Qingyao's eyes widened, and she cried out in panic, "Wuqing, I'm going into labor."
As soon as she spoke, the zither music abruptly stopped.
Inside the room, cries of pain could be heard intermittently, accompanied by Mochou's voice, "Miss, push, push harder, I can see the baby's head. Come, follow my voice, exhale, inhale..."
Outside the room, several grown men wore expressions of tension. Even the usually expressionless Wuqing's slender hands unconsciously clenched.
It turned out that giving birth was so agonizing. Every birth meant the mother had to go through hell.
Qingfeng, Mingyue, and Moyou, the three youths, all looked pale. They were both curious and nervous, as if they were the ones giving birth.
The men outside, following Mochou's voice from inside, involuntarily exhaled and inhaled in rhythm. Just as they were all about to hyperventilate.
Suddenly, joyous voices erupted from the room, "She's born, she's born, Miss, she's finally born!"
Mochou, covered in sweat, let out a sigh of relief. She had meticulously followed Young Master Wuqing's instructions and completed all the necessary steps. The baby had been born safe and sound.
It was wonderful that the master was also fine. With a *slap*, Mochou spanked the baby's bottom hard. The little one finally burst into tears.
"Congratulations, Miss. It's a little lady."
As soon as Mochou's words fell, the men outside frowned. Two or three figures flashed away, Mingyue's impolite voice mixed in.
"Another woman. What a headache."
After speaking, the three of them uniformly flashed away, leaving only Moyou lingering by the door, unsure whether to enter the room.
"Bring her over so I can see," Qingyao, who had just given birth, was utterly weak. Yet, the thought of a piece of her own flesh brought a surge of joy to her heart, and her face was filled with maternal radiance as she softly instructed Mochou.
Mochou wrapped the baby, gently placed her in the master's arms, cleaned her mistress's body, tidied everything up, and carried a basin of bloody water out.
Outside the room, Moyou's eyes were wide open. Upon seeing her emerge, he anxiously asked.
"Is the master alright?"
"She's fine. Mother and daughter are safe. You can go in and see."
"Okay," Moyou replied and rushed in. Mochou raised an eyebrow curiously, "Hey, what about others?"
"They've all left," Moyou blurted out as he rushed in. Mochou rolled her eyes. These people were truly cold-blooded. Their mistress had just given birth, and they couldn't even show a bit of happiness, disappearing without a trace. She took the bloody water to dispose of it, then returned to the room.
Inside the room.
Mu Qingyao turned slightly, gazing at the child she had just birthed. Her face was tiny, her body small, her eyes tightly closed, nestled motionless in the wrap, like a pitiable little kitten, inexplicably warming one's heart.
This was her child, the child she had painstakingly brought into the world. She hoped she would grow up safely and happily.
"Miss, the little lady looks so much like you?"
Moyou sat by the bed, mumbling softly.
Qingyao chuckled. This boy really knew how to flatter.
"Moyou, you can't tell who a child resembles yet."
At this moment, Mochou also walked in, standing to the side. The three of them gathered around the newborn infant, discussing who she would resemble as she grew. Just as they were engrossed in their discussion.
The tiny figure suddenly stirred and abruptly opened its eyes, stunning the three into silence.
Those eyes were as dark as ink, flickering with a cold light. Without crying or fussing, she stared fixedly at them, instantly striking their hearts.
The three felt their hearts constrict. The atmosphere in the room was extremely strange. Where were the eyes of a mere infant? They held wisdom, clarity, and turbulent depths. For a long time, there was not a sound.
It wasn't until she suddenly burst into tears that the three, startled, broke out in a cold sweat and regained their senses.
"Miss, what's going on? Did I just imagine that?"
Mochou rubbed her eyes vigorously. She must have imagined it, otherwise, why would she have seen a reserved, cold aura in the eyes of a little infant?
An indescribable feeling, as if she were an adult, yet hearing her cry now, she was clearly a child?
Moyou immediately agreed, nodding, "Yes, you must have imagined it."
Qingyao slightly raised an eyebrow, her inner unease growing. The infant's gaze for a fleeting moment felt familiar, so calm and wise. Whose could it be?
But upon closer inspection, the tiny figure was now crying uncontrollably, and as a mother, she couldn't dwell on the strangeness.
"Mochou, see what's wrong with her? Did she wet herself?"
The three became flustered. Qingyao had just given birth and naturally couldn't move around much. Mochou efficiently checked and finally shook her head, "No, Miss."
"Then why is she crying?"
Qingyao watched her precious daughter cry as if she were about to suffocate, her heart filling with panic. Anxiety flashed across her face, "Could she be sick? Moyou, go and invite Young Master Mingyue over to examine her and see if she's really ill?"
"Yes, Miss," Moyou flashed away like a gust of wind. His martial arts had now reached a state of perfection.
Mingyue was quickly summoned. Despite his dislike for women, a newborn infant was still a child, and how could he ignore it?
However, after a thorough examination, there was nothing wrong. Yet, the baby continued to cry without stopping. She closed her eyes, ignoring the anxious adults, and just kept crying.
Qingyao was filled with worry. What had gone wrong? She had been fine earlier.
"Miss, don't worry. Perhaps she's hungry. Find something for her to eat."
Mochou suggested. Since the baby had just been born and the mistress hadn't resumed lactating, the infant couldn't drink milk. They had to find a substitute.
"Then let's feed her some sweet water and see if it helps," Mingyue suggested. Looking at the tiny infant, he inexplicably found it amusing and was no longer so repulsed.
As a result, the little infant refused to drink, closing her eyes and crying desperately. Qingyao, weakened from childbirth, couldn't tend to her. Mochou and Moyou took turns holding and rocking her.
But this child was like she had gone mad, refusing to stop crying.
From the moment she was born until the end, she cried. First loudly, then softly, and finally weakly, her voice hoarse. In the end, she leaned listlessly against Mochou like a sickly kitten, occasionally letting out a sob.
Qingyao endured the torment, deeply shaken. She had been overjoyed to have a child, flesh of her flesh, and someone to rely on in the world. But who knew the child would cry inexplicably all the time.