The chill that crept in through the gently rolled-up curtains dissipated in the warmth emanating from the stove in the hall. The sorrow on Yan Ning's face gradually faded, and she kept reminding herself that she was Fukang'an's wife, the mistress of the Fucha family.

When Fukang'an led Yan Ning into the inner room, the maids were tidying up the mess. As soon as they entered, Yan Ning inhaled the strong, nauseating smell of blood, which had been inhaled by the heat.

A midwife carrying an infant wrapped in pale yellow silk stepped forward to greet Fukang'an and Wuchun. Fukang'an released Yan Ning's hand and took the child from the midwife.

His face was full of warmth, and his eyes, which looked at Yan Ning, held a hidden smile, like jade hair that was both cold and gentle.

The child was delicate and beautiful, her face slightly wrinkled, yet it was clear she was destined to be a beauty. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and soft; she was as fragile and delicate as a piece of fine ice and glass carefully preserved in spring, which, if exerted with the slightest force, would break and shatter, vanishing into the world.

The doctor said that Wu Chun had ingested a large amount of saffron, which had damaged the vital energy of both the mother and the child. As a result, the child was born with insufficient qi and blood and needed careful care. Furthermore, Wu Chun would likely be unable to provide servants for the Fucha family in the future, and it would be best if she could recover to her previous health.

Doctor Fukang'an ordered that no matter how expensive the medicine was, he should do his best to help Wuchun recover. The doctor then wrote a prescription and gave it to the servant waiting outside the door to fetch the medicine and bring it back to Chunying Garden to be decocted.

After sending someone to fetch ginseng, bird's nest, and other medicines to replenish qi and blood, Fukang'an saw that there were already two wet nurses waiting in the inner room, but he still felt it was not enough and wanted to send someone to find more, but Yan Ning stopped him.

A wet nurse is a nanny who accompanies the young masters and ladies of the household as they grow up. Delin only has one wet nurse. If there were more people, it would disrupt the child's daily eating habits.

After listening to Yan Ning's story, Fu Kang'an realized he had already been overjoyed. He handed the child to the wet nurse, sat on the bed, and gently held Wu Chun's sweaty hand.

The brocade quilt and mattress beneath Wu Chun had already been changed to clean ones. She leaned weakly against the soft, fragrant pillow embroidered with gold flowers and butterflies, her eyes half-closed. Her face, snow-white neck, and slender fingers and jade-like hands looked as if they had been soaked in lime water, tinged with a smoky white.

A faint smile bloomed on her water-soaked face. "General, would you please give our daughter a blessed and auspicious name?"

Fukang'an nodded, looking at her warmly.

Wu Chun's black tuft of hair clung to her neck, her cheeks flushed with the rosy glow of the setting sun, and her half-closed eyes added to her delicate and pitiful appearance.

Yan Ning stood by the floor-length crimson gauze curtains of the bed, her hands, supported by Zhu Xiang, her knuckles pale and stiff. She gazed at Fukang'an's upright back, as if all of this was perfectly natural.

She should have watched her husband and other women in harmony, she should have looked at them with grace and poise, and she should have felt joy for the newborn in Chunying Garden; Yan Ning gradually realized how much bitterness and sorrow was behind Xi Ying's dignified and virtuous smile every day.

Fukang'an took the ginseng soup from the maid and prepared to feed it to Wuchun. Tears welled in Yan Ning's eyes, blurring his deep crimson figure, which remained as steady as a rock.

She grabbed Zhu Xiang's hand and fled in a panic as dusk approached. The maids of Chunying Garden were lighting lamps, and the courtyard was shrouded in a hazy, gloomy atmosphere. The light that seeped into the rooms, mixed with the candlelight from the lamps the maids had just lit, became an elusive, grayish-black phosphorescence.

Yan Ning's eyes were filled with tears, and the path beneath her feet was hidden behind the ripples. As she stepped out of the main room, she tripped over the high threshold, and the hairpin flew off her already loosely tied hair bun, her long, flowing black hair hanging down to her waist.

Although Zhu Xiang immediately helped Yan Ning up, her jade-like hands, which were soaked in fresh milk and flower juice every day, still left five mottled soot marks on the asphalt slab.

The last thing Fukang'an saw in his eyes was Yan Ning's almost flying footsteps, and his hand holding the jade porcelain bowl paused. He handed the jade porcelain bowl back to Diecui, his hand gently gliding over Wuchun's moist face.

He said gently, "Take good care of yourself, I'll come see you again tomorrow!"

Wu Chun knew that a daughter could not possibly hold Fukang'an's heart. She weakly forced a smile and then closed her eyes.

Fukang'an stood up, put his hands behind his back, and sternly said to the maids and nannies in the room, "Serve Aunt An well!" The maids and nannies obeyed behind him.

Zhu Xiang helped Yan Ning step over the threshold, but was startled by a pair of hands that suddenly appeared and retreated. She looked at Fu Kang'an's hands that were blocking Yan Ning's waist with some fear, her chest pounding and the short animal hair sewn at the neck of her clothes swaying.

Yan Ning was forced to wrap her arms around Fukang'an's neck. She was somewhat angry, but then she realized that he could be so open and honest about having feelings for two women.

She tried to struggle down, but Zhao Xing, who had rushed in through the courtyard gate, ran up and whispered a few words in Fukang'an's ear. Fukang'an's warm expression turned cold, and his eyes, sharp as a prairie eagle, stared ahead.