CHAPTER 86 — The Secrets Children Shouldn't Hear
Morning sunlight streamed through the Mu estate's wide windows, spilling warmth across the living room where the triplets were currently sprawled — each in their own chaotic little world.
Shi Qing'er hummed as she colored in a picture of a castle.
Shi Yichen was stacking toy blocks, crafting what he claimed was a "dragon-proof fortress."
Mu Rui, however, sat apart from them — frowning hard at a cup of milk he wasn't drinking.
He had been unusually quiet since last night.
Yunxi noticed.
She always noticed.
She sat beside him and brushed a stray curl from his forehead. "RuiRui, why aren't you drinking?"
Rui looked down. "Not thirsty."
Yunxi tilted his chin gently. "Sweetheart, talk to me."
For a moment, Rui's lashes fluttered, as though he was struggling between speaking and keeping silent. He had always been the most observant, the one who watched more than he spoke — the child who saw things even adults missed.
Finally, he whispered, "Mommy… are you sad?"
Yunxi froze.
She hid the shock quickly, but Rui noticed even that.
She forced a soft smile. "Why would you think that?"
Rui's small shoulders curled inward. "Because… yesterday your eyes were shiny."
Yunxi blinked. "Shiny?"
He nodded seriously. "Shiny like when Qing'er cries but tries to pretend she's strong."
Qing'er gasped and turned around. "I don't pretend!"
Yichen snorted, "Yes you do. You cry loud."
Qing'er puffed her cheeks. "YOU cry like a goat!"
"I DO NOT—"
"Both of you hush," Yunxi said gently, glancing at them.
The pair settled but continued glaring at each other.
Yunxi turned her focus back to Rui. "Baby… Mommy wasn't sad. Just tired."
Rui stared at her with far too much maturity for a three-year-old. "Mommy is lying."
Yunxi inhaled sharply.
Rui continued softly, "Mommy gets quiet when she thinks no one can see. And… when adults whisper near the door, Mommy gets scared."
Her heart clenched.
He had seen more than she thought.
Rui's little hands twisted together. "Is someone coming to take us away?"
Yunxi's breath caught.
He remembered.
He remembered the years of running. The packed bags. The sudden moves. The fear of footsteps outside the door. He was only three — but trauma didn't care about age.
She pulled him tightly into her arms. "No one is taking you. No one will ever take you away from me."
Rui pressed his cheek to her shoulder. "Mommy sounds scared too."
She couldn't answer.
Because he was right.
Before she could find words, footsteps approached — confident, steady, unmistakable.
Mu Lingchen entered the room holding a breakfast tray.
Yichen and Qing'er lit up like firecrackers.
"DADDY!"
He chuckled as both of them crashed into his legs. "Good morning, little troublemakers."
Lingchen looked toward Yunxi, then at Rui — still in her arms, unusually withdrawn.
His expression softened. "Is everything all right?"
Yunxi opened her mouth—
Rui spoke first. "Daddy, can I ask you something?"
Lingchen blinked, surprised. "Of course."
Rui slid off Yunxi's lap, walked over, and lifted his hands to be carried. Lingchen picked him up immediately, settling him against his shoulder.
Rui's voice was small. "Daddy… is Mommy in danger?"
Yunxi stiffened.
Lingchen's arms tightened protectively around Rui. "Who told you that?"
"No one," Rui whispered. "But Mommy always looks… scared when she thinks we're not watching."
Yunxi looked away, guilt twisting her stomach.
Lingchen exhaled slowly. "Rui… Mommy is not in danger. Not while I'm here."
Rui hesitated. "Promise?"
Lingchen lifted his pinky. "Promise."
Rui hooked his tiny pinky with his father's — solemn and serious.
Yichen and Qing'er quickly rushed over.
"Me too! I want promise!" Qing'er demanded.
"Daddy promise all of us!" Yichen insisted.
Lingchen crouched with Rui still in his arms and offered his hand. All three little pinkies latched onto him.
"I promise," Lingchen said. "No one will hurt your mommy. Or any of you."
The triplets nodded, satisfied.
But the moment they ran off to play again, Lingchen stood and faced Yunxi.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
Yunxi forced a thin smile. "Children overthink things—"
"Yunxi."
Her heart skipped at the firmness in his tone.
"Tell me."
She looked away. "Rui is… observant. Too observant."
"Because he had to be," Lingchen murmured. "You raised them alone for three years. He learned to protect you."
Yunxi swallowed hard.
He wasn't wrong.
Before she could form a reply, the triplets' voices rang out from the corner of the room.
"Meeting! Meeting!" Qing'er declared loudly.
Lingchen and Yunxi both turned.
The three children huddled together in a tight circle — whispers and dramatic shushing noises exchanged between them.
"What are they doing?" Lingchen asked.
"Plotting," Yunxi said instantly. "They only look like that when they're plotting."
Sure enough, after a few intense seconds, Rui turned and raised a tiny hand.
"Mommy. Daddy. Come."
Yunxi's brows rose. "Why?"
"It's important," Rui said.
Lingchen and Yunxi walked over.
Yichen cleared his throat dramatically. "We had a meeting."
"And we made a plan," Qing'er added.
Rui nodded gravely. "A plan to protect Mommy."
Yunxi felt her knees weaken.
Lingchen's breath caught beside her.
Rui pointed at his siblings. "Qing'er will watch Mommy when she sleeps."
Qing'er saluted. "Yes! I have night vision."
"No you don't," Yichen whispered.
"Yes I do," she whispered back.
Rui continued, ignoring them. "Yichen will guard the door."
Yichen puffed his chest. "I'm strong."
"You weigh twelve kilos," Qing'er muttered.
"And I," Rui declared proudly, "will stay beside Mommy when she is sad."
Yunxi covered her mouth, tears pooling in her eyes.
Lingchen crouched next to the children, voice thick. "Kids… you don't have to protect your mommy alone."
Rui blinked. "But adults have secrets."
Lingchen froze.
Yunxi closed her eyes.
Children saw too much.
Rui looked Lingchen straight in the eye — expression serious beyond his years.
"Daddy… if Mommy cries again, you have to protect her too."
Lingchen whispered, voice breaking just a little:
"I will. I swear."
Then he looked at Yunxi.
And she realized—
Lingchen wasn't just trying to win her trust.
He was slowly becoming someone the children trusted… someone they leaned on… someone they believed would never leave.
Rui lifted his hand again.
"Daddy, promise again."
Lingchen offered his pinky.
Rui hooked it.
And then — all three children wrapped their small arms around Yunxi at once.
A protective shield.
A tiny army.
Her triplets.
Her whole world.
And as she held them close, she realized something:
The children weren't the only ones discovering the truth.
She was too.
She wasn't fighting alone anymore.
Not with them.
Not with him.