CHAPTER 134: CHAPTER 134; BRING ALL THE DOCTORS

"You don’t have to," Jin Shuren cut her off quietly, his tone low but firm, the steel of command wrapped in something far gentler. His arms tightened around her, his pace steady as he walked. "She’s not gone and going nowhere, she’s here, with us and safe."

Her lashes fluttered, damp with tears, her face pale against the darkness of his shirt. Each step he took seemed to chip away at the jagged edges of her fear, though shadows of doubt still clung stubbornly.

She dared to look up at him, her eyes red-rimmed, glassy with mistrust and longing both. "Safe...?" she breathed, as if the word itself were too fragile to exist.

He inclined his head once, the certainty in his expression impenetrable. "Safe. I would never take her from you."

Something inside her broke at those words, not with pain this time, but with a trembling release.

A sob shook through her, softer now, stripped of the panic, carrying instead the weight of exhaustion, of grief, of fragile hope daring to breathe again.

Her body sagged fully into his hold, no longer fighting him. Her forehead pressed against the warm crook of his neck as if hiding from the world, her tears trailing silently now.

Jin Shuren’s jaw tightened as he felt the change, the surrender of someone who had been holding herself against storms for too long.

Carefully, almost reverently, he adjusted his grip and slowed his stride as the door to another bedroom came into view.

"Rest easy," he murmured against her hair, his voice gentler than she’d ever heard it, almost like a vow. "You’ll see her now."

The door creaked open, the hush of the room beyond wrapping around them.

And there, on the small bed by the window, her little princess lay curled beneath soft blankets, chest rising and falling in the rhythm of untroubled dreams.

For a heartbeat, Yueyao could only stare. Her vision blurred instantly, tears spilling hot and unrestrained, but she blinked through them, desperate, terrified that the image might dissolve into another cruel illusion.

The gentle rise and fall of Yueqin’s chest was real. The little girl’s lashes fluttered faintly in her sleep, lips parted just so, a soft sigh escaping as if even her dreams were peaceful.

Yueyao’s knees buckled. A raw sob tore from her throat before she could hold it back, and she crumpled in Jin Shuren’s arms.

"My baby..." The words cracked, fragile as glass. Her fingers trembled violently as she reached out, barely brushing the air, afraid that if she touched, the child would vanish. "My princess... You are really here..."

Her sobs came in waves now, uncontrollably, each one heavier than the last, years of grief and fear bleeding out at once.

She pressed her face against Jin Shuren’s chest again, muffling her broken sounds, but her eyes never left Yueqin.

Jin Shuren lowered herself slowly, letting her sink to the edge of the bed. His hand stayed firm at her back, steadying her shaking form as if he knew she’d collapse entirely if he let go.

Yueyao’s fingers finally found her daughter’s tiny hand, warm and soft against her palm. The contact shattered her last fragile restraint.

She bent forward, forehead pressing against the little one’s hand, and wept with a helplessness she hadn’t allowed herself in years.

Each sob carried fragments of words, half-whispered confessions meant only for the child’s sleeping ears....

"I missed you..."

"I thought I lost you forever..."

"I love you, I love you so much..."

Jin Shuren stood silently beside her, his shadow sheltering them both.

He didn’t intrude and didn’t speak. Only one hand lingered lightly at Yueyao’s shoulder, a silent anchor while she unraveled completely in the safety of her daughter’s nearness.

At last, when her voice had broken down into hoarse murmurs, Yueyao lifted her tear-streaked face just enough to see Yueqin stir faintly, shifting under the blankets with the smallest sound of contentment.

Relief, raw and overwhelming, surged through her. The knot of agony in her chest loosened, just enough to let in something fragile, almost unbearable in its gentleness. Hope.

Hope.

The word lodged in Yueyao’s chest, fragile and unfamiliar, yet so achingly sweet that she hardly dared breathe lest it vanish.

She eased herself onto the bed beside her daughter, careful not to disturb her, and slipped an arm around the little girl’s small frame.

Yueqin shifted instinctively in her sleep, turning into her mother’s warmth, her tiny hand still trapped securely in Yueyao’s trembling grasp.

At that, something in Yueyao finally unclenched.

The tears still lingered, but no longer with the sharp edge of despair. Instead, they trailed down her cheeks silently as her eyes grew heavy. She pressed a lingering kiss to her daughter’s soft hair, inhaled the faint, innocent scent, and allowed herself to curl protectively around her.

Within minutes, exhaustion claimed her. Her breathing evened, her body loosening into the first unguarded sleep she’d surrendered to in years, her little princess safe in her arms.

Jin Shuren stood at the bedside, unmoving. His gaze traced the fragile peace that had settled over the two, mother and daughter entwined, a bond so raw it was almost sacred. For a long time, he did nothing but watch, the silence weighted with something unspoken in his chest.

Finally, he moved. Slowly, with hands uncharacteristically gentle, he lifted the blanket and draped it over them both, tucking the corners as if sealing them away from the world.

Yueyao stirred faintly but did not wake; she only drew her daughter closer, instinctively protective even in sleep.

Shuren’s throat worked as he lingered for one last moment, his eyes shadowed with a rare, quiet ache.

Then he turned, slipping soundlessly from the room.

In the hallway, the door closing softly behind him, he drew out his phone. His voice was low but edged with quiet command when the call connected.

"Bring all the doctors to the mansion," he said, and then paused for a second, his eyes flicked back to the closed door, the fragile calm beyond it.