Chapter 45: The First Son

Zhāo Yàn let out a long, ragged sigh. He ran a hand through his damp hair, his usually perfect posture slumping just a fraction.

“I know what you are thinking, Han Shān,” Zhāo Yàn murmured, his voice dropping to a serious register. “I didn’t believe it myself at first. I was convinced it was just another one of her manipulative tricks.”

Han Shān’s jaw clenched tight enough to crack a bone. “She is the cursed female. She does nothing without a vicious reason.”

“I thought so too,” Zhāo Yàn admitted, leaning against a dark stone. He looked away, his gaze drifting up, and then, to Han Shān’s absolute horror, a faint, rosy blush spread across the Fox Lord’s sharp cheekbones.

“But she really has changed,” Zhāo Yàn whispered, almost to himself. He reached up, his thumb lightly brushing his own lower lip where Bai Yue had just kissed him. “She gets so flustered now. Her face turns bright red over the smallest things. She’s…..soft. I like this new her.”

Han Shān looked as if someone had just hit him over the head with a club.

The Fox Lord? Blushing? Over the female who had made their lives a living nightmare?

“You have lost your mind,” Han Shān stated flatly.

Zhāo Yàn chuckled dryly. “Perhaps. But my nose doesn’t lie, leopard. The sour scent of malice is completely gone from her. She smells like sunshine and…..well, right now she smells like swamp mud, but you understand.”

Zhāo Yàn pushed off the rock, his expression sobering. He bowed his head slightly, a rare gesture of respect toward his fellow husband. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Not yet. She still needs to make things right with you, and with the panda, before I stake my claim.”

Han Shān stared at him, the violent jealousy in his chest warring with a deep, exhausting sadness.

“No,” Han Shān said, his voice a gravelly rumble.

Zhāo Yàn blinked. “No?”

“It’s fine. Ruì Xuě…” Han Shān swallowed hard, the words tasting like ash. “He has been asking after her.”

Zhāo Yàn’s fox ears twitched in surprise. “The cub? Still?”

Han Shān nodded slowly, his broad shoulders tense. “Yes. He made me come here. He wanted to see her. He defended her to me.”

Zhāo Yàn hesitated, a flicker of genuine empathy crossing his handsome face. He knew exactly what Han Shān was feeling. “I know how you feel….She was terrible to him, Han Shān. Very, very terrible. I know this.”

“She starved him,” Han Shān growled softly, the painful memories flashing behind his eyes. “She left him out in the cold. She told him she wished he was never born.”

“I remember,” Zhāo Yàn said softly. “She abandoned Yòu Lín to the dirt, too. That was a very difficult time. But Han Shān…I swear this. There is a light in her now. A warmth. The cubs can feel it.”

Han Shān sighed, the icy exterior finally cracking just a little. “A light? Hmm.”

“Let’s go,” Zhāo Yàn patted his shoulder. “Leave her to soak her face in the water before she literally dies of embarrassment.”

Han Shan grumbled. “I would love if she died.”

They left the grotto, and made the short walk back to Han Shān’s quiet hut at the edge of the village.

As they approached the clearing, Ruì Xuě’s fluffy tail wagged a mile a minute. He bounded forward, his purple eyes sparkling.

“Uncle Zhāo Yàn!” the cub cheered, throwing his arms around the Fox Lord’s legs.

Zhāo Yàn smiled, scooping the snow leopard cub into his arms. “Hello, snowflake. Have you been practicing your pounces?”

“Yes! I caught a really big leaf!” Ruì Xuě beamed, before craning his neck to look over Zhāo Yàn’s shoulder. He pouted. “Where is the cursed female? I thought you would bring her here?”

Han Shān gave Zhāo Yàn a weary, pointed look, as if to say, See?

Zhāo Yàn chuckled, ruffling Ruì Xuě’s white hair. “She is cleaning up, little one. You’ll see her at the tribe meal tonight. She has a very silly story to tell you about a dragon.”

“Okay!” Ruì Xuě cheered, squirming down to the ground to resume attacking a stray root.

The two men stood in front of the hut, a surprisingly peaceful silence settling over them. Watching Ruì Xuě play was everything to Han Shān, who had slowly and painfully watched his son enter a shell for some time.

But now it seemed as though it was over.

Snap.

The sharp sound of a breaking twig echoed from the dense brush just outside the territory line.

Instantly, the peaceful atmosphere shattered.

Han Shān’s pupils dilated, a low, vicious snarl ripping from his chest. Zhāo Yàn’s tails flared out behind him, his claws extending with a deadly snick.

Both alpha beastmen spun around, throwing themselves protectively in front of Ruì Xuě.

“Who’s there?!” Han Shān roared.

The bushes rustled violently.

“Do not yell at me!” a fiery, cracking voice snapped back.

Uh?

A figure shoved roughly through the heavy foliage, stepping out into the light.

Han Shān and Zhāo Yàn both froze, their defensive stances faltering.

“Eh?” Zhāo Yàn blinked, his claws retracting in sheer confusion.

Standing before them was a boy, no older than thirteen. He had messy, untamed auburn hair with distinct white markings on his ears, a bushy red tail flicking angrily behind him, and a pair of fierce, amber eyes glaring daggers at them. His clothes were ragged, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

It was Hóng Yè. The Red Panda. Bai Yue’s very first child.

But he wasn’t alone. Standing right beside the furious teenager, acting as a massive, imposing bodyguard, was an older beastman boy. He was broad-shouldered, with striking black and orange hair and thick, powerful arms crossed over his chest.

A Tiger beastman.

“Where is she?” Hóng Yè demanded, his voice cracking with teenage rage as he bared his fangs at his step-fathers. “Where is that cursed female?!”

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