“Jiang, I…” Qiaomu shifted her body slightly and immediately frowned.

“Don’t move.” Feng Jiang held her by the shoulder. “You can’t move right now — the wound hasn’t healed yet.”

“Wound?” Qiaomu looked at Feng Jiu’er. “You cut my belly open?”

“Without cutting it open, could I have given birth for you instead?” Feng Jiu’er stood and lifted Qiaomu’s eyelid to check.

“Fortunately I’d researched a technique beforehand that leaves the internal threads unaffected even if left inside the body — otherwise I wouldn’t have dared perform this operation.”

“Does it hurt a lot?” Feng Jiang gently stroked Qiaomu’s face.

The frown on Qiaomu’s brow slowly eased.

“It’s definitely going to hurt. If you feel up to it later, you’ll need to move around a bit — you must get out of bed tomorrow without fail.” Feng Jiu’er let go of Qiaomu and walked toward the foot of the bed.

“Jiu’er, does she really need to move this soon?” Feng Jiang asked, puzzled.

“Mm.” Feng Jiu’er nodded. “There’s still a lot of stagnant blood inside her that needs to be expelled — her body will recover faster that way.”

Qiaomu paid no more attention to the two of them, her focus fixed on little Xiao Xiao Jiang.

“He’s this small?” This was her first impression upon seeing her son.

Feng Jiu’er, who was busy applying gauze, glanced up slightly.

“Still think he’s small? You gave birth a whole month early — this weight is already very good.”

With Feng Jiang’s help, Qiaomu managed to touch little Xiao Xiao Jiang’s face.

She couldn’t help it — she let out a soft laugh.

But that laugh pulled at her wound, and the pain made her wince and grit her teeth at once.

“Feng Jiu’er, that hurts!”

“Qiao.” Feng Jiang, aching for his wife, said, “Jiu’er, can you be a little gentler?”

Feng Jiu’er frowned. “So the two of you are going to team up and bully a poor, weak woman like me? I haven’t even touched her wound yet.”

“It’s her own fault for moving too much and pulling at it.”

“Hey, can you open your eyes and look at your mother?” Qiaomu didn’t take Feng Jiu’er’s words to heart at all.

That cry a moment ago had just been because she couldn’t help it.

Feng Jiang glanced at her, then looked back at Feng Jiu’er.

Feeling the gaze directed at her, Feng Jiu’er said indifferently, “It’s fine! Have I not endured enough grievances already?”

“But, Third Imperial Brother, you’d better tally up just how much you owe me — I am, after all, the benefactor who saved your entire family of three.”

“That’s right.” The corner of Feng Jiang’s mouth lifted.

“Right about what?” Qiaomu shot him a look. “I’m the one giving birth — what does that have to do with you?”

Feng Jiang looked at his sharp-tongued wife, his eyes growing hot, tears nearly spilling over.

“If you weren’t here, my living on would mean nothing at all!”

“Such nonsense!” Qiaomu rolled her eyes again. “Don’t ever let me hear such an idiotic thought from you again.”

“Wife.” Feng Jiang leaned in and gently stroked Qiaomu’s head. “Don’t get upset. From now on, I’ll listen to everything you say.”

“Feng Jiang, do you think he looks more like you, or more like me?” Not long after waking, Qiaomu’s complexion had already regained much of its color.

“Mother, Sister Qiaomu is awake.”

No sooner had Yue Qinchun’s voice come through than the curtain to the room was lifted.

“Qiaomu, are you awake?” Tang Xiaohua strode in.

“Mother, Jiu’er told us to wait outside.” Yue Qinchun stood at the doorway, calling in softly.

“Well, look at that, she really is awake.” Tang Xiaohua said with a smile, flicking her hand behind her.

“Qinchun, keep watch outside — Jiu’er is changing Qiaomu’s dressing.”

Yue Qinchun nodded, stepped back, and let the curtain fall.

“Jiu’er, I’ll just say a few words — I really can’t hold it in.” Tang Xiaohua came to the bedside.

Feng Jiu’er shook her head and didn’t stop her.

“Qiaomu, you’ve finally woken up.” Tang Xiaohua, now at the bedside, stared at the person lying there.

“Do you have any idea what these past days have been like for us? Do you know…”