilled food and soup. Though there were new clothes in the room for changing, he perhaps refused to remove the dragon robe from his body, insisting on wearing it until the final moment.

…Already completely mad.

Qi Ying observed him for a while, looking at those eyes that refused to close, becoming somewhat lost in thought. Actually his heart was completely blank—neither fearful nor sorrowful. He had passed the age of being moved by scenes and feeling melancholy at every sight, moreover he had witnessed too much life and death, becoming numb long ago.

Yet the person before him was different from others who had died because of him—he needn’t have died, could have lived peacefully, wealthy and safe for a lifetime.

But in the end… it still came to this.

Qi Ying sighed somewhat. He stood up, turned to the window to look outside. In midsummer, Hualin Garden was full of flourishing flowers, everything appearing vibrant with life. The green scenery seemed capable of dispelling the gloom in one’s heart, making Qi Ying suddenly think of the beautiful flowers and trees in Fenghe Garden.

At this moment he suddenly heard someone calling him from behind.

“Jingchen.”

He turned around and saw the youthful Xiao Ziheng.

He was drinking wine.

The young Fourth Prince was dissolute, often disheveled and drunk to stupor, his peach blossom eyes revealing romantic charm. Among their group of friends then, he actually most possessed the style of the legendary Jiangzuo scholars.

He was raising his cup toward him, seemingly inviting him to drink together. Qi Ying walked a step closer to him, and in a trance seemed to return to youth.

They had not yet gained great power, each still regarded the other as a true friend.

Qi Ying walked toward Xiao Ziheng, sat down not far from him, saying: “Your Highness shouldn’t indulge in wine. His Majesty said later Your Highness must go to the Imperial Study to answer policy questions—you mustn’t get drunk.”

Xiao Ziheng laughed heartily, his peach blossom eyes sparkling: “I won’t go. Whoever wants to answer policy questions can go answer them. I’d rather be an immortal among wine, not concerning myself with worldly affairs.”

Qi Ying was somewhat helpless, shaking his head.

Xiao Ziheng raised his head to drink deeply, loudly saying “delightful,” then winked at Qi Ying with a smile: “Did you see Ziyu earlier? Wasn’t she caught by Mother Empress to learn the qin these past days? Not seeing you for several days, she made quite a fuss in her palace. Today she even told me she wanted to bring you cakes, asking what kind you like—I said you don’t like sweets, but she still didn’t believe it, sigh.”

He mocked his sister a few times, then laughed first himself. Qi Ying frowned and said: “Your Highness should speak carefully. The Princess’s reputation is paramount.”

Xiao Ziheng snorted, somewhat disdainful: “Can a lady’s reputation be preserved by others? It must depend on herself, at least she shouldn’t practically wag her tail whenever she sees you.”

He said a few more disparaging words, showing no mercy in mocking his own sister. Qi Ying found it inappropriate to discuss an unmarried princess and naturally remained silent.

Xiao Ziheng drank two more mouthfuls of wine. Having said enough bad things, he became serious, leaning close to Qi Ying and lowering his voice: “Actually, I think you could consider marrying her… You know that girl Ziyu, she’s liked you since childhood. You might as well fulfill her devoted heart—though she lacks some composure, her nature is pure and good. Didn’t you originally like people with kind dispositions? Wouldn’t she be perfect?”

He was after all an elder brother. Though he appeared to dislike his sister on the surface, his heart was still on her side, hoping her wishes would come true, hoping she would have no worries year after year.

Qi Ying heard his sincerity and thus replied sincerely: “The Princess is naturally wonderful, but I regard her as a sister, not with romantic feelings.”

After he answered, the drinking youth’s expression immediately changed—he suddenly became the older Xiao Ziheng, already enthroned and wearing yellow robes, already bearded, those bright peach blossom eyes from youth also becoming dark and gloomy, staring at him unrelentingly, coldly sneering and asking back: “You regard her as a sister? Then how could you bear to kill her brother and make her little nephew a pitiful puppet!”

His voice and expression were fierce, his face becoming twisted and terrifying. The fragrant wine in his hands also disappeared, becoming foul-smelling leftover scraps.

Qi Ying’s heart suddenly jumped, and immediately he too changed, equally transformed beyond recognition. He saw himself holding a knife, blood dripping from its edge drop by drop. When he looked up again, before him was no longer the flower-filled Hualin Garden, but Mount Xiao at night with torches like dragons, corpses and blood covering the ground. He stood in the center of the sea of fire, only steps away from Xiao Ziheng.

Xiao Ziheng’s face was already covered with bloody tears, his dragon robe also caught fire. Qi Ying frowned, wanting to tell him to immediately remove his outer robe to save his life, but he would rather burn to death than take it off. Behind him stood a child—Qi Ying couldn’t quite see the child’s face, seeming to be Xiao Yizhao, also seeming to be young Xiao Ziheng.

They looked at him together, increasingly consumed by flames, as if preferring death to turning back. Qi Ying’s hands clenched, looking into Xiao Ziheng’s eyes: “Your Highness…”

I don’t want to usurp power, don’t want to kill you, don’t want to harm your child.

I only want to protect the innocent people around me and give the world a true era of peace.

If you would just trust me once, even for just a brief moment.

But Xiao Ziheng was walking farther and farther away.

He completely retreated into the flames, burned beyond recognition by that great fire, yet even so he still stared fixedly at Qi Ying, his eyes filled with infinite malice and ferocity.

He cursed loudly: “Qi Jingchen, you will surely die a horrible death! Your family line will be cut off, your wife and children will suffer humiliation! For all eternity, never achieving fulfillment!”

He was finally consumed by the great fire, not even a shadow remaining.

Only the voice still echoing endlessly.

For all eternity.

Never achieving fulfillment.

Qi Ying suddenly snapped back to consciousness. What youth, what wine cup, what Mount Xiao, what great fire—all vanished without trace. Before him was only Xiao Ziheng’s corpse and his curse-filled eyes that refused to close even in death.

Qi Ying’s face showed no expression, yet beneath his sleeves, his fingers trembled almost imperceptibly.

He suddenly felt somewhat unsteady, so he raised his hand to support himself against the carved window frame. Just at this moment came hurried footsteps from outside the door. He turned to see Han Feichi rushing in with urgent strides, his expression somewhat panicked.

Qi Ying suddenly had an ominous premonition and immediately asked alertly: “What has happened?”

Han Feichi was covered in sweat, somewhat breathless, yet had no time to calm down, answering rapidly: “Someone came from Fenghe Garden with a message, saying… saying…”

Upon hearing “Fenghe Garden,” Qi Ying immediately changed expression. He grabbed Han Feichi’s arm, his expression cold to the extreme: “Saying what?”

Han Feichi swallowed and answered fearfully: “Saying… saying Miss Shen has fainted and still hasn’t awakened…”

Han Feichi had known Qi Ying for nearly twenty years, yet he had never seen him display such an expression.

Helpless, panicked, completely shattered.

Clearly someone who could remain unmoved even if Mount Tai collapsed before him, who viewed all things as dust and his own life as grass, yet just hearing vague news about that person made him immediately lose all composure.

When he turned to leave, even his steps revealed panic. Han Feichi watched his retreating figure with a thoughtful expression.

Qi Ying didn’t know how he returned to Fenghe Garden that day.

In his lifetime he had witnessed too many tremendous upheavals—life and death, rises and falls—nothing was new… yet there had never been a moment when he felt as helpless as then.

If brothers were imprisoned, he could find ways to help; if the family collapsed, he could maneuver in every way; if the state was in danger, he could sacrifice his life…

…But what if his Wenwen was in trouble?

If she fell ill, if she…

He would have no solutions whatsoever, could only submit to capture and await execution.

Yet at this moment, the curse Xiao Ziheng left in his hallucination echoed again and again in his ears:

“Qi Jingchen, you will surely die a horrible death! Your family line will be cut off, your wife and children will suffer humiliation! For all eternity, never achieving fulfillment!”

“Your wife and children will suffer humiliation! For all eternity, never achieving fulfillment!”

“For all eternity, never achieving fulfillment!”

…

Qi Ying slowly closed his eyes.

I know this life of mine is heavy with sin, my hands stained with countless blood. I willingly accept the world’s condemnation both in life and death, and even if I ultimately receive no good end, I have no resentment.

Only my retribution should not fall upon that innocent little girl.

Let me alone go to hell… she must remain safe and sound forever.

When Qi Ying rushed back to Fenghe Garden, Yao Shi was already there. His elder sister-in-law Han Ruohui had also brought Hui’er and Tai’er, and his younger sister-in-law Ning Shi was there too. People clustered in Woyu Courtyard, the maids around her crying and laughing at the same time, and several physicians gathered outside the room with beaming faces.

Everyone congratulated him upon seeing him. Yao Shi, sitting in the room, was even more overjoyed to tears when she saw him return, pulling him and saying: “Wenwen is with child—you’re going to be a father!”

He heard all these words, yet initially seemed unable to understand them, feeling only a roaring blur by his ears. Only when he finally pushed through the crowd to Shen Xiling’s bedside and saw her lying peacefully on the bed did everything gradually become real.

She was asleep.

Still as beautiful as always—so beautiful he couldn’t look away. Her expression was serene, her brows and eyes radiating gentleness and charm, the most familiar and beloved appearance to him.

She was still alive, perfectly alive.

Moreover… she carried his child.

When Shen Xiling awoke, it was already past noon. Summer weather changed at will—just before she woke, there had been a shower, which had just stopped, and the sunlight was bright and beautiful again.

She woke in a daze, not yet knowing what had happened, only seeing Yao Shi and the others gathered around her bed. Only then did she remember she had fainted earlier, while having tea and conversation with her future mother-in-law and sisters-in-law.

Today Yao Shi had actually come to discuss arrangements for the grand wedding. Han Ruohui and Ning Shi happened to be free and brought the children along. Shen Xiling had indeed been somewhat tired lately, probably from the mental effort of drafting trade regulations with the Imperial Secretariat, but she hadn’t taken it seriously, only lamenting that she had recently become delicate, unable to bear even a little fatigue… When she was in Shangjing, conditions were a hundred times more difficult than now, yet hadn’t she persevered just the same?

She somewhat looked down on herself, disgusted by her lack of fortitude, but hadn’t expected to faint while talking with her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law… it was rather improper.

She sat up groggily from the bed, then belatedly noticed that the people around her were looking at her with tears and laughter. She was truly puzzled and looked toward Yao Shi, asking: “Madam… what, what’s wrong?”

Yao Shi sat beside her bed, gripping her hand tightly without letting go, smiling through tears: “Silly child, you’re with child!”

Shen Xiling was stunned.

She asked incredulously: “What… what?”

The maids around were all smiling, and her sister-in-law Han Ruohui also said gently to her: “Sister-in-law is carrying Jingchen’s child—you’re going to be a mother.”

This…

Shen Xiling was as if hearing heavenly scripture, momentarily somewhat bewildered. After a while, joy suddenly surged up, making her clearly realize: she… was carrying that man’s child.

What they had once fantasized about together—staying by each other’s side and having a child—was becoming reality piece by piece.

Shen Xiling’s hand couldn’t help but tremble as she gently touched her belly. It was still very flat, showing no signs of pregnancy, yet there was already truly a new little life… her and his child.

Unconsciously, Shen Xiling suddenly shed tears.

While she didn’t know how to react, she heard Yao Shi complaining to those around her: “Where is Jingchen? Where has this father gone? Not even staying to accompany his wife… Quick, go find him. Didn’t he just return?”

Upon hearing this, Shen Xiling was startled, only then learning that Qi Ying had already returned. During the day he had been called away by court matters, leaving with a cold expression that had made her somewhat worried.

Fortunately he had returned and was at Fenghe Garden, probably already knowing the news of her pregnancy.

Shen Xiling felt somewhat joyful and somewhat shy, but also somewhat puzzled and disappointed: since that man had already returned, why wasn’t he by her side, personally telling her this good news?

Where… had he gone?

Later, Shen Xiling found Qi Ying in望园 (Wangyuan – Viewing Garden).

At that time he was sitting alone in the pavilion by the lotus pond, his back to the stone gate of Wangyuan. The lotus flowers in the pond were at their peak bloom, clustering together in full flower, standing gracefully, their fragrance drifting.

Appearing full of vitality.

Shen Xiling tiptoed toward him, wanting to secretly startle him. Though he usually could always detect her presence, that day he seemed lost in thought. Only when she embraced him from behind did he notice her arrival, turning to look at her with a somewhat distant expression, showing little joy.

That expression made Shen Xiling pause.

But he quickly came back to himself, frowning slightly as he stood up, carefully helping her sit down, saying: “How did you come alone? Now that you’re with child, you must be more careful when walking about. What if you fell?”

His tone was somewhat stern.

Having just learned of her pregnancy, Shen Xiling’s emotions were already complex—both very joyful and somewhat subtly melancholy and nervous. She really needed his comfort, yet when she woke he wasn’t by her side, and when she came to find him, he didn’t seem very happy either. This inevitably made her feel downcast.

She pressed her lips together, remained silent for a while, then gently tugged at his sleeve. When she looked up at him, her eyes unconsciously reddened as she asked: “Are you not happy?”

Qi Ying was stunned.

“Or,” her tears fell, “…do you actually not want this child?”

At this moment a gentle breeze blew, creating circles of faint ripples on the lotus pond’s surface.

…Qi Ying’s heart was the same.

He sighed, then carefully embraced his little girl, but said nothing, only quietly holding her. After a long time Shen Xiling heard him say: “…I don’t dare to be happy.”

I don’t dare show any happiness at all.

We’ve experienced too much suffering. Several times I thought we were about to achieve fulfillment, but then complications arose again.

Now is the same.

If there truly are gods and Buddhas in the unseen realm, I fear that if I appear too joyful, they will take away our fulfillment again, and everything will become empty once more.

This statement was so abrupt and unclear that anyone would find it difficult to understand his meaning, yet Shen Xiling understood, and from his seemingly calm, low voice she heard the deeply buried joy.

So profound, so careful.

Making her eyes immediately fill with tears.

She cried even more fiercely while holding him even tighter, because she could feel that the person before her at this moment… was so lonely and broken.

“Nothing will happen anymore, definitely nothing will happen again.”

She comforted him while crying, appearing extremely fragile yet unusually strong.

“Even if we’re truly so unlucky and have to endure more hardships, there’s nothing to fear,” she smiled through tears, as bright as the post-rain sunshine at this moment, with heart-stopping beauty. “As long as we stay together always.”

In the bright midsummer, the flowers and leaves in the lotus pond still bore raindrops from the recent storm clouds. Now under the brilliant sun they appeared crystal clear. Gentle breezes stirred, the water surface was clear and round, and the pond full of lotus flowers slowly unfurled with the wind, their leaves swaying like living beings—each wind-lifted lotus.

Actually, it wasn’t particularly beautiful.

It would just continue like this for a long, long time.

—

**Author’s Note:**

*Burning aloe wood, dispelling summer heat. Birds call for clear sky, before dawn peering at eaves and chattering. First sunlight on leaves dries overnight rain, water surface clear and round, each wind-lifted lotus.*

*Homeland distant, when to return? Home in Wu Gate, long a traveler in Chang’an. Does the fisherman of fifth month still remember? Small oar, light boat, dreams enter lotus creek.*

From starting serialization last July to completing the main text this March, eight full months have passed. I finally finished writing this story, and I’m indeed somewhat emotional, so I’m going to ramble again (sigh).

First, I must thank Zhou Bangyan for writing such a delicate and beautiful poem. When I first learned it in high school, I was amazed: What is this? Why is it so excellent? Even being selected for textbooks couldn’t diminish its beauty—simply incredible. After using “Wind-Lifted Lotus” as this story’s title, I discovered the entire poem surprisingly matched this story so well. When I realized this, it felt wonderful, like the mysterious experience of truly reaching your idol… Thank you, Teacher Zhou, you are the most amazing.

Of course, I need to thank even more the readers who accompanied me throughout. I’m truly grateful to everyone. Though I’ve rambled many times in my author’s notes during serialization, it’s still not enough to express my gratitude. I have so many shortcomings—my writing style completely doesn’t follow web novel conventions, very slow-burning with quite a few painful scenes, which must have made readers suffer. Moreover, my formatting is disastrous, densely packed together, which must have frustrated everyone… In short, there are too many inadequacies, yet everyone still tolerated me and accompanied this story to completion. I’m truly, truly grateful. Without everyone, I definitely couldn’t have persisted through these 800,000 words. “Wind-Lifted Lotus” is something we completed together. Thank you so much.

Also, I want to thank the people in this story. Thank you Wenwen, thank you Young Master Qi, thank you Young General Gu, thank you Qingzhu and Baisong, thank you Yao Shi, and many other lovely characters. You’re all so wonderful that you attracted me to definitely finish this story, wanting to give you all closure. I’m glad that despite lacking willpower, I still wrote the story to its grand finale (though some extras are still missing…). Everyone finally wrapped up, though I’m also sorry that due to my limitations and other constraints, some things couldn’t be fully developed—for instance, Young General Gu’s charm should have been more prominent in my original conception, but his five years with Wenwen were cut by me. Poor Young General Gu who got his scenes reduced… Mama is sorry, but I’ll try to find other ways to compensate you, though I don’t know if it can be realized (sigh)… Also originally Fourth Prince Xiao was supposed to have romantic scenes with Wenwen (?)… but I ruthlessly cut those too… These are all regrets.

However, no matter what, we stumbled through to completion. Wenwen and Young Master Qi finally achieved fulfillment and will continue being happy forever in their story world. I hope lovely readers can also be as fulfilled and happy as them~ (But don’t suffer as much as they did! Go straight to happiness!)

Finally, a few PS notes:

PS: There are still a few small easter eggs in the text like the names of the Qi family’s four children mentioned earlier. Welcome everyone to discover them~ If you can’t find them, then my setup wasn’t successful either (sigh).

PPS: Extras are being prepared, but I’m a bit tired lately, so I might rest a few days before updating. I also need to struggle over whether they should have a baby girl or boy…

PPPS: “Wind-Lifted Lotus” is a story I prepared for a long time. I feel even after finishing all the extras, I’ll be stuck in this story for a long time, being a nail household in Wenwen and Young Master Qi’s Fenghe Garden… Preparing another story of similar scope might take time, mainly emotional preparation (why am I so useless…). So next I want to write some healing little stories. The two advance notifications next door [“Dog Director, Open the Door!”] and [“She’s Really Too Hard to Pursue”] both plan to take a lighter, more healing style. Please support them, dear interested readers! (Today is another day of clinging to readers’ thighs (oo)).

Rambling ended! Thank you everyone~ Bow!