The first thing I heard was footsteps.
Heavy. Steady. Familiar with the weight of mountains.
Not the quick, uneven steps of children.
I stood still.
A moment later, the bamboo curtain was pushed aside, and a tall figure stepped inside.
Cao Chenxi.
He was broader than the memories suggested. Sun-browned skin. Hard lines carved into his face by wind and responsibility. A bow slung across his back, a freshly killed rabbit hanging from one hand.
His gaze lifted.
And stopped.
He stared at me.
"You're awake."
His voice was low and rough.
"I am," I replied evenly.
That alone changed the air.
The original Sun Mingzhe would have lowered his head by now. He would have spoken softly, nervously.
I didn't.
Chenxi noticed.
His eyes moved over me — clean hair neatly tied back, fresh clothes, clear skin.
"You look… different."
"I am."
A long pause followed.
He set the rabbit down slowly.
"What are you trying to say?"
There was no point easing into it.
"Sun Mingzhe is dead."
His entire body went still.
"What."
"He died after the wedding. The infection from the well. His body survived. His soul didn't."
His jaw tightened, something dark flickering in his eyes.
"Don't speak nonsense."
"I'm not."
Silence pressed between us.
"Explain," he said finally.
So I did.
I told him about the lightning. About Earth. About being an assassin. About the God of Creation. About reincarnation. About the three wishes.
I didn't rush. I didn't embellish.
When I finished, the only sound was the wind brushing against the thatched roof.
"You expect me to believe," he said slowly, "that my spouse is a dead soul from another world."
"No," I replied honestly. "I expect you not to."
That caught him off guard.
"So I'll prove it."
Before he could react, I stepped forward and grabbed his wrist.
He moved fast — but I was faster.
"Don't fight," I said calmly.
Open.
The hut vanished.
The bamboo walls dissolved into white.
We stood inside the space.
Endless rows of supplies stretched in every direction. Floating panels. Organized shelves. Weapons. Food. Medicine. Tools. Objects he had never seen before.
Chenxi's breath stilled.
"What… is this?"
"My space. A gift from a god."
I summoned an apple. It appeared in my hand.
He flinched.
I held it out to him.
After a moment, he took it, staring at the smooth red surface.
"It won't rot here," I explained. "Time doesn't move."
His eyes scanned the surroundings slowly, cautiously.
This wasn't something a village trickster could fabricate.
"This isn't illusion," he murmured.
"No."
I showed him the spiritual jade goblet, the labeled categories, the endless reserves of food and supplies.
Then I returned us to the hut.
The world snapped back into place.
Chenxi steadied himself, but he did not pull away from me this time.
He looked at me differently now.
Not frightened.
Not dismissive.
Calculating.
"What do you want?" he asked quietly.
"Peace," I answered immediately. "I don't want your land. I don't want authority. I don't want to replace anyone."
His expression hardened slightly at that.
"She isn't dead," he said flatly.
"I know," I replied. "She abandoned you. And the children."
A shadow passed through his eyes.
"She chose wealth," he said. "Left them without looking back."
There was no anger in his tone.
Just something heavier.
"I'm not here to take her place," I said carefully. "But I will not harm your children. And I will not treat them as burdens."
He watched me closely.
"They are not mine by blood," I continued, placing a hand over my belly. "But if I live here… if we live together… then they are mine too."
His eyes flickered.
"I will feed them," I said calmly. "Protect them. Teach them. I won't favor my biological children over them."
He stiffened at that word. Children.
"Children?" he repeated.
Instead of answering verbally, I retrieved the portable ultrasound device.
He frowned at the unfamiliar object.
"What is that?"
"A medical device."
I sat down carefully and exposed my abdomen.
He looked away instinctively.
"You can look," I said dryly. "You're responsible for this."
His ears turned faintly red.
I applied gel and turned the device on.
Static filled the screen.
Then—
One sac.
Then another.
Then a third.
Three distinct shapes.
And then the sound.
Thump-thump-thump.
Thump-thump-thump.
Thump-thump-thump.
Three rapid heartbeats filled the hut.
Chenxi froze.
"…That's not one," he said slowly.
"No," I replied quietly. "It's three."
He stepped closer without realizing it.
"Triplets?"
"Yes."
For a long moment, he just listened.
Three tiny, relentless rhythms.
His expression shifted.
Shock.
Fear.
Overwhelming responsibility.
"I can barely manage six," he said under his breath.
"You won't be managing nine alone," I said firmly.
He looked at me.
Really looked at me.
"I won't let your children go hungry," I continued. "Not the six you already have. Not these three. I have resources you can't imagine. But more than that—"
I paused, choosing my words carefully.
"I know what it's like to grow up unwanted."
Something in his expression softened.
"They will not feel that way under my roof."
Silence stretched between us.
Outside, faint voices of children drifted closer to the house.
Chenxi's hand hovered uncertainly before finally resting lightly against my stomach.
Not possessive.
Not romantic.
Protective.
"Triplets…" he murmured again.
Then he looked at me.
"If you lie to me," he said quietly, "I will not forgive it."
"I don't lie about family," I answered.
Another long pause.
Then he gave a single nod.
"Then we survive," he said.
"Together."
It wasn't tender.
It wasn't warm.
But it was real.
And for now—
That was enough.