RYEY -Chapter 268 Carrying Thorns to Seek Punishment

Basins of hot water were carried in one after another; basins of bloodied water were carried out one after another. Standing in the courtyard, Li Huan’s hands and feet were icy cold, his whole body trembling.

He was wrong—terribly wrong. He should have discussed it with Cheng Qiao first instead of deciding on his own. If Cheng Qiao couldn’t pull through… he wouldn’t want to live either.

Seeing Ye Jun pacing restlessly in the yard, Li Huan dropped to his knees with a thud. Tears and snot smeared his handsome face, making Ye Jun’s heart ache.

“Stabilize yourself first,” Ye Jun said. “Cheng Qiao understands medicine, and she has medicine on hand. If it really comes to it, she can still save herself.”

Only then did Li Huan remember the golden, egg-sized Soul-Returning Pills Cheng Qiao had—medicine that could pull someone back even halfway through death. His frantic heart finally settled a little.

Usually the noisiest, Li Ming now clutched Little Cheng Li’s hand tightly. Both children’s palms were slick with sweat as they stood rigid, listening intently for any sound from Cheng Qiao’s room.

Xuhui gripped Grandma’s arms with both hands. Feeling the pain, Grandma gently patted him and whispered comfortingly, “Heaven cherishes life. Your Mama Cheng Qiao has a kind heart—she’ll surely be safe.”

Yet no matter what, the smiles had vanished from every face in the Li family. Even Aunt Wang, boiling water in the kitchen, felt her eyelids twitching. Please, nothing happen to Qiao-girl.

“Waa—”

A baby’s cry rang out. Everyone finally breathed a sigh of relief. As long as the child was born and the mother didn’t hemorrhage, with careful nourishment she would recover.

“Congratulations, Auntie Li—your daughter-in-law has added another grandson to your family.”

“Wow, Cheng Qiao is amazing—three sons in a row! Looks like the Li family is really going to prosper.”

“Shh, don’t talk nonsense. It’s not ‘prosper,’ it’s ‘a flourishing family.’”

“Right, right—my bad mouth. A flourishing family.”

“What flourishing? The eldest son bears the Cheng surname, and the youngest—who knows what surname he’ll have.”

“What do you mean by that? Trying to smear Cheng Qiao? Say that again and see if I don’t knock your teeth out!”

“How is that smearing? Isn’t Cheng Qiao’s master Doctor Ye? Doctor Ye has long wanted to adopt a grandson—this child should bear the Ye surname, right?”

“….”

No one spoke. Deep down, they began to sympathize with Li Huan: three sons, yet only one would carry on his incense line; the others would carry someone else’s.

Then a few quick-witted folks sneered, “Calling you fools isn’t wrong—you really are fools. What does Cheng Qiao’s father do? Little Cheng Li’s future will be limitless.”

“Exactly. Even if the youngest bears the Ye surname, with Doctor Ye’s skills, he can raise the child into someone capable.”

Analyzed this way, everyone felt sympathy for Li Ming instead. Life with Li Huan would be good, sure—but big families talk about inheritance. What inheritance could Li Huan pass to Li Ming, anyway?

The midwife was about to clean Cheng Qiao when her belly began to ache again. The experienced midwife’s face changed—no good, there was another one inside.

Usually twins are born prematurely, and sure enough, the second baby was pitifully small when she came out.

The midwife weighed her in her hands—probably not even three jin. Even her crying was intermittent, a few weak whimpers before she ran out of strength.

“Cheng Qiao, it’s a little girl, but…”

Cheng Qiao struggled to lift the bowl by the kang, drank all the water in one go, and only then felt she’d come back to life. She glanced at the tiny little person, and tears fell.

“Please help me clean her up, Auntie. When my milk comes in, I’ll feed the little one first.”

“Alright, I’ll be quick. Close your eyes and rest a bit.”

How could Cheng Qiao sleep? Such a tiny child—she had to give her a sip of well water first. Half an hour later, the little girl finally drank the well water.

Warm water with a hint of sweetness entered the baby’s mouth. Her tiny lips moved slightly; survival instinct made her swallow mouthful by mouthful. After two or three sips, her deathly pale complexion improved.

Seeing her daughter drink the well water, Cheng Qiao finally relaxed a little and drifted into exhausted sleep. When Li Huan entered, the smell of blood hit him, and his guilt surged uncontrollably.

Moving lightly, he carefully carried Cheng Qiao to the next room, quickly opened the windows to air it out, changed the bedding and quilts, heated the kang, and only then carried her back.

Mother Li devoted herself to holding the babies, mixing milk with a bottle for both. The bigger one drank eagerly, but the smaller one wouldn’t even open her mouth. After much effort to get a sip in, she spat it out.

Li Huan punched his own chest several times in anger. He regretted it—truly regretted it. If the little girl couldn’t survive because of this, he didn’t know how he could face Cheng Qiao.

Mother Li held the little girl too, speaking to her as gently as possible, telling her how much the Li family had been waiting for her arrival—how her parents, grandmother, aunt, and brothers all hoped she would grow up safe and sound.

As night fell and the kerosene lamp was lit, Cheng Qiao woke up. The moment she opened her eyes, she saw Li Huan kneeling on the floor, eyes swollen and red, staring at her blankly.

“Where are the children? Bring them to me.”

Li Huan stood up. Perhaps he had knelt too long—he staggered as he rose, making Cheng Qiao tense. Did he kneel himself lame?

Step by step, Li Huan walked out. His once-straight back seemed much more bent now. In that moment, Cheng Qiao’s heart tightened—and just like that, she forgave him.

She knew Li Huan didn’t like studying, yet she had forced him to learn anyway—knowing it was futile, insisting on it regardless. That was her own authoritarian stubbornness.

Li Huan came back in without holding a child. His legs were numb; he didn’t dare carry them. Mother Li and Ye Jun each carried a baby in.

Ye Jun held the son; Mother Li held the daughter. The difference in strength was obvious at a glance. Heart aching, Cheng Qiao took the little girl first.

The little girl had vomited earlier and looked listless again. Cheng Qiao glanced at Li Huan; he immediately understood and ushered everyone out.

When the door closed, Cheng Qiao willed herself—and still, only she entered the space. Disappointed, she came out, and in her hands appeared well water streaked with faint golden light.

“Daughter, let’s nourish you with spiritual water first. When Mommy’s milk comes in, I’ll feed you.”

Cheng Qiao drank spiritual spring water year-round; her milk would be the best. Just look at how healthy Little Cheng Li and Little Li Ming had grown.

Sensing the familiar aura, the little girl relaxed. Sip by sip, painfully slow, she swallowed a few mouthfuls—then spat them out again.