In a swirling storm of blame and pain, Wèi Wúxiàn is pushed to his breaking point. But it is not until his tender-hearted A-yuàn becomes the target of their cruelty that he finally snaps, fueled by an almost primal urge to protect his innocent child...
Now, all he cares about is his family and nothing else matters...
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Once Wēn Qíng finished dressing A-yuan's stitches, Wèi Wúxiàn gently cradled his son, being mindful of his freshly stitched wound. He praised A-yuàn for his bravery, not shedding a single tear while his aunt Wēn Qíng treated his injury. Wèi Wúxiàn showered the little boy with affection, peppering his face with countless kisses until A-yuàn dissolved into a fit of giggles.
After pampering and doting on A-yuàn, Wèi Wúxiàn turned his attention to Wēn Qíng, who stood rigidly, eyeing the unconscious Lán cultivator with wary suspicion. For a few moments, he simply observed her, then reached out and gently tugged her sleeve to catch her attention.
Wēn Qíng snapped out of her trance, frowning at Wèi Wúxiàn, but he could see through her mask. To others, her expression might seem gruff and unapproachable, but Wèi Wúxiàn knew better. Despite her frequent scolding over his reckless injuries and peculiar fondness for potatoes, he understood that she loved him dearly, just as she loved her younger brother Wēn Níng.
Even now, Wèi Wúxiàn recognized Wēn Qíng's attempt to project a brave facade, to appear strong and unshaken. But beneath that exterior, he knew this incident had left her deeply worried, shocked, and shaken to her core.
And it wasn't just Wēn Qíng. Wèi Wúxiàn had witnessed the shock and fear on the faces of his other family members when he rushed out, desperately calling Wēn Qíng's name in panic. A-yuàn had been wailing loudly, his robes soaked in the boy's blood, while one of his fierce corpses clumsily followed behind, carrying an unconscious Lán cultivator over its shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
The pallor of their faces upon seeing A-yuàn's bleeding wound said it all. Now, Wèi Wúxiàn knew they were waiting anxiously outside his Demon Slaughtering Cave, desperate to learn of A-yuàn's condition and the events that had transpired.
"Qíng-jiě," Wèi Wúxiàn called out softly, still holding onto the sleeve of her robe. Wēn Qíng met his gaze, her eyes softening as she cupped his cheeks with her palms. She must have sensed something in his tone or expression, for she stepped closer and enveloped him in a warm embrace.
Wèi Wúxiàn let out a shaky sigh, raising his free arm to wrap around her waist as he buried his face against her stomach, careful not to crush A-yuàn between them.
Wēn Qíng stood still, allowing Wèi Wúxiàn to hold her close. She could see the stress weighing on him, his attempt to appear brave for A-yuàn's sake – for all of their sakes. Gently, she began running her fingers through his thick, untamed hair, massaging his scalp with the faintest hint of spiritual energy at her fingertips, hoping to provide some measure of comfort.
"Yīng-dì, I'm certain everything will be fine. I trust you, A-yīng," Wēn Qíng murmured softly, continuing to stroke his head soothingly.
Wèi Wúxiàn took a deep breath and pulled back from her gentle embrace. He looked into her eyes, offering a small smile that caused Wēn Qíng's gaze to soften even further.
