CHAPTER 84 — Rui's Fierce Little Heart
Morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Mu estate's east garden, casting warm patches across the grass where the triplets were currently running wild. The estate grounds — once silent, cold, and meticulously perfect — now rang with laughter, tiny footsteps, and the occasional shriek that only three three-year-olds could produce.
Shi Yunxi stood beneath the shade of a maple tree, watching them with soft eyes. Beside her, Mu Lingchen had just finished a phone call and slipped his device into his pocket, his attention immediately shifting to the children the moment he was free.
"They have… a lot of energy," he murmured.
Yunxi snorted lightly. "They're three."
Lingchen shook his head. "Triplets should come with hazard warnings."
As if to prove his point, Shi Qing'er tripped over her own feet, rolled, bounced back up like rubber, and continued running as if gravity were merely a suggestion. Yichen was attempting to climb a garden bench he had absolutely no business climbing, and Rui —
Rui was watching everything.
Always watching.
Always thinking.
The oldest by minutes, but acting like he carried the weight of years.
Yunxi followed Lingchen's gaze and saw it too.
Rui wasn't playing as wildly as the others today. Instead, he stood a little apart, scanning every corner of the garden like a tiny bodyguard. Every time Qing'er stumbled, he flinched. Every time Yichen climbed something, he hovered below like a safety net.
Lingchen's brows furrowed. "He's too young to carry so much on his shoulders."
"He's always been like that," Yunxi said softly. "Since they were born. He thinks he has to protect everyone."
Lingchen's jaw tightened with quiet emotion. "He shouldn't have needed to."
Yunxi looked at him, and for a moment, the air between them warmed.
But before she could respond, a loud shriek cut the moment in half.
"QING'ER!"
They both whipped their heads toward the sound.
A small toy drone — courtesy of Mu Rui's questionable curiosity and Mu Lingchen's questionable decision to let him "experiment" — had spun out of control and was now whirling directly toward Qing'er's head.
The little girl froze, eyes wide.
Lingchen swore under his breath and lunged forward.
But he wasn't the first to reach her.
Mu Rui was.
He threw himself in front of Qing'er with surprising force for such a small body. The drone clipped his arm and crashed to the ground with a loud crack, pieces of plastic scattering everywhere.
"Rui!" Yunxi gasped.
She ran toward him, heart thundering, while Lingchen got to him seconds later, kneeling to check the boy's arm.
Qing'er burst into tears the moment she saw her brother hurt.
"Rui! Rui! Are you okay?" she sobbed, clinging to him.
Yichen bolted over too, pale with shock.
Rui winced but didn't cry. Not a single tear. Instead, he wrapped one arm around Qing'er and reached for Yichen with the other.
"I'm okay," he said through gritted teeth. "Don't cry, Qing'er. I'm okay."
Lingchen gently took Rui's arm. "Does it hurt?"
"A little," Rui admitted.
Only a little.
Yunxi knelt beside them, cupping Rui's face. "Sweetheart, why didn't you run? Why didn't you move out of the way?"
Rui blinked at her, confusion crossing his small features. "Because Qing'er was there."
Lingchen exhaled sharply — not in frustration, but in something raw and aching.
Rui continued shyly, "I'm the big brother. I have to protect them."
Yunxi pulled him into a gentle embrace, careful not to jostle his arm. "Yes, but you can't get hurt protecting them, sweetheart."
Rui shook his head stubbornly. "I'd rather get hurt than them."
Lingchen's throat tightened.
The words were simple — spoken by a three-year-old with a soft voice and messy hair — but they hit like a hammer.
Yunxi swallowed hard. "You don't have to protect everyone alone."
Rui peeked up at her, then glanced sideways at Lingchen.
Lingchen met his gaze.
And something warm — and oddly fragile — passed between them.
"You're not alone anymore," Lingchen said softly.
Rui's eyes widened — tiny amber orbs blinking as if trying to understand.
Lingchen continued, voice low but steady.
"You don't have to take care of Yichen and Qing'er by yourself. I'm here now. I'll protect them too."
Rui stared at him for several long seconds.
Then —
"You will?" he whispered.
Lingchen nodded once. "Yes."
"And Mommy?"
"Especially Mommy."
Rui's chin trembled.
For the first time, tears filled his little eyes.
But not from pain.
From relief.
Lingchen reached out, carefully resting a hand on Rui's uninjured shoulder. "You've done a good job, Rui. Better than most adults ever could."
Rui sniffed. "Really?"
"Really," Lingchen said. "But even heroes need help."
Yunxi's eyes softened as her son slowly — very slowly — leaned forward and wrapped his small arms around Lingchen's neck.
Lingchen froze.
Then, with a breath that shuddered slightly, he hugged Rui back.
Qing'er, not wanting to be left out, climbed onto Lingchen's lap, wrapping her arms around both of them.
Yichen followed, slipping under Lingchen's arm and squeezing into the group hug.
And suddenly —
Mu Lingchen was holding all three children.
The triplets.
His children.
His little family.
Yunxi placed her hand lightly on Rui's back. For a moment, the five of them were wrapped in one warm, tangled embrace — the kind that seeped into bone and soul.
Rui finally pulled back and wiped his cheeks, embarrassed.
"Are you okay now?" Qing'er asked, sniffing.
"Yes," Rui nodded firmly. "Daddy said he will protect us too, so…"
He looked at Lingchen.
"…I don't have to worry as much anymore."
Lingchen's chest tightened.
Yunxi felt her throat grow warm.
And Qing'er grinned.
"Good! Because you always look like a small grandpa!"
Rui glared at her. "I do not!"
Yichen nodded sagely. "Sometimes you do."
Rui gasped in offense.
Lingchen chuckled quietly — a sound so soft and full of reluctant joy that Yunxi's heart fluttered unexpectedly.
"Come on," Lingchen said, lifting Rui carefully into his arms. "Let's get that arm checked properly."
Yunxi walked beside him, her hand brushing his briefly — not by accident.
The children ran ahead, already arguing about who was the true big sibling.
Rui glanced back at Lingchen over his shoulder.
And for the first time…
He didn't look guarded.
He looked safe.
Protected.
Maybe even loved.
Yunxi exhaled softly.
Lingchen didn't say anything — but he saw the look she gave him.
And he silently vowed that Rui would never again feel like he had to be the oldest, the strongest, and the protector all by himself.
Not while he was here.
Not while they were all here.