CHAPTER 113 — Melted Walls
The Mu estate had never been this quiet.
Not during the crisis.
Not during the rescue.
Not during the investigations.
But now — days later — silence gently wrapped itself around the estate like a warm blanket.
Most people believed silence was empty.
But for Shi Yunxi…
For Mu Lingchen…
For the three little ones…
Silence was healing.
It was safety.
It was the first breath after almost drowning.
Their lives had been chaos for so long, filled with danger, scandals, police sirens, and the ever-present fear of the Shi family's shadow. But that shadow was gone now — shattered, exposed, dismantled piece by piece.
For the first time in years, Yunxi woke up without fear.
Only exhaustion… and a fragile, trembling peace.
—
Morning Light, Soft Hearts
The sunlight filtered through warm beige curtains as Yunxi blinked awake. Her head rested against a familiar chest — solid, warm, steady.
Mu Lingchen.
He had refused to leave her side after the rescue.
One arm was still wrapped around her waist, holding her protectively even in sleep. His breathing was deep and even, but his brow was still faintly furrowed — as if even in his dreams, he feared losing her.
Yunxi lifted her hand and gently smoothed the wrinkle between his brows.
"Don't frown," she whispered. "We're safe now."
His eyes opened instantly.
He had always been a light sleeper — especially where she was concerned.
"Yunxi…" he murmured, voice rough and warm from sleep. "Did I wake you?"
"No," she whispered softly. "I was watching you."
His arms tightened slightly around her, something like relief and something deeper — something vulnerable — passing through his eyes.
"Are you feeling okay today?" Lingchen asked.
She hesitated.
Her mind still replayed fragments—the cliff, the fall, Rui's tiny hand disappearing, Lingchen going after him.
Trauma didn't vanish in a day.
But she was healing.
Because they were all here.
"Yes," she finally said. "Better than yesterday."
Lingchen exhaled gently and kissed the top of her head.
"I'm glad."
They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in quiet warmth — until a soft knock came at the door.
Then another.
Then—
"Mommy?" a tiny voice whispered. "Daddy? Are you awake?"
Lingchen's eyes softened instantly.
Yunxi sat up just as the bedroom door cracked open — and three small heads peeked in.
Rui, his cheeks still round and rosy from sleep.
Yichen, calm but blinking curiously.
Qing'er, clutching her pink stuffed rabbit and trying to look patient but bouncing on her toes.
Lingchen chuckled. "Come in."
The children didn't walk.
They ran.
Three little sets of feet pattered across the floor and crashed into the bed in a bundle of warmth and chaotic energy.
"Mommy!!"
"Daddy!!"
"We're hungry!"
Yunxi laughed — really laughed — as Rui climbed onto her lap like a koala.
"I want pancakes!" he declared.
"Oh? What about fruit?" Yunxi teased.
Rui made a face. "Pancakes first. Fruits… later."
Qing'er raised her hand like a teacher's pet. "I also want pancakes! With honey! And berries! And chocolate!"
"That's not fruit later…" Yichen muttered dryly.
Lingchen pinched his nose. "Qing'er… that's a dessert disguised as breakfast."
Qing'er grinned, unbothered. "But Daddy spoils me."
Lingchen froze.
Yunxi slapped a hand over her mouth to hide a laugh.
Rui snickered.
Yichen nodded solemnly. "Daddy spoils all of us."
Lingchen ran a hand through his hair in defeat.
"…Fine. Pancakes."
The children cheered.
And for the first time since the kidnapping — for the first time in three years — Yunxi's chest felt full.
Not with fear.
But with home.
—
The Kitchen of Healing
Breakfast turned into its own kind of therapy.
Yunxi mixed batter while Rui stirred vigorously — too vigorously.
"Rui, gentle—!"
SPLAT.
Batter flew across the countertop, dripping down the cabinets.
Rui froze.
Yunxi blinked.
Lingchen's eyelid twitched.
Qing'er pointed and gasped dramatically. "RUI! You exploded the pancakes!"
Yichen rubbed his forehead like a miniature adult. "That's not how physics works."
Yunxi finally burst out laughing, and the sound made Lingchen's shoulders relax.
They cleaned together, cooked together, and ate at the long wooden table — but the children kept migrating to sit closer to Yunxi.
Yichen leaned against her shoulder.
Qing'er fed her strawberries.
Rui kept slipping pieces of pancake onto her plate "so Mommy won't be hungry."
It was clinginess.
It was neediness.
It was pure childish love.
And Yunxi absorbed it all like sunlight.
She needed this as much as they did.
—
Gentle Questions
After breakfast, the children played in the living room. Rui stacked blocks, but his movements were slower today — a little uncertain.
Lingchen noticed.
Yunxi noticed.
He looked up at her with those big, bright eyes and whispered:
"Mommy… if I cry… will you come?"
Yunxi's heart cracked.
She knelt and pulled him close, kissing his forehead.
"Yes, baby," she whispered. "I'll always come."
Rui's little fingers curled into her shirt. "Even if it's dark?"
"Yes."
"Even if the bad auntie is loud?"
Lingchen's jaw tightened, but he didn't speak.
Yunxi held Rui's cheeks gently.
"There is no bad auntie anymore. She can't come near you. Ever again."
Rui whispered, "Because Daddy saved me?"
"Yes," Yunxi said softly. "Because Daddy saved you. And Mommy came too."
Rui leaned into her touch. "I wasn't scared… because I knew you were coming."
Yunxi began crying quietly, pulling him into her arms.
Lingchen placed a hand on her back, his touch steady and warm.
They stayed like that — a small family forming a circle of protection around each other.
Healing was not loud.
Healing was this.
—
Closing Old Wounds
Later that afternoon, after the children napped, Yunxi stepped outside onto the balcony.
The breeze was gentle, warm, brushing her hair back.
Lingchen joined her silently, standing behind her, arms sliding around her waist.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he murmured.
Yunxi leaned back against him. "I feel… lighter."
"You should," he said. "You survived everything. You protected everyone. You're incredible."
She shook her head softly. "No. I broke. I was terrified. I—"
"And you still fought," Lingchen said firmly. "Yunxi… courage doesn't mean you felt no fear. It means you moved despite the fear."
Her throat tightened.
He turned her gently, cupping her face with both hands.
"I'm proud of you," he whispered.
Yunxi's breath hitched.
"And the children?" she asked quietly.
"They're healing too," Lingchen said. "They follow you because you're their anchor. Their world."
Yunxi stared at him — really stared — and something inside her softened.
For the first time, she allowed herself to lean fully into his arms.
Allowed herself to trust.
Allowed herself to rest.
Lingchen wrapped her tightly, as if promising silently:
I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.
And Yunxi believed him.
Finally.
The wounds were still there —
but they were no longer bleeding.
They were finally, finally healing.