You grit your teeth, swallowing back another wave of nausea as you adjusted Jin Ling in your arms. The five-year-old was in one of his clingy phases, refusing to be left behind. You hadn’t the heart, or energy, to argue.

Your stomach churned. Your head spun. Every limb felt like lead but you kept going.

You hadn’t told Lan Xichen. How could you? Out of wedlock? You wanted the child, of course, but he was the Lan heir. The world expected him to marry a docile woman, to have proper heirs. What would they say if they knew he’d taken Jiang Wanyin to bed?

You swallowed hard, tightening your hold on Jin Ling as you stepped into the Cloud Recesses. The moment your foot hit the pristine stone path, your vision swam.

You swayed, knees buckling.. A strong, steady hand caught your elbow.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Xichen’s voice was soft, concerned. “Are you unwell?”

You stiffened. “I’m fine,” you muttered, though even you heard the weakness in your voice.

Lan Xichen didn’t press, but kept a firm hold on your arm as he guided you to your seat in the Conference Hall. His gaze was heavy, unspoken worry lingering, while you focused on not vomiting in front of the entire cultivation world.

Jin Ling, of course, got fussy — tugging at your hair, pulling your half-hearted topknot loose as Lan Xichen talked about his report on the Burial Mound's cleansing. The hall fell quiet, staring at you with your hair down. Before you could react, Jin Ling let out a whine and shoved your stomach. Pain flared — and you blacked out to the sound of Lan Xichen’s voice.

---

You woke to the scent of medicinal herbs. Panic seized you.

“Jin Ling—”

“He’s fine, Wanyin,” Lan Xichen’s calm voice cut in. He sat at your bedside, unreadable. “Wangji’s watching him. He’s fed and playing with the rabbits.”

A long pause. Then, quietly: “…When were you going to tell me?”