Chapter 98: The Postpartum Gift Shop Explosion

The crane elder appeared with a bundle of rare medicinal herbs and a lengthy lecture on postpartum care that had everyone’s eyes glazing over within minutes.

The wolf elder sent a message (via very exhausted messenger) that he was “too overwhelmed” to visit but sent his blessings and “please tell the cursed female—I mean, Bai Yue—that we’re very happy for her.”

The boar elder sent an entire haunch of roasted meat and a note that read: “Eat. Get strong. The baby needs milk. The tribe needs you not to die. Congratulations.”

Even the bear king sent something.

A single, perfect, glowing moonstone, delivered by a very nervous-looking messenger who fled before anyone could interrogate him.

“What do we do with it?” Bai Yue asked, holding the stone.

“Throw it away,” Han Shān said immediately.

“Return it,” Zhāo Yàn suggested.

“Keep it,” Yàn Shū offered. “Rejecting gifts from potential enemies can escalate conflict. Accepting them—”

“He’s not a potential enemy, he’s a creepy stalker,” Zhāo Yàn interrupted.

The moonstone ended up on a high shelf, out of sight but not quite forgotten.

~

By evening, the hut resembled a gift shop explosion.

Baskets of food. Piles of blankets. Carved toys. Healing herbs. Protective charms. Three different rattles (the snake twins had returned with two more). A tiny hat that the crane elder had knitted (it was very tall and very silly). A collection of colorful feathers from various well-meaning cubs.

And in the center of it all, Bai Yue sat with Zhēn in her arms, watching her family orbit around her like chaotic moons.

“She’s loved,” Yàn Shū said softly, appearing at her side with a cup of tea. “She has more gifts than any newborn in tribal history.”

“She’s spoiled.”

“Same thing.”

Bai Yue took the tea gratefully. “How did I get here, Yàn Shū? A few months ago, everyone wanted me dead. Now they’re bringing me handmade blankets and worrying about my milk supply.”

Yàn Shū smiled. “You changed. And when people see genuine change, they respond with genuine care.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the chaos.

Then Yàn Shū spoke again. “The dragon seems…..different. From what I heard.”

Bai Yue looked over at Cāng Jì, who was currently attempting to explain draconic architecture to the panther triplets while Ruì Xuě used his leg as a pillow and Yòu Lín sat on his other knee, braiding strands of his golden hair.

“He’s softer than he pretends,” she agreed.

“He likes you.”

“I know.”

“He likes

“I know.”

“He might like…..more.”

Bai Yue looked at her scholar husband. “Yàn Shū—”

“I’m not objecting.” He held up a hand. “I’m observing. Statistically, our family has a tendency to expand in unexpected ways.”

“This isn’t—we’re not—he’s a dragon.”

“Dragons are just beastmen with better reputation.”

Bai Yue laughed, surprising herself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m accurate. There’s a difference.”

~

Later, when the chaos had finally settled and most of the visitors had been shooed away by the grandmothers, Bai Yue found herself alone with Cāng Jì.

Well, alone-ish. Zhēn was in her arms, sleeping peacefully. The grandmothers were just outside, within earshot. Han Shān and Zhāo Yàn were patrolling the perimeter (more of glaring at shadows and each other). Yàn Shū was organizing the gifts.

But in the quiet of the hut, with the fire crackling softly and the baby sleeping, it felt almost intimate.

Cāng Jì sat on his stool, watching

“She hasn’t cried since I’ve been here,” he observed.

“She’s worn out from all the attention.”

“Hmm.” He paused. “She’s very… peaceful.”

“She has her moments.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“Bai Yue,” Cāng Jì said quietly, “I meant what I said earlier. About the peaks. About wanting to be part of her life.”

“I know.”

“I know you have husbands. I know you have a family. I know I’m… an outsider.” He swallowed hard. “But I would like to be…..less of one.”

Bai Yue looked at him, at the proud Dragon Prince who had been peed on by monkeys, who had danced in a feather skirt, who had flown her through the sky and called her star-thief and come back, again and again, despite having no real reason to.

“You’re not an outsider, Cāng Jì.”

He looked up, surprise flickering in his golden eyes.

“You’re family,” she said simply. “You just didn’t realize it yet.”

His face briefly relaxed, before he quickly masked with a huff.

“Hmph. Family. With primitive lowlanders. What would the council say?”

“They’d say you’ve gone soft.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Absolutely.”

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the fire, watching the baby.

And then Zhēn stirred.

Her purple eyes blinked open, unfocused and sleepy. She made a tiny sound, not a cry, just a little noise of awareness.

Her gaze drifted around the room, past Bai Yue, past the fire, until it landed on Cāng Jì.

She stared at him.

He stared back.

And then, very slowly, she reached out one tiny hand. Toward him.

Cāng Jì’s breath caught. “Is she—”

“She wants you to hold her,” Bai Yue said softly.

“I can’t. I’m—I’m a dragon. I’m too big. I’ll break her.”

“You won’t.”

“But—”

“Cāng Jì.” Bai Yue’s voice was gentle but firm. “She chose you. Take her.”

With trembling hands, the mighty Dragon Prince reached out and accepted the tiny bundle.

Zhēn settled against his chest immediately, making a little sound of contentment. Her tiny fingers curled around a strand of his golden hair. Her eyes fluttered closed.

Cāng Jì sat frozen, staring down at her.

“She’s so small,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “How is she so small?”

“She’s a baby.”

“She should be bigger. I should—” He stopped, shaking his head. “No, sorry. I…..”

“So….” He started. “Will you? I can settle it with my father, and we’ll stay in a place that doesn’t bother him. What do you say?”

Bai Yue thought to herself, before her face broke out into a smile.

“I’ll go with you.”

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